Dorothy Garlock (36 page)

“But he did,” Burr said with a sardonic grin. “You played your cards right, little fox. He liked the way you stood up to him and told him how the cow ate the cabbage. I’m surprised he didn’t try to marry you himself—guess he knew he wasn’t the . . . stud he once was.”

“That’s not necessary, Burr,” Ben said sharply.

“You’re rich. You could go to town and buy your own saloon. There’s only one hitch—my wife is staying right here. The old man kicked off just a day too late for you, didn’t he, little fox. Just a day too late.”

“Burr . . .” Ben’s voice was filled with exasperation. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like this. Tell her all of it, or I will.”

Johanna jumped to her feet. “I don’t want it! I never did. I’ll go to Fort Davis and talk to Mr. Cash and sign it over to you. It belongs to you, Luis, and Bucko.” She looked pleadingly at Ben.

“Don’t get so worked up, little wife. You didn’t get it all. You got a pile of money, but not all of the valley. The house is on your land, and you can throw me and Ben out of it anytime you take a notion. But we’ll just go out to the other side of the corrals and build ourselves another one—on our land.”

“Burr, there are times I wish you were small again. I’d take a stick to you.”

“Let me have my fun, Ben. It’s not often a little fox gets outfoxed.”

“Johanna, come sit down, lass. I want to tell you something you should have been told long ago, and would have except for this stubborn boy of mine.”

Johanna wrapped the shawl tighter around her trembling shoulders and went to stand at the foot of the bed, keeping her eyes averted from the man lying on it.

“I don’t want to know any more, Ben.”

“Please, Johanna. I’ll make it brief.” His kind face was so troubled that she nodded agreement, and he continued hurriedly, as if afraid she would leave. “As I told you before, I legally adopted the boys long ago. Well, back in 1853 the United States bought forty-five thousand square miles of land from Mexico. It was called the Gadsden Purchase, and this valley was included in the land that was bought. All title to the land had to be reestablished in Sante Fe. Mack went there and filed his claim. A year later I went to Sante Fe and discovered the law had allowed Mack to file on only a certain number of sections and that he had left money with a land investor to buy up the rest of the land when it became available. I filed on the allotted number of sections and took out tentative titles to sections in the names of the boys. That meant that if no one else filed on the land, when they came of age they could go to the land office and claim title if the required improvements had been made. We also bought up the land that adjoined ours. The three of us own all the land surrounding Mack’s. Mack never knew that. He assumed he owned the whole valley, and that land man let him think that. He was probably too scared of him to tell him that the rest of the valley was unavailable to him and that he’d lost the money in land speculations of his own.”

Ben looked down at the paper in his hand, then looked up at Johanna. Her face was coolly composed, and it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

“And you let Mr. Macklin believe he owned the valley. Why?”

“Why?” Burr answered harshly. “Because I wanted it that way. It pleased me to run this place the way I wanted, running roughshod over his orders. The old bastard didn’t own anything but this house and a few outbuildings.”

“And you wanted those, too.” Johanna kept her eyes on Ben, refusing to look at Burr.

“You’re damn right I did. But they’re yours now.”

“So there was no question of selling the valley to Mr. Risewick. There was no danger of its being turned into a battlefield. There was no danger that the workers would be driven off, and no danger to Jacy.” She spoke the words fatalistically.

“Not by . . . no, Johanna,” Ben said haltingly.

“So there was really no need for me to sacrifice my future happiness in order the keep the valley safe for Jacy, and to save the land for Mr. Macklin’s
bastard
sons?” She spat out the word deliberately, raised her brows, and waited for Ben’s answer.

“Ah . . . no, Johanna.”

“I see.” She went to the end of the room, stood with her back to the men, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t even angry, her hurt went too deep for that. She felt betrayed . . . used. Turning back, she retraced her steps to the foot of the bed and asked Burr, “Why did you marry me? Why did you go to all the trouble of making up the lie about the land being sold, when you knew it would never happen?”

Burr grinned but in no way was it an embarrassed or sheepish grin. He appeared enormously pleased with himself and wanted her to know it.

“I wanted Luis to have what he wanted. If your sister was happy, Luis would be happy. I wanted you to stay here and teach Bucko.” He looked at her now with eyes that mocked. “There’s a couple more reasons. You’re a bit on the skinny side, but not a bad-looking woman, and I get tired going to El Paso to visit the—”

“Burr!” Ben’s voice thundered in the quiet room.

“I’ll be leaving as soon as Jacy has her baby,” Johanna said to Ben. “I’ll see to it that the land is put in Bucko’s name—he’s deserving of his share the same as Mr. Macklin’s other two sons. I’ll divide the money between the three of them, but I will keep enough to see me through to California and a teaching job. I’m entitled to that much after all I’ve been through here. My main concern is for Jacy. I don’t want her to know of my plans or about any of this . . . sordid affair. Distress at this time wouldn’t be good for her.”

“Lass, don’t make plans yet. I know how you feel, but give yourself a little time—”

“You couldn’t possibly know how I feel,” she said scornfully. “Being victimized by old Mack’s sons doesn’t surprise me, but you . . . I thought you were my friend, Ben. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Hold on.” Burr swung his legs off the bed and sat up on the side with a grunt of pain. “Don’t go blaming Ben for any of this. It was my idea.”

Johanna didn’t look at him.

“Yes, lass, he knew you wanted to leave here, and he thought . . .” Ben’s words hung in the silence while his eyes pleaded with her.

“For once he was right, Ben. I only wish I didn’t have to spend another night in this ghost-ridden, hate-filled house. Thanks to Mr. Macklin, I no longer have to stay and accept your charity.” She started for the door.

“Charity! Damn you! You’ll stay here, by God! You’re my wife, like it or not, and you’ll stay here!” Burr’s angry voice filled every corner of the room.

At the door Johanna turned and looked at him. “Demands and curses. Old Mack’s legacy lives on in his son,” she said sadly as if to herself. With a pitying glance at Burr, she turned and went out the door.

As she walked down the darkened porch she could hear Ben’s raised and agitated voice as he talked to Burr.

*  *  *

Almost three weeks passed before the Apache dismantled their camp and started the long trek to the mountains of Mexico. During that time Johanna went about her daily work calmly and efficiently. She and Sofia made preserves from dried peaches, sliced cabbage for kraut, caught clear rainwater, set several casks of vinegar working, and gathered herbs, onions, and garlic and hung them in bunches from the rafters in the kitchen. They scrubbed everything in the house, washed clothes, and aired bedding.

Johanna never admitted it, even to herself, but the strain of keeping up a cheerful front for Jacy had taxed her nerves to the limit, and only with hard work could she keep control.

It was a relief to Johanna when the day finally came when Luis brought the wagon to the door and loaded Jacy’s belongings. By the time they were ready to leave, the wagon was full of supplies from the storage shed and foodstuffs Johanna and Codger had boxed up from the root cellar and smokehouse. Burr brought a milk cow from the barn and tied it behind the wagon. He had been up and about since the day after the fight, but he still moved slowly and painfully. At the last minute while the goodbyes were being said, Mooney came from the bunkhouse proudly carrying a cradle. It was small but expertly made. The bare wood had been rubbed smooth and a coat of wax applied. Jacy was ecstatic, and after Mooney carefully set the cradle in the wagon she insisted he come around so that she could plant a kiss on his weathered cheek. He was all grins and embarrassment. Johanna watched and for the first time in weeks tears came to her eyes.

“Do not worry, sister,” Luis said softly from behind Johanna. “All will be well.”

“I know, Luis. And I’m happy for both of you.”

“All will be well for you too.”

“Of course.”

“Sister . . .” There was an edge of worry in his tone.

Johanna turned and smiled brightly. “I’ll be down soon. I’ve yet to see your home.”

“You will always be welcome.” He saw the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way the skin stretched over her cheekbones. She was deeply unhappy, as was his brother, and it grieved him.

Johanna watched the slowly moving wagon until it was out of sight, then went to her room beneath the sloping roof. What would she do during the long days ahead? Sofia relieved her of much of the work and was so happy doing it that she hadn’t the heart to tell her she’d rather do it herself. If she had her choice she would work from dawn until dark, so that her tired body would demand that she sleep. Thank God, she still had Bucko.

Thankfully, Burr had been busy away from the house the last few weeks. She hadn’t spoken to him directly since the night Ben had told her about old Mack’s will. At the supper table he listened to the conversation between Luis and Ben and left the kitchen as soon as he had finished eating. Johanna had been distantly polite to Ben. She did not seek him out, as she had before. The closeness she had once felt to the little man was gone. He had contrived with Burr to deceive her and she couldn’t forgive that.

Johanna stretched out on the bed and stared at the tin ceiling. She counted on her fingers. Jacy should have her baby in less than six weeks. Six weeks! How was she going to endure staying in this house for that long?

T
wenty-two

T
he days sped by faster than Johanna had thought possible. The occupants of the stone house settled into a routine. Burr was up at first light and gone from the house, not to return until just before evening. He had retreated behind a wall of polite silence. At times Johanna would search his face for a sign of softness. She saw only eyes hard as steel, a firm outthrust jaw, and an implacable mouth. Ben breakfasted early, and went either to his room or over to the bunkhouse, leaving Johanna and Bucko to have their meal alone.

Johanna was constantly surprised by Bucko. The little boy was very bright and even witty. They spent the morning hours at the table in the sitting room working on reading, numbers, and penmanship, and in the afternoon, if the day was warm, they sat on the porch. Bucko seemed unaware of the tension between Johanna and Ben and Burr. A kind of unspoken truce existed during the evening meal, after the awkwardness of the first few meals without Luis and Jacy. Ben and Burr discussed ranch work and Johanna encouraged Bucko to talk. He was opening up more and more, eager to share his new knowledge with the others. His English was improving along with his confidence, and occasionally his choice of words brought a smile to Burr’s grim face.

One day Bucko put down his book and asked Johanna the question she had been waiting for him to ask.

“Why did the woman kill old Mack?”

Johanna thought for a moment, then sat down and pulled the boy down on her lap. “Long ago old Mack did a cruel thing to the woman. She was young, a beautiful young Apache girl, who came to the valley with her people. He shamed her. It’s terribly hard to be shamed before your family and friends. She must have thought it right to kill him.”

“What did he do to her?”

Without hesitation Johanna answered. “He mated with her. He put a baby in her stomach and then went away and left her. Her family scorned her and cast her out. She didn’t have anyone to take care of her and she had to work hard so that she would have food for herself and her baby. She wasn’t strong, and much of the time she was tired and hungry.”

Bucko was quiet for a long while. “The baby was me, Johanna. I was hungry, too, before Burr bringed me here.”

“The word is
brought,
Bucko, and, yes, I’m sure you were hungry, too.”

“I’m glad she kill him,” he said fiercely. “She was brave.”

“Yes, she was brave to leave her village and come here alone. But killing a man is never right unless he is trying to kill you.” She hugged him close. “That woman was your mother, darling. Remember her with kindness. She gave you life. Forget old Mack. You have two brothers who will take care of you. Now let’s get back to the lessons.”

That evening at the supper table, during a lull in the conversation, Johanna encouraged Bucko to talk.

“We had a history lesson today. Bucko, tell Ben about Christopher Columbus.”

Bucko looked proudly around the table. He was beginning to enjoy the attention of having everyone listen while he talked. He spoke in halting English.

“The woman kill old Mack for he put me in her stom . . . chy. She was tired with shame and hungry. She was very brave.” His eyes searched the faces of the two men to see their reaction to his news. They were speechless.

Burr carefully set down his mug and glared at Johanna.

Although as astonished as the men, Johanna said calmly, “Your English is much better, Bucko, but the word is
stomach.
Some call it
belly,
but I don’t think it’s as nice a word as
stomach.
We’ll learn to spell it tomorrow, if you like.”

Burr was waiting for Johanna when she left the kitchen after helping Sofia. Somehow she had known he would be.

“Why did you tell Bucko a thing like that?” he demanded.

Johanna lifted her head and drew her dignity around her like a blanket. “Because he asked me, and I don’t lie.” She emphasized the
I,
and saw his fists tighten with anger.