by Nan Ryan
Grady told her of knifings, murders, domestic violence, Indian raids, and bank and stagecoach holdups.
Aghast, Elizabeth said, “Grady, you’re lucky to be alive!”
The white-haired mountain man was totally sincere when he replied, “Aw, I don’t believe I’ve ever been in anything that was serious, missy.”
The earnest statement struck Elizabeth as hilarious. Murders and holdups and Indians raids not serious? Then what on earth would he find dangerous? She began to laugh and couldn’t stop. She was laughing when West, riding just ahead, turned his sorrel mare Lizzie and came trotting back toward the wagon.
While Elizabeth wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, West pulled up on the mare, reined her about in a semicircle, and rode alongside the wagon. He gave Grady a questioning look. Grady shrugged.
“Had too much sun, Mrs. Curtin?” West asked her.
Elizabeth tossed her red hair with girlish abandon. “No, Quarternight, I have not had too much sun, thank you very much. The only thing I’ve had too much of is you.”
“Now, that could be,” West mused aloud. “Or perhaps not nearly enough.”
“Sonny, you shouldn’t say things like that,” Grady scolded.
“Oh, let him run his head,” Elizabeth said. “He’s enjoying it.”
“Not really, Mrs. Curtin. I’m a man of few words,” West teased, his lips stretching into a wide grin. “A man of action.”
“Is that so?” she replied. “Then let’s hope you locate some action somewhere soon.” Her blue eyes lifted to meet his gaze. “Looks like you won’t be finding any along this trail.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” West calmly replied. “I rode back here to let you know you’ll be enjoying a real bathtub, a superb meal, and a soft, clean bed tonight.”
Elizabeth’s eyes immediately widened. “You mean it? We’ll stay the night in an inn?”
“Better than that. We’ll spend the night in a private mansion,” West said. “I’ve an old and dear friend who has a large rancho up ahead about eight miles. We should arrive there well before sundown. How does that sound?”
“Are you certain your friend won’t mind putting us up?”
West’s gray eyes gleamed devilishly, “My friend will be delighted—very hospitable.”
With that, he neck-reined the sorrel away, and Elizabeth immediately began looking forward to the evening. Grady immediately started talking again. He began telling her about Rancho Caballo and the huge hacienda and the royal welcome they would all receive.
But Elizabeth wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with looking forward to a hot bath in a real tub and a good night’s sleep in a soft bed. She could hardly wait.
The sun was sliding toward the distant western mountains when the contingent approached the ranch of West’s old and dear friend. Elizabeth had just caught her first glimpse of a large sand-colored adobe hacienda in the distance when Edmund excitedly brought his chestnut gelding up alongside the buck wagon.
Elizabeth looked up at her brother-in-law, smiled, and said, “Did West tell you, Edmund?”
“Yes, he did,” Edmund replied. “Looks like we’ll be spending the night in comfort.”
“Yes! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It is, my dear,” Edmund agreed. “And won’t it be pleasant seeing Doña Hope again?”
The smile immediately left Elizabeth’s face. Her high brow knitted. “Doña Hope? Where will we be seeing Doña Hope again?”
Edmund smiled. “Didn’t West tell you? We’re spending the night at the Rancho Caballo, the doña’s rancho.” Edmund looked toward the looming sand-colored hacienda. “Who would have supposed that West was a good friend of the lovely Doña Hope?”
“Who indeed?” Elizabeth said, exasperated.
The location of her elegant home was as beautiful as the woman who lived there. Built on the left bank of the Rio Grande, at a point where the long river was at its widest and joined on the west by the Alamosa River, Rancho Caballo sat in a wide lush valley framed by the rising peaks of the Fra Cristobal and Sierra Caballo mountain ranges.
Elizabeth began to get some sense of the doña’s true wealth long before she stood before the heavy hand-carved oak door that graced the entrance to the huge sand-colored hacienda.
As the buck wagon started up a long graveled drive that led to the handsome two-story structure, the sky turned scarlet and the stucco walls of the sprawling desert palace took on the appearance of pink frosting.
Beyond the main house were many adobe outbuildings of the same hue: barns and stables and whitewashed corrals. Far to the back, directly between two mountain crests, was a quarter-mile racetrack for exercising Baca thoroughbred horses.
For once Elizabeth listened with undivided interest as Grady pointed out the supply store, the bakery, the laundry, even the infirmary, all right there at the ranch. There was much activity going on. The shouted commands of lean, leather-trousered vaqueros mingled with the chatter and laughter of happy Mexican women in colorful dresses and lots of turquoise and silver jewelry. All were going about their evening chores. All were employed at and living on Rancho Caballo.
The thought occurred to Elizabeth that Rancho Caballo was like a well-run, self-contained little city. Grudgingly, she decided that there must be a great deal more to the Baca woman than her rare blond beauty. To run such an empire would surely take a healthy portion of brains and ability.
The buck wagon rolled to a stop before the impressive mansion fashioned of eighteen-inch double-adobe walls. Elizabeth, removing her flat-crowned hat and attempting to smooth back her tangled hair, wondered what the doña’s reaction would be on seeing her. The last time they had met Doña Hope was slipping out of West Quarternight’s hotel room after … after …
Elizabeth soon stood in the cool wide corridor of the two-story hacienda. A Mexican servant had let them in and had gone upstairs to fetch her mistress. Now the five of them—Taos, Grady, Edmund, West, and she—stood waiting, all silent save Grady.
Very shortly Doña Hope appeared at the top of the wide oak staircase. She was radiant in a white lacy Mexican blouse and full white matching skirts. A wide sash of pale blue accentuated her tiny waist. The white blouse was gathered around the low neckline and short puffed sleeves, and one side had fallen down over a bare ivory shoulder. Her white-blond hair was a shimmering mass of soft loose curls framing her lovely face. One stray, gleaming strand lay atop her full bosom.
“Darling!” the doña exclaimed loudly, looking only at West, and came flying down the stairs.
Smiling at her, West took a couple of steps toward the base of the stairs and held his arms open wide. On reaching him, Doña Hope threw her arms around his neck, drew his dark head down, and kissed him fully on the lips.
While the men all laughed and Grady clapped his hands, Elizabeth averted her eyes, choosing to admire the fine woodwork and moldings that bordered the mansion’s doors and windows. But from the corner of her eye she witnessed the kiss and thought the pair terribly rude and disgusting.
Finally the doña released West, turned, and warmly hugged Grady, then Taos. She then turned her full attention to Elizabeth and Edmund.
Doña Hope’s smile remained warm and totally confident when she said over her shoulder to West, “Why, darling, I’ve met the Curtins.” To them she trilled, “So wonderful to see you both again. Welcome to my home.” Her eyes met Elizabeth’s levelly and Elizabeth detected not one trace of uneasiness, at least not on Doña Hope’s part. She herself felt awkward and unreasonably irritated. “You do recall, don’t you, Mrs. Curtin,” the doña went on sweetly, “we met at the Governor’s Spring Baile?”
“How could we forget such a gracious, lovely lady, Doña Hope,” said Edmund gallantly, beaming at the beautiful blonde.
“Of course, I remember,” said Elizabeth, and couldn’t resist adding softly, “everything.”
“Good, good,” said the doña, unperturbed. She turned immediately back to West and hu
gged one of his long arms to her breast. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tell the cooks we’re having company for dinner. I’ll have them fix something special!” She looked up at West and asked, “Darling, will you pour drinks for the gentlemen and the lady or shall I ring for Hernando?”
“Will do,” said West.
Elizabeth quietly gritted her teeth when Doña Hope pressed her face to West’s muscular arm, bit his biceps playfully, and growled low in her throat like a disturbed feline before hurrying away.
West directed them all into a spacious rectangular sitting room where the high ceiling was beamed and a Spanish fireplace dominated the entire end wall. Massive sofas of rich yellow velvet were complimented with several man-sized easy chairs covered in supple brown suede. A plush Aubusson carpet, patterned in shades of yellows, rusts, and browns, topped the smooth oak floor and handmade shutters of oak adorned each tall window.
It was more than evident that West Quarternight was completely at home in the doña’s rambling hacienda. He had found no need to ask where he was to take the guests. Once in the well-appointed room, he walked directly to a long oak cabinet upon which were dozens of handsome cut-crystal decanters. An oak cupboard was above the cabinet. West opened it and Elizabeth saw row upon row of sparkling glasses of all shapes and sizes.
West took down six tiny shot glasses. He unstoppered a squat, square bottle containing a dark amber liquid and poured. From behind another cupboard door he took a small round silver tray, set the shot glasses on it, and moved forward to pass out the drinks.
Doña Hope came rushing into the room and Elizabeth automatically stiffened when the blond woman headed straight for West. The doña laid a possessive hand to the small of his back and said, “Darling, Elizabeth and I have time for only one whiskey.” She smiled at the men and then at Elizabeth. “Then we will leave you gentlemen to do as you please while we make ourselves lovely for dinner.”
Everyone was still standing. They remained respectfully standing as the beautiful blond woman in the lacy white blouse and skirts hovered over West as he bore the silver tray with three small glasses remaining atop it. He had come to Elizabeth first, but she had refused. Now the doña insisted that Elizabeth join them all in a drink. Again Elizabeth shook her head.
“Oh, come on, Mrs. Curtin,” Doña Hope said, “have one little jigger of whisky. It will do you good.”
“I’d really rather not.” Elizabeth declined as graciously as possible.
“Why, Elizabeth … may I call you Elizabeth … this is a celebration,” said the doña. “And I’m serving no ordinary whiskey. It’s the finest Kentucky bourbon ever distilled. I only offer it to my most special guests.”
Elizabeth didn’t feel like arguing. She took the glass. Doña Hope smiled approvingly and took her own glass from the tray. West picked up the last one and set the silver tray aside.
Everyone now had a glass of the aged bourbon. Doña Hope wrapped her hand around West’s left arm, looked up at him with adoration shining in her wide blue eyes, and said, “Now I’d like to propose a toast.”
“Yes, yes,” everyone murmured, watching her.
Her eyes finally leaving West, the doña held up her shot glass and addressed the small gathering. “To you all. To my old friends, Grady and Taos.” She favored each with a smile. “And to my new friends, Elizabeth and Edmund Curtin. Welcome to Rancho Caballo.” She paused, laughed, and warned, “No, wait, Grady, not yet. I have one more little toast to make before we drink.”
“Well, hurry it up, will you, Doña,” Grady said, “I’m powerful thirsty.”
Doña Hope ran her caressing fingers up and down West’s arm. “To the Territory’s best scout.”
She held her glass out to West. Smiling, he touched it with his own.
Everyone murmured, “Here, here,” and drank.
Including Elizabeth.
Lifting the heavy glass to her lips, Elizabeth closed her eyes and drank the fiery whiskey down in one long powerful swallow. Although it tasted awful and her eyes watered and her throat and chest burned and her arms felt strangely heavy, she was grateful that the doña had bullied her into accepting the bourbon.
A good stiff drink was an absolute necessity if she was to make it through this disagreeable evening without screaming!
30
“OH, NO, REALLY, I couldn’t.”
“But of course you can.”
“I could just as easily ask Taos to bring one of my traveling suits up from the wagon,” Elizabeth said.
“A traveling suit for this very special dinner?” Doña Hope’s perfectly arched eyebrows lifted. “Come now, do you wear a traveling suit when your husband takes you out to dinner in New York? Hardly.”
The two women were upstairs in Doña Hope’s dressing room. Elizabeth had never seen a dressing room one quarter as large. Located off the doña’s spacious white bath, the dressing room had no windows, but there were skylights overhead for daytime illumination and gaslights shimmering in white porcelain wall sconces for the nights.
The room was entirely of fragrant cedar, and an abundance of riding habits and afternoon dresses and expensive evening gowns—arranged by color—lined three of the cedar walls. The remaining wall was home to dozens of pairs of expensive boots and shoes sitting in neat columns on cedar shelves. There were also gloves and hats and scarves and parasols. Tall rows of cedar drawers held satin chemises and lacy underpants and filmy nightgowns and sheer silk stockings.
Carpeted in fine plush wool that had been dyed as white as the doña’s hair, the cedar-lined dressing room had at its center not one, but four free-standing full-length mirrors and a pair of matching white silk chaise lounges. Between the couches was a low oval table of white marble atop which sat a silver pitcher filled with ice water, a carafe of red wine, and a half-dozen crystal glasses.
“Here, what about this one?” Doña Hope took from the rack a dazzling black brocade trimmed with white chiffon and spangles. She eagerly held it up to Elizabeth, cocked her head to one side, and pondered. “No. It just isn’t right for you.” She tossed it across one of the white silk chaises.
Looking about at the tens of thousands of dollars worth of luxurious clothing, Elizabeth, thinking aloud, said, “My goodness, Doña, you certainly have everything a woman could ever want.”
“No, my dear. Not quite everything,” the doña said, but didn’t elaborate. “Ah! I have it. Look at this one, Elizabeth.”
The blonde held up a totally exquisite gown of shimmering turquoise silk. Of the very latest style, the gown’s bodice was cut into a deep V, which was partially filled with net ruching of the same turquoise hue. Tightly fitted around the waist, it was fashioned in the pointed peplum style. Tiny cap sleeves were nothing but net and covered only the tops of the wearer’s shoulders. The skirts were long and full, edged with a deep ruffle and drawn back.
“I can’t pretend that it isn’t gorgeous,” said Elizabeth truthfully.
“With your red hair it will be perfect! How fortunate that we’re so near the same size.”
“Fortunate for me.” Elizabeth replied.
Doña Hope tossed the turquoise silk on the white chaise, took Elizabeth’s arm, and led her from the dressing room, saying, “I’ll put you in my favorite guest room and have one of the servants bring the turquoise dress and all the accessories you’ll need. Feel free to keep Juanita with you for as long as you like. She’s an excellent back scrubber and she will help you get dressed and fix your hair.”
The guest quarters to which Elizabeth was shown, a bright airy beige bedroom opening onto a wide upstairs front balcony, was at the opposite end of the hacienda from Doña Hope’s large suite. Doña left Elizabeth there, reminding her to ring for anything she needed and telling her they would all meet downstairs for dinner at precisely nine o’clock.
Elizabeth was glad to be alone. Feeling the effects of the strong bourbon, she sighed, crossed to the bed, and fell lazily over onto her back, stretching her arms up over her
head. The bed was very soft, very comfortable. How enjoyable it would be just to take a nice long bath, crawl in between the cool silky sheets, and stay there until it was time to leave in the morning.
A wry smile touched her lips. She might as well stay upstairs. With the rich, beautiful Doña Hope around, who would notice that Elizabeth Curtin was missing?
It was still twenty minutes of nine, but Elizabeth was restless. She’d been dressed for the past fifteen minutes and was tired of waiting. So why do it? She would go downstairs, perhaps take a short stroll out on the grounds until the others came down for dinner.
She took one last look at herself and frowned. She had refused the offer of Doña’s maid in helping with her hair. Now she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn. She’d washed her long auburn hair, and while it shone with highlights, she hadn’t been able to do much with it. Finally giving up, she had pinned it atop her head, but already wispy strands were slipping down around her cheeks and along the nape of her neck.
The doña’s turquoise gown fit as though it had been made for her, but the bodice was cut so severely low, Elizabeth felt naked. The net ruching was all that covered the tops of her full, pushed-up breasts, and she would have to remember not to bend over.
Elizabeth stepped out into the silent corridor, went to the wide oaken staircase at the center of the big hacienda, and swept noiselessly down the stairs. She peeked into the sitting room where they had all shared drinks earlier. It was empty. Glad that it was, Elizabeth went inside, immediately crossed to a pair of heavy double doors thrown open to the night, and stepped outside.
She crossed the portaled flagstone porch and paused at the edge of the flower-filled courtyard. Water splashed lyrically from a three-tiered fountain and soft guitar music floated over the high adobe walls enclosing the private courtyard. Diamond-bright stars filled a black velvet sky. A gentle breeze from out of the west stirred the wispy curls framing her face. It was a cool, beautiful night and Elizabeth stood inhaling deeply of the fragrant blossoms and clean desert air.