Brave the Wild Wind

by Johanna Lindsey

  “I’ll get to that another time.”

  “No, you won’t,” Jessie said icily. “I don’t need this kind of treatment, not in my condition. Get out of here. Find yourself another room,” she added stiffly. “This one is taken.”

  Chapter 46

  RODRIGO drew up the carriage and unhitched the horses they had brought with them for the rest of the journey. Jessie had the gentlest mare in Don Carlos’s stable, while Rodrigo mounted one of Don Carlos’s magnificent white Spanish-Arabians. How Jessie missed her beloved Blackstar, waiting for her with Goldenrod back in Chicago. But she wasn’t put out over having been given a tame horse. She knew she shouldn’t be sitting a horse at all, even sidesaddle and heavily cushioned as she was. She shouldn’t even have left the house, for that matter, but the way things had been between her and Chase meant she needed time away from him.

  So she was on her way to Ronda to watch Rodrigo dazzle a large audience with his bullfighting skills. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the only road to Ronda hadn’t been an old mule path, inaccessible by carriage. It must have been fine for the legendary Andalusian bandits who made Ronda their final stronghold in the last great rising of the Moors against Ferdinand and Isabella. One narrow path was easy to guard. But it was a damnably difficult crossing for a heavily pregnant woman.

  Jessie had been to Ronda several times already with Rodrigo and Nita over the last months, but she was just as awed as she’d been the first time she saw the town perched high above a rocky cleft that plunged three hundred feet deep. The cleft was spanned by three bridges. She had been terrified crossing the Puente Nuevo, the highest bridge, looking down at the gorge dividing the town. Far below were the other two bridges, both built on ancient Roman foundations.

  In the older section of the town one could see gypsies in the streets and watch them dance the fiery and passionate flamenco. Nita proudly claimed that she could dance better than the gypsies did.

  Don Carlos’s dying was never mentioned anymore. He had improved with each day since Chase’s arrival, and he left his room once or twice every day, swearing to become his old self again very soon. There was already talk of traveling, even of his returning to America with Chase and Jessie.

  Chase was delighted. He was getting closer and closer to his father. In fact, the only time Jessie saw Chase act like his old self was when he was with Don Carlos. At all other times, he was coldly unapproachable.

  She was beginning to think Chase never would forgive her for what had happened between her and Rodrigo. He paid no attention to her explanation. They were strangers now, it seemed. She had opened the subject several times, but he always left the room when she did. He plainly wanted nothing more to do with her.

  These last months had been intolerable. In her loneliness, she’d spent more and more time with Rodrigo and even Nita. Rodrigo had never confessed his love again, but he was always attentive, always eager to please her.

  So there she was in Ronda. She knew she had no business traveling, not that close to her delivery. Rodrigo thought it was perfectly safe, of course, because he was with her.

  The heavy perfume of orange blossoms assailed them as they passed the gardens of Paseo de la Merced in Mercadillo, the newer section of Ronda—newer by only a few centuries. The bullring was in that part of town. Truth to tell, Jessie would rather have been in bed resting. But Rodrigo had told her so much about bullfighting and about his own skill that she’d had no heart to refuse him.

  She recalled the three elements critics looked for in judging bullfighters. The style of the matador was one. It meant standing straight, firmly planted, unyielding, and bringing the bull past him with a grace that gave no ground. Mastery of the bull, controlling the animal’s every move and spinning him around at will, was the second element. The third was performing the maneuvers as slowly as possible, for the longer the time of dangerous closeness lasted, the more opportunities the bull had to change his tactics and test the matador.

  Rodrigo left her alone in the stands and went to dress. She did not see him again until the opening parade across the ring, which involved all the participants in the spectacle. There were two matadors besides Rodrigo, and they all looked grand in their tight-fitting silken hose, knee-length pants, and brilliantly jeweled jackets. Most of the crowd was gaily dressed as well, the exceptionally warm weather allowing the women to wear sleeveless blouses. They wore flounced, colorful skirts, and their hair was rolled up under high combs and mantillas. But the Moorish influence was not entirely lost. Some women covered their heads and the lower half of their faces with embroidered linen, and their dresses were much more somber.

  After the parade, the first bull was released and the maneuvers around him began. Then Rodrigo came out, the first matador to demonstrate his skill with the cape, and the tension increased palpably. For a while Jessie forgot her nagging backache and the overall discomfort the last week had brought her. She watched as he went through a series of passes, playing with the bull, testing the huge animal and she joined in the roar of “olé” as the crowd cheered Rodrigo.

  On her fourth “olé,” a sharp cramp made Jessie double over. There was so much more to see, the entrance of the picadors with their lances, more passes by the matador, the planting of the banderillas in the bull’s shoulders, then the final playing of the bull and the killing. But Jessie was going to miss all of it. She hoped she was mistaken but another cramp dispelled that hope.

  She had to get out of here before the crowd dispersed and knocked against her. It wasn’t easy going, having to stop every few minutes to let a cramp pass then continue slowly. She felt like a huge cow.

  She didn’t know where the hell she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. Why wasn’t Chase there to help her? He should have offered to come along. This was his baby, damn it. He should be there to take charge, to scold, to say he had told her not to make the journey, to tell her she would be all right. Where was he? Did he really hate her?

  “Señora Summers!”

  Jessie turned slowly, relief washing over her at the sight of Magdalena Carrasco, a woman she had met in Ronda, an old friend of Don Carlos’s. Magdalena had only to look once at Jessie’s pale, cramped expression to know what was happening.

  “Where is your husband, Jessica?”

  “He didn’t come today,” Jessie panted.

  “And you should not have come either, ¡Por Dios!”

  Jessie nodded guiltily. “How will I get home?” She asked meekly.

  “Home? Nonsense! It is too late for that. You will come with me, and I will see you settled in my house.”

  “But…my husband?”

  “He will be sent for,” Magdalena assured her firmly. “You have nothing more to concern yourself with.”

  Jessie was more than glad to let Magdalena take charge. She had enough to worry about.

  Chapter 47

  JESSIE was losing track of time. The pain was so bad she could hardly keep from crying out. The constant waiting and hurting was taking a terrible toll. She couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted, yet Magdalena kept saying, “Relax, it will not be for some time yet.”

  And then she thought she was dreaming. Chase was there. “I could wring your neck, you know?” His soft tone belied the words.

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “This time you’ve gone too far, Jessie.” Anxiety marked his face.

  “How was I supposed to know?” she retorted guiltily. “If you’ve come just to holler at me, you can—”

  She had to stop. This time, just to spite him, when the pain was at its peak she let out a scream. She was satisfied to see Chase lose every bit of his coloring. Maybe now he wouldn’t snap at her for being such a fool. She knew she’d been a fool.

  “Jessie, for God’s sake, you need a doctor!” he whispered urgently.

  “I’ve seen a doctor,” Jessie said tiredly, “and Magdalena is in the next room.”

  “Where is the doctor?”

&n
bsp; “He’ll be back.”

  “But he should be here now!”

  “To do what? He can’t help me, not until later. I have a long wait yet, they tell me.”

  “Christ!”

  “I don’t see what you’re getting upset about. I thought you knew more about this than I did.”

  “Not about the actual—are you all right? Can I get you something?”

  She wanted to laugh.

  “Well…there is something I—”

  “Anything, Jessie, anything.”

  “There is something you can clarify for me.” She had to wait for another pain to pass before continuing. “I…have such vague memories of everything that happened after the ranch burned. Did you…did you bring Kate to me somewhere?”

  “Yes, at the hotel the morning before we left Cheyenne. I found her in one of the saloons. She didn’t want to face you, but I thought seeing her might bring you out of your shock. It didn’t.”

  “Did I forgive Kate? What did we talk about? Were you right?”

  He nodded. “If the woman felt no remorse all these years, I think she does now. If you ask me, that’s very little price she’s paying for what her silence did to you and Rachel. And you didn’t talk to her at all, just stared at her, then turned away.”

  Jessie groaned. The pains were getting closer and more intense.

  “What happened to Jeb and my men?”

  “Jeb said he’d see to letting the others go, but he’d stick around and round up whatever cattle remained. I told him to keep whatever he found. Rachel paid off your debt as a wedding gift, so you owed no one. I didn’t think you’d mind letting Jeb do whatever he liked with the strays.”

  “No, of course not. I’m glad. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “He earned it, Jessie.”

  “Yes, he sure did. Oh! What about the sheriff?”

  “I left descriptions and reward money for Clee, Charlie, and Blue Parker.”

  “What about Laton Bowdre?”

  “I couldn’t charge him with anything.”

  “What?”

  “Jessie, Bowdre left town the day before the fire, so he couldn’t be implicated. The man is smart. But maybe not quite smart enough.”

  “Chase, tell me what—”

  “Your recognizing his hirelings could be his downfall. I talked it out with the sheriff, and he agreed that if he caught any of the three, he would let them go if they volunteered the name of the man who hired them. Clee and Charlie may think loyalty comes first, but I doubt Parker will feel that way. It’s just a matter of finding at least one of them.”

  “Do you think there’s any hope of finding them?” she asked anxiously.

  “We can always up the reward later,” Chase said.

  “With what?” she said sharply. “You’re not exactly rich, you know. And I’m wiped out.”

  “Well,” he reminded her, “I did inherit a sizable sum when we found my father.”

  “You’re going to keep it?” she asked, surprised.

  “I’d be three kinds of a fool to let a bad mood decide the matter. Besides—”

  Jessie had tried to hold it in, but this time she couldn’t. The scream sounded horrible even to her. Chase panicked, thinking something had gone wrong. He gripped her hand.

  “Jessie, you can’t die, you can’t! I love you! If you die, so help me—”

  “You’ll wring my neck?” Jessie said weakly. She looked at him for a long time. “Love me?” she said softly. “You have a fine way of showing it, the way you’ve treated me lately.”

  “I was jealous,” he said simply. “Damn it, I’ve never been jealous of anything or anybody before in my life, and now all of a sudden…I didn’t know how to handle it, Jessie. I wanted to scream at you, but I wanted to love you, too. I wanted to fight for you, but I held all the feelings in, afraid I might upset you too much. Believe me, Jessie, if you weren’t pregnant, we would have had this out long ago. I’ve never been more miserable in my life than these last months, being near you but unable to touch you, and afraid to speak my mind. And you kept encouraging Rodrigo—”

  “I did not,” she interrupted tartly. Then her voice softened. “Rodrigo is sweet and entertaining, but he…he’s not you, Chase. I felt nothing at all when he kissed me that one time. I guess just any man won’t do for me.”

  Before Chase could reply, Jessie cried out again. Magdalena came in to say that she’d sent for the doctor. She tried to get Chase to leave, but he wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t proper, and she left shaking her head.

  Jessie relaxed and gave Chase a reassuring smile. “She’s right. You’d better leave. It’s bad enough that I have to listen to myself yell, but you shouldn’t have to.”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “No, I really would feel better if I didn’t have to worry about you fainting.”

  “It’s nothing to joke about, Jessie!”

  “I’m sorry, Chase. Would you wait outside, please? I just don’t want you to see me like this.”

  He couldn’t refuse such an earnest request, but he left very slowly, his face a mask of worry, looking back at the bed with every step.

  “Chase.” Jessie caught him as he was going out the door. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 48

  “PEDRO?” Jessie exclaimed. “Did she really name you Pedro?”

  “Surprised?” Chase grinned.

  “But I would have thought she’d scorn anything Spanish.”

  “Actually, I think my mother enjoyed feeling sorry for herself.”

  “But why did you change the name?”

  “With my dark hair and a name like that, I was marked a foreigner in Chicago. Kids can be pretty tough on foreigners. I was fighting every damn day, it seemed. So I changed the name—and dared anyone to remember the name Pedro.”

  “But it’s a nice name, Pedro.” She grinned.

  “You start calling me Pedro, and I’ll start calling you Kenneth.”

  “That’s not funny!” Jessie cried.

  “I didn’t think so, either.”

  They laughed together and snuggled closer on the divan. In the next room, two-month-old Charles slept. A son who looked like his father and his grandfather. Both men were bursting with pride. Jessie liked to think it wasn’t only pride that lit up Chase’s eyes when he looked at his son. Perhaps it was happiness, too. Contentment. Certainly love. He did love that boy. And in the last two months, she had felt as secure in his love as Charles did.

  Love wasn’t the fairy tale she’d once thought it was. Love was real and wonderful, and she gloried in it. Love was the heart of happiness, and Jessie had found her happiness in her husband and child.

  Jessie kissed Chase on the cheek, and he turned his head, capturing her lips. She sighed as his hand caressed her back. She had learned to control her impetuous passion some of the time, for there was much to be said for anticipation. But a fiery union also had its merits. She looked over at the bed and sighed. It was still early.

  “Have you given any more thought to what we’re going to do when we get back to America?” Jessie asked.

  “I thought maybe we’d visit your mother for a while. I think Rachel will like my father.”

  “Matchmaking, are you?”

  “I have no intention of messing with anyone’s life except my own.”

  “You’ve done a pretty good job there.” Jessie smiled. “We can’t stay with my mother forever, though.”

  “Do you have something in mind?” he asked.

  “I would like to start my ranch again. If you’re willing,” she said.

  “But, Jessie, we can buy a house somewhere and raise our son. You don’t have to work.”

  “And I can get lazy and fat and die of boredom, too,” Jessie came back saucily. “I want a ranch, Chase. Don’t dismiss the idea.”

  “Dismiss it?” He laughed. “As if you’d let me. Oh, Lord, I never dreamed I’d end up a rancher.”

  “You mean it?” she asked excitedly.


  “Yes,” he sighed. “But if it’s to be ranching, then we’ll do it right this time. Never mind the nonsense about just making ends meet. And I hope you don’t have your heart set on settling in Wyoming. Wouldn’t you rather start a new ranch someplace where it’s a little warmer? Texas or Arizona?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “Winter might be a little cold in Wyoming—”

  “A little!”

  She grinned. “There are ways to get warm, ways that can be fun.”

  “Will you teach me all of them?”

  “If you ask me nicely.”

  “Tease.”

  “Charmer.”

  “I love you, sweetheart.”

  About the Author

  Johanna Lindsey has been hailed as one of the most popular authors of romantic fiction, with more than sixty million copies of her novels sold. World renowned for her novels of "first-rate romance" (New York Daily News), Lindsey is the author of forty-seven previous national bestselling novels, many of which reached the #1 spot on the New York Times bestseller list. Lindsey lives in Maine with her family.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

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