"What?"
"I just … nothing." Clicking her tongue, she flapped the reins over the mule. "Kiss your daddy and your grandma Ellen even if they're ugly as sin, hear me? And don't go blabbing about Ty. Let me tell about him. And don't ask about Don Antonio, not yet."
No one came out to greet them, as no one expected a woman and a little girl. Jenny had to knock at the door,then ask a pleasant-looking Mexican woman if she might have a word with Ellen or Robert Sanders.
Though she had never met Ellen Sanders, she recognized Ty's mother when she came to the door, smiling politely and wiping sugary hands in a white apron. Ellen Sanders had the same blue-green eyes as Ty and Graciela, the same lean carriage. Sun and weather had carved fine lines in her face, but so had character. Jenny released a long breath. She liked this woman at once.
Drawing a deep breath, she pulled back her shoulders. "Mrs. Sanders? My name is Jenny Jones." She waved a hand toward the small figure waiting anxiously on the wagon seat. "And that is Graciela Elena Barrancas y Sanders. Your granddaughter."
"Graciela Elena," Ellen whispered, staring."Oh my God. Marguarita named the child after her mother and me." Then she ran past Jenny, crying and laughing and shouting for Robert and a dozen others. "Maria! Ring the yard bell. Bring everyone! Quickly, quickly! My granddaughter has come home!"
In the melee that followed, Jenny was forgotten.
* * *
Bits and pieces of Jenny's story emerged throughout a day of rejoicing tempered by sorrow. Robert, enough like Ty that her heart ached at the sight of him, understood at once that Marguarita would not have sent Graciela alone if it were possible to accompany her. Hearing his fears confirmed extinguished the light in his eyes. When he learned that Ty, too, would not be coming home, he walked away from the celebration.
Ellen bore the news in stoic silence. "We'd hoped to end the feud with Don Antonio for the sake of Marguarita and the child. I don't know if that will be possible now thata Barrancas has killed my son."
"He might make it," Jenny insisted stubbornly.
Ellen peered into her eyes,then walked toward the west pasture, where she stood for almost an hour before rejoining the impromptu barbecue in her granddaughter's honor.
It was one of the longest days in Jenny's memory. She ate when she was handed a plate, drank buckets of lemonade, listened to a cowboy fiddler,exchanged polite conversation with people whose names she promptly forgot. She remained in the background, watching Graciela until she understood from Graciela's flushed excited expression that it was going to be all right. With a child's generosity, Graciela opened her heart to the new family, who were so obviously prepared to welcome and cherish her.
Jenny had no doubt that she witnessed the beginning of a strong and loving bond between grandmother and granddaughter. Ellen Sanders had loved Graciela on sight. Henceforth, Ellen would step into the breach. She would serve as Graciela's example and her champion. Ellen would raise her, teach her, reprimand her, praise her, and love her.
She also hoped that, in time, Robert would love his daughter. Right now, Robert was deeply wounded, smothered by the death of dreams so recently resurrected. But eventually, she hoped he would draw close to the child who had proudly shown him the small portraits within the locket she wore.
Jenny lowered her head. Never had she hated anyone as fiercely or as passionately as she hated Robert Sanders right now. In some secret darkness of her soul, she had hoped to find him dead. The admission shamed her, but Robert's death would have allowed her to fall back on her promise to Marguarita and she could have taken Graciela toraise with a free conscience.
She would have taken Graciela from the big, richly furnished house. And the thousands of fat cows. And the beautiful bedroom and the wonderful life that awaited her here.
She would have taken Graciela from all this to live in a shack by some stinking wharf? Was her love that selfish?
Stomach cramping, head splitting, she stumbled through the day, happy for Graciela, miserable for herself. Missing Ty with a painful ache that cleaved her in two.
Finally, atten o'clock, at Graciela's insistence, she oversaw Graciela's bath in a room set aside for that purpose, listened to her prayers, and tucked her in bed. Tonight new people appeared in the list of please-blesses.
Graciela kissed her, then fell back against a plump pillow and gazed up with shining eyes. "They aren't ugly as sin. Daddy is as handsome as Uncle Ty. And Grandma Ellen is pretty, don't you think so?"
"Yes, she is," Jenny whispered, pulling a linen sheet to Graciela's chin. "Where's your locket?"
"I let Daddy keep it. He wanted to. Daddy's sad now because of Mama, but he said we'll get acquainted later. I like Juana, too. And Grizzly Bill."
"Who the hell is Grizzly Bill?" When Graciela lifted that one irritating eyebrow, she recanted the cussword.
"He's the foreman. He says he has a little horse just my size. Oh Jenny, everyone likes me!"
"Well, of course they do." Standing, she gazed down at a tumble of dark hair spilling across the snowy pillow and tried to smile. "Are you too excited to sleep? Would you like me to punch you in the jaw and knock you unconscious? I'd be happy to do it."
Graciela laughed. "I love you, Jenny. Good night."
"Good night, kid." Leaning, she blew out the light,then hesitated in the doorway, observing the room in which Graciela would grow to be a woman. A light breeze ruffled lace curtains at the windows. Braided rugs cushioned the floor. Flowered wallpaper climbed the walls, the colors repeating in quilt and bedskirt. It resembled a picture in a rich man's catalog.
Expressionless, Jenny closed the door and walked toward the staircase.
Robert and Ellen waited for her at the foot of the stairs.
* * *
They sat at a heavy claw-foot table in the kitchen because Ellen shared Jenny's opinion that kitchens were the best place to hear news, good or bad. By the time she finished telling her story, the grandfather clock in the parlor had chimedmidnight.
Robert pushed to his feet, his face pale. Jenny didn't think he'd heard much beyond the sound of bullets hitting a wall and a woman's frail body. "I'm much obliged to you, Miss Jones. This family owes you a great debt. You're welcome to stay at the ranch for as long as you like. When you leave, you'll leave with a sizable purse."
Jenny frowned. "I don't want your money, sir. Bringing Graciela home wasn't a job. It was a promise."
She and Ellen watched him stumble into the night, letting the door bang behind him. Then Ellen sighed heavily.
Turning her head, she gazed out the window. "I guess you don't understand a lot of this."
"It's none of my business."
"Are you a drinking woman, Jenny Jones?"
"I've tipped a few in my time," Jenny said cautiously.
"Good." Ellen went to a cabinet, moved some sacks and boxes, and returned to the table with a bottle of bourbon and two tall tumblers. "I'm sensing there's a lot about you and my son that you haven't told," she said, when the tumblers were full. "I need to hear it."
Jenny tossed back a swallow of liquid courage and let it burn down her gullet. Then she talked about Ty.
When she finished, Ellen shared out the rest of the bourbon. "Last time I drank this much was after I buriedCal." She studied Jenny's face in the lamplight. "You loved my boy," she said softly.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
Ellen leaned back in her chair, away from the light. "Of the two boys, Ty was most likeCal, only neither of them ever saw or admitted it. Stubborn and hard as nails, them two. Neither would bend an inch." She smiled down at her tumbler. "When he was a tadpole, Ty used to say he wanted to fight outlaws and rescue pretty women when he grew up. If a man's got to die, it's good to face it doing what he always wanted to do." She lifted her eyes. "I like you, Jenny Jones. You got real promise. That was my mama's highest praise. She'd say, 'Ellen, you got real promise.'"
"Thank you, ma'am. But you don't know me."
"You think I don't?" E
llen laughed before her face sobered. "You won't tell a lie to save your own hide … but you'll lie to spare a child's feelings?" She smiled across the table and spoke softly. "I know you, all right. You have a heart as big as your courage, and you love that little gal upstairs."
Jenny gazed into her tumbler. "I have to leave. Tomorrow." The words fell out of her mouth, pushed by the pain of liking Ty's mother, of sitting at a table where he had sat. He had walked through these rooms, maybe used this glass. Everywhere she looked, her heart saw him. And Graciela.
"Honey, I know you want to put things behind you and move on. And I know a clean cut hurts the least. But that little girldon't know that. And that little girl still needs you. So I'm asking you to stay a while until shedon't feel she's surrounded by strangers." She reached to cover Jenny's hand. "Saying good-bye isn't going to hurt less a month from now than it will tomorrow."
Jenny thought about it,then nodded reluctantly. "I guess you're right. And I promised Ty I'd wait a month." Tilting her head back, she gazed at the ceiling and blinked at moisture swimming in her eyes. "But it's so hard."
"Loving is, honey. Loving is."
* * *
She made herself useful by helping with the wash and cooking, and she surprised Grizzly Bill and the boys during branding week by working as hard and as well as a man. She put up jelly, made pickles,joined Ellen at the mending basket.
And slowly she withdrew from Graciela.
Now it was Ellen who listened as Graciela chattered through her nightly bath. And it was Ellen or Robert who heard her prayers and tucked her in at night. During the day, Jenny made certain there were always others present, and they weren't alone together. It hurt that Graciela didn't appear to notice.
One day, thinking she could bear it now, she borrowed a horse and rode to Ty's house. The house was silent and boarded up, but the clean strong lines reminded her of him. This was the house he had chosen and built for himself. She sensed him here.
Sinking to the porch steps, she gazed out at the land Ty had ridden and loved, openedherself to the air he had breathed, and finally she let herself grieve. A tear spilled down her cheek,then she covered her face in her hands and sobbed as she had not sobbed since childhood, not since her favorite brother had drowned in the lake. She wept for Ty, and for herself, and for dreams that had died before being born.
Stumbling, she reeled about the yard, shouting fury at the sky, dashing team from her eyes and screaming her pain for God's ears. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He should have lived.
Eventually she returned to the porch steps and sat there, rocking in anguish, remembering every word Ty had spoken to her, every small gesture he had made. In agony, she recalled every detail of the night they had spent together, the long kisses and feverish caresses, the whispered words, the soft laughter.
Despite everything, during the long days of silence with no word from him, a tiny corner of her heart had continued to hope. That was what hurt the most, that little flame of hope when there was no hope. Today, she tried to kill it. It got smaller, but her hope was as stubborn as she was. It wouldn't die entirely.
At the end of the long afternoon she returned to the ranch house with reddened swollen eyes and trembling lips. Ellen studied her then gently touched her arm. "Did it help?"
"No."
* * *
"Jenny? Would you ride with me today? Jake's been teaching me. You'll be surprised how well I can ride now. All by myself!"
"Good idea," Ellen agreed before Jenny could think of an excuse. "That will get you both out of my hair while I finish these pies."
"There's someplace I want to go," Graciela confided, lowering her voice.
"Oh? Where's that?" Removing her apron, she hung it on a peg.
Graciela slid a look toward Ellen bustling around the kitchen. "It's a secret. I'll tell you later."
"Give me a minute. I'll change into riding duds."
"No, what you're wearing is fine. All you need is a hat."
Jake, whom Graciela had firmly wrapped around her little finger, had the horses saddled and waiting. "Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?" Jenny asked, swinging up into a lady's saddle with a frown. She could ride sidesaddle, but she hated it. "All right.What's the secret and the big rush? Where are we going?"
Once they reached the main road and Graciela reined her pony to the right, Jenny figured it out. "Wait a minute. Hold up there, kid." She leveled a stare at Graciela's flushed face. "Do you think we're going to just ride up to Don Antonio Barrancas's place without an invitation or a by-your-leave?"
"He's my grandpa."
"Yeah, well he isn't beating a path to your door to acknowledge thatfact, now is he?"
Graciela tossed her head. "Maybe he doesn't know I'm here."
"After three weeks? If even I have heard about Don Antonio's new stud bull, then you can bet your butt that he's heard about you. News travels fast around here."
Graciela gave her the superior schoolmarm look. "I want to meet my grandpa Barrancas. I know the way to his ranch, Jake told me. But I'm afraid to go by myself."
Jenny considered. She knew Robert and Ellen would disapprove, but … why not? Maybe it was time Don Antonio met his granddaughter. Plus, as hardheaded as Graciela could be, the kid would go there sooner or later regardless of instructions to the contrary. Better that she went with a champion at her side. Reluctantly, Jenny moved her borrowed horse up beside Graciela's pony.
"All right, but this goes against my better judgment. And if Don Antonio tosses us out on our butts, don't say I didn't warn you."
The day was warm, and a light breeze carried a tang of the distant sea and the scent of nearby blossoms. It was the kind of bright spring day that made the heartsing just to be part of it.
"Jenny? Do you still like me?"
"What?" She snapped her head to the right and stared. "Of course I still like you. Why would you ask a dumb fool question like that?"
"You've been acting all strange since we came here. First, I thought you were hurting over Uncle Ty. But then I thought—"
Now was the time, there would never be one better. All she had to do was find the courage to announce that soon she would be leaving. "Look, kid," she said, fixing her gaze straight ahead as her chest tightened. "You've got family now. You don't need—"
But she didn't finish the speech that she endlessly rehearsed every night. Two men rode out of the brush beside the road and ordered them to halt. "You're on private property," one of them said in thickly accented English. "This is Barrancas land. Turn back."
"We've come to call on Don Antonio Barrancas," Jenny stated coolly. She nodded to the second man and switched to Spanish. "Please inform Don Antonio that his granddaughter wishes to pay her respects." The men stared at Graciela, then both wheeled and galloped up the road.
Jenny waved at the dust settling atop her hat and shoulders. "Well, we'll know in a few minutes if we're welcome or not."
"Mama said Grandpa Antonio is very strict," Graciela confided anxiously. "I don't think he likes little girls."
"Then you were very brave to come here."
The Sanders ranch suggested prosperity, but the Barrancas spread shouted wealth. Jenny sucked in a breath when she spotted the tile-roofed hacienda through a feathery stand of cedar. If she hadn't known this was a private residence, she would have assumed it was a government seat. The outbuildings were easily twice the size of those on the Sanders ranch, and she had never imagined so many stock pens could exist in one place.
Straightening her shirtwaist with an unconscious gesture, she gazed at the hacienda and wished she'd worn a jacket and a better hat. "I'm thinking this wasn't such a good idea, kid."
"Stop calling me kid," Graciela whispered, staring.
"At least they aren't going to throw us out right away."
A man, a woman, and a boy stood waiting beneath a porte cochere. The man silently assisted them to the ground, and the boy led away the mare and the pony.
The woman gas
ped and covered her mouth when she saw Graciela. She cast an anxious glance at Jenny,then returned her stare to the child. "This way, por favor," she murmured, leading them inside.
Everything was massive. Huge beams supported the ceiling. A wide staircase led to a shadowy second floor. The furniture was large and gleaming, sitting atop carpets as fine as tapestry.
Graciela edged closer to Jenny and gripped her hand as they followed the woman through the great hall, down a short tiled corridor, and into a cool, beautiful room with cream-colored walls and brightly upholstered furnishings.
"Café, señorita?" the woman murmured, not taking her gaze from Graciela. "Perhaps something cool?"
"Nada, gracias," Jenny answered, transfixed by the two portraits above the fireplace mantel.
One of the women was Marguarita, young, glowing with health, and breathtakingly beautiful. The other woman, obviously Marguarita's mother, was older but equally as lovely. Both women had dark eyes; otherwise, Jenny might have been seeing Graciela at age sixteen and again at age forty.
"Hello, Grandpa. I'm Graciela."
Spinning, Jenny confronted a tall handsome man, younger than she had assumed he would be. Gray streaked Don Antonio's dark hair at the temples, and an outdoor life had weathered his face, but she doubted he was much older than Ellen Sanders, whom she knew to be forty-six.
He stared at her over Graciela's head, no trace of welcome in his cold black eyes. "Why have you come here?"
She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. "Senor Barrancas, I am Jenny Jones. I've brought your granddaughter fromMexicotoCalifornia. I have news of your daughter if you wish to hear it."
He lowered a frown to Graciela and clasped his hands behind his back. "I have no daughter," he said harshly.
"Yes you do, Grandpa. Don't you remember?" Graciela whispered. "See? That's Mama in the portrait. But Mama died and so did Uncle Ty." She moved a little closer to Jenny. "Cousin Jorje and Tito tried to kill me. So did Cousin Luis and Chulo. Chulo cut Jenny, but I sewed her up."
The Promise of Jenny Jones Page 28