Bittner, Rosanne (21 page)

Tess
hid her contempt for Harriet Caldwell. Before her abduction she had been a part
of some of the women's circles that met occasionally in town, friendly with many
who attended them. Now most of the women treated her as though they hardly knew
her, and Harriet was as bad as the others. She wanted to ask her what was wrong
with also teaching the Mexican children, but she decided to keep her usually
tart tongue in its place as long as she had to work for the woman. Harriet
obviously had no use for Negro, Mexican, or Indian other than as a servant, and
now she was treating her no better.

Tess
had come to appreciate the Mexican women with whom she had to work. They had
been far friendlier and kinder than the women she had known and called friends
before her abduction. Several Mexicans worked on the Caldwell ranch, but
Harriet did not associate with them, except to give them orders.

Tess
had resigned herself to doing what she must. She was not afraid of hard work,
and she was not going to go back on her word to Jim Caldwell that she would do
whatever was necessary in return for his taking care of her father's land. He
had in turn kept his word to do just that. Some of his men were harvesting her
corn this very day.

"How
many will there be?" she asked Harriet, who had turned away to chide a
Mexican woman for putting too much sugar in her tea.

"Oh,
I am guessing perhaps twenty. I'll see that Jim brings plenty of stores from
town. We'll be getting some fresh ham from Al Plenty's hog farm in just a
couple of days. The meeting is Saturday." The woman stepped closer,
frowning. "You look pale, and tired. Are you ill?"

Tess
hated admitting she was down in any way, but she had been sick lately, usually
in the mornings. She attributed it to overwork. "In Texas, anyone with
skin as light as mine and red hair looks pale," she answered. "I am
fine, Harriet. I'll have the things ready that you want." She wished the woman
might be truly concerned, but she knew she'd only been asked because Harriet
did not want anything to go wrong at her meeting. The woman's pale brown eyes
had never shown any true sympathy. Her pudgy, wrinkling face always had a
rather stern look to it, her thin lips usually pressed tight, her nose high.
The woman was so "proper" she was always rather rigid, and her stocky
build made one wonder how she managed to even bend over and lace her shoes. She
and her husband did not seem to have a very warm relationship, each one going
about his or her busy, separate life, crossing paths only at suppertime.

A
trace of a smile passed over Harriet's lips at Tess's attempt at humor about
her pale skin, and Tess decided to take advantage of the brief display of human
emotion. "Harriet, I would like to remind you that I read very well. I
would be glad to teach other children. I need a job where I can be more
independent, and—"

"Oh,
dear, you must realize that after your abduction you couldn't possibly teach
little children."

Tess
frowned. "Why!"

The
woman reddened a little. "Well, dear, you know. Everyone knows about your
misfortune, and some people hold the ridiculous belief that once something like
that has happened to a woman she is... well... rather tainted. You would cause
talk among the children, perhaps make them ask embarrassing questions their
parents cannot answer. Schoolteachers are required to hold a most honorable
reputation. A woman who has been, well, you know..." She leaned closer and
whispered the word. " 'Raped'..." She shivered. "It puts a stain
on her character."

Tess
wanted to scream. "I did nothing wrong! How can people blame me for what
happened. If it had happened to you—"

"I
am sure I would have to kill myself," the woman interrupted.

Maria
Juarez, who always worked only in the kitchen, glanced at both of them, and
Tess could feel the woman's sympathy. Tess faced Harriet squarely. "And I
am sure I am much stronger than that. I repeat that I have done nothing wrong,
Harriet, that I was not raped by any of those men. I am perfectly capable—and
worthy—of teaching little children. And I will not tolerate being treated no
better than a woman of the streets or as though I am somehow tainted. All I
have done is survive. That is something you could never understand without having
to go through it yourself!"

Harriet
drew in her breath, pulling in her chin at the same time so that it tripled at
her neck, reminding Tess of a turkey. "Well!" she sniffed. "I
did not mean to say you had done something wrong. I was only trying to explain
how some people look at the matter."

"Including
you."

"Well,
I..." Harriet sniffed again and turned away. "You might be a little
more grateful you have work here, Tess. It is not proper or necessary that you
lose your temper with me. I will remind you that my husband has men harvesting
your corn this very day. What would you do without us?"

Tess
returned to polishing silver, hardly able to believe the gall of the woman.
"That does not give you the right to treat me like something lowly,"
she answered. "I think we agree that we both deserve some respect. I know
you once owned slaves, but I am not one of them!"

Harriet
did not answer right away. She glanced at Maria, irritated by the mocking look
on the woman's face. "We lost what took generations of hard work to build
back in Virginia," she finally said to Tess. "And
you
would
not know what
that
is like."

"Do
you truly think I don't understand loss, Harriet? My God, look at what has just
happened to me! Before this
my
family also lost everything back in Georgia.
And my mother and little brother were killed in a fire after a raid by Southern
outlaws. We have
all
suffered losses, Harriet. That's the reason eighty
percent of the whites here in Texas
came
here to start over." She
could tell by Harriet's eyes that the woman wanted to say more, but she was
stubborn and proud and arrogant. She was not about to share her feelings with
anyone.

"I
know good and well why most of us came here," she answered, looking rather
shaken. "The war ruined a lot of things for a lot of people, Tess. It
totally changed my husband."

She
walked out, and Tess wondered at the remark, realizing Harriet's feelings ran
deeper than she let on. Still, she was not sure how much longer she could
tolerate Harriet's aloofness and the way she seemed to look down on her now.
She, too, had pride, and she was not going to let someone like Harriet squash
that pride, even if she had to quit her employ here after all.

"You
tell her good, Señora Carey," Maria said. "I wish I had your courage.
Please know that I do not feel as she does about what happened to you. I am
very sorry for it."

Tess
blinked back angry tears. "Thank you, Maria. Will you help me prepare the
food for the meeting?"

"Certainly.
And I must say,
señora,
that you
have
looked a little ill lately.
Is there anything I can do? Perhaps you are just working too hard. Señora
Caldwell treats you like a slave. I think she enjoys having a white woman
working for her. It makes her feel even more important."

"I
don't mind, Maria. I am used to hard work." She put the back of her hand
to her forehead. "It's just that lately I've been feeling sick to my
stomach, in the mornings. I have always been quite healthy, so I don't know
quite what to think of it."

Maria
frowned, wiping her hands on her apron and stepping closer. "Excuse me,
señora,
but... perhaps you are with child."

The
words made Tess's blood run cold. "What!"

"Oh,
I know it would be difficult, now that you are widowed. But at least you would
have something of your dead husband to keep forever, no?"

No!
Tess
wanted to scream. She and Abel had not had sex for over a month before her
abduction, certainly not since her last period. She turned away, trying to
think. That had been about a week before the farm was attacked. She grabbed
hold of a chair, suddenly feeling faint.

"Señora!
Are
you
all right? Did I say something wrong?" Maria put a hand to her waist.
"I am sorry if what I said upset you. Perhaps I am wrong."

"I...
It's all right." Tess fought a building panic. "Tell me, Maria. You
have had several children. Is being sick in the morning a sign?"

"Sí,
señora.
You
should be happy if you are with child."

Tess
was amazed she had not thought about that herself. Yes, she
would
be, if
the child were Abel's. But that was impossible! That left only one other
possibility. Chino! Who else could be the father? How could she possibly carry
the child of such a man? How could she love such a baby? Bastard! That was the
only thing one could call it! She was trying so hard to prove she had lost no
honor, even trying to make people believe she had not even been raped. How was
she going to deny it as her belly got bigger, a single woman with a big belly!
She could claim it was Abel's, that she was already pregnant when she was
abducted, but when the baby was born... God only knew what it would look like!
If it came out with dark skin and straight, black hair, how could she deny its
father?

"Holy
Mary, Mother of God," Maria said softly. "Are you thinking the child
could be... from one of the Comancheros?"

Tess
took a deep breath and straightened. "Of course not. That is impossible,
Maria. Those men never touched me. You're right. If I am carrying, it's Abel's
child, but I might not be carrying at all. It's just... such a shock to think I
might be pregnant, now that I have no husband. Please don't say anything about
this to anyone right now."

"Sí,
señora.
I
am so sorry to upset you."

"It's
all right. You were only trying to help." Tess half stumbled out the
kitchen door, then began running. She had to go somewhere, anywhere, be alone,
think about what she should do. Pregnant! She might be pregnant! She had never
even considered such an outcome.

John
waited for Lieutenant Ames and his troops to move in behind him. He would much
rather fix his sights on the men below and shoot down as many of them as
possible before they could scatter. That always seemed the easiest way to rid
Texas of its outlaws. But he'd been ordered to "be reasonable" this
time and bring some men back alive, or he could lose his job... maybe even be
hanged, if Jim Caldwell could have his way. Texas had to show how
"civilized" it was through law and order, and those who dispensed
that law and order had to show they also were civilized.

Besides
all that, there was a new decree in Texas that the Rangers should try to get
along with the Army a little better. There had been hard feelings for a long
time, since most Rangers were Confederates at heart, and most of the Army men
down here had fought for the North during the war. Texas had not even wanted
any troops here right after the war, but the Army had been shoved down their
throats anyway. With constant Indian trouble, the government had decided it was
time Texas cooperated with the troops, although as far as John could see, the
Rangers still did a better job handling Indians and outlaws alike than the Army
did. As far as North and South, he'd never cared much about which side was
right or wrong. Men were going to find something to fight about no matter what,
and he had no cause to get involved in the war either way. He'd been too busy
taking care of his mother back then.

He
scooted back from the ridge where he'd been watching Holt Puckett and his
bunch. He'd tracked them here, and like a good boy he'd gone to get the
lieutenant so the Army could take the credit for capturing the outlaws, unless
they botched the job. He ran back toward the approaching troops, telling them
not to get any closer or their horses and gear would make too much noise and
alert the outlaws. "You'll have to go in the rest of the way on foot,
Lieutenant," he told Ames. "Keep a few men out here on horseback;
have some of them circle around and be ready to go after any who manage to
escape."

Ames
nodded. "How many are there?"

"About
ten that I could count. They're well armed and they
think
they're well
hidden."

Ames
turned and signaled his men to dismount. "Thanks for finding them for us,
John. You can help us with the capture or not. It's totally up to you."