Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Edward thought for a moment. "I suppose someday I will have to marry. One needs sons to carry on after one is gone, but the thought of being tied to one woman is very distasteful to me. The woman I marry," he continued, "would have to have a certain elegance and breeding, be of tolerable good looks, and not interfere in my life style."

  "What you mean, Edward, is she would have to stay at home and mind the kids and not object too much if you come home late some nights?"

  "Well, I would not have put it quite so crudely, Dan, but yes. Though I would really rather not marry at all."

  "You have any number of females to choose from," Dan teased him.

  "I am weary of women throwing themselves at me, and of their ambitious mothers trying to snare me in their traps."

  Dan laughed. "I would think you were being egotistical, if I had not witnessed it with my own eyes. A lot of the young men in the country, including myself, would like to see you safely married so you would not whisk all the better looking females away from under our noses." As an afterthought he added, "I pity your wife when you do get married."

  Edward looked at him, his dark eyebrows raised. "Whatever for?"

  "Because it has never occurred to you to marry for love. What has happened to cause you to be so cynical?"

  "It is not a question of cynicism; it is reality. I have yet to meet the woman who can hold my interest for more than a week at a time."

  Dan picked up his glass and studied its dark contents. "I hope someday you fall hard for a woman, and I hope I am around to see it."

  "Don't hold your breath until that happens, Dan, or you will not be around."

  "What about Clarissa Patterson?" Dan asked him. "You know how she feels about you, and she is very pretty."

  Edward walked over to his desk and sat down. He propped his long legs on its smooth surface. "Clarissa is not the kind of girl you play games with. Her mother would not allow it. I may have to settle for her in the long run."

  Dan laughed. "I can see years of wedded bliss ahead for you."

  "Let us change the subject. This one is beginning to bore me," Edward told him.

  "All right," Dan said, shaking his head. "I was wondering if you are going to the annual spring picnic. It is only two weeks away, you know."

  "I suppose I will have to put in an appearance," Edward said in exasperation, "but I do not intend to stay very long." He shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows, I may not be welcome."

  "In view of your politics, I am surprised you have not been tarred and feathered already. There have not been any problems, have there?" Dan asked.

  "No, it seems the prodigal son has been returned to the fold and forgiven. I chose to fight with the Union Army because I felt it was the right thing to do. I never wanted Texas to secede in the first place, and as you know, I fought hard in the state legislature to prevent it. You know what Sam Houston's views were, Dan. It is a feeling more widespread than you might imagine. A lot of people just kept their feelings to themselves. I chose to stand up and be counted, and as things turned out, I was right. Texas should never have joined the Confederacy."

  Dan eyed him warily. "We had better move on to another subject, since my sympathies were for the other side. I wore a gray uniform, remember?"

  Edward sighed. "Yes, I know. The war is over now. You and I will not argue the fine points."

  "You were with General Sherman in Georgia, were you not?"

  "Of course, you know that I was," Edward snapped, "but I do not intend to discuss it with you.

  "No, that is not why I was asking," Dan replied. "The strangest thing happened two nights ago. I was called to tend an injured man out at the Delgados'. Do you know them?"

  "No, I cannot say that I do, but go on, Dan."

  "Do you remember Mammaw's daughter?"

  Edward lifted his feet from the top of the desk and leaned forward, knitting his brow in thoughtfulness. "I do not remember her, actually, but everyone around here knows that Mammaw had a daughter. She died, did she not?"

  "Yes, that is correct. She married a planter from Georgia, and left Texas almost twenty years ago, I believe."

  "That is all very interesting, Dan, but what are you getting at?"

  "I met her daughter, who would be Mammaw's granddaughter, at the Delgados'. She was there with a man called Bodine."

  "What was she doing at the Delgados'?" Edward asked.

  "I am not too clear on all the details, but from what I gather, she and this Bodine came all the way from Georgia on horseback. I know it sounds farfetched. Anyway, this Bodine was thrown from a horse, and Mammaw's granddaughter sought help from the Delgados."

  "I have heard of a man called Bodine," Edward said thoughtfully. "If it is the same man, he is something of a mystery about here. Yes, as I recall, he worked for Mammaw."

  "It may well be the same man," Dan told him. "He is old enough to be the girl's father. In fact, at first I thought he was her father."

  "How strange," Edward said. "Does Mammaw know they are at the Delgados'?"

  "No," Dan told him, "and here the story gets even stranger. She is not even expecting them. I told the girl I would ride over and let Mammaw know she is here. I should have done so before now, but I have been with Margaret Dennison. She just delivered her seventh daughter. She is not young anymore, and the birth was hard on her."

  "What is the girl's name, and what does she look like?" Edward asked, looking at Dan with interest.

  "I was too tired to ask her name," Dan answered him, "and as for her looks, she looks like any newborn baby, red and wrinkled."

  Edward looked at him impatiently. "Not the Dennison baby, Mammaw's granddaughter."

  Dan knew who Edward had meant, but could not resist teasing him. He threw back his head and laughed heartily. "You would like for me to tell you that she is beautiful, wouldn't you? I hate to disappoint you, Edward, but she is rather homely. In fact, I felt sorry for her, she was so pathetic-looking."

  "Oh, well," Edward said, losing interest, "Mammaw will be glad to welcome her, whatever she looks like."

  Dan emptied his glass and rose to his feet. "I had better be on my way now. If I time it right, maybe Mammaw will feed me."

  "Give her my regards," Edward told him. "I have not had a chance to see her since my return. She was always a favorite of mine."

  "I will do that," Dan said, and added: "Edward."

  "Yes?"

  "You can go back to your ranting and raving."

  They smiled at each other, and Dan left his friend in a better mood than he had found him in.

  6

  Dan pulled his buggy up in front of Alice Anderson's ranch house. It was a two-story frame structure, that gleamed in the sunlight with a new coat of white paint. The window and doorframes were trimmed in blue. Flowers were blooming in the many flowerbeds in the front yard. It was not a fancy house, but was warm and friendly. The furnishings were old-fashioned, and suited Alice Anderson's personality.

  She was just taking an apple pie out of the oven, when she heard a buggy pull up to the front door. She recognized Dan's voice talking to Lupe, the young Mexican girl who helped her with the housework. She smiled to herself, knowing that apple pie was a favorite with the doctor. Dan stood in the kitchen doorway, sniffing the air. He eyed the freshly baked pie. "Your timing was always perfect,"—she smiled at him—"even when you were a small boy."

  "And you have always known the way to please a man, Mammaw," he teased.

  "Sit down, Dan," she told him, "and if you can wait until it cools a bit, I will cut you a nice generous slice. What brings you out my way? No one is sick, I hope."

  "No, but you might like to know I delivered another daughter to Margaret Dennison."

  "Another daughter. I had hoped they would have the boy they had their hearts set on. Margaret is all right, isn't she?"

  "Yes. She had a pretty rough time of it, but she will be fine."

  "I must go over in the morning and see if I can help out," Mammaw said.
>
  Dan smiled at her fondly. She was always the first one to help others in their times of need. She was like everyone's grandmother, which was why most of the community affectionately called her Mammaw Her white hair was wound about her head in a bun. Her face, which was always smiling, was lovely with an inner beauty. But the most startling thing about her was her cornflower-blue eyes. She must have been beautiful when she was young, Dan thought as he studied her face.

  "I am sure Mrs. Dennison will be glad for any help you can give her," Dan said. "I have told her she is going to have to take it easy for a month or so, but you know how she is. She was probably out of bed the minute I left."

  Mammaw nodded. "I will see that she follows your orders."

  Dan patted her roughened, work-worn hands. "You be careful that you do not spread yourself too thin. You cannot care for the whole state of Texas, you know."

  She sighed and shook her head. "It gives me something to do with my time so I do not get so lonely. Since I do not have any family of my own, I take what joy I can from other people's families."

  Dan leaned back in his chair. "That brings me to the reason I am here. You are quite wrong when you say you have no family. I talked to a young woman two nights ago who claims she is your granddaughter.

  She looked at him quickly. "What are you saying?" Dan saw the color leave her face.

  "I am saying, Mammaw, that your granddaughter, Miss Farraday, is at the Delgados'."

  Mammaw looked at him intently. "You are not making any sense. What would Victoria be doing at the Delgados'?"

  Dan told her what he knew and watched as the different emotions washed over her face. "It is all so mysterious," Mammaw told him. "I do not understand any of what you told me."

  "Nor do I," Dan said.

  "You are sure Bodine will be all right?" Mammaw asked, with concern written all over her face.

  "Yes. In fact, he will be able to travel without any effect to his health, if you want to bring him home today. Just be sure you make a soft bed in the back of your wagon, and travel at a slow pace. Who is this Bodine anyway?" Dan asked.

  Mammaw looked at him for a moment before she answered. "He was like a son to me. I am grateful he has come home at last." Then a look of pure joy spread over her face. "I cannot believe it. Victoria is here in Texas. At last I can see my granddaughter. I know so very little about her. The last correspondence I received from her father was a letter telling me Mary Elizabeth had died in childbirth, and I had a granddaughter. I wrote many times, but never received an answer. So," she said, raising her hands in a. helpless gesture, "I know nothing about Victoria's life. Tell me, Dan," Mammaw said, leaning forward, "what does she look like?"

  Dan noticed that Mammaw's hands trembled and placed his over them. "Well, it was late at night and the light was not really that good. She was very fatigued and most of my attention was on my patient." He told himself that it would not matter to Mammaw that her granddaughter was a homely little mouse. He was just grateful that he had brought her such good news. Dan loved Mammaw, and it was time she had something good in her life to repay her for all the good she had given to her neighbors. He only hoped the girl, Victoria, would be worthy of her grandmother.

  "I just cannot believe it," Mammaw was saying. Tears glistened in her faded blue eyes.

  Dan rose and went to her. He put his arms about her and kissed her wrinkled cheek. "You can believe it, for I have seen her with my own eyes."

  "I must go to her at once," Mammaw said, rising from her chair. "Lupe," she called. "Lupe, have Old Ned hitch up the wagon. Get some of the men to help you carry a mattress down from one of the upstairs bedrooms. We must make a bed in the back of the wagon."

  Dan smiled as he watched Mammaw bustle around, giving orders. He noticed a spring in her step that had not been there before. Later, as he rode back to town, he realized that he had not had his slice of apple pie.

  Victoria had grown very close to the Delgados in the two days she had known them. She was particularly fond of the baby, Roberto, with his angelic face and his chubby little body. She liked to cuddle him close to her and feel the softness of his satiny skin.

  She learned that the Delgados had come from Mexico two years before, where Manuel had learned leather crafting from his father. Manuel had wanted a better life for his wife and the children they planned, than the meager existence they had in Mexico. He had shown Victoria some of his hand-tooled items and had told her sadly that there was not much of a market for his goods. Consuelo had taken in some sewing, to help them out financially, but this, too, was not enough to make them a decent living. They were expecting another baby, and Manuel was afraid they would have to return to Mexico.

  They had rented the small cabin on a month-to-month basis. It was very reasonable since it was so far from town, Manuel had told her. Victoria looked about the crude cabin with its scant furnishings. She noticed the table and chairs had all been made by Manuel. Though the cabin was small, it was spotlessly clean, and smelled strongly of lye soap. Victoria was determined to do what she could to help the Delgados, though she did not know how just yet. They were very proud and would not take charity, she was sure.

  Bodine was so much improved it was hard to keep him in bed. She wondered why her grandmother had not come for them. Bodine had assured Victoria that her grandmother would come as soon as she knew of their presence at the Delgados. Maybe her grandmother did not want to see her, Victoria thought. Surely the doctor had let her know they were here by now.

  When she had awakened this morning, Victoria found that Consuelo had washed and ironed her blue dress. She dressed herself in it carefully and brushed her hair. She wanted to look nice in case her grandmother came today.

  Victoria walked out to the barn to see Rebel, and was about to return to the house, when she heard a wagon pull up in front of the Delgados' house. Now that the moment had arrived for her to face her grandmother, she felt nervous and unsure of herself. Slowly, she made her way back to the house. When she was even with the wagon, Victoria noticed a white-headed man in the driver's seat. He nodded to her, but he did not smile.

  She opened the door and entered the small room. Her eyes went to the tiny white-headed woman in a calico print dress. They both stood silent, looking at each other. Manuel and Consuelo had discreetly left the room. Victoria waited for her grandmother to speak, to show some sign that she welcomed her. A smile spread over the older woman's face and she held her arms out to Victoria.

  "Oh, my child, you are so like your mother," she said, enfolding Victoria in her arms. "For a moment I was shocked when I saw the resemblance. It was as if God had sent my daughter back to me."

  Victoria relaxed and hugged the tiny woman. They both wept unashamed tears. Her grandmother stood back and looked at her; then she gently laid her hand to Victoria's cheek. "I would have known you anywhere." She smiled.

  "Oh, Grandmother, I was afraid you would not want me."

  "Not want you, child? It has been my fondest dream to see you before I died, and now that dream has come true."

  "Grandmother," Victoria cried, "you are all Bodine said you were and more."

  The older woman looked at her. "How good it is to hear myself referred to as Grandmother." She smiled. "I have been everyone's Mammaw, but Grandmother to only you. Oh, Victoria, this is such a happy day for me. Later I want to hear all about how you came to be here, but now, show me to Bodine. It has been too long since I have laid eyes on him."

  Victoria showed her grandmother into the bedroom where Bodine sat up in bed with his arms folded across his chest. "You look older," Mammaw told him, as she seated herself on the stool beside his bed.

  "You do not," he replied.

  "That is not the truth, and you know it." She smiled at him.

  "I would never lie to you," he said seriously.

  "No, you never have." She stared at him for a long moment, then rose to her feet. "I have come to take you home," she said simply.

  * * *


  Bodine was in the back of the wagon, protesting that he would not ride like a man on his deathbed, only to be silenced by Alice Anderson. "You will ride where I tell you to, and what is more, when we get home, you will remain in bed for at least a week as the doctor ordered." Victoria had never known Bodine to buckle down to anyone, but he laid his head back on the mattress and accepted the inevitable.

  Alice Anderson turned to the Delgados. "I would like to pay you for the care you have taken of my granddaughter and Bodine," she said.

  "No, Senora, we want no pay," Manuel said proudly. "It was our pleasure to have Senorita Victoria and Senor Bodine."

  Mammaw saw that she had insulted the proud Mexican man and she offered him her hand. "I am very grateful to you both," she said simply.

  Victoria took Roberto, kissed his fat brown cheek, and handed him back to his mother. Then she hugged Consuelo and shook Manuel's hand. "Thank you for your kindness. You are my first friends in Texas. If you will allow me, I would like to visit you often."

  "It would honor our humble home," Manuel told her graciously.

  Alice Anderson watched her granddaughter with pride. This was no pampered rich girl, but a lovely, sensitive woman with a kind heart.

  The Delgados watched as the wagon pulled away, with Rebel tied behind. Victoria was on the way to her grandmother's home. The long journey was over. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand and looked up into her grandmother's face. She sighed contentedly. Texas was not going to be so bad. She had already found love and friendship.

  Long after Victoria was tucked into bed in the room which had once been her mother's, Alice Anderson sat by Bodine's bedside as he told her all that had happened to Victoria. She shed tears as he told her of the Yankees who had tried to force themselves on her granddaughter. When he finished his story, she wiped her eyes.

  "I cannot tell you what it means having her here with me," Alice Anderson told him. "She is very like Mary Elizabeth."

  "Only in looks," Bodine said. "Her spirit and bravery come from her grandmother."

  She looked at him for a moment. "Do you think there is any chance that the Yankees will trace her here?"