Chapter Six
After a breakfast of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee Navarro and Beth saddled their horses and left at daybreak. They took the dirt road toward Benson, traveling in silence at a steady pace.
Soon, it was apparent to Navarro that Beth had not misled him about her riding ability, as she seemed born and bred to the saddle. She looked fresh and lovely this morning. She wore a blue cotton blouse, a brown vest, a split-tail riding skirt that ended just below the tops of her brown boots, and a tan western hat. Her dark hair was secured by a blue ribbon at the nape of her long neck. A Winchester lever-action rifle, a fifteen-shot repeater, was in a saddle holster. A rope was hanging in place. On her right side, a Colt double-action was strapped around her small waist. On her left was a Spanish blade in a hand-tooled sheath, and suspended beside it in a leather drawstring pouch were extra cartridges. She also carried a concealed derringer, a Remington double repeating model. She seemed to know weapons. Question was, did she know how and when to use them?
Beth noted Navarro rode either a little ahead of her or created a wide space between them, as if to make talk impossible. He appeared determined to behave as if he were alone. Perhaps, she reasoned, he was mentally adjusting to her company. It was as if he feared revealing himself, or of her getting too close. Surely he wouldn’t: stay tied in knots during the entire case.
Beth couldn’t get something out of her mind she had seen by accident. While Navarro was shaving this morning with his shirt unbuttoned, he had turned to answer her query about how much time he needed before she cooked the eggs and how he liked them. That was when she noticed two things suspended around his neck on thin leather thongs: an Indian amulet, and a locket resting near his heart. The piece of feminine jewelry looked old. She surmised it might have belonged to his mother, but maybe not. She was intrigued by whose picture was inside and why he wore it. But how could she sneak a peek when he didn’t remove it? Who and what are you, Navarro Breed? What happened in your past? How will I ever get to know you if you keep to yourself so much in private? I must think of ways to draw you out of that shell.
Beth watched the scenery alternate between scrub-covered areas on flat terrain, to an occasional hill, to sites with countless boulders and brown mountains. Grass, where it grew, was green to greenish yellow. At times, thousands of yuccas flaunted their dagger leaves and numerous creamy blossoms. A variety of cacti, some crouching low to the stony ground and some standing tall against a blue horizon, greeted her line of vision no matter which way she looked. The arid countryside possessed an untamed beauty with its abundance of bloom- and insect-covered trees and flowers, sturdy varieties that could survive the harsh territory and climate.
During a walk to rest the horses, Beth was surprised when Navarro closed the gap between them. His black stallion followed on its own. Still, her partner didn’t begin a conversation. The silence a strain she didn’t need, she asked, “Do you like to fish or hunt?”
“Just for food or protection. Creatures aren’t here for sport and waste.”
To her, that sounded like an Indian belief. “What kind of protection?” she queried to continue the brief chat while he was willing to talk.
“Attack by a hungry or injury-crazed animal.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Nope.”
“Have you had personal experience with rogues?”
“Yep.”
Don’t go mute again. “Mighty stingy with your words today, partner.”
“Hadn’t noticed. I stay alert on the trail. Danger can jump you fast.”
“Is it too distracting to tell me one or two of those episodes?”
“Guess not.”
Beth watched him remove his hat, hang it over his pommel, and give his mount a few affectionate strokes, to which the animal responded with matching love.
“I took a job years ago tracking a mountain lion who was preying on people and stock on the Mexican border. He was strong and fast, took me on a wild chase on horseback and afoot. That ‘idui was more cunning than most outlaws I’ve pursued. Almost ambushed me a few times. I hated to kill him after I got to know him. He was only protecting his territory and getting food. Most men, even women, hunt mountain lions for pleasure; they like to display their heads and hides to show others what great prowess they have.”
“But you killed him?”
“Yep, had to, after a child got in his path. Some stupid hunters had brought their families along and let a kid wander from camp. Strange, but that ‘idui only scratched him up and scared him a little, like a warning to the others to get out of his territory. I knew what would happen; they wouldn’t yield to his threat and he’d give them a bigger one.”
“It’s a shame you had to go against your wishes.”
“Earned a reward for his hide. It was demanded as proof I’d done the job. But I didn’t want it as a trophy, even if I’d had a wall to hang it on.”
“How did your employer know you gave him the right hide?”
“Markings. Had an unusual patch of white hair on his left jaw. Reminded me of a warrior’s symbol. You know Indians paint their faces for raids and ceremonies?” She nodded. “Each man has his own pattern. Some believe, when a warrior dies in a bad way, Ysun—Giver of Life—allows him to return to Earth Mother in animal form to …redeem himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he’s murdered in an ambush, massacred while asleep, tortured and killed by enemies while he’s bound and helpless. If he died without a weapon in his hands, if he couldn’t defend himself, he gets to return to at least die while using his courage and wits and new body’s weapons; he gets to die in pride and freedom.”
“Like your valiant mountain lion?”
“Yep.”
“That’s partly why Indians hate reservations so much, isn’t it? Because if they die in dishonor and captivity, their souls wander in misery.”
“Yep, and how they’re treated there.”
She watched him disappear into himself again. Move to an easier topic;you’re stirring up painful memories. “I was told this region has a wealth of gold, silver, and copper. You had any jobs connected with them?”
“Yep, and such…” he began, and paused to glance at her and grin, “treasures cause big and greedy appetites that lead to plenty of trouble. I’ve settled feuds over claims, investigated frauds, solved robberies and killings. Some people will do about anything to have those shiny rocks.”
Beth laughed as she replied, “Because those ‘shiny rocks’ are valuable and useful. My uncles in Denver have become wealthy and powerful from mining, but they haven’t had many serious problems. They’ve also been generous with their good fortune; they built an orphanage near town and support it from their earnings and from donations from kind people like them. Bustling areas like that have so many children whose parents have died, babies born to soiled doves who abandon them for one reason or another, or widowed fathers who just take off when gold fever strikes. I can’t imagine a parent deserting a child for any reason. No matter what happened, my father, mother, and Steven would never have done such a horrible and selfish thing. Neither would I.”
You could if your motive was right, if you had no choice, if you wanted what’s best for the child. But it’s the hardest and most unselfish thing you’d ever have to do. “Did you help at the orphanage?”
“Yes, by cooking, cleaning, and teaching lessons when other workers were sick. Some of the stories the older children told me almost broke my heart. I’m glad they were kept off the street where they’d have grown up too fast and hard; many of them would have gotten into trouble and been killed or sent to prison or wound up in saloons. It must be terrible for a child who has no one for guidance, love, and protection.” Recalling what Navarro had halfway exposed about his childhood losses, she scolded herself and dropped the sure-to-be touchy subject. “I’ve watched the gold and silver mining processes from beginning to end, and they’re fascinating. I haven’t seen the
copper districts or work involved in its mining, but I bet it’s interesting, too.”
“Destroys too much land, scars her for a long time or for life.”
“Copper mining does?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“How?”
“You’ll see for yourself if our mission takes us through any of those locations.”
Beth knew that mining and related businesses created many jobs. Towns sprang up nearby for bringing safety, supplies, and civilization to the settlers who’d been there first. Railroads arrived and did the same. Progress and fulfilling dreams always had prices and sacrifices, she concluded, but didn’t vex her companion with speaking aloud those excuses and reasons for what they did to…perhaps his homeland and people.
“Why did you become a lawman, Navarro, a Special Agent?” she asked as he gave the signal to mount up by doing so himself.
He realized she had caught her innocent mistake and rushed to correct it. She was a good person with a kind, tender, and compassionate heart. He shouldn’t be angry with her for what happened to him as a boy. While she was mounting, he replied, “Probably for the same reasons you did and why you stay in this job: to make sure the right people are captured and punished for crimes; to protect people too weak, helpless, or unskilled to defend themselves. To be able to have the exciting existence I do without breaking laws myself,” he added and chuckled to let her know he had relaxed. “Let’s get riding, woman, if we want to make Benson by late afternoon.”
Beth didn’t allow his humor to dupe her about his mood. Yet, his other statements surprised and pleased her.
The road to Benson was an easy ride. She wondered about their leisurely pace as she didn’t quite believe his explanation about protecting their ruse in case they were checked on later or followed today. For their partnership to work smoothly and for them to succeed with their assignment, he had to learn to trust her, to have faith in her capabilities, and to let her discover how to function with him as one person in the face of peril. The only way she could accomplish those goals was to do the same with him. As she thought of their impending destination and how they’d pass the long night, it seemed odd that he’d made it necessary for them to share a snug and suggestive space in a hotel. If they camped in the open, they wouldn’t have to try to fool anyone. They could use the excuse, if questioned later, of saving money for ranch expenses. Why subject himself to being confined with her and having to use the newlywed ruse in public?
In Benson, Navarro checked them into a nice hotel without telling Beth why they didn’t camp on open terrain. He wanted to make the trip as easy on her for as long as possible. He wanted to give her sufficient time to adjust to trail life, to get used to being in the saddle all day. It also gave them a chance to practice their deceit, which they needed, because soon they would be heading across country and they couldn’t continue to behave as strangers.
At the restaurant, she queried him about ranching. She knew the conversation would not be suspicious to any eavesdroppers, and it would reveal what he had done on the Lane and other ranches. She’d never stayed on one, so she didn’t want to reach their destination in total ignorance.
While awaiting service and between bites, Navarro related facts about roundups—in spring for branding and in fall for cattle drives and sales. He talked about the breaking in of wild horses, chores on the range in all kinds of weather, life in a bunkhouse, routine repairs, and other daily or seasonal tasks. As Beth listened, she looked almost too enthralled and stimulated to eat. Her large eyes stayed on him, as did her full attention. Her cheeks pinkened and her body seemed on alert. He went on to tell her about rustlers, fence cuttings, renegades, droughts, floods, fires, and diseases: what made failures and successes on a ranch. “I’ve seen and handled them all, my love, but don’t worry that pretty head about us having bad luck.”
“My love”? Really getting into this act, eh? “It sounds so exciting. I can hardly wait to do all those things on our ranch. I have so much to learn, but I have a smart and patient husband to teach me. I want to be a part of everything.”
“You will, my love. It’s a good life, but it can be hard and demanding when nature or outlaws give you problems. It’s said that ranching either makes or breaks a man.”
“Nothing could make you any stronger or braver or defeat you.”
“You’re biased, my pretty wife.”
“Naturally. Aren’t you?”
“Naturally.”
“It sounds like the best place to bring up our children after we have them. Just think, my husband, sons working beside you and daughters with me, or all of us together. What a beautiful and perfect dream. I’m going to love ranching and be the best rancher’s wife possible.”
Navarro didn’t doubt that last sentence was true, if she were given the real opportunity. He was glad when the server left their table so Beth could stop creating such disturbing images of something he would never have with Jessie and Lane, the place in their lives Matt had taken. He went to work on his cobbler and steaming coffee with hopes she’d take his clue and keep silent for a while.
Beth had learned to recognize when he gave the unspoken order to be quiet or change the subject, as he was doing now. Did his anguish and resentment come from a bad childhood or an ill-fated romantic experience, or both? She wished she knew, but dared not ask—not yet. One point was undeniable, he loved ranching.
Navarro sensed she’d picked up on his mute command. His tales about ranch life had clearly caught her interest, no doubt in the same manner Steven’s agent stories had done long ago. Her shiny eyes must have sparkled as they were doing now. Her heart must have raced with stirring emotions, as the pulse point in her throat indicated. Her keen mind must have filled with ideas and goals. From what he had observed and been told about her, she would make a fine rancher’s wife. Though she and Jessie possessed some similar traits and qualities, the two women looked and behaved nothing alike. That suited him, be cause it wouldn’t allow him to confuse his love and his “wife.”
After his cup was refilled, he asked, “What’s that dreamy look about?”
Beth wasn’t totally rousted from her reverie when she answered, “Ranch life. I’ve never thought about it or about settling on one until we were reunited and you swept me off my feet and married me. With so much to do and so many stimulating tasks involved, it sounds like the perfect setting for me one day.”
“That day isn’t far off, my lovely wife,” he covered her minor slip.
She cleared her wits, smiled, and nodded. “Even a week can seem like forever when you’re waiting to capture your dream.”
“After we reach home, woman, you’ll be too busy to dream.”
“It won’t be necessary anymore because the best one came true the day I met you. We’ll make good friends there and do good work together. We have such a wonderful adventure ahead, my husband.”
“I’ll make certain we do those things. Our destination is important to me. We can’t fail, my beautiful partner—too much of the future is at stake.”
“Yes, it is, my love. Why don’t we stroll to settle our meal?”
He stood without delay. “Let’s go, wife. Fresh air and movement are just what we need before bedtime.”
You’re right, Navarro, they’ll give me release from your many charms.
Once they were in their room, Beth hoped to ease the slight strain between them by chatting. “Next time you marry, Navarro, it will be a beautiful and special occasion. The pastor condensed our vows into near nonexistence and he handled the ceremony as if it were a business meeting that had to be over in three minutes. I know he said he’d be rushed, but I expected to receive more time and effort than he gave us. Something a tiny bit nicer for our friends and witnesses to share.”
“More romantic? Pretty trappings? Don’t worry, it was convincing.”
“Trappings,” she echoed with mirth. “That’s an appropriate word choice for a loner set against the bond of wedlock to use.”<
br />
“I’m not against marriage.”
She glanced at him with open skepticism. “For other people.”
“For anybody, everybody, if the right mate rides along.”
“So, there is hope for Navarro Breed after all.”
He warmed to the sound of her musical laughter and sunny smile. “About as much as there is for Beth…Wind.”
“We’re a fine pair to be playing a husband and wife: two loners so down on marriage we’re scared stiff just faking one. We’re going to require barrels of practice to relax enough to fool friends who know you well.”
“You’re right, partner, but not now. We need to turn in. We have another long ride tomorrow, so you need your rest more than lessons.”
“First, I’m taking a bath to remove this trail dust, if the water closet is unoccupied at this hour.” When he grinned, she shrugged and said, “One should never waste a chance to indulge oneself, right? Be glad, partner, because pretty soon, I may be a dirty, smelly mess you’ll have to endure.”
As Beth left the location, a young cowboy accosted her. He blocked her departure and looked her over with an insulting gleam in his eyes.
“Whatda we have here? If yo’re done in there, you kin clean my room and clean me out, too.”
Beth shoved away the hand about to touch her breast. “I don’t work here, mister. I’m a guest. If you’ll step aside, I’ll—”
“Guest?” He laughed. “If you sally to my room to have a drink and some words, I won’t tell yore boss you wuz bad to me. Old man Johnson don’t take to losin’ money ‘cause his workers don’t give customers what they wants and needs. You don’t wanna go alosin’ yore job when he gits mad.”
Chase The Wind Page 12