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can,” he replied. “But can your mother?”
    â€œShe’ll cope,” she returned.
    â€œLike hell she’ll cope.” He tugged the hat closer over his forehead and spared her one last sweeping appraisal. God, she looked tired! He could only imagine the demands Gussie was already making on her, and she was showing the pressure. “Get some rest. You look like a walking corpse.”
    He was gone then, without another word. As if he cared if she became a corpse, she thought hysterically. She’d lived for years on the vague hope that he might look at her one day and see someone he could love. That was the biggest joke of all. If there was any love in Cade, it was for Lariat, the Braided L, which had been founded by a Hollister fresh from the Civil War. There was a lot of history in Lariat. In a way the Hollisters were more a founding family of Texas than the Samsons. The Samson fortune was only two generations old, and it had been a matter of chance, not brains, that old man Barker Samson from back East had bought telephone stock in the early days of that newfangled invention. But the Hollisters were still poor.
    She went upstairs to see about Gussie. It was an unusual nickname for a woman named Geraldine, but her father had always called her mother that.
    Gussie was stretched out on the elegant pink ruffled coverlet of her bed with a tissue under her equally pink nose. Thanks to face-lifts, annual visits to an exclusive health spa and meticulous dieting, and a platinum-blond rinse, Gussie looked more like Bess’s sister than her mother. She had always been a beauty, but age had lent her a maturity that gave her elegance, as well. She’d removed the satin robe, and underneath it she was wearing a frothy white negligee ensemble that made her huge dark eyes look even darker and her delicate skin paler.
    â€œThere you are, darling,” she said with a sob. “Has he gone?”
    â€œYes, he’s gone,” Bess said quietly.
    Her mother’s face actually blanched. She averted her eyes. “He’s blamed me for years,” she murmured, still half in shock, “and it wasn’t even my fault, but he’d never believe me even if I told him the truth. I suppose we should be grateful that he hasn’t raided the stables to get his money back in kind. The horses will bring something...”
    Here we go again , Bess thought. “You know he wouldn’t do that. He said we’ll work something out, after the funeral.”
    â€œNo one held a gun on him and made him invest a penny,” Gussie said savagely. “I hope he does lose everything! Maybe he’ll be less arrogant!”
    â€œCade would be arrogant in rags, and you know it,” Bess said softly. “We’ll have to sell the house, Mama.”
    Gussie looked horrified. She sat straight up, her careful coiffure unwinding in a long bleached tangle. “Sell my house? Never!”
    â€œIt’s the only way. We’ll still owe more than we have,” she said, staring out the window at the driving sleet. “But I have that journalism degree. I might get a job on a newspaper.”
    â€œWe’d starve. No, thank you. You can find something with an advertising agency. That pays much better.”
    Bess turned, staring at her. “Mama, I can’t take the pressure of an advertising agency.”
    â€œWell, darling, we certainly can’t survive on newspaper pay,” her mother said, laughing mirthlessly.
    Bess’s eyes lifted. “I wasn’t aware that you were going to expect me to support both of us.”
    â€œYou don’t expect me to offer to get a job?” Gussie exclaimed. “Heavens, child, I can’t do anything! I’ve never had to work!”
    Bess sat down on the end of the bed, viewing her mother’s renewed weeping with cynicism. Cade had said that her mother wouldn’t be able to cope. Perhaps he knew her after