a fancy wedding—just the kind I deserved. Well, I got just what I deserved, all right.” She bit back a sob as she climbed out of the bed and fought the usual crushing ache in her back that always greeted her upon rising these days.
Clutching her rounded belly, she whispered, “Oh, little one, what kind of a world am I bringing you into?”
Maggie was determined it would be a world without Whalen Price in it. As soon as she had begun to grow heavy and shapeless in pregnancy, he voiced his disgust with her body. Then, when she became sick and the doctor told her she could not do the heavy laundress work any longer without risking the life of her unborn child, he had become physically abusive. She would not let him ever again strike her and endanger her baby. Yesterday had been enough!
Maggie washed up as best she could, then brushed her hair and put it up in a smooth bun. Having only one dress left that fit her with its seams let out, her choice of wardrobe was a far simpler one than the other decisions she had to make. By the time she finished dressing and packed one pitiful carpetbag with her meager belongings, Whalen's footfalls sounded on the boardinghouse stairs.
He opened the door and stared broodingly at her with bloodshot eyes, not even noticing her packed bag. “You look like hell.”
“I should. I've certainly been there,” she replied as he shut the door and slumped onto the chair. “I suppose you've lost at cards again.”
‘You've become an incredible nag, Maggie. I have to do something to recoup our losses since you can't work, ” he said bitterly.
“Our losses—yes, the money you stole from my father's mercantile, then gambled away from Massachusetts to Nebraska. You took thousands.”
“The old man was filthy rich. He could afford that and a whole lot more! A pity he didn't care enough about his beloved daughter to provide for her in her hour of need, ” he sneered, watching her blanch.
“You dared write to Papa—after all you've done?”
He shrugged in disgust as he pulled off his shoes and began to undress. “It was worth a try since you were too stubborn to do it. ”
“I knew he was through with me and I can't blame him. I was a fool to fall for your smooth talk, but I won't let an innocent baby pay for my sins.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked without interest. Yawning, he headed toward the bed, but Maggie's words stopped him.
“I'm leaving, Whalen. Mrs. Birkhauser at the Gilded Lily Saloon has offered me a room and a job keeping her books. She understands about the baby.”
“The baby! The damn baby! That's all you've thought of ever since you started breeding. Well, go ahead. See if I care. You're no good to me the way you are now—too fat to bed and too sick to earn any money.”
If any small part of Maggie Worthington had ever prayed that he would beg her forgiveness and promise to take care of her and their child, that hope died. So did all her faith and trust in men.
“Good-bye, Whalen,” she said tonelessly. Picking up her bag, she headed for the door.
* * * *
“You’ll have to start earning yer keep now, dearie. I know it's hard, what with you still grievin’ ‘n all.” Velda Birkhauser's voice was oily with solicitude as she looked at Maggie.
Maggie flushed and put down her cup. “I've been keeping up with the bookwork, Mrs. B. Ever since…” She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and resumed. “Ever since the week after my daughter died, I've balanced the ledgers and—”
Mrs. B, as her girls called her, laughed heartily, interrupting Maggie. “Dearie, I don't mean just a leetle addin’ ‘n subtractin’. I mean really earnin' yer keep. Why'd you think I took you in—fer
Clutching her rounded belly, she whispered, “Oh, little one, what kind of a world am I bringing you into?”
Maggie was determined it would be a world without Whalen Price in it. As soon as she had begun to grow heavy and shapeless in pregnancy, he voiced his disgust with her body. Then, when she became sick and the doctor told her she could not do the heavy laundress work any longer without risking the life of her unborn child, he had become physically abusive. She would not let him ever again strike her and endanger her baby. Yesterday had been enough!
Maggie washed up as best she could, then brushed her hair and put it up in a smooth bun. Having only one dress left that fit her with its seams let out, her choice of wardrobe was a far simpler one than the other decisions she had to make. By the time she finished dressing and packed one pitiful carpetbag with her meager belongings, Whalen's footfalls sounded on the boardinghouse stairs.
He opened the door and stared broodingly at her with bloodshot eyes, not even noticing her packed bag. “You look like hell.”
“I should. I've certainly been there,” she replied as he shut the door and slumped onto the chair. “I suppose you've lost at cards again.”
‘You've become an incredible nag, Maggie. I have to do something to recoup our losses since you can't work, ” he said bitterly.
“Our losses—yes, the money you stole from my father's mercantile, then gambled away from Massachusetts to Nebraska. You took thousands.”
“The old man was filthy rich. He could afford that and a whole lot more! A pity he didn't care enough about his beloved daughter to provide for her in her hour of need, ” he sneered, watching her blanch.
“You dared write to Papa—after all you've done?”
He shrugged in disgust as he pulled off his shoes and began to undress. “It was worth a try since you were too stubborn to do it. ”
“I knew he was through with me and I can't blame him. I was a fool to fall for your smooth talk, but I won't let an innocent baby pay for my sins.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked without interest. Yawning, he headed toward the bed, but Maggie's words stopped him.
“I'm leaving, Whalen. Mrs. Birkhauser at the Gilded Lily Saloon has offered me a room and a job keeping her books. She understands about the baby.”
“The baby! The damn baby! That's all you've thought of ever since you started breeding. Well, go ahead. See if I care. You're no good to me the way you are now—too fat to bed and too sick to earn any money.”
If any small part of Maggie Worthington had ever prayed that he would beg her forgiveness and promise to take care of her and their child, that hope died. So did all her faith and trust in men.
“Good-bye, Whalen,” she said tonelessly. Picking up her bag, she headed for the door.
* * * *
“You’ll have to start earning yer keep now, dearie. I know it's hard, what with you still grievin’ ‘n all.” Velda Birkhauser's voice was oily with solicitude as she looked at Maggie.
Maggie flushed and put down her cup. “I've been keeping up with the bookwork, Mrs. B. Ever since…” She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and resumed. “Ever since the week after my daughter died, I've balanced the ledgers and—”
Mrs. B, as her girls called her, laughed heartily, interrupting Maggie. “Dearie, I don't mean just a leetle addin’ ‘n subtractin’. I mean really earnin' yer keep. Why'd you think I took you in—fer
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