The Wildest Heart

by Rosemary Rogers

  I saw more of Mark than I did of Todd, and when I did see Todd he seemed preoccupied. In his present mood it was easy to avoid setting a date for our wedding. “After the matter has been settled… after the trail drive…”

  “I’m gonna bring you back the finest wedding dress you ever did see,” Todd said in one of his better moods. “An’ diamonds for your ring and your hair.”

  “Oh, no,” I protested involuntarily, “not diamonds!” Seeing his chagrined look, I added quickly, “I never have liked diamonds very much. But I do like sapphires, or emeralds.”

  “You’ll have whatever you want, little girl. Just so you’ll keep right on puttin’ up with me.”

  I was swept into his arms, and talking stopped. It was always that way. And yet there were times, when I was alone, that I couldn’t quite believe that I was actually to be married. “I won’t be any man’s slave!” I used to say bravely to myself. Was it possible that I had given in so meekly?

  I saw less and less of Todd once the spring roundup had begun, although I did, on occasion, ride out before the sun came up to see what went on. It seemed hard, back-breaking work, this task of hunting out the cattle, branding calves, and sorting out what the men called “the gather.” It seemed that preparations for the long trail drive to the nearest railhead could take months, depending on how far the cattle had strayed.

  As a member of the newly formed Cattlemen’s Association, Todd would not be making the drive alone. Because of constant problems with Indians and renegade rustlers, the cattlemen in the area would be making an enormous combined drive this year.

  “Meant to have Mark go along with us,” Todd said gruffly. “But I guess he’d be more useful stayin’ here keepin’ an eye on things.”

  I knew he was thinking of that time, long ago, when he had ridden out with my father to find silver, and had come back to find he had lost everything he had worked for and loved. But I could not help feeling sorry for Mark, who was, after all, a lawyer, not a rancher.

  When I mentioned this to Todd, he merely snorted. “Mark knows where his bread’s buttered! He’s my heir and it’s high time he learned the cattle business.” And then he gave me an exaggerated wink. “That is, unless you change things, sweetheart. Give me a son, and Mark can go back to Boston and his law books.”

  “Todd Shannon, I am not a brood mare!”

  “You’re too pretty for that. An’ you better stop botherin’ about Mark or I’m liable to get jealous!”

  “It’s a trifle late for that, isn’t it?” I responded pertly, but as usual he laughed, with the assurance of a man who had no doubts of his hold over me. Yes, Todd was sure of me now, but was I sure of myself? Of my own feelings? I had come here to find myself and to accept a challenge, but found no peace, only violence and confusion. Several times I reminded myself that I was a rich woman. Giving up the SD would mean nothing. I would still be rich enough to travel where I pleased, do as I pleased. But how could I leave now? There was Todd, whose strong, physical attraction for me I could not deny. It was an attraction of the senses alone, but did that matter? Was this what people called “love”?

  And then there was the thought of my father, who had made everything possible, who had loved and trusted me without even knowing me. He had been a man who saw good in everybody and everyone had respected him, or so it seemed. What had he wanted of me? Why had he made the stipulation that I lived in New Mexico for a year at least?

  I tried not to think about the mysterious hints that Ramon Kordes had thrown out. Most of all, I tried not to think about his brother. But then the news came from New Orleans, bringing all the unpleasantness back to the surface again.

  Flo was dead. Killed by a flying bullet in some barroom brawl. Poor Flo. So bored, so anxious to live!

  “He killed her! Just as surely as if he’d put the bullet in her personally. Everything, everyone that belongs to me they’ve destroyed. But I swear to God that this time I’m goin’ to wipe out that whole brood of rattlers!”

  I had learned that it was useless trying to talk reason to Todd when he was in such a mood, so I went back home; to be haunted, in my dreams that night, by visions of Flo as I remembered her. Poor, silly Flo.

  I went back to reading my father’s journals, obediently starting with those that told of his early life. It was difficult at first to imagine him as a young man, filled with rebellion, ambition, hopes and dreams. How had he turned into a lonely old man who sought oblivion in a bottle of brandy? When had he stopped hoping? Too late… too late… that was what everyone said, looking at me. I had arrived too late, but was it my fault? What was expected of me?

  Nothing, Mark said. My father would have been the last man to demand any sacrifices of me. “All he wanted was your happiness, and if you have found it Rowena, hang onto it. Stop torturing yourself with supposition! that you are failing him in some way.”

  “Oh, Mark, whatever would I do without you?”

  “Very well, I’m sure!” His tone was wry. “Do you know what I admire most about you? Your strength and your character. Yes, I think you will always do very well. Your father would have been proud of you.”

  I was relieved that Mark had assumed the role of affectionate friend. That he seemed to accept the fact that I was to marry his uncle, after all. I can’t imagine what I would have done without his companionship and calm common sense.

  After Todd had left on the long trail drive, Mark and I spent as much time together as propriety would allow. I had almost forgotten, by this time, that he had ever declared his love for me, and it never occurred to me that our being thrown together so much might prove a strain on even his gentlemanly forbearance.

  My first inkling came one night when I had invited him to my house for dinner, and had added carelessly that he might spend the night, since Marta would be sleeping in the house to observe the proper conventions.

  We had been playing chess; he startled me when he rose from his chair so suddenly that the board tipped over, scattering the pieces all over the floor.

  “Mark! What on earth is the matter with you? And I was just about to put your king in check!”

  “You must know that I cannot possibly stay!” he said in a strangely suppressed tone of voice.

  I stared at him in dismay.

  “But why on earth not? What has got into you?”

  “Rowena—dear God, do you take me for a man of steel? Or not as a man at all? Don’t you realize what it means to see you every day, to be constantly with you, knowing that you are promised to my uncle and that I can never possess you?”

  “I’m sorry, Mark. I hadn’t thought—that is, I thought you had forgotten all about your infatuation for me.”

  “It was no infatuation, and I’m trying hard to be a gentleman, and the brother you seem to want. But don’t make it harder on me by inviting me to spend the night under the same roof!” He added, still in the same, controlled tones, “If I thought you loved my uncle, it might have been easier. I’m not such a dolt that I couldn’t accept the fact that you might love someone else. But you don’t love him. I might as well say this, Rowena, for I’ve promised myself to be frank with you always. You’re drawn to Uncle Todd, I can see that. You’ve never met a man quite like him before, with the same aura of power and ruthlessness, and he intrigues you, does he not? But you don’t love him any more than you love me!”

  I took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Well! I may not like what you said, but I’m flattered that you were frank! Mark, I am sorry! I’ve been selfish. I haven’t thought of your feelings, only how happy I am to have your friendship and your companionship. And as for what you said about my feelings for Todd, well, that is something I cannot discuss, not even with you. Can we still be friends?”

  He had remained standing; now he sighed deeply, shoulders slumping. “We’ll always be friends, I hope. And I apologize for the outburst. Just don’t invite me to spend the night with you again, will you?”

  I was sorry for my thoughtlessness a
fter Mark left, and rather anxious the next day lest our relationship might be spoiled. But his manner was just the same as usual and his smile just as warm, so I put the whole thing out of my mind and let the days fall into their old familiar routine.

  Nothing was changed, I told myself, nothing.

  We rode together, played chess together, and went over the account books as usual, neither of us making any mention of that night. Because our association was an innocent one, I never gave a thought to what other people might think. It seemed as if I had flouted convention for so long, in almost everything I had done, that I had ceased to think of it. After all, we weren’t living under the same roof and Todd had left us together. Mark was his nephew; I was his partner and his affianced bride. We were almost related!

  And then…

  It is easy to ask oneself afterwards, what if I had not done this? What if I had done thus instead? But as I recall it, I had gone to bed exceptionally early that night and had waked earlier than usual. In fact, while I breakfasted I reread the letter I had received from Mrs. Poynter, inviting me to spend a few days with her and the colonel at Fort Selden. She had heard that Todd was away, and I think she imagined I must be upset by the news of Flo’s death, and lonely for female companionship. In any case she mentioned that she and Colonel Poynter would be visiting El Paso, and she thought I might enjoy visiting that famous border town myself.

  I thought I might discuss it with Mark. He had said he would visit me at about noon, but if I left my house early enough, perhaps I might catch him before he left to watch the breaking in of the raw mustangs. Perhaps I could accompany him myself.

  Marta shook her head disapprovingly when she realized I meant to ride out by myself. “It is not wise. Better take Jules with you.”

  “And then who would stay here with you? I know my way by now, and I think I’m capable of looking after myself.” To allay her fears, I showed her the small derringer I would carry with me, slipped into the pocket of my riding skirt.

  “I still think that you should wait for señor Mark.”

  “But I’m not going to! Don’t frown at me, Marta, you know how stubborn I can be!”

  I left to the accompaniment of dark mutterings in a Mexican dialect I found hard to understand, and many doleful shakes of her head; but I was lighthearted this morning and would not let Marta’s forebodings spoil my ride.

  It was exhilarating to ride alone, to feel the long, smooth stride of my own horse under me, and to feel that I, Rowena Dangerfield, owned all this savagely beautiful land I was riding through. A light breeze, blowing down from the mountains, whipped tendrils of hair about my face, and I reveled in the feeling of freedom that riding by myself always brought to me.

  What did it matter if Mark had already left the house? I would let my horse rest in the stables, order another saddled and go out to meet him. Perhaps I’d have my noon meal at the chuck wagon, with the men. Even beans would taste good on a day like this!

  I was lighthearted enough to ride past the tall saguaro cactus without the unpleasant feeling that seeing it usually gave me. Nothing must spoil my day. I topped the small ridge where Flo and I had rested our horses on that day that now seemed so long ago, and cantered my horse down the gentle slope on the other side. Not too far to go now.

  And then I saw him. A tall rider, hat pushed back on his head, reining his mount around so that it blocked my way.

  “Mornin,’ ma’am! Sure is a nice mornin’ for a ride, ain’t it? But if you’re lookin’ for Mark, he’s already gone. Left real early this morning.”

  “Mark?” I said haughtily, lifting an eyebrow and he chuckled.

  “Yeah, that’s what I call him. Why should I tack a mister onto his name? He ain’t payin’ my wages!”

  He had forced me to rein my horse to a stop, and he made no effort to let me by.

  I had disliked this man ever since that particular morning in Silver City, when he had stared me up and down so insolently. I disliked him even more now, but I didn’t fear him. Not yet…

  “I’m paying your wages, Gil Pardee,” I said coldly. “And I’ll thank you to move aside. I’m in a hurry!”

  He put his head on one side and studied me openly, taking in every detail of my appearance, I was sure. “Well, now, lady boss, if that ain’t right unfriendly of you! And here I thought I was bein’ obligin,’ tryin’ to save you a trip to the house. But I guess you ain’t used to our ways out here yet, are you?”

  For the first time I had a feeling of impending trouble, and my lips tightened. Was he trying to frighten me? Or to test me? Whatever his motives were, I refused to show fear.

  I returned his stare with an icy one of my own. “Mr. Pardee, you are in my way!”

  “Well, now, is that right? Shucks, an’ here I thought you might appreciate some company, you bein’ all alone and all.”

  “You thought wrong then, and my patience is wearing thin.”

  “Guess you are in a hurry to see Mark. I’ve often said to myself, ‘now there’s one lucky feller!’ Wouldn’t mind bein’ left home to look after a purty little lady like you myself.” The meaning of his sneering words was beginning to penetrate, and I felt my knuckles turn white with the effort I was making to control my temper.

  “Mr. Pardee, you may consider yourself fired. I neither like your attitude nor your manners. You can pick up your wages at the house.”

  He shook his head infuriatingly, grinning meanly.

  “You ain’t got that right, lady boss. Todd Shannon hired me. An’ I don’t guess he’ll fire me either, if he hears what I could tell him about the way you and that lawyer nephew of his been carryin’ on.” His grin widened, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “But if you was to be as nice to me as you are to Mark, well, things might be different! I ain’t a bad sort, once you get to know me. Always found it easy to be persuaded by a purty little gal.”

  In some ways the situation I now found myself in was almost laughable. But I had begun to be frightened, although I would not show it. “If Todd Shannon ever finds out what you have been saying to me he’d kill you,” I said contemptuously. “You’d better start riding, Gil Pardee, and I’d ride fast, if I were you!”

  His smile had been replaced by a tight-lipped leer.

  “Think you’re too good for me, huh? Mebbe you think I don’t know enough to please a lady. But that little Flo gal didn’t think so! Fact is, she was real happy at what I could give her. Came after me askin’ for more. Now, what makes you think you’d be any different? You bin giving it to Mark so I guess you can spare some for me.”

  His sudden, lightning-swift movement took me off guard. All the time he was talking, he’d been edging his horse closer to mine, and now he grabbed for the reins I held so tightly.

  Dancer reared, almost unseating me. And I felt his leg brush mine. He had hold of the reins and was trying to control both Dancer and his own horse. I heard him cursing loudly.

  And then I shot him. God knows how I contrived to pull the small gun from my pocket. I think I did it quite by instinct. He was so close, and I have always been a good shot. I hardly realized what I had done until I saw him start to fall, his mouth open, his eves staring wide with shock. There was blood all over his shirt. I had time to notice that before I let the gun drop, my hands full with trying to control my frightened horse.

  I had killed a man. And I had never realized before how easy it was to kill. Mark said I was suffering from shock. He said that was why my body felt so rigid, my face and limbs so cold. And yet, shock or no, I had left Gil Pardee lying on his face in the dirt, with his blood slowly seeping out to form a puddle under him, and I had ridden on to find Mark.

  “Does it make me a murderer? Should we send for the sheriff?”

  In Todd’s enormous study Mark forced me to drink brandy while he knelt by me, chafing my hands and saying soothing things that I scarcely heard. My voice sounded strangely cold in my own ears.

  “I remember killing a charging wild buffalo once in India.
I dropped onto one knee—there was scarcely time to take aim, you know. But my shot took him just where I had meant to, and dropped him only a few feet from me. My grandfather was very proud of me that day.”

  “Rowena, you must stop thinking about it. You did what your instincts made you do. What you had to do. My God!” His fingers tightened convulsively over mine. “When I think of what might have happened! If you had not killed him, I think I would have. And of the other men here. You mustn’t go on blaming yourself.”

  “But I don’t. And can’t you see it, Mark? That is the worst part of all. I killed a man, and I feel nothing. Not even remorse. I think I hated him so much at that moment I wanted to kill him.”

  The sheriff came and went, his face grim and serious. His attitude was the same as Mark’s. I had been defending my honor, my virtue. I had merely saved someone else the trouble of killing the brute. No one reproached me for having been out riding by myself, in spite of all the warnings I had received. No one doubted my story.

  I was perfectly calm, perfectly composed. Only Mark knew what the man had actually told me. He was worried about me.

  “Pardee was a sick animal. After what he said about Flo… Rowena, you know Uncle Todd would never have believed him! Promise me you won’t keep brooding about this.”

  The brandy made me feel warm again and curiously light-headed, but I was still able to think clearly in spite of it.

  “I think I must go away for a while. That invitation from Mrs. Poynter came at just the right time.”

  “You mustn’t run away! Rowena, no one blames you.”

  “You mean they did not say so openly. But those other men—the Texans who were Pardee’s friends. How do I know what they might not think?”

  “You saw for yourself how angry they were! The man was a loner, they said. I don’t think anyone liked him very well. He was a boaster.”

  “He was a human being, and I killed him.”