Midnight Flame

by Lynette Vinet

  Laurel turned from the mirror and grinned. “Lavinia dresses this way.”

  “Miss Lavinia ain’t no lady.”

  A sound from the open doorway drew their attention. “I heard that,” Lavinia said and sniffed the air. She entered the room, dressed in a like manner to Laurel and critically surveyed her cousin. “You’ll do.” Lavinia sounded almost grudging in her compliment. “Tom is downstairs waiting for you. I don’t know why you insist on being shown all of the Little L. You’re a guest here, Laurel. We don’t expect you to take part in roping and branding.”

  “I want to see how everything is done,” Laurel insisted. “Since I’ll be here for some time, I may as well get used to the environment.”

  Lavinia pursed her lips. She would rather Laurel got used to Seth’s company, but Seth had ridden into San Antonio the day before yesterday, no doubt to visit one of his whores and probably to gamble Little L money, which he could ill afford to lose. What the stupid fool should be doing was courting Laurel, or at least making an attempt at courting her. However, it always seemed that Seth’s vices got the best of him.

  “Then I’ll go along with you and Tom.” As Lavinia started to follow after Laurel, she stopped for a moment and poked her tongue out at Gincie and laughed in devilish delight at Gincie’s shocked mien before joining Laurel and Tom on the porch.

  Shortly thereafter Laurel was settled on a spirited chestnut mare named Starfire. She broke into a gallop beside Tom’s dark stallion and Lavinia’s She Devil, a high-stepping filly, which Laurel couldn’t help but think suited her cousin perfectly.

  “Where’d you learn to ride, ma’am?” Tom asked Laurel, an appreciative twinkle in his gray eyes for her expert horsemanship, as they headed for the open, rolling countryside.

  “My father taught me when I was a child. He was Arthur’s brother, you know, and grew up in the Texas wilds. I spent long hours on horseback during the summer months at our plantation.”

  “Well, your father taught you right good.”

  “There’s nothing that my cousin can’t do.” Lavinia’s voice dripped venom, and she spurred her horse. Her long hair flew like a comet’s tail behind her as she rode swiftly ahead of them.

  “Don’t take Miss Lavinia too personal, ma’am. She’s just high-strung and worked up over her pa being sick.”

  Laurel caught Tom’s eye and smiled kindly. “I know. Lavinia feels things deeply and doesn’t always show her feelings. Instead she acts brattish.” She rode alongside Tom in companionable silence for a few minutes before speaking again. “Uncle Arthur told me you were leaving the Little L. He hates to see you go. He relies on you.”

  Tom nodded. “I don’t really want to leave, but I’ve got me a fine woman I aim to marry. She won’t live any place but San Antonio, so I have to be where she is. Besides, times on the Little L ain’t the best right now. I promised Mr. Delaney I’d stay on a while longer until he gets some business settled.” Tom glanced downward in a sheepish manner, almost as if he had said something that pertained to Laurel directly and didn’t want her to know about it. “I’d do anything for Mr. Delaney. I owe him a lot.”

  “I’m very pleased you care about him, Mr. Evans. I’ve grown quite fond of Uncle Arthur, and I’m worried about his health. The last day or so he’s been coughing more but won’t send for a doctor.” She grew quiet a moment. “Uncle Arthur is dying, isn’t he?”

  “Reckon so, ma’am. We’re all dying a little each day, but Mr. Delaney don’t have much time left. That’s the real reason I’m staying on. He made me promise not to leave until after…” His voice drifted away, and for the rest of the ride Tom Evans said nothing else.

  When the horses crested a small hill, Tom pointed to a large group of cattle, grazing by a slow-moving stream. “Mr. Delaney’s pride and joy,” he said, smiling proudly at Laurel. Spurring their horses onward, they galloped across the dewy grass until they drew to a halt near a circle of men, mounted on what Tom told her were cutting horses. These riders would ride into the herd and cut from it those cows that needed to be branded.

  Lavinia had gone ahead and was already there. She sat on her horse a slight distance away from Laurel. When the cutting horses headed for the herd, Lavinia joined them, surprising Laurel with the ease with which she separated a calf from a cow and roped it before dragging it to the branding fire. In fascination Laurel watched while her cousin and one of the men held down the struggling calf. A second man applied the red-hot branding iron to the calf’s flank, quickly and carefully burning it with the L marking. The calf bawled loudly, and while Lavinia spoke soothingly to the animal, the man who had branded it took a sharp knife and earmarked it for identification.

  “Why are the calf’s ears cut?” Laurel asked Tom.

  “Well, a cow without earmarks is called ‘slick ears.’ If the cow wanders onto someone else’s range without the earmarkings, it’s rounded up and becomes that outfit’s property. The branding and earmarking help to make certain that the animal is the Little L’s property. If we find a number of marked cows on our range, we herd them into a stray herd until the outfit’s foreman comes to drive them back to their own range.”

  The whole procedure of branding repulsed and fascinated Laurel. She slid from her horse and for the next few hours watched Lavinia and the men go through the same process of roping, branding, and castrating most of the bull calves, except for the ones judged to be prime specimens and set apart as breeding stock. Laurel lost count at one point of the number of animals that were roped and dragged, struggling and bawling, to the branding iron. Tom, however, told her that Arthur had lost quite a number of cows to the cattle fever last year, and that the number of cattle that now grazed had been substantially reduced.

  Laurel remembered what Tony had said about his Brahman breed’s sturdiness in resisting the ravages of drought and fever. Perhaps the Little L could profit from Tony’s knowledge, she wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought of Tony from her mind.

  When the sun was high in the sky, the hollow ringing of a cowbell summoned them all to lunch. A grizzled old man named Rusty, who had lost a great many teeth but possessed a large, warm smile, handed plates of warm stew topped with a hard piece of bread to everyone. The men waited in line for their helping, but when Laurel appeared, they insisted she be served first. No one stepped out of line for Lavinia.

  Laurel sat beneath a cottonwood tree and began to eat her lunch, imitating the men by using the bread as a spoon. Lavinia, with plate in hand, plopped down on the cool grass next to Laurel.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Cousin Laurel?”

  “I’m learning a great deal. I hadn’t realized that ranching could be such backbreaking work.”

  “Hmph! A lot you know about ranching.”

  Laurel caught the unmistakable hint of scorn in Lavinia’s voice. “I’d like to learn. The men are quite skillful.”

  “The hands are putting on a grand show for you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Impatiently, Lavinia pushed strands of auburn curls away from her brow, which was misted with perspiration. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how they all look at you, how they’ve gone out of their way to be deferential. More than one has asked about my beautiful city-bred cousin. They want to know if you’re available.”

  “Lavinia, I think you’re jealous.”

  “I’ve never been jealous of any female in my life. I can have my choice of any man.”

  “I’m certain you have,” Laurel said, taunting Lavinia with her innuendo about her stormy past. “However, you’re acting catty and spoiled. I’d advise you to stop, because you appear quite unattractive when you’re not the center of attention.”

  Anger gathered in Lavinia’s eyes and sent blue fire in the direction of her cousin. “Really, Laurel. Who are you to give advice? You forget that because of me you wouldn’t have met your husband. Evidently you weren’t woman enough to keep him. Something I’ll never be accused of.”

  Laur
el’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe that this nasty woman was the woman she had protected from Tony’s wrath. How dare Lavinia insult her. She had been through too much these last months to have her own cousin sit there and insinuate that she somehow was less of a woman because she and Tony were divorcing. She would love to wipe that smug smile from Lavinia’s face by informing her that Tony was the St. Julian relative she feared, that she might still need to remain on her guard. For all anyone knew, Tony might have his revenge on her yet. But she didn’t say these things to Lavinia, couldn’t summon the words to hurt her. Lavinia was jealous of her, and this surprised Laurel. Here she was, safe and secure within the loving bosom of her family and knowing she had a place to call home while Laurel was still adrift with no one to love her.

  Laurel stood up, and she calmly appraised Lavinia, but her voice sounded cold. “Don’t ever make assumptions about me or my marriage. Never mention my marriage again.”

  Laurel strode away, too angry to speak to Lavinia further and only calmed down when Tom took her aside to show her a rope trick.

  With trembling fingers, Lavinia wiped away a tear that threatened to spill onto her cheek. She hated herself for acting jealous, but Laurel’s presence at the ranch upset her. True, she had wanted Laurel to come home with her and had plotted with Seth. Now that Laurel was finally at the Little L, Lavinia found she couldn’t cope with not being the center of the hands’ attentions any longer. If that wasn’t bad enough, her father doted upon Laurel, spoke of her constantly as if he were a proud father. He already had a daughter, she thought resentfully, a daughter who had done almost anything to win his love and save the ranch by making a rich older man fall in love with her. What more could she do?

  She watched Laurel, surrounded by Tom and a few of the men. No doubt about it, Laurel was quite beautiful in a soft and gentle way that she lacked. None of the men ever took the time to treat her like a lady. She remembered Gincie’s words that morning and grimaced. The old biddy was right, but she could never act like Laurel. A streak of wildness as deep as a canyon ran through her. The only man who might have tamed her was Jim Castille, and he had betrayed her.

  But I’m just as beautiful as Laurel, she thought in defiance and shook her auburn hair about her shoulders.

  She could have any man she wanted, even Tony Duvalier if the opportunity had presented itself. But she had been eager to be gone from Louisiana and didn’t want to become involved with another man. A small smile played about her mouth to think that she could have taken Tony from Laurel if she had put her mind to the task. A very pleasant task, too, she couldn’t help thinking. Now it was too late. She would never see Tony Duvalier again, and neither would Laurel. That thought made her feel instantly happier. Yet the pressing problem of money still weighed down her mind.

  She might resent Laurel, but Laurel was the means of saving the Little L. Lavinia had no doubt that her cousin, if pressed, would loan or give some cash to help the ranch. That solution, however, was only temporary at best. Yet if Laurel married Seth, the money problem would be settled once and for all. Yes, that was the answer as it had been from the beginning. Laurel and Seth must marry, and very glad she would be over the marriage. Laurel might not deserve a greedy scoundrel like Seth for a husband, but Lavinia didn’t think she deserved to lose her father’s love to Laurel.

  Walking over to Laurel and Tom, she shot them a winning and engaging smile. Lavinia had already decided that she would be kind to Laurel until after the ceremony. Then she would put her beautiful cousin in her place with Seth’s help. Any twinge of conscience over the gentle Laurel marrying her conniving stepbrother dissipated because Laurel had stolen her father’s love.

  ~

  The night hung dark and heavy as a quilt over San Antonio. Not one star glittered in the moonless heavens. Seth walked with quick strides through the area known as La Villita with his head down, purposely not glancing at the Spanish-speaking passers-by. His strides took him well past the small Mexican jacals, or huts, made of posts driven into the ground and tied together with rawhide and chinked with mud. He didn’t want to go back to that section of town tonight, not after he had just lost a great deal of money in one such dwelling.

  He cursed himself for being stupid and entering the poker game in the first place. But when Raphael Ortega had approached him about the game earlier, he had been feeling no pain. He had just drunk a great deal of tequila and had bedded Dolores, a beautiful whore, in Ortega’s bedroom. Ortega, the slimy bastard, always knew how to make him feel at home on his trips to San Antonio.

  Not that this was the first time Seth had lost at the poker table. He had spent many previous hours in Ortega’s parlor, cards clutched in his sweaty hands, while Ortega’s and the other men’s crafty eyes dared him to fold. But he had always bluffed them and come away from the card table with some cash in his pocket. But for the last few months his luck had run out. He had lost, and Ortega had accepted his promissory notes.

  However, this night, Seth sensed a difference in Ortega. He no longer seemed as affable or as willing to accept another note. The man’s brown eyes flickered in disdain over Seth as he signed the note, and Seth felt a coldness creep into his stomach. When Ortega left the room to escort another player to Dolores, Seth wasted no time in leaving. He wanted to return to the ranch where he felt he would be safe.

  Seth’s horse was tethered to a lamppost, and he had nearly reached it when he bumped into a wiry figure. “Excuse me,” he said and lifted his head. His breath made a hissing sound when he recognized the grinning face of Raphael Ortega. A cigar dangled from between Ortega’s teeth.

  “Ah, Señor Renquist, how pleased I am that I caught you before you left. You didn’t bid me farewell. And Dolores is quite broken-hearted that you didn’t kiss her goodbye.”

  “Sorry, Ortega, but I have to get back to the ranch. My sister is having a birthday tomorrow, and guests will be arriving in the morning.” What a lame excuse, he thought to himself. He didn’t give a damn about Lavinia’s birthday, but he did care about what might happen to him. The red light on the tip of Ortega’s cigar burned as brightly and menacingly in the dark as the flame in Ortega’s eyes.

  “Sí, the ranch. The Little L, I believe, is the name. I’ve heard it is a fine spread, much cattle.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You’re growing impatient, Señor Seth. I don’t like impatience, nor do the men who work for me. Do you remember Claudio?”

  Seth nodded, recalling Claudio as a man who possessed shoulders as broad as a window and huge muscular arms. He had seen Claudio squeeze a man to death once for nonpayment of a debt to Ortega. A cold sweat broke out on Seth’s brow.

  “Bueno. I see that you do.” Ortega looked amused. “Claudio takes care of my business associates when their debts are in arrears, as are yours, Señor Seth.”

  “I’m going to pay you your damn money!”

  “Sí, I know you are, because I am going to collect. Now if you will return to my humble home with me, we can work out the details of repayment.”

  Seth would have punched Ortega. He knew he could knock the small man unconscious and gain enough time to get to his horse and race for home, but Claudio appeared and placed a warning hand on Seth’s shoulder. Instead he found himself turned around, positioned like a corncob between a pig’s jaws, headed for Ortega’s hut.

  ~

  Tony’s hands, filled with fire, cupped her breasts and brought them to his mouth. He suckled the rose-tipped buds until desire flared within her. Then his mouth left them to be replaced again by his hands, and his lips trailed lower upon her writhing flesh. She felt the softness of his mouth against her inner thighs, arched her body to meet his flicking tongue. But then he was atop her, gazing at her in love and passion, driving into her with subtle strokes that threatened to consume her in white heat.

  Her body swirled in a heated mist, pulsating and trembling for fulfillment. Her fingernails dug into the taut flesh of his back, deeper and deeper,
pulling him closer and closer against her, until the moment of exquisite release was near at hand…

  ~

  “Wake up, Miss Laurel. Folks done started arrivin’ already for Miss Lavinia’s party.”

  Gincie’s voice cut through the room, causing Laurel to waken with a start. Early morning sunshine streamed brightly onto the bed when Gincie opened the curtains. Laurel sat up, rather disoriented, a pillow clutched in her arms.

  “What you done to that pillow, child? There’s feathers all over the bed.”

  Glancing at the sheets, Laurel saw she was surrounded by wisps of duck down. Her fingers were embedded in the pillow, and when she withdrew them, she noticed that two long thin lines streaked through the soft linen material. Her cheeks turned beet red.

  “I-I don’t know, Gincie,” she stammered and pushed the pillow away.

  “Lordy me, but you must have been havin’ one strange dream. Must have been a nightmare to account for such goin’ on.”

  Laurel blushed deeper and quickly got out of bed in a rising cloud of down. She stood near the window as Gincie began to take the sheets off the bed, careful not to disturb the feathers further. Below her, people gathered on the front lawn, where tables and chairs had been set up for the cook-out in honor of Lavinia’s twenty-third birthday. Carriages and riders on horseback could be seen rolling and cantering up the road to the house. They exchanged greetings, and a spirit of joviality filled the air. All sorts of friendly people waited downstairs, but Laurel felt alone.

  She held the curtain between trembling fingers. The dream haunted her, its memory filling her with an ache so painful and deep from wanting something she didn’t care to admit to, denying to herself that Tony’s phantomlike presence in her dreams had unsettled her. She didn’t want him! She didn’t love him any longer! Why must her own body, her mind, betray her, even in sleep? she asked herself and nearly cried aloud from the pain that tore through her as she realized that she would never quench the need within her own body. Tony was the man she ached for, but she must forget him, forget him as if he had never existed.