Brave the Wild Wind ww-1

by Johanna Lindsey

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “I probably wounded what I aimed at.”

  “Jessie, who—?”

  “Bowdre’s hirelings. I saw them riding away from the ranch. By the time I got close enough to recognize them, they were shooting at me.”

  “Clee and Charlie? Was Bowdre the third man?”

  “I wish it were Bowdre, but it was Blue Parker! That no-good bastard!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He looked right at me before he dug his spurs into his horse. I’ve known him too long to mistake him for someone else.”

  “So Parker really has thrown in with them,” Chase said thoughtfully. “They must have offered him a lot of money.”

  “It’s more likely spite. He was interested in me, wanted to marry me,” she explained. “After you came, he thought I was avoiding him because of you. He didn’t know I’d left the ranch those two times to go north. When I ran into him one day, he accused me of throwing him over for you. I told him it wasn’t true, but he didn’t believe me. He’s just like my father, a man who feels he’s got to avenge himself for any wrong.”

  “What do you think they were up to?” Chase asked.

  Jessie caught her breath. Her anger had overcome her fears.

  “Let’s get to the ranch,” she cried, turning Blackstar around. “I’m almost afraid to guess what they’ve done.”

  Baldy found them just as they got back to the trail leading to the valley. He had been on his way to town to look for them. When he finished talking, Jessie felt numb. She had thought herding the cattle together had been the answer, but all she had done was make it easy for them to be shot. Nearly half the herd lay dead or dying around the campsite. Ramsey was still unconscious from a blow to the head, and the rest of the herd had been stampeded right toward the poisoned waterhole. Baldy had gotten back to camp in time to see the three men riding off and to assess the damage. A man who had worked with cattle all his life, he was in tears from the waste he had seen.

  No sooner had Baldy finished talking than Jessie saw the orange glow over the rise that shielded the valley. Chase saw it a second later. A deep animal sound escaped from Jessie. She spurred Blackstar on, and Chase followed, afraid.

  Jessie rode no farther than the top of the rise that looked down on the ranch house. The glow from the fire lit her face, revealing such a depth of anguish it tore Chase’s heart.

  Every building on the ranch was consumed by flames.

  Chapter 41

  TWO weeks had come and gone since the fire, two weeks Jessie couldn’t remember. She was in Chicago at her mother’s mansion. She didn’t remember anything of the trip there, didn’t remember anything at all.

  But Jessie was no longer sleepwalking. She swung around to face her mother, her eyes alive for the first time in two weeks. “How dare he leave me? I’m not an old piece of baggage he can throw away and forget about!”

  “Jessica, you haven’t been listening,” Rachel said calmly.

  Jessie continued to pace the richly carpeted floor of her mother’s room. “I’ve been listening. I couldn’t believe it when I woke today and it dawned on me what you’d told me yesterday. It was yesterday, wasn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I won’t stand for it. He can’t just dump me on your doorstep. I’m his responsibility, not yours.”

  “In the first place, Jessica, Chase didn’t dump you here. You’ve been here a week, and he’s been by your side night and day. In the second place, he’s not deserting you. He’ll be back before the baby is born, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t believe it. He won’t come back. He’ll find his father and decide to stay in Spain. Why should he come back? He didn’t want to marry me. He only did it so the baby wouldn’t be a bastard.”

  “There were other reasons, Jessica, and you know it.”

  “Then why isn’t he here? How could he leave me the way I was?”

  “You didn’t even know he was here, darling,” Rachel explained gently. “You have only responded to me, to my voice, in all this time. You weren’t aware of anything. And there was no telling how long you would be that way. Your apathy could have gone on for months, but you were in no danger. So since Chase couldn’t do anything for you, anyway, he thought it best to get the trip to Spain over with now. Why, if he hadn’t left, you would probably still be living in your cocoon. Hearing that he left is what brought you out of that state.”

  “That is beside the point,” Jessie said stubbornly. “He has still left me here for you to support. Now that I have nothing—nothing of my own.” She choked up for a moment, but then her eyes lit up again. “That’s why he left me! Because I’m penniless! He won’t get away with it!”

  “Honestly, Jessica, you’re not being at all sensible. Chase didn’t marry you for your money. And you’re certainly no burden to me. Frankly, I’m delighted you’ll be with me during your pregnancy. I’ll be able to help you. Would you deny me this chance to mother you?”

  “I don’t need mothering, Mother.” Jessie smiled. “I’m glad to see it’s taken me less time to call you Mother again than—” She wouldn’t get into that. “Understand, it’s not that I wouldn’t like to stay here with you. I’d like nothing better. It’s just that I can’t be dependent on you. Chase isn’t going to return.”

  “You don’t know that,” Rachel insisted.

  “Yes, I do. You see, I made it clear when we married that I wouldn’t live with him. I had the ranch then. I felt... I didn’t want... he’s a philanderer, Mother, ” she blurted out angrily. “I knew I couldn’t live with that. If he was going to have other women, I felt it would be better if he did his whoring far away from me, where I wouldn’t know about it.”

  “I see,” Rachel said quietly.

  “Do you?” Jessie asked hopefully. “Then you can understand why I have to go after him.”

  “Wait a minute, Jessica.” Rachel became alarmed. “Go after him?”

  “I have to,” Jessie said firmly. “He knows everything has changed for me since I told him he could live his own life. He knows I can’t support myself, not yet, anyway. If he could force me to marry him, then he can damn well take care of me now that I need him.”

  “Is that the only reason you want to follow him, Jessica ?” Rachel asked softly.

  “Of course,” Jessie said plainly. “What other reason could there be?”

  “Because you love him.”

  * * *

  Because you love him. The words haunted Jessie on the train ride to New York, on the terrifying nights she spent cramped in the small cabin of the ship, on the even more frightening journey alone across Spain’s foreign landscape. Those words gave her no comfort. They caused her nothing but despair. She couldn’t love a man like Chase Summers, a man she couldn’t trust, a man who didn’t feel anything remotely resembling love. She couldn’t.

  She wouldn’t think about it. She pushed the words away with thoughts, remembering how her mother had conceded at last and insisted on paying all the expenses of the trip, the frantic time they had had packing all the clothes Rachel had ordered made for her, the tearful farewell and admonishments that she was to return immediately if she couldn’t find Chase in New York before he sailed. But he had sailed the morning she arrived, and she hadn’t returned. She had bought passage on the next available ship, frightened, yet determined.

  But all the books she had read and all the stories she had heard had not prepared her for the awesomeness of the ocean and travel across it. When she wasn’t frightened out of her wits, she was bored. She spent many of the endlessly lonely hours examining her vague memories of the two weeks after the fire.

  There was scant recollection of a room unfamiliar to her and Chase bringing Kate before her. It seemed more like a dream, hearing Kate beg forgiveness for never telling Thomas it was she he had found with Will Phengle, hearing her confess to loving Thomas all those years, being his mistress for the year after Rachel was gone, being discarded for another because she h
adn’t been able to give him the son he wanted. Kate had still loved Thomas, even after that. She had kept silent about Rachel in terror of what Thomas would do to her if he learned the truth. That was one excuse. In the end, she admitted, she hadn’t confessed because Thomas might have brought Rachel back.

  Jessie didn’t know what she’d said to Kate, if anything. She couldn’t even be sure she hadn’t dreamed it all. It was something she would have to ask Chase about, among other things. There was something he had told her about Jeb, and something about Rachel having paid off her debt at the bank, and something about his making arrangements with the sheriff. But none of it was clear.

  Arriving in Cadiz, with her feet on firm ground again, she felt more like her old self. It was not difficult to find out that Chase’s ship had not docked there. It was not even difficult to learn that there was a rich man by the name of Carlos Silvela who lived near Ronda. In fact, information of any kind was easily obtainable, for Jessie found the Spaniards almost aggressively hospitable, willing always to go out of their way to help a stranger. It made her glad, because the more she saw of Spain, the more alien she felt. The newly settled Wyoming territory had not prepared her for a country alive with history. Cadiz in fact claimed to be the oldest continuously inhabited settlement in western Europe.

  Jessie was perhaps more amazed by her first glimpse of palm trees.

  After a day in the southern port, Jessie faced a dilemma. She couldn’t just wait there for Chase, for his ship might dock anywhere along the busy seacoast, not necessarily at Cadiz.

  There really was no choice. The odds were that Chase would find his way to Ronda and the Silvela family there, so she made arrangements for the trip. She was awed by the splendid land with its castles and ancient churches and magnificent scenery. The winding roads were bumpy, and the coach she hired old and creaky, but Jessie was thrilled by the journey.

  She was still wondering what to say to the family when she arrived just after dark, three days later, at the huge white house of the Silvela estate, on the outskirts of Ronda. If Chase hadn’t gotten there, how would she explain herself? The maid who answered the door was courteous but not helpful. To Jessie’s relief, a young man came to the door, dismissing the servant. He was of medium height, with blond hair cut short, and golden eyes so sensuous that Jessie caught her breath as they looked her over with obvious interest.

  “May I be of service, señorita?”

  “It is Señora Jessica Summers, and yes, you may indeed be of service. I have come from Cadiz—

  actually, all the way from America—to find Carlos Silvela.”

  The man’s golden eyes turned quite curious.

  “You come from America and speak Spanish very well, yet your skin is so fair—”

  “I am not Spanish.” Jessie realized his confusion and explained, “I learned the language as part of my schooling. English is my first language.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “About Señor Silvela?” she asked, wondering how long she must stand in the doorway.

  “Forgive me,” the man said. “What must you think of me, to keep you standing like this?”

  “That’s quite all right,” Jessie said politely.

  “You are as gracious as you are beautiful, señora. However, my Uncle Carlos is not allowed visitors. He is quite ill, you see.”

  “He is not dying, is he?” Jessie knew that was rude, but how would Chase feel if he never got to see him?

  The man lingered in the large foyer, wondering what to do with her. “It is a shame you have come at this time, and such a long way. Perhaps I can be of help to you. My uncle... cannot see anyone.”

  Jessie was thinking wildly. What was she to do? If she couldn’t see him, how could she find out if he was the right man?

  “California!” Jessie blurted. “Do you know if your uncle was there, many years ago?”

  “I believe so, before the family sold the land we owned there. But that was so long ago, about twenty-four years. You do not seem old enough—”

  “No, Señor Silvela, I did not mean to imply that I knew your uncle.”

  “Ah, I see my manners are lacking again, señora. I have not introduced myself. I am Rodrigo Suarez. Uncle Carlos has only sisters, my mother one of them. He is the only Silvela left.”

  “He... has no children?”

  He did not seem to mind the personal question. “There was a daughter, but she died in infancy. His wife could have no other children. But he did not divorce her, or even marry again after she died.”

  “He must have loved her very much.”

  Rodrigo smiled. “Who is to say? He seemed more disinterested than devoted. But it is more romantic to think he loved her, yes.”

  His smile deepened. Jessie got the impression that he was a romantic, a man in love with love. He was a charmer, too. But she was embarrassed to have touched on this intimate subject, and it showed in her hesitant manner. She lowered her eyes.

  “Rodrigo, do you intend to keep me waiting all evening?” They both turned as the young woman appeared from one of the side rooms off the foyer. “We have a game to finish—but who is this?”

  “I am not at all certain, Nita,” Rodrigo replied, smiling. “She has come from America and believes she has business with Uncle Carlos.”

  Jessie’s guard went up as the somberly clad Nita narrowed dark brown eyes at her. She was not much older than Jessie, and incredibly lovely, even in mourning clothes. Her dark blonde hair was severely knotted at her neck. The bones of her face were sharp, her features aristocratic. She was very beautiful. And most disdainful.

  “An American friend? A relation?” Nita sneered. “A bastard daughter perhaps, hoping to claim part of my inheritance?”

  Jessie’s temper flared. “No, wife to a bastard son,” she said coldly. Well, there it was, out in the open.

  Nita turned ashen. “You lie, señora,” Nita hissed. “Uncle Carlos has no son. Where is he, this son? Why are you here? I will tell you why. Because you are a fortune hunter. You hope to delude a sick man into thinking he has a son. You hope to trick him.”

  “I don’t—” Jessie began, but Nita said, “Throw her out, Rodrigo!”

  “Nita, please,” Rodrigo intervened. “If what she says is true—”

  “Exactly,” Jessie cut in pleasantly. “You wouldn’t want your uncle to know you had not been hospitable to his daughter-in-law, especially when I happen to be expecting his first grandchild. Would you? Of course not. So why don’t you run along, Nita, and see about a room for me.”

  “Vaya Ud. alpaseo!” Nita hissed. She stalked down the hall.

  “Well, I have no intention of going there.” Jessie grinned at the embarrassed Rodrigo.

  His smile disarmed her, it so reminded her of Chase’s smile.

  “Oh, señor, so you know and don’t send him away, my husband’s name is Chase Summers. He should show up any day now.”

  Chapter 42

  THE weather in mid-January was extremely pleasant. The atmosphere in the Silvela household was not. For three days Jessie tried to see Don Carlos, but he was never left alone, and each time she tried to enter his room, she was ushered right back out.

  It gave her no peace to realize that the man could die at any time. So wouldn’t he want to know he had a son? Wouldn’t that give him some pleasure? Chase would never forgive her if Don Carlos died without knowing he had a son, not when she was right here in the house with him. There was no telling when Chase would get there, so there was no point in waiting for him before talking to Don Carlos.

  Jessie quickly learned quite a bit about Don Carlos’s family. Emilia, the little maid Rodrigo had sent to tend her, was a veritable fountain of information. Jessie learned why Nita was so furious at her arrival and her announcement about Don Carlos’s son. The girl’s parents had died penniless, and Don Carlos was her only provider. She had been living under his roof for two years, refusing to marry so that she could take care of him. Quite noble, if her motives weren’t
so obvious.

  Rodrigo on the other hand was there out of genuine concern for his uncle. He was wealthy in his own right, his mother having married much more wisely than her sister. She was a social butterfly, traveling through Europe just then. News of her brother’s condition had not reached her yet.

  It was disquieting to learn that Don Carlos’s health had been failing him for many years. He had always been an active man, but a bad case of pneumonia had left him so weak as to turn him nearly sedentary. That had led to other ailments.

  Her third night in that strange household, Jessie waited until she heard Nita leave Don Carlos’s room and Rodrigo take her place. She left her own spacious room and tiptoed down the hall. It was early. There was plenty of time before ten o’clock, the ridiculous hour when dinner was served. She had yet to adjust to the unusual eating hours caused by the three-hour siestas in the afternoon that the whole country observed.

  No sound came from Don Carlos’s room. The old man was probably sleeping, with Rodrigo sitting by his bedside. The last time she had tried to get in, a harridan of a servant had been there, and Jessie had been unable to get a word in, the old woman rattling off a stream of “hushes” and “be quiets.”

  She could only hope Rodrigo was alone. She could handle Rodrigo. She had found that out her first day.

  The door opened silently and Jessie had moved to the foot of the great four-poster bed before Rodrigo, standing at the window overlooking the courtyard, turned and saw her. The bed was curtained with fine gossamer, but there was only one light, across the room, and it was impossible to see inside the curtains.

  “Why do you keep him smothered like that? Has he something contagious?”

  “Of course not,” Rodrigo whispered, coming forward. “His doctor recommends no disturbance, and we follow his instructions.”

  “But the man should have air and light. He shouldn’t be enshrouded like that.”

  “I would agree, but I am not a medical man, and I cannot say what is best for my uncle.”