I looked at Mark, and he returned my look. In the background I could hear the ticking of the big grandfather clock that stood in a corner of the room, a popping noise in the fireplace as one of the logs that Jules had placed there burst into flame. I could almost imagine I heard the beating of my own heart.
Mark had been right earlier. I had had enough for one night—for one day—for a lifetime.
There was nothing more to be said for now except the usual things. Jules came back in to clear off the table and bring us coffee. Mark refused the brandy I offered him and said he must leave soon. I asked him to spend the night, and to my surprise he accepted, after a short hesitation, saying that he would have to leave very early in the morning and I must on no account disturb myself to see him off, for he would visit me again tomorrow.
“And your uncle?” I said with an attempt at lightness. Again, his answer surprised me. “I’m past the point of caring what my uncle thinks, or has to say!” he said in a tight voice. We had both stood up, and I had my hand outstretched to bid him good night when he suddenly took me in his arms. Not with force, but gently, tenderly. And for a few moments I took comfort in being there, with his lips pressed against my forehead.
With a ragged exclamation that sounded almost like an oath, he suddenly put me away from him. “You make it too easy for me to forget myself! But if you were not engaged to my uncle…”
“Mark, didn’t you hear me say earlier that that piece of nonsense is all over with?”
“I didn’t mean to burden you with any further problems tonight, Rowena.” Nevertheless, I caught a warning note in Mark’s voice. “But you would be wise to remember that my uncle is not only proud and arrogant but as stubborn as the devil as well. In spite of all his raging, I do not think he intends to release you from your promise to marry him yet. Not only because he still wants you as a woman but because of the SD and all it means to him. To own the whole of it has become an obsession with him, I’m afraid. I only thought I should mention it, and—yes, I’ll be honest enough to say it, whether you continue to frown at me or not—especially in view of my feelings towards you.”
Poor Mark—torn between his loyalty to his uncle and his feelings for me! And as for Todd’s ridiculous assumption that he could hold me to a promise made under stress, a promise I had often had second thoughts about; well, I could soon clear that up with Todd himself.
I caught back the angry words I had been about to utter and kissed Mark on the cheek instead. “That is to thank you for everything, dear Mark,” I said softly. I could tell he was pleased by the slight flush that rose in his face, and before we went our separate ways to bed the slight feeling of constraint between us had passed.
Mark told me later that he had slept well, and if he was surprised to see me up early enough to join him for breakfast, at least he was tactful enough not to say so, nor to make any attempts at serious conversation. He looked preoccupied, and I found myself concentrating on forcing down at least a part of the food that Marta set before us.
After Mark had taken a hurried leave of me, promising to come back in the evening for a game of chess, I wandered aimlessly into the study taking books at random from the shelves. I told myself that my father might have concealed the codicil to his will in one of his books; I can see now that it was an excuse to keep myself occupied.
I had found some of the answers I had been looking for—what would I do with them? What was I going to do with myself?
The sun was climbing, and it was already hot. I told myself that I should go riding, and take an interest in the running of the ranch. I must not let this sudden, letdown feeling of lethargy overcome my strength of purpose, not now.
And yet the truth was that I was tired. I had risen early because I could not sleep, except in fitful snatches. I had had frightening dreams which I could not remember upon waking, and every time I closed my eyes I could hear Mark’s firm and pitilessly logical words repeating themselves in my mind, superimposed upon memory-pictures I had not yet shut out. I had seen myself lying naked and content in Lucas’s arms, the way the sun wrinkles deepened when he squinted his eyes against the glare and the leaping green flames in their depths when he looked at me. The almost tormented note in his voice when he had told me, “I’ve wanted no other woman in the world the way I want you…” Had that, too, been another one of his lies? I could no longer trust him nor believe in anything he had told me—but how could I stop myself from loving him? This was the private hell that I had to learn to adjust to, and to live with, if I could. That in spite of everything I continued to feel this unnatural, irrational yearning for a man who had never denied his love for another woman, a man who was ready to cheat and steal and even kill for her, and who had in all likelihood caused my father’s death.
I put the books I had taken down away and called for Jules to saddle a horse for me. I had no clear idea of where I intended to go, or for how long I meant to ride. But the constriction of walls around me, pressing in on me like my memories, was too much to bear in my present mood of self-hatred.
And it was in that frame of mind that I met Todd Shannon again.
Thirty-Six
In spite of Jules’s protests I had insisted upon riding alone. I was already too familiar with the terrain that lay between my house and Todd Shannon’s palacio, and this time I rode north, towards the mountains. The strange thing was what I was no longer afraid of riding alone and unescorted. I felt as if I had already faced everything, and did not particularly care what might happen to me next.
I rode out of the shelter of a grove of trees, and found myself looking down the barrels of five carbines. I reined up, and met Todd Shannon’s narrowed eyes and thin smile.
“Told you boys an Injun wouldn’t make that much noise!” His sarcastic drawl scraped along my nerve ends, but I retained my composure.
“Were you expecting to see anyone else?”
“Nobody tell you about the troubles we’ve been havin’?”
The carbines had been lowered, and I looked beyond Shannon and his men at a dilapidated wooden building that seemed to lean to one side, the door gaping open on broken hinges.
As if he had read my mind, Todd’s lips curled mockingly downward.
“You met your lady boss yet, boys?” And to me, in a lowered voice as he kneed his mount forward, “The way you ride around by yourself makes me wonder…”
The four cowboys with him seemed slightly embarrassed as they lowered their carbines and touched their bats awkwardly. I nodded slightly and looked back at Todd.
“This is my land, is it not? And I happen to enjoy riding by myself.”
“Just like Flo, in the old days. This is where she used to come.”
I should have known, from the narrow-eyed look he bent on me. And yet curiosity made me glance again at the building, as I remembered what I had been told. I tried to imagine Lucas as a young man, hardly more than a boy, coming here to meet Flo. Had he cared for her at all, even then? And the killing that had taken place here—Flo’s hysterical screams, and Lucas himself—what had he thought, how had he felt?
Ignoring Todd, I slipped off my horse and walked forward.
“I didn’t know,” I said over my shoulder. “But I’ve heard what happened here.”
His men rode away quietly and I found myself alone with him. I felt his presence close behind me as I paused at the doorway; not wanting to go inside, but fascinated by what had once taken place in this very spot.
“So you’ve heard. Did he tell you?”
I became aware of Todd, of his pent-up anger.
“Does it matter?”
“Hell, yes, it does! I don’t want you traipsing around on your own anymore, and I won’t have any secrets between us. You hear me?” He put his hands on my shoulders, and I stiffened coldly. “You told me some of what happened, mebbe I’m ready to believe part of it. But if we’re going to be married there are a few things we’re goin’ to get straight.”
I twisted away f
rom his grasp.
“We’re not going to be married! After what you’ve thought, and the things you said… oh, really, Todd! Why keep on with a farce?”
“And I tell you that you ain’t going to make a fool of me! Maybe you don’t realize it, miss, but out here, when you give your word you better be ready to keep it. We’ll settle our differences after we’re married. I tell you, I’m willing to forgive and forget what’s happened, maybe all of it wasn’t your fault after all. But from now on, you start changing those independent ways of yours, you understand? And…” his voice rose into a bellow that made me wince involuntarily, “you stop asking Mark to spend the night! I won’t have any more talk about you than there is already.”
“Will you get it through your head that I have no intention of marrying you?” Without my realizing it, my voice had risen, and I felt my own anger rising to match his. “It was a mistake—we would never have suited each other. And now, especially now—I would think you’d be glad to be rid of whatever obligation you may have felt towards me.”
His voice was a low growl that should have warned me. “How is it you still have that high and mighty, touch-me-not air about you after all the fornicating you’ve done? Or is it only an act? Maybe you’re one of those women who has to be forced to enjoy it. Yeah, I can remember some times when I’ve held you in my arms an’ you were almost begging for it, only I held back. She’s a lady, I told myself. She’s Guy’s daughter. But maybe none of us knew you, and you’ve always been a bitch in your heart, like that mother of yours.”
I had forgotten how strong he was, how quickly he could move. He caught me in his arms and I felt the boards crack behind my back as he pressed me against the side of the shack.
“Now—” he whispered triumphantly and somehow cruelly. “Now let’s see if you’ve forgotten how it was with us.”
I felt his lips claim mine. No matter how I moved my head to avoid his kiss I was helpless. It had been this way before, I remembered, but this time there was a difference. This time, no matter how long and how fiercely he kissed me, I remained unmoved.
I had stopped struggling against him, and when at last he lifted his head to look down into my eyes with his face mirroring both frustration and anger, I whispered, “And now you see that I do not enjoy having kisses forced upon me, nor anything else! And you, Todd, you do not want me for myself any longer. Why don’t you admit it? You want the SD, and you think you will still get it through me, even though you have begun to hate me. Don’t bother to deny it! I can see it in your eyes. Why won’t you admit that whatever was between us once is finished?”
I pulled away from his slackened grasp and began to walk to where my horse stood with its ears pricked. His voice followed me, making me pause momentarily, with my hand on the saddle horn.
“I’ll be tellin’ you something, and you’d better listen. Hate you or not, we’re going to be married in a month’s time, and like any filly, you’re going to be bridle-broke, and learn your proper place. You don’t like that idea, you can run back East—or back to England, for all I care. But the SD is mine! I’ve fought for it and bled for it, an’ there ain’t no one going to take what’s mine from me—you understand that?”
He stayed where he was, feet astraddle, his brows drawn together in a threatening, lowering look, that followed me while I mounted my horse unaided and rode away from him without another word being said between us.
Todd had given me his ultimatum. It only remained to be seen what I would do about it. At least Todd knew what he wanted and would fight for it.
Could I say the same for myself?
During the week that followed, it was made clear to me that Todd had meant what he had said. He did not attempt to force his presence on me again; in that alone he was subtle. But I was reminded in countless other ways of my rather ambiguous position here, and his power.
For instance, I became suddenly aware that I was being followed wherever I went, and watched. When I went out riding now, there were always two or three men who seemed to appear from nowhere, and trailed me at a distance. If I protested angrily, they would tug at their hat-brims and apologize—and tell me that Mr. Shannon had given orders I was to be escorted wherever I wished to go. When I ordered them to stop following me, they would disappear from sight for a while, but I knew, nevertheless, that they were somewhere about—lurking behind trees or stumps of mesquite, no doubt, I would think maliciously; watching me through field glasses.
Even when I went to Santa Rita, accompanied by both Jules and Marta, to visit the post office there, I saw the familiar faces of SD men, the familiar brand on several of the horses that lined the hitching posts. And it was Jules who told me that Todd had actually posted a guard on the house at night—all this for my “protection,” of course!
I protested furiously to Mark, whom I seldom saw these days. He admitted that Todd kept him busy with various errands and business trips. Legal matters that conveniently cropped up just at this time. And he was as unhappy at the situation as I was, although he tried to be fair.
“I know how you must hate it, but after all it is for your own good in a way, Rowena. The Apaches have been getting more daring in their raids of late. They overran a small homestead less than fifty miles from here just the other day! And there seems to be a well-organized gang of rustlers operating in this area as well; didn’t Uncle Todd tell you? The SD alone has lost over a hundred head during the past two weeks. There’s been talk of all the ranchers banding together to form a vigilante committee; the soldiers are too busy chasing Indians to be of much help. So you see…”
I could not control the telltale leaping of my pulse at the mention of rustlers, and Mark’s penetrating look made me feel I had given myself away, so that I said quickly, “But I won’t put up with it! And if Todd thinks he can force me to marry him by using these tactics…”
“He cannot force you to marry him, of course,” Mark said soothingly, but I thought he frowned slightly.
“And he cannot force me to keep his men on my land.” I went on recklessly, “Suppose I hired my own cowboys? Men who would take orders from me. I’m tired of being watched over like a prisoner.”
“Rowena, please be sensible, face facts. How many men in this part of the country would take orders from a woman? Oh, I suppose that with sufficient money you could hire professional gunfighters, but remember that such men are born predators and how long do you think you’d be able to control them alone? Surely you can’t mean to start a range war, with all its attendant bloodshed, merely because my uncle insists that you must have protection? Woman or not, there won’t be a soul in the territory who would condone such an action on your part. I hate to sound so severe and uncompromising, but you must realize that for the moment, my uncle has the advantage of you. If you’ll only be patient…”
“Patient! When your uncle thinks he can wear down my resistance or drive me away? There are times when I feel I might go mad—either with rage or with boredom. What am I waiting for? Why hasn’t Montoya contacted me yet? And you for all your protestations of friendship—you let yourself be sent away like a… a…”
I stopped suddenly, my fingers pressed against my mouth; appalled at what I had almost said.
But Mark, his face white with suppressed emotion, finished my sentence for me. “Like a lackey, you mean? One day, I will prove to you that I…”
“Mark, don’t be angry with me—I’m sorry! I didn’t even know what I was saying. It’s not like me to get so emotional.” I tried to laugh, and the sound I made was more like a sob.
“It’s this heat, I suppose. And everything else. If only I knew if Mr. Bragg is really alive, and where he is—if only there was something I could do to prove I was of some use, that my coming here had some purpose!”
“But it had! Never think otherwise.” His own hurt forgotten, Mark put his hands on my shoulders and looked seriously into my face. “Listen, since it means so much to you, I’ll do what I can to contact this man Montoya
again. I have to go to Las Cruces tomorrow, and I’ll spend an extra day there if I have to. I’ll talk to him myself, if I can. If Mr. Bragg is alive, we’ll find him. And if necessary, when I return to Boston I’ll hire another Pinkerton man to discover what happened to him.”
“When you go back to Boston?” Dismayed, I stared into Mark’s face. “But you never mentioned… surely you’re not going to leave me here alone?”
I sounded like a spoiled, selfish child. I realized it soon after I had spoken, and tried to make amends.
“I’m sorry. I should have realized that this is not yet your home, and you have a law practice which you love. How self-centered you must think me!”
“Rowena.” Mark’s fingers tightened, pressing into my flesh. “I have wanted to say this to you for a long time, but I wasn’t certain. You sounded as if you might miss me. Is it possible? Listen to me, and don’t interrupt me until I have finished, or I will never find the courage to say it again. You know I love you—you don’t know yet how much. Let me prove it to you. Come back East with me, please! This is no place for you—or for me either. Remember when you called us both misfits? Marry me, Rowena. Let my uncle keep his empire, what does it matter? You can have nothing but unpleasant memories of this place; you need to put them behind you. You know how your father died, and you know what his last wishes were. You can see to everything without having to be here yourself, and to suffer any longer. Even if you will not marry me, at least agree to come back with me to Boston. Call it a holiday if you will. My mother would love to have you live with her until you make up your mind. Rowena! Can’t you see how impossible it has become for you to live here any longer?”
I looked into Mark’s pleading face, and I could think of nothing to say except, feebly: “But your uncle! He would never forgive you.”
The Wildest Heart Page 47