She bathed in the kitchen because it saved carrying water all the way down the hall. Then, wrapped in her dressing gown, she passed Tía in the hall on the way back to her room to dress.
“Come in here, please, Tía.”
Tía stepped inside and closed the door.
“What’s happening out there?” Andrea asked.
“Judy is dressing for dinner. Mr. Todd is flirting with me, and Johnny is nursing his wounds. I think Steve is in his office.”
“How is Johnny?”
“I have no idea.” Tía clamped her mouth shut. However he was, he deserved to be even more battered. She hadn’t really believed that Johnny belonged to Judy, after he’d said he didn’t, and she had believed him and acted on it. Even though Judy had told her all along that Johnny loved her somehow Tía knew someone had to be lying, but she hadn’t figured out who it was until today. Even then she knew it only in her head, the way she knew how to add and subtract. She hadn’t known it in her heart, until she’d heard about the fight from Lupe. La Excelencia! Puta, if you ask me! They fight over her like dogs over a bitch in heat, and she loves it. Tonight she will sleep with the winner; tomorrow who knows? Maybe they will have to fight again…
Stop it! Don’t talk about Judy like that! Tía had ordered. Lupe had tried to dismiss her with laughter, but Tía had persisted. Shall I ask Señor Burkhart to make out your last paycheck? Tía had expected to lose Carmen’s support over that threat but she had not. Carmen had nodded her approval. And Lupe had lowered her defiant black eyes, at least for the moment.
Fortunately Andrea was too distracted to notice that all was not well.
“I would like you to dine with the family tonight,” Andrea said, not taking her eyes off her own image in the mirror. She turned to see herself from a different angle. She had a startling figure, a classic profile and masses and masses of thick hair. In the purple gown she looked like a queen.
“No, thanks. I’m not the grand lady you are. I hate dinner parties.”
Ten minutes later Steve summoned Tía into his office. Thrilled at the thought of contact with her brother, she dried her hands on a tea towel and rushed down the hall.
His door was open. Steve looked up from his rolltop desk and smiled. “Tía, I want you to join us tonight in the formal dining room.”
The smile died on Tía’s lips.
Steve saw the disappointment and confusion and stood up. “I assure you it will not be an unpleasant exper—”
“It’s not that. I just don’t do very well in formal circum—”
“Neither did I, until I had opportunities to practice my manners and become comfortable with them. No one will notice. Just follow my lead.”
“Couldn’t I please be excused?”
“No. Not since I know your reason. A young woman with your many attributes needs an opportunity to shine occasionally. I would be remiss if I did not provide one.”
Johnny, who undoubtedly had been ordered by Steve to be present, seemed only slightly damaged by the fight, but he appeared as reluctant a guest as Tía.
Tía had been surprised to look up and see Johnny, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his lithe warrior’s body clad in unaccustomed good clothes. His dark eyes had sought hers out, not Judy’s or Andrea’s, but hers, and something happened in Tía. He gave her that special look—the look that signaled her alone. Still unwilling to forgive his fighting over Judy, Tía acknowledged him and than looked pointedly away. When Johnny tried to speak to her, she managed to ignore his overture.
Steve took Tía’s arm and walked her to the table, then motioned his guests to be seated.
Andrea sat at one end of the table and Steve at the other. Johnny and Tía sat on either side of Steve while Captain Rutledge and Morgan Todd flanked Andrea. Wearing a red silk gown that brought out the vivid coloring in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, Judy sat between Rutledge and Johnny across from Tía and Morgan. Surrounded by candlelight from the table, the glow of the lamps overhead, and the gleam of fine china and crystal, Judy looked sophisticated and at home.
Seated on Andrea’s right, Captain Rutledge was jovial and expansive. “You’re a lucky man, Steve. Two beautiful sisters and a beautiful housekeeper! Just look at them. Such loveliness! Ahhh. How I miss that woman’s touch in my own life. A soldier’s existence is austere at best.”
“I’m dying to hear the news, Captain,” Andrea said.
“Ah, yes. Shall I begin with Lillie Langtry or the phenomenal spread of the telephone?”
“Lillie, of course,” Andrea smiled. She had become fascinated by the Jersey Lily in her short immersion into Albany society. She had been amazed to find that the otherwise staid women of Albany had been as fascinated with Lillie’s exploits as she herself was. Lillie cut a wide swath through riches and royalty. She lived with the freedom of a man. Her affairs were as public as if they had been condoned by the Church. Crowds followed her everywhere.
Rutledge smiled at Tía. “I recently returned from New York, in case you are wondering why I have news that would interest Miss Burkhart.”
At Tía’s murmured reply, Johnny glanced up. She was wearing a yellow gown in a richer fabric than he had seen on her before. It made her skin seem gold in the lantern light, her soft blond curls even more appealing. He hadn’t wanted to sit at this table tonight with Morgan Todd, not after fighting with the bastard that afternoon, but Steve had insisted. He could have refused to come, but he’d guessed Tía would be enlisted to round out the table as well, and he had wanted to see her, to talk to her. So far, however, she had skillfully avoided his eyes.
Tía tried to concentrate on the food before her, but her mind kept making pictures of Johnny. He had put on a frock coat, a clean white shirt, and a string tie. Beneath the overhead kerosene lanterns, his hair was so black it looked blue. He had shaved and trimmed his mustache. Of all the men at the table, Johnny was the most inviting. Just seeing him caused Tía to remember how he felt and tasted. His lips were smoother than any man’s there. He had tried to slick his hair back, but it had fallen forward on his forehead, too thick and unruly to be tamed by a simple pomatum.
Johnny glanced up at Tía, caught her gaze, and the unreadable look in his dark eyes was replaced by something else—something challenging.
At the end of the table, Rutledge continued with Lillie’s exploits. “Half the women in New York are wearing Langtry knots in their hair. The rest are wearing Langtry shoes and hats. I believe she’s even had a bustle named in her honor. I actually saw the Jersey Lily riding in the park one evening with the Prince of Wales. I did not recognize him myself, but two of my companions confirmed that it was indeed the prince.”
“I read in a newspaper before I left Albany that she was keeping company with the king of England. Is that true?”
“The king of Belgium, Prince Rudolph of Austria, and other royalty as well.”
Carmen bustled in from the kitchen and poured wine in the goblets.
Rutledge lifted his glass and smiled. “Good thing we’re not having dinner at the White House. President Hayes would not allow this.”
Andrea laughed. “Lemonade Lucy has had quite an impact on that poor man.”
“Temperance is as old as the hills.”
“But so is wine,” Andrea added.
Rutledge raised his glass. “Here’s to both.”
Judy leaned close to Johnny. “I wonder if he knows his cinch is getting frayed?” she whispered.
Johnny grinned. “If my hooves weren’t hobbled…”
Morgan leaned toward Tía. “They don’t keep any tornado juice around here, do they?”
Tornado juice had to be whiskey. Tía leaned closer to Morgan. “I believe Steve has some. May I get it for you?”
Morgan sighed. “No, thanks. I’d better behave myself or Rutledge’ll spread some of that tongue oil on me.”
Morgan looked up, caught Judy watching him, and winked at her. Judy felt slightly mollified. Rutledge talked incessantly
to Steve and Andrea. He tried to talk to Judy, but for once Andrea came in handy.
They were all boring to Judy. The captain was probably nice for an older man, but she wished he’d stop coming around. Like a gossipy old maggot, he was always hanging around her, wanting to know all about her: what she was doing, whom she was walking out with, which young man she liked best. He was an old pervert who probably peeked in windows or something equally disgusting.
There was a sudden lull in the conversation. Rutledge glanced at Morgan and then at Johnny. “You two young bucks fighting on the same or opposing sides?”
Johnny glanced at Morgan and then at Tía. Steve cleared his throat and spoke. “Opposing.”
“Ahem.” Rutledge glanced quickly at Judy, then at Morgan Todd.
Judy could not resist the opening. “I don’t know why they keep fighting over me. I hate men with bruises.”
“If you had ’em both lady broke, you wouldn’t want either one of ’em,” Steve said.
Judy laughed. “We’ll never know. Not much chance of breaking either one of these stallions.”
Rutledge forced himself to keep silent. Breaking wasn’t what they needed. He glanced at Johnny, who managed to remain arrogant in spite of his bruises, and at Morgan, who was starting to show the effects of too much booze and too many women. Men like these two should be gelded, he reflected soberly—save the world a lot of trouble.
“What tribe are you from, Brago?” he asked.
Shocked at Rutledge’s insensitivity, Tía glanced quickly at Johnny.
“I never lived with a tribe. The Cherokee didn’t want anything to do with my grandmother after she married a white man.” His voice was deceptively mild, but Tía sensed the iron underneath.
“Ah, Cherokee. From Oklahoma?”
“No, sir. Originally from South Carolina.” He sounded polite and unruffled by Rutledge’s questions.
“You speak any Indian?”
“No, my father was a Texan who never mastered the Iroquoian tongue. My mother stopped speaking it when she married him.”
“Your mother was full-blooded Cherokee?”
“Half.”
“Humph. I guess that’s not as bad.”
“If I didn’t lack one part white blood, I’d be almost human, wouldn’t I?” Johnny picked up his knife and cut off a bite-sized piece of his steak. “Reminds me of a man who was describing Arizona. He said all the territory lacks is water and society or it would be heaven. His friend agreed. ‘Yep,’ he said, ‘water and society is all they lack in hell, too.’”
Rutledge cleared his throat and looked as though he were about to say something.
Johnny lifted his fork to his mouth, waved it under his nose, and sniffed the fragrant aroma of beef. “There’s no such thing as a little bit with child, a little bit dead, or a little bit Indian,” he said, his eyes crinkled with laughter.
Carmen walked back into the room carrying a vegetable platter. Tía was tempted to order her to dump the whole thing down the front of the captain’s uniform to see if he would scrape the peas and carrots off in formation. She couldn’t imagine why she should care if Rutledge embarrassed Johnny in front of everyone, but she was outraged and glad that Johnny had turned the tables.
“Well,” Steve said, glancing around at his guests, “I guess we can all be grateful this is still a country where a man can switch his tail.”
Andrea picked up the conversation with a question, and Johnny resumed eating. Dinner seemed to drag on forever. At last Steve pushed back his chair. “Would you join me in a drink by the fire?” he asked the table at large.
Andrea, Rutledge, and Morgan followed Steve to the large, comfortable chairs by the empty fireplace.
Johnny glanced once at Tía, saw no welcome in the look she flashed him, and excused himself.
Judy motioned Tía to her side. “Will you do me a favor?”
“If I can.”
Judy smiled conspiratorially. “Oh, you can. There’s no doubt about that.” Pausing, she pulled Tía around until they were both facing Morgan Todd, across the room. He tossed his whiskey down and then stood up to make his excuses to Steve. As they watched, he nodded at Judy and Tía, walked out of the parlor, and headed down the hall toward his room. Judy waited until his door closed.
“Did you see poor Johnny? He must love me a lot to take a beating like that,” Judy said softly. “He can’t even stand it when Morgan looks at me.”
“You wanted a favor?” Tía reminded her.
“Before they fought over me, I promised to walk in the moonlight with Morgan. I’d be crazy to do it now. Those two might kill each other.”
“So?”
“So…I want you to walk with Morgan…for me.”
“Me! That wouldn’t help,” she protested. “It’s you he wa—”
“Don’t be silly!” Judy interrupted. “I saw Morgan looking at you. He’s easy. He’ll court any pretty girl. Heavens! Don’t you know anything?”
“I guess not,” Tía said darkly.
“Well, it’s time you learned. You promised me one favor, and this is what I want.”
“I didn’t promise.”
“No welshing, Tía Marlowe. A promise is a promise. Besides, you could save Johnny or Morgan or both from getting hurt or even killed,” she said sternly. “Will you?”
Inwardly Tía recoiled. She shouldn’t do it. They would kill each other sooner or later anyway. She was sorry she had ever met Johnny Brago. Sorry she had ever let him kiss her. Any woman stupid enough to harbor soft feelings for a man like him deserved to have to walk in the moonlight with Morgan Todd. Maybe it would teach her a lesson.
“I’ll do it,” she said, reluctantly. She would regret this, she knew. But nothing much could go wrong that hadn’t already gone wrong. All she had to do was walk in the moonlight with Morgan Todd. He was half dead already. Johnny had seen to that.
“When?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
For once Tía did not help the women clean up; she went to her room instead. She was tired, angry at Johnny, and in no mood to be nice to Morgan Todd, but the thought of taking a walk with him in front of Johnny did have a certain appeal.
Exquisitely melancholy and very Spanish, strains of a Mexican fandango wafted from the other side of the house, near the cantina. Tía knew who would be playing—she had seen the impromptu band of smiling vaqueros practicing on the porch of their bunkhouse. Sounds of people clapping and shouting “¡Olé!” made her impatient. Someone must be dancing. Perhaps Lupe. Men seldom sounded that excited and happy without female companionship. It sounded like Tubac on a warm balmy Saturday night. She was suddenly homesick for Mama, and her feet fairly itched to dance. Mama might not have taught her to be a great lady, but she had taught her to dance, ride, and take care of herself.
From the back door, the music was louder. It ended unexpectedly, and a new song was begun, this one with a quicker tempo. As she walked around the house, Tía’s flat slippers barely touched the sandy soil. Paper lanterns had been hung from posts, illuminating a circle in front of the small cantina, where men crowded around, shouting and clapping their encouragement. Someone was dancing!
Straining, Tía stood on tiptoe, but she could not see over the heads and shoulders of the men. She pushed her away into the crowd. The music rose to a sudden crescendo. Stamping and shouting, men threw their hats into the air.
“Pah!” Angry and disgusted, a female voice caused a parting of the crowd near Tía. Lupe followed that curse to Tía’s side.
“Lupe! Who’s dancing?” Tía asked, amazed to find the girl beside her so suddenly.
“I hate that puta!” she snapped, her face sullen. “La Excelencia—la patrona! She dances like the teasing puta she is! She—”
Loud music and shouts of excited men drowned Lupe out. The crowd parted for a moment, and Tía saw Judy, her slender body swaying provocatively to the rhythm of the pulsing music. She danced beautifully.
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The men clapped and shouted their enjoyment. How young and pretty and full of life she was! And how much joy her dancing gave these hardworking, fun-loving men.
A warm hand on Tía’s arm startled her.
“Oh!”
It was Johnny. Narrowed against the lantern light, his dark eyes seemed to pin her to the spot, impairing her ability to breathe.
His hand slipped down her arm, burning a trail as he laced his fingers between hers, creating a warm, adhesive tingle in her palm that sent threads of hunger into her body and kept her hand unprotestingly snug in his.
“You owe me a walk in the moonlight,” he said softly.
Now or never, Tía thought crazily. Johnny Brago was a man who could kiss one girl and fight over another, practically in the same breath. He obviously belonged to Judy, he fought over her as if he did, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to walk with Tía. Now she understood what Mama and her friends had said about men being different from women. They did odd, amazing things that left a woman filled with confusion and uncertainty.
“Some other time, Johnny,” she replied after a moment’s pause. “I want to dance now, and later I’ve promised to walk with Morgan.”
Johnny’s warm smile faded to be replaced by that handsome, cocky slant of lips and eyes that projected an impenetrable facade. For an instant Tía regretted her words, but the part of her that still wanted to punch him as hard as her fist could punch didn’t regret anything.
Johnny lifted Tía’s hand. Now it all made sense to him. Taking this job had been a way of getting out of Tombstone. She was one of Morgan Todd’s harem, but she was smarter than most. She had gotten Morgan interested and then ran off and waited for him to follow. And he had.
He had to admire her ingenuity, if not her ability to be a straight shooter. He turned Tía’s cold hand palm up, forcing it when he had to, and then, with deliberate solemnity, pretending to be a swell like Morgan Todd, he lowered his head and pressed his lips into her palm.
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