“What’ll I tell her?”
Turquoise shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you can just stall her and keep her occupied until this thing is over.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Turquoise took a deep, shuddering breath and realized the hand that held the tumbler of water was shaking. Was it shaking too much to hold a pistol?
“I’m going out to the dueling grounds.”
“My word. Women won’t be welcome out there. This is men’s business,” Fern objected.
“I said I’m going to the duel.” She set the tumbler down with a bang and whirled to leave the house. As she got into the buggy, she thought again about the Colt revolver. Did she have the guts to use it? To save Rio’s life, she would.
Chapter 18
The sun was low on the horizon as Fern drove her buggy to meet the incoming train that was now pulling into the station with much soot and smoke.
She walked up and down the platform, watching for Senora Durango as the conductor began unloading the baggage. Then a beautiful blond woman holding the hands of two wiggling children, a boy and a girl, stepped off the train.
Fern took a deep breath. “Senora Durango?”
“Yes?” Cimarron looked up and down the platform. She was tired and impatient to head home. Now where was her family?
“Senora, you may not remember me, but I’m Turquoise’s friend Fern.”
“Of course.” Cimarron smiled and nodded as she recognized the plump redhead. “Where is everyone?”
Fern started to shake and began to cry. “My word! It’s all such a mess! Your husband is helping Rio learn to duel and—”
“Who?”
“Rio. The man Turquoise loves,” Fern babbled. “He’s got to fight a duel at sundown with Senator Forester.”
“Why?” Cimarron blinked and held onto her two wiggling children.
“Because Senator Forester has him on a murder charge and he wants to marry Turquoise, and—”
“Who wants to marry Turquoise? Honestly, Fern, I’m having a difficult time understanding—”
“But Turquoise has promised to marry Senator Forester if he just won’t kill Rio, and—”
“Senator Forester. Do you mean Edwin Forester?”
“Why, yes. He’s mad for Turquoise, enough to kill—”
“Double damnation,” Cimarron cursed. “This is a mess. He can’t marry Turquoise.”
“I know your two families have been feuding for years,” Fern wept, “but he’s determined to have her and … what’s the matter, senora? You’ve turned pale.”
“I—I’ll be all right.” Cimarron took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, then let go of her children. The dark-headed boy and girl ran up and down the platform. yelling and playing. “When is this showdown supposed to happen?”
“At the old dueling grounds about sunset.” Fern wiped her eyes.
“All right. I’ll take charge now, Fern. Can you deal with my baggage and maybe take the kids across the street for some ice cream?”
“Well, of course, but—”
“No time to talk now.” Cimarron dug in her reticule for some money. “Where can I find the senator?”
“Maybe at his capitol office if he hasn’t already left. But why—”
“May I borrow your buggy?”
“Yes.” Fern nodded. “It’s the one out front with the paint horse. The buggy has yellow wheels.”
Cimarron took off at a run. “You kids tell Fern about your trip and I’ll be back later.”
“But, Senora …” Fern yelled as she grabbed for the boy and girl, but Cimarron was running for the buggy. Then she looked down at the pair and sighed. “I’m Fern Lessup, Turquoise’s friend.”
The dark young boy smiled. “My name’s Diego, but they call me Ace.”
“And I’m Raven,” said the beautiful little girl.
Fern took their hands in hers. “Well, you two tell me about your trip. Do you like strawberry or vanilla?”
Black-haired little Raven said, “There were lots of pretty clothes—”
“And big buildings,” Ace interrupted. “And a man named Bell has invented something called a telephone.”
Fern was too worried to listen but she nodded. “Let’s go get some ice cream and you both can tell me everything you saw in Philadelphia.”
Cimarron clambered into the buggy and whipped up the horse. She had to stop this duel before it was too late, so she had to find Edwin Forester. The capitol. Fern said he might be at his office at the state capitol. She could only pray she was in time as she took off in a cloud of dust down the street.
When she pulled up and jumped out, the lot looked fairly vacant. No doubt most legislators had already left for the summer. She hurried into the building, the empty granite hallways echoing under her shoes.
To a bored guard, she asked, “Senator Forester’s office?”
He pointed down the hall. “He might still be there. He sometimes works late.”
She could only hope. She almost ran down the hall and passed a small pimply faced man with wire-rimmed spectacles clearing off his desk. “Is the senator in?”
The little man looked annoyed. “We are just closing for the day, but—”
“Tell the senator I need to see him desperately.”
“All right.” The little man looked intrigued, but he didn’t ask. He disappeared through a big door and in a moment, returned. “The senator is getting ready to leave for an important appointment. He says come back tomorrow.”
“Tell him it’s Senora Durango and he must see me.”
The little man shrugged. “All right,” he said irritably. “I don’t think it will do you any good.”
He got up again and went to the big door but as he opened it, Cimarron rushed past him and into the room.
“Senator Forester?”
The handsome man looked annoyed as he stood up. “I said I have no more time for appointments today—”
“But I must see you. I am Senora Durango.”
For a moment, he only stared at her with those pale, cold eyes. “What is it you want?”
“We must talk.” She strode over to his desk and sat down in front of it and looked him over. He was indeed a handsome man, possibly nearing forty, with just a touch of gray at the temples of his light hair. He wore an expensive, light gray suit with a pink rosebud in his buttonhole.
“I don’t know why—”
“We must,” she said again firmly and he sighed and waved the irritable little man out of the office.
“It’s about the duel.”
He frowned. “If you’ve come to plead for that Mexican’s life,” Forester snapped, “it will do you no good.” He blew on the inked sheet of paper he’d been writing on. “The duel will go on as scheduled.”
“It must not.” She shook her head, looking at the shape of his face, so familiar, the unusual color of his eyes, and knew that what she’d been told was true. “I don’t know anything about most of this. I’ve been away for several months.”
“Then why …?”
“What are you working on?” She asked, staring at the paper he was now folding.
“If it’s any of your business, I am a very thorough man and I am updating my will. Another five minutes and you would have missed me.”
She took a deep breath. “Senator, I have something I must tell you, a secret that only I know.”
“Now why should I give a tinker’s damn about—”
“Because it may change your actions today.”
“Aha! I knew it! You think to dissuade me from—”
“It is my understanding that if you deliberately miss and not kill the vaquero, Turquoise has promised to marry you.”
“Now how would you know that?” He sounded very annoyed. “I am in a hurry and you are stalling for time—”
“Senator, I must tell you my secret, and we will be the only two people in the world who know it, a fact that the old don himself whispered
to me on his deathbed.”
Edwin made a face. “The old Don Durango. There has always been bad blood between the families for many reasons.” She nodded. “You may try to talk me out of marrying Turquoise, but I intend to have her if I have to fight every man in Texas. I have never met a woman who hypnotized me like she does. She intrigues me, completes me. This is the woman I have looked for all my life.”
She stared at him, knowing what the old don had whispered to her as he lay on his deathbed was true. Trace and the priest had been out in the hall when she had come quietly into the room to say her good-byes to the dear old man. Now she felt very, very sorry for Edwin Forester. “Don’t you realize why you love her so much? Are you blind? Haven’t you guessed?”
“What are you hinting at?” he snarled. “I don’t have time for—”
“Edwin”—she kept her voice low and gentle because she was about to destroy the man—“pour yourself a stiff drink and sit down. I have something to tell you and then you will decide what to do next.”
He seemed to be mystified, but he got up and poured himself a large whiskey. “Would you like some sherry?”
She shook her head, waiting for him to sit down.
“You can say anything you wish”—Edwin nodded— “but I will have her. I’d just as soon be dead if I can’t marry Turquoise, so you won’t talk me out of it.”
She motioned for him to sit down and he did, sipping his drink. Then she took a deep breath and told him what the old don had revealed with his dying breath.
Edwin Forester’s pale eyes widened and then narrowed with rage and disbelief as the tumbler fell from his nerveless hand and crashed on the floor. “You lie!”
Cimarron held up her hand. “I swear on the Blessed Virgin that what I have told you is the truth. How could you have looked into her face and not realized it? Are you blinded by love?”
Her words seemed to sink in and for a long moment, the room was very quiet except for the ticking of the wall clock. Edwin’s face went a pale, sick gray. “Oh my God.”
For an eternity, he stared into blankness and said nothing. From outside came the crackle of a string of firecrackers and a small boy’s laughter. Cimarron watched the long shadows creep across the room through the window. It would soon be sundown.
Edwin finally spoke and it was barely a whisper. “I—I was just making out my will as a precaution. I am a very cautious man.”
“I know,” Cimarron said and felt so very sorry for him.
“But I love her still,” he argued as if that would change everything. There were tears in his eyes. “I was planning to leave all my riches to her if I were killed.”
Cimarron shook her head. “She probably wouldn’t accept anything from you.”
“Not even if she knew—”
“But she must never know. This is our secret,” Cimarron reminded him.
“Yes, of course.” He ran his hand across his chin and his hand shook visibly.
“I am going now.” She stood up and walked toward the door, paused there, and looked back. He sat like a dead man, staring into the dusk of evening. He did not answer. “Edwin,” she said softly, “for what it is worth, I feel very, very sorry for you. I deeply regret you had to find out. I intended to take the secret to my grave.”
He laughed but there was no humor in his voice. “What is it they say? What goes around comes around and your sins will find you out?”
Tears came to her own eyes at the pain and tragedy in his face. All his money and power could not help him; maybe only God could. “I will pray for you,” she whispered and went out.
She walked softly past the clerk’s desk and he looked up and said, “Is the senator about ready to leave?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I really don’t know. Give him a few minutes.”
The clerk pulled out his pocket watch. “But we have someplace to be in less than thirty minutes.”
“Maybe not,” she said and went down the hall past the guard and out to the buggy. Once there, she broke into sobs and buried her face in her hands. She had done everything she knew to do. Now it was up to Senator Forester.
Back in his office, Edwin stared at the door for a long time, listening to the occasional firecracker from outside, then down at the papers on his desk. There were things to do. He stared at the will, unable to see the print because he was blinded by his own tears. The building was quiet, so very quiet that he could hear his big office clock tick. He had someplace he was supposed to be. Where was it? Oh, yes. He caught the slight scent of the pink rosebud in his lapel and stared down at it. The scent was faint and in the sweltering July air, the flower was beginning to wilt. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now.
He tried to collect his thoughts and blinked again at the papers before him. After a moment, he wrote a short note, put it with the will, and stood up. With a shuddering sigh, he walked to the outer office. “Elmer, I need you to witness my signature.”
“Aren’t we in kind of a hurry?” Elmer blinked like an owl through his big spectacles.
Edwin ignored the question. “Get that building guard, too. I need two signatures to make this legal.”
Elmer glanced at his watch as he stood up. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow, sir?”
“No, it can’t.”
The clerk shrugged and went off down the hall, returning soon with the guard.
“Ah, Senator, and what is it you need this evening?” the guard asked with a laugh.
Edwin laughed, too, only he felt like shrieking. “Just need a couple of signatures to make this legal, that’s all. You don’t need to read it. I’m just going to sign it and you two sign as witnesses.”
He signed it with a flourish and they signed right under his name. “Now,” Edwin said, forcing himself to smile, “I’ll just get a couple of things from my office and we’ll close down for the evening.”
“Are you gonna ride in the parade tomorrow, Senator?” the guard asked. “I hear you’re thinkin’ of running for governor next term.”
Governor. Once that had been important; now nothing was, nothing but a girl he loved with all his heart and soul. Ironic, really. He was rich and important, and powerful, but none of that meant anything now. “I’ll be right out.”
He went back into his office, took the will and the short note, put them in an envelope, sealed it, addressed it to his own lawyer, and laid it on his desk in plain sight. Then he reached into the bottom drawer for the dueling pistols. His hands trembled as he took them out and loaded them. One of them got a full load. The other, he shorted on the gunpowder. This one would not reach across forty paces to hit the target. However, no one would know that unless they were knowledgeable in handling pistols. He had to take that chance. He picked up the leather pistol case and went into the outer office. “All right, I’m ready now.”
Elmer looked at his watch again. “We’ve barely got time to get there.”
“Mmm,” Edwin said and nodded to the guard and the three of them started down the hall to the big front doors.
“I will follow you out and lock up,” the guard said. “See you tomorrow at the parade. You have got my vote, Senator. Why, I think you’d make a great president.”
“Thank you,” Edwin said and really looked at the man for the first time in all these years. The Irish cop was a human being with hopes and dreams and children. Edwin had always only thought of him as one vote in a ballot box. After all these years, he didn’t even know the man’s name. “I really appreciate it …?”
“Mahoney,” said the guard with a grin.
“Yes, Mahoney. I appreciate the way you’ve always checked my office and run little errands.”
He noted that even Elmer’s eyes widened. Edwin wasn’t known for being grateful. He was a Forester, after all, and took privilege for granted. Anything the Foresters wanted, they got. But not this time. Not this time.
He and Elmer got in the buggy and Edwin held the dueling case and let his clerk drive. He glanced do
wn and saw the pink rosebud in his buttonhole was wilting fast, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. “I’ll always love pink roses,” he thought aloud.
“What?” Elmer glanced over as he drove.
“Never mind. Elmer, I’ve left an envelope on my desk addressed to my lawyer. If anything happens to me, you are to take it immediately to my lawyer tonight. Tonight, do you understand?”
The little clerk stared sideways at him as if to ask a question, but only nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know anything about guns at all?”
“Well, no, sir, not a thing. But I’m honored to be your second, whatever that is.”
Good. Elmer wouldn’t realize that one pistol was short-loaded. Now if he could just keep anyone else from inspecting them….
“You’re awfully quiet, sir.”
“Am I? Just deep in thought, I reckon, about that water legislation that will come before the Senate next term.”
“Who was the beautiful blonde who just left your office?”
“God’s avenging angel,” Edwin whispered.
“What?” His expression said Elmer was worried about the senator’s mental state.
“None of your business,” Edwin snapped. “Just forget you ever saw her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Edwin realized that the man thought there was something shady, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. He could never tell the secret, not to anyone.
* * *
It was not quite sundown when they arrived at the dueling grounds. A curious crowd of men had gathered in a circle to see this ritual that men had fought for a thousand years. He saw old Judge Wright come out of the crowd. The vaquero stepped forward, his mouth tight, his face pale with tension. Edwin noted his swollen hand was still bound up. Rio would have to shoot left-handed, which made him an easy target. Trace Durango stepped up behind the vaquero.
The judge looked around at the crowd and then at the two duelists. “Can this not be settled any other way?”
The vaquero took a deep breath. “I don’t think so, senor.”
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