The Wildest Heart

by Rosemary Rogers

  “My sons!”

  Her voice was rich and musical, only slightly accented.

  “Si, madre—your sons.”

  Was it my imagination, or was there a faintly sardonic note in Julio’s voice?

  I had the feeling that I was watching something carefully staged as Julio went forward to accept his mother’s embrace with a casual one of his own.

  “Lucas!” He had been standing at the bottom of the steps, his head tilted slightly to watch her, but now as he caught her against him I felt strangely awkward, as if I was watching some private performance I had no right to witness.

  “You’re more beautiful than ever, Elena!”

  She laughed like a young girl, her hands going up to touch his face as he released her. “And you, what is your excuse for staying away so long this time? I’ve missed you. We have all missed you.”

  Again the words that my father had written flashed through my mind at that instant—“Lucas adores his mother…”

  And certainly, as he looked down at her, his face looked suddenly young and unguarded. In the rapidly dimming light I could not decide what the expression he wore for just a moment could mean, and the next minute he was smiling at her teasingly.

  “I think I stay away only to hear you say that when I return!” His tone was light, but it held an undercurrent of emotion I had never heard in his voice before. His hands touched her shoulders lightly, and close behind Julio said softly, “Is it not touching to see such devotion between mother and son?”

  I thought he was jealous, and could not blame him. Those two…

  And then, for the first time, Elena Kordes noticed me.

  “But that is not Little Bird! Julio, have you taken another wife already?”

  Lucas gave a smothered snort of laughter that made me throw my head back angrily. He had no right to place me in such an embarrassing position, and poor Julio as well.

  But surprisingly Julio seemed equal to the occasion. “Not yet, mamacita, but it is not improbable that I may think about it soon.”

  Lucas stopped smiling and started to frown. I saw his eyes narrow at Julio.

  I stepped forward boldly and stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at this beautiful, proud-looking woman, who looked as young as I, and carried herself like a duchess.

  “Since your sons have neglected to perform the common civilities, I suppose I must introduce myself,” I said, keeping my voice even. “My name is Rowena Dangerfield. You knew my father.”

  If my rather blunt announcement had startled her, she hid it well. I noticed only the arching of her dark brows, and then, with a reproachful glance at Lucas, she hurried down to steps to me, both hands extended.

  “You are Rowena? Guy’s daughter? But how thoughtless of my sons not to have sent ahead to tell me—they are both barbarians, I am afraid.” She touched my hands, dropped them, and then, taking me by surprise, put one soft hand under my chin, tilting my face slightly to one side.

  “Forgive me, but your eyes are so like your father’s! Ah, yes—I should have noticed your eyes, in spite of the Apache ceremonial dress you wear.” She laughed softly. “It was my father’s idea, I suppose. So like him. But it was good of you to indulge him, all the same.”

  There was no trace in the woman who stood before me now of the half-wild Apache girl she had been. Except for her slight Spanish accent, Elena Kordes would have fit very well in any London drawing room.

  “Your father was very kind to me. And the ceremonial dress of the Apache women is beautiful.”

  I heard Julio’s grunt of approval behind me. “My little sister has adapted herself well to our ways. And she is Apache, now that the shaman our grandfather has adopted her as his other daughter.”

  I heard Elena’s sharply drawn breath, and saw her turn her head to look at Lucas, who lounged negligently against one of the carved wooden posts that stood on either side of the stone steps.

  His voice was noncommittal. “It is true. The shaman and Guy Dangerfield were blood brothers, remember? Seemed to take a liking to her.”

  “I’m sorry that I cannot say the same thing with regard to my feelings toward you, Lucas Cord!” I snapped.

  “She’s got a nasty temper, and the tongue of a shrew,” he said to his mother over my head. “Still, perhaps Ramon can make something of her!”

  I saw the bright glitter of Elena Kordes’s eyes as her look went from one to the other of us.

  When Julio, his voice heavy with significance, said suddenly, “You forget, brother, that I am also a Kordes by blood,” it was Elena’s sudden frown that held Lucas silent.

  “That’s enough! You will not begin your visit by squabbling like children! Rowena, please… Come with me. You are here, and I am happy. As for my sons, it is sometimes best to ignore them!”

  I had had a biting retort on the tip of my tongue when Lucas had spoken. Now I bit it back, and went with Elena. I was here, with the mountains that ringed us reminding me that this valley could be a prison as well as a refuge. For the moment, protest would not only be pointless but foolish as well. “Know thine enemy…”

  It seemed as if I was to be given both the time and the opportunity to know mine!

  No whit perturbed by my tight-lipped silence. Elena Kordes continued to speak as she led me through the large entrance hall and up the shallow staircase that connected it with a kind of gallery, running along three sides of the room.

  “This house is simply built, as you see, but I chose the Spanish style, which is so much better suited to our climate here. You like the idea of a gallery? It makes for coolness in the summer, and for a feeling. I think of—what is the word I seek? Spaciousness, yes, that is it. The bedrooms open off the gallery too.” She moved her hand, and I saw the deep, rich gleam of an enormous pigeon’s-blood ruby, embedded in an antique setting. “That wing is kept for my sons and their guests. On this side Luz and I have our rooms. You’ve heard of Luz?”

  I shook my head, wondering why I felt that her expansive, friendly chattering was somehow at variance with the real nature of this woman. Was it only because my mind had already been prejudiced against her? She frowned slightly, pushing open a door that must surely lead into her own bedroom—large, and beautifully furnished, dominated by an enormous four-poster bed.

  “They have neglected to tell you anything, I see! Luz is… the daughter of a very old friend. After her father died, Lucas brought her here, and she has lived here ever since. A sweet child, and I am glad of her companionship. When my son is ready to give up his wandering ways… well, I have always hoped they would marry some day. Luz imagines herself in love with him, I think.” Again, I had the strange impression that I was being tested in some way; that Elena watched for my reaction.

  I shrugged, moving farther into the room. “If they are to marry, I suppose it would help if she imagined herself in love with him. But if I am to be frank, I can only say I feel sorry for the poor girl. Does she know about Flo Jeffords, and what happened to her?”

  I think it was at that moment that the pretense dropped between us. We faced each other fully, her hand on the door of a heavily carved armoire that stood in one comer of the room.

  “You don’t like Lucas. That is strange, for most women do. Perhaps you’re only angry because he brought you here. Or is it because you really imagined yourself in love with Todd Shannon?”

  It had been said, at last. Todd’s name fell between us like a stone, and although I think she hoped to disconcert me, I was relieved that I could be myself again. “I don’t know if I love Todd Shannon or not. I am engaged to marry him. It seemed the most practical thing to do. Why should love enter into it? I am more practical than sentimental, I’m afraid.”

  “And that is why you are here, is it not? Yes, you look like Guy, but you are not like him. Guy had too much sensibility, he felt too much.”

  “Perhaps I am more like you,” I said softly. “I can bend, if I have to, but I will not break.”

  Amazingly, she cl
apped her hands together, the ruby ring sparkling in the lamplight. “I am almost sorry that you were not my daughter, now! I think you understand how much stronger than men a woman can be. I wondered, when I saw you in the Apache dress. Guy’s daughter, I thought. Is she as meek as she looks? Will she be like Luz? And you are not. Luz is frightened of me. I think you have a mind of your own. There is a challenge here—for both of us. Will you marry one of my sons to please your dead father? Will you continue to be stubborn? In any case, I think your coming here will save me from boredom.” She smiled, opening the armoire to reveal rows of dresses. “I think you will feel more comfortable in one of my gowns. We are almost of the same height and build, I believe. Will you choose?”

  At least I was on familiar ground again. I smiled at her, and moved forward to study the variety of clothing she had offered me.

  “You are very kind. And I do have a mind of my own, as well as being practical. Are you sure you will not mind my wearing one of these dresses?”

  She laughed delightedly. “And why should I? No, I want you to look beautiful for my sons. And for me too, perhaps. For I think we will arrive at an understanding of each other in the end. It has been a long time since I’ve felt challenged.”

  “Or I…” I said softly, and we smiled at each other.

  When we went down to dinner, we were almost allies. Beneath the surface we both knew the reasons for my being here, and my resentment of the fact. And yet, in some strange way, I think Elena enjoyed the thought that my presence might act as a catalyst. She helped me choose a gown of rich blue silk. Impatiently, seating me before her mirror, she helped me pin up my hair, so that it fell from a coiled knot at the back of my head to thick curls around my neck and shoulders.

  “You have hair as black and as thick as mine… how is it that you did not take after your mother? She was an English blonde, Guy told me. You were not sorry to leave her?”

  “My mother was not sorry to see me leave,” I said shortly. “We had nothing in common.”

  “It’s strange. I think that you and I have much in common after all,” Elena said, and laughed softly.

  I said bluntly, “I can’t imagine why you would want me to marry your son. Would you do the same thing in my place?”

  “Perhaps, if I had no other choice! Your father wished it, you know. And I have three sons. You may choose.”

  “And if I want none of them?” I had to ask it, but she only shook her head at me.

  “I think, if you are sensible, and practical, as you say you are, you will choose one of them. It is the only way you will leave this valley. You see, I am not only practical, but determined as well. And after all, it is not such a hard choice, is it? My sons are young men. Todd Shannon is old—too old for you, I think. But we can talk about it later.”

  I recognized a certain note of implacability in her voice and shrugged my shoulders. We would talk. I was sure of it. And in the meantime, I felt sure that the meal we were about to partake of would prove an interesting experience.

  The great, polished table could have held at least thirty guests without crowding them, and yet there were only six places laid.

  I saw Ramon Kordes again, and answered his awkward bow with a slight inclination of my head. Luz was an attractive dark-haired girl of about nineteen, wearing the full, brightly colored skirt and low-cut blouse of a Mexican woman, her loosely flowing hair falling below her waist. Her pretty face looked rather sullen, and from the glances she threw in my direction I did not think she liked my being here. Her attention seemed to be centered on Lucas, who treated her with a casual indifference that set my teeth on edge. I noted that he had not bothered to change clothes, although he had shaved off his half-grown beard. And even Julio had made some effort to observe the niceties, although it was clear he felt uncomfortable seated at a table.

  In spite of the formality of the place settings and the room we dined in, with its low-beamed ceiling and dark, Spanish furniture, I learned that we would have to serve ourselves. The food was of the highly spiced variety that Marta excelled in cooking; and the old woman who brought it in and left the covered dishes at one end of the table looked to be at least seventy years old.

  It was Ramon, surprisingly enough, who began the argument after I had come down with his mother, and we had seated ourselves.

  I had noticed that Luz jumped to her feet and began to pass the steaming dishes of food around, beginning with the men. It reminded me of the Apache ranchería, where the women always waited until the men had eaten first; and almost automatically, I started to help her.

  Julio took my impulsive movement for granted. Lucas raised one eyebrow and looked towards his younger brother.

  “You see how well-trained she is already? She has even learned how to cook; isn’t that right, Julio?”

  Ramon pushed back his chair with a crash that surprised us all, even I, with a retort on the tip of my tongue.

  “Even for you, this is going too far!” He looked angrily at Lucas. “Have you forgotten the debt you owe to Rowena’s father? She is a gently brought up lady, and not just another captive you’ve picked up on your travels! You have no right…”

  “Little brother, I have every right to do as I please, an’ you better start remembering that. Bought her for a perfectly good Henry rifle an’ several rounds of ammunition, didn’t I, Rowena? An’ if I hadn’t, she’d be in some crib in Mexico by now, or dead. Better be grateful I brought her here instead, brother, or I might just change my mind an’ enter the goddamn sweepstakes myself!”

  “If I am supposed to be the prize in the sweepstakes you talk about, you’d better forget it, Lucas Cord! You are the last man on earth I’d consider!”

  “Rather have Shannon, wouldn’t you? But as far as he’s concerned you’re dead—or worse. So you’d better start looking around for a substitute. Might do better with a younger man, even if he ain’t half owner of the almighty SD!”

  I heard my own sucked-in breath of rage in the silence that followed.

  “Man, you say? Are we talking about men? Being hardly one yourself, how would you know? Taking a woman by force is more your style, isn’t it?”

  “You sorry that I didn’t take you by force? Maybe that’s what’s turned you into a damned shrew.”

  Elena’s voice cut across his angry speech like a knife blade.

  “That is enough! Lucas, have you forgotten your manners?”

  And then Ramon, his voice choked with anger. “It is always Lucas who forgets himself, as usual. He was insulting… it is clear he is not used to civilized company! I ask your forgiveness, Lady Rowena, for my brother’s manners.”

  “Are you tryin’ to tell me that being civilized means you’ve gotta act the hypocrite, little brother?” I hated the drawling, sarcastic manner in which Lucas addressed his own brother, leaning back in his chair with one eyebrow slightly arched. And if I had been Ramon, I would have hit him!

  I thought, for a moment, that Ramon would do just that. He stood at the table, gripping its edge so hard that his knuckles looked white. “You dare call me the hypocrite, Lucas? You of all people!”

  His voice was heavy with a significance that was lost on me, but for some reason I saw that Lucas had become angry, his narrowed eyes taking on the familiar cat-gleam I had learned to recognize.

  It was only Elena’s warning, “Lucas!” that stopped him from some violent, irresponsible action.

  I saw him take a deep breath, and noticed that the corners of his mouth had whitened. There was a tension here that I did not understand, and as furious as I was, it made me curious.

  “Ramon—you will sit down and try to remember that you, at least, were brought up as a gentleman!” Elena said sharply. She added in a more controlled voice, “I am sure that Rowena is quite able to fight her own battles. Is that not so?”

  Since she had addressed me, I shrugged, putting a feigned lightness in my voice.

  “So far I have been quite capable of doing so.” I looked into Ram
on’s upset face and smiled. “It was kind of you to come to my defense, but unnecessary. I have become quite used to your brother’s ill-mannered ways!”

  “I apologize to you for him,” Ramon said quietly, and for the moment the incident was ended. It had, however, made me aware that a kind of tension did exist between the three brothers, and that in some way my presence here had brought it out into the open. Had it always been there? Was it because both Julio and Ramon were jealous of Lucas, who was so obviously his mother’s favorite?

  I told myself that I would find out. For all that a polite pretense existed that I was a guest, all of us knew better. I had been brought here to this valley for a purpose, and furthermore, in a moment of weakness, I had promised an old man that I would try to keep an open mind while I heard the other side of the old story that had already affected so many lives, my own included.

  My grandfather had taught me that there were always two sides to every argument. Surely there could be no harm in exercising some patience, in watching and listening? How long ago it seemed now since Mr. Bragg had given me that advice; and every time I thought of Mr. Bragg I felt my hatred and mistrust almost choke me. And Elena Kordes—how much did she know of her son’s activities?

  I suppose I must have looked thoughtful, for the next moment I heard Ramon, who was seated beside me, murmur in a low voice: “If you only knew how angry and unhappy it makes me to find what my brother has been up to this time! If he’s treated you badly…”

  I made an impatient movement of my shoulders. “Why speak of it? This is not the first time I’ve been forced to make the best of circumstances. Believe me, I’m not as weak as I may look!”

  He said fervently, “You are magnificent! When I think of all that you must have undergone these past weeks…”

  “Your brother Julio and his wife were very kind,” I said pointedly. “And so was your grandfather.” I hoped that Lucas Cord had overheard, but when I shot him a fleeting glance through the screen of my lashes, I found his attention fixed on his mother, who was laughing at something he had said.