by Janet Dailey
“Look, Nonnie!” Ricky instructed excitedly. “The parade is going to start.”
Obediently Natalie directed her gaze to the street and the university marching band that had assembled. Beyond them and the crowd lining the opposite side of the street was the spotlighted facade of the Alamo, the cradle and shrine of Texas liberty, the focal point of all the Fiesta activities celebrating Texas’s independence from Mexico. The strategic Long Barrack stood watch to the side.
A drum roll from the band silenced the crowd as it anticipated the first notes of the song. In the hush of the Alamo, the strains of “The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You” filled the air, inspiring and proud. As Natalie stood a little bit straighter, she was conscious of a pair of Texas eyes on her. She glanced at Colter, applause and cheers rippling through the crowd when the song ended. His vague air of boredom dampened her enthusiasm for the Fiesta Flambeau, the night parade marking the official end of the Fiesta.
This time Ricky stayed awake through the entire parade, although by the time they arrived at the hotel, his eyelids were beginning to droop. Hotel rooms during Fiesta had been booked months in advance, but Colter had used his money or influence to obtain a room with twin beds on the floor below his.
This was not how Natalie had envisioned her wedding night — with her husband one floor above her, but then she had never expected to be left with Ricky to care for when she had indulged in her romantic imaginings. Nor had she expected to marry a man she didn’t love. She didn’t mind, she told herself as she slipped the expensively flimsy nightgown over her head and climbed into bed. Ricky was happy and that was all she had a right to ask for.
It was midmorning before she awoke. Natalie doubted if she would have then if Ricky hadn’t hopped on to the bed, hungry and eager to be off to the ranch that Missy had told him about. Colter and Missy were both in the lobby when she and Ricky hurried down.
“I’m sorry. I overslept,” Natalie apologised.
“You needed the rest.” Colter dismissed her apology in that offhand, indifferent way she was beginning to expect. “If your luggage is packed, I’ll send the bellboy to the room. We’ll leave as soon as you and Ricky have breakfasted.”
Natalie assured him that all was in readiness. There was a fluttering of nerves as she watched him walk away, realising that within a couple of hours she would be on his ranch, in charge of his home. And his daughter, she added.
Missy was already taking Ricky by the hand to lead him into the hotel restaurant. The marriage hadn’t bothered her in the slightest. The only one Missy seemed interested in was Ricky. Natalie guessed it was because the young girl could lavish on the small boy all the love and attention that her father had rejected.
Colter joined them at the breakfast table for coffee. Natalie discovered, to her surprise, that she wasn’t at all nervous with him. She had expected to be. They were married and they were strangers. For the next few years at least, they were going to share the same house and food, even if not the same bed. It was a marvel that she was taking the situation so calmly. Perhaps the shock had not worn off.
With all four of them sitting at the breakfast table, they looked like a complete family unit. Not boisterously happy, as families are romantically depicted, because Missy had that shy withdrawn look she always wore in public places, and Colter, taciturn and implacable, held himself slightly aloof. Yet the naturalness of their image wouldn’t leave Natalie.
As soon as the meal was finished, they left for the ranch. Some of Ricky’s excitement over their soon-to-be-seen new home rubbed off on to Natalie. She longed to question Colter about it, but she decided against it. He might consider her questions more mercenary than curious.
Once the city of San Antonio was left behind the scenery claimed her attention. It had been so long since she had been in the country that the spacious expanse of blue sky stretching above rolling, timbered hills took her breath away. More spectacular were the limitless fields of spring wildflowers, sometimes dotting, sometimes filling entire valley meadows. Set off by the green of the grass, they were vividly bright, ranging from whites, oranges, yellows, pinks to the ever favourite sky-blue of the bluebonnet.
“How much farther?” Ricky piped up from the back seat, dodging the extra cases that wouldn’t fit in the already full trunk.
“A few more miles,” Colter replied.
“How far is the ranch from San Antonio?” It hadn’t seemed as though they had travelled very far from San Antonio and Natalie couldn’t prevent herself from asking the question.
“Somewhere around sixty miles.” He was slowing the car and turning on to one of the lesser ranch roads that intersected the main highway.
“You could have easily driven back and forth to the Fiesta,” she responded without thinking.
“I believe Missy thought she would miss something.” Colter glanced in the rear view mirror at his daughter, who was listening patiently to Ricky. “The only thing she might have missed was meeting the boy.”
The dryness of his tone forced Natalie to ask: “Are you sorry?”
“No.” A brow arched briefly in her direction. “Are you?”
“No,” she answered quietly, feeling strangely tranquil.
Within a few minutes, the car slowed again and turned on to a gravelled road, gliding dusty white beneath tall crossbars that heralded the entrance to the Langston Ranch. The road sloped gradually upwards leading towards a stand of tall trees. Through their branches, Natalie caught a glimpse of dark red and, as they drew closer, a smattering of ivory white. Guessing at Colter’s wealth had not prepared her for the sight of the sprawling ranch house that lay beneath the towering trees.
Thoroughly modern, its style was traditionally Spanish with red-tiled roof and smooth stucco walls, scrolling wrought iron at the windows. Flowering brushes and shrubs abounded in exotic profusion, their vibrant flowers accented by the enormous white blossoms of a magnolia tree. The lane curved towards the house, then continued on through the stand of trees descending the slight slope they had climbed.
“We’re home,” Missy announced unnecessarily.
As Colter braked the car to a halt in front of the stone walkway leading to the house, a man came walking through the trees towards them — tall, broad-chested, wings of white mingled with otherwise dark hair beneath a western hat brim, older than Colter, perhaps in his late thirties.
“I see you’re back, Colter,” the man said as Colter stepped from the car and walked to greet him. “I was just coming up to the house to check.”
Missy and Ricky were faster getting out of the car than Natalie, who dawdled to get a longer look at the sprawling, elegant ranch house that was her new home. She missed hearing Colter’s reply as she closed the car door.
“Did you enjoy the Fiesta, moppet?” The man tugged Missy’s long braid as she walked by him to her father.
“Yes,” she answered politely, giving him a shy smile.
Ricky too had been taking in the sights and for once lagged behind Missy. His silky brown head was trying to turn simultaneously in all directions and still see where he was going, without success.
“Hello there,” the man greeted him when Ricky almost ran into him. “And who are you?”
“My name is Ricky,” he announced unabashedly, taking his measure of the stranger. “I think I’m going to live here.”
The man glanced curiously at Colter, then caught Natalie’s approach out of the corner of his eye. The boy was forgotten as he studied her, and Natalie felt herself blossoming warmly under his admiring gaze. His brown eyes were telling her, respectfully, that he found her very attractive, but they didn’t leave her with the feeling that she had been undressed. Instinctively Natalie knew she was going to like this man, whoever he was.
“Travis, I’d like you to meet my wife, Natalie. Her nephew has already introduced himself, I believe,” Colter stated. “Natalie, my foreman, Travis McCrea.”
If a thunderbolt had struck him, the attractive stranger couldn’t h
ave been more shocked. As self-conscious pink began to appear in Natalie’s cheeks, he tried to hide his amazement.
“Forgive me,” he asked Natalie. “I didn’t realise Colter had any plans to marry again.”
“That’s quite all right,” Natalie replied after Colter had failed to comment on his foreman’s observation.
“Travis usually eats with us if he’s around the house at mealtimes,” Colter informed her. “You can file that away for future reference.”
“If you have any objections to that arrangement,” Travis McCrea interjected, “I can make other plans.”
“None at all,” Natalie assured him with a genuine smile. “I hope you’ll continue the practice, Mr. McCrea.”
“Travis,” he corrected, her smile immediately bringing an answering one on his tanned face. “We aren’t formal at the ranch.”
“Then call me Natalie.”
“Thank you, I will.” There was a curious glint in his dark eyes when he glanced briefly at Colter, but it was gone when he directed his warm brown gaze at Natalie. “You’ll be anxious to see your new home. I won’t keep you, Colter.” He touched his hat with his finger and returned the way he had come.
“You liked him, didn’t you?” Colter commented smoothly as they turned to follow the children to the house.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?” Natalie countered, wondering why she was on the defensive simply because she had immediately liked Travis McCrea.
“No.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“A lot of women find him attractive,” was the only reply she received.
“I would imagine so,” Natalie agreed, striving for a noncommittal tone.
His inscrutable gaze swung at her, frostily cool and aloof. “Why do you feel guilty because you were attracted to him?”
“I don’t feel guilty,” she denied, but his glittering look mocked her assertion.
“There’s no need to be ashamed of feelings like that,” Colter said drily.
“How would you know? You don’t have any feelings!” she shot back, unaccountably angered.
“Don’t confuse feelings with emotions,” he answered in the same level voice as before, not reacting to Natalie’s anger. “I see, touch, hear, smell and taste as keenly as the next man. Sexual attraction between opposite sexes is a physical reaction. There is no emotion in desire.”
FOUR
A COLD finger ran down her spine, strangely chilled by Colter’s detached implication that she might be attracted to Travis McCrea. The carved walnut entrance door stood open and Colter stepped aside for Natalie to precede him.
As she stepped across the threshold, she forced herself to remember that their marriage wasn’t real, merely a convenient arrangement. It was clear that Colter had no intention of abiding by the traditions of a bride and groom; to do so would be a mockery. There had been no kiss after the wedding ceremony and now he was letting her walk into her new home instead of carrying her. Thank heaven, there was no need for pretence, she told herself.
Cool, white walls greeted her, accented by dark walnut wood. The floor was tiled in large squares of black and white. Natalie’s glimpse of the living room extending out from the foyer promised that the interior of the house was as elegantly casual as the outside. But the main of her attention was focused on the stoutly built, older woman seated on the edge of a straight chair, her hand holding Missy’s fingers. Her iron-grey head turned at the sound of their footsteps on the tiles, her blue eyes glinting curious and alert.
“So this is your bride, is it, Colter?” the woman said in a no-nonsense tone as she rose to her feet.
There were few age lines on the woman’s face, confined mainly around her eyes and mouth. Her features were stern but, unlike Colter’s, her mouth gave the indication that it smiled frequently. It was a strong face and its beauty was in its strength rather than simple prettiness. This was a woman whose friendship was not lightly given.
“Yes, this is my wife, Natalie,” Colter acknowledged, then introduced the woman to Natalie. “My aunt, Flo Donaldsen.”
“How do you do,” Natalie smiled. Her hand was enclosed in the woman’s firm grip.
“I hope you’ll like it here, Mrs. Langston.” The tone of Flo Donaldsen’s voice said that she doubted it, as her piercing eyes flashed a speaking glance at Colter. “Will you be wanting something to eat?” she asked Colter with distant politeness. “I’ve already cleared the lunch food, so it wouldn’t spoil. You said you would be back this morning.”
“That was my fault, Mrs. Donaldsen. I overslept this morning,” Natalie spoke up.
“Cake or cookies and something cold will satisfy us until dinner,” Colter stated, subtly letting Natalie know there was no need to apologise. “While you’re fixing that, I’ll show Natalie the bedrooms where she and Ricky will be sleeping. They are prepared?”
There was a silent challenge in his voice, almost daring his aunt to make a personal comment. The woman’s mouth tightened fractionally before she replied that they were.
Walking down the corridor on the east wing of the house, Missy shyly pointed out her own bedroom to Natalie and Ricky, a feminine room of saffron yellow and ochre gold flowers. Ricky’s room was next to hers, a single bed draped with a red, blue and white print with matching curtains and throw rugs, a distinctly boyish room. But it was the toy train set in the corner that caught his attention, and he impatiently waited while Missy showed him how to operate it.
“Was it yours?” Natalie asked after Colter had suggested they leave the children while he showed her where she would be sleeping.
“Many years ago.”
It was difficult for Natalie to picture him as a little boy. She guessed that he had been always older than his years and not at all the open, embracing child that Ricky was. As Colter opened the door across the hall from Ricky’s, her idle musings were replaced by admiration. Beautifully crafted oak furniture dominated the room, its rich patina reflecting the sunny shade of the avocado and gold area rug. The gold shade was repeated in the drapes and sheer insets of the French windows leading out to the portico.
“W-was this your aunt’s room?” Natalie breathed, unable to take her gaze away from the tasteful furnishings.
“No, she has always used the room off the kitchen, intended as the maid’s or cook’s quarters. I was never able to persuade her to take one of the bedrooms in the main section of the house once Missy was grown. She insisted that she wanted her privacy,” Colter stated.
“Perhaps I should follow suit,” Natalie suggested hesitantly, wanting desperately to enjoy the luxury of this room while wondering at the same time whether she was asking too much. Essentially she was only the housekeeper.
“No, you are my wife. Your place is here in this room,” he returned smoothly. “Besides, you’ll want to be near the boy until he becomes accustomed to his new surroundings.”
“Yes, of course,” Natalie agreed, silently glad that his logic had vanquished her doubts.
“Missy will show you where the dining room is. Flo will have the refreshments out by now.” He turned towards the door, expecting Natalie to follow, which she did.
“Aren’t you going to join us?”
“I want to check on a few things with Travis.”
Natalie hesitated in the hallway, watching Colter as he disappeared in the direction of the foyer. He had been away from the ranch almost an entire week, she reminded herself. Naturally he would be anxious to be brought up to date. She glanced at the other closed doors leading off the hall, wondering which one was his room. It would be austerely masculine like its occupant.
Then the sound of a toy train whistle drew her into Ricky’s room. Joining them, she allowed Ricky a few minutes to show her how he could operate the train before she suggested that Missy take them to the dining room. The next item on her agenda after a sweet and a cool drink was to have Mrs. Donaldsen explain the household routine.
At the walnut dining table, Natali
e refused the pecan torte Flo Donaldsen offered, choosing to settle for the tall lime cooler. Missy was much less reserved in her great-aunt’s company, eagerly responding to her questions about Fiesta, while Ricky began devouring his torte after the first tentative bite. When his plate was clean, he pushed it towards the elderly woman.
“May I have another?” he asked brightly.
“No, Ricky,” answered Natalie firmly before Flo Donaldsen had an opportunity to reply. “One is enough.”
“Okay,” he agreed, not the least bit put out by her refusal as he took a big swallow of the lime drink. “Are you ready, Missy?”
“I have to help Aunt Flo clear the dishes away first,” the young girl replied.
“If you don’t mind, Missy,” Natalie inserted gently, “I’ll help her and she can show me where things are in the kitchen. Maybe you could show Ricky around the house and yard?”
Missy hesitated for an instant, glancing at Flo Donaldsen for approval which was given with a slight nod. Excusing herself from the table, she took Ricky’s hand and began leading him from the room.
The older woman didn’t say a word as they stacked the few dishes and carried them through to the kitchen, a beautifully modern kitchen with every convenience a woman could want. On the counter of the walnut cabinets sat a colander full of squeezed lime halves next to a juicer.
“The limes were fresh?” Natalie murmured in surprise.
“Colter likes his fruits to be fresh.” The explanation was given tersely. “He sends a truck to the Rio Grande valley once every two weeks for fruits and vegetables.”
“Couldn’t he buy them locally?” she asked, blinking her gold-flecked eyes at the extravagance.
“He could,” Flo admitted, “but he wants to be sure they’re the best.”
“That must be expensive.” Natalie sat the dishes on the counter by the sink, the full extent of Colter’s wealth slowly sinking in.
“He can afford it,” the older woman sniffed.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Natalie agreed hesitantly.