Rio (5 page)

They reentered the ballroom. Uncle Trace strode toward them, his face dark as thunder. Obviously everyone knew about the trouble between the families, because heads were turning to see what would happen. Turquoise had never felt so humiliated.

But there was no confrontation. Edwin abruptly excused himself and scurried away, leaving her to face her uncle alone.

“I think it is time we were leavin’,” Trace snapped, his words bitten off.

“Of course.” She ducked her head as he took her arm and led her out of the ballroom. She heard the buzz of conversation behind them.

The night air seemed cool as they waited on the steps for their carriage. Uncle Trace said nothing as he helped her in, nor did he speak until they were in their suite at the hotel.

“What a night!” He folded his arms behind his back and marched up and down the plush carpet. “The citizens of Austin will have something to talk about for months now.”

“I’m sorry.” She sat down on the edge of a chair. “I didn’t know who he was and I don’t think he knew who I was either. I had to tell him.”

Trace paused before her. “What did he say to that?”

She bit her lip. “He seemed to shrug it off. Honestly, Uncle Trace, he came to my rescue. I didn’t know I had to have a society bachelor walk me off the stage and no girl offered a relative.”

He ground his teeth. “That’s what you get for tryin’ to move into snooty society.” His tone was full of irony. “The gringos don’t want anyone with Mexican blood—”

“But aren’t you half-Spanish?”

He nodded. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, as you seem to be. Your father must be turnin’ over in his grave.”

“That’s the problem—my white face and my Mexican name.” She’d never had the nerve to bring this up with any of the Durangos.

“Oh, to hell with the old gossips.” Trace shrugged.

“And the dress”—she looked down at the gaudy turquoise silk—“I had no idea I would look such a fool….”

“We were both ambushed,” Uncle Trace snapped and ran his hand through his black hair. “That bitch who runs the La Mode Dress Shoppe must have recognized us as a pair
of bumpkins who didn’t know anything. You want me to deal with her?”

Turquoise shook her head. “I want to take care of that myself.”

He flopped down on a chair and sighed. “I’m sick of this uppity town. Maybe we can go home early.”

She flinched and walked to the window, looking out at the gas lights of the streets. She could still hear Edwin’s voice and feel his embrace. She wasn’t ready to go back to the ranch yet.

Uncle Trace loosened his collar. “And of all people for you to hook up with, Edwin Forester.You know we are enemies of that family.”

“
Si,
but I don’t know why, and he acts like he doesn’t either.”

Trace merely snorted.

She shook her head. “I know the two families are both rich and powerful and it’s an ancient feud.”

Trace pulled out a cigarillo and tapped it against the arm of the chair. “It goes back to our grandfathers. The Duran-gos have business principles, but the Foresters are ruthless and cutthroat. Why, they’d steal the milk from a baby calf’s bucket.”

She bit her lip, thinking maybe he exaggerated. “The senator didn’t seem so terrible.”

“Neither do tarantulas,” Trace snapped, “but they sometimes bite. Remember the Foresters are notorious in that they are willin’ to do anything, and I do mean anything to get what they want. How do you think he became a senator? And what were you doin’ out on the veranda with him?”

That made her think of Rio and the way he had been treated. “We—we went out for a breath of air and—”

“Turquoise, I’m going to tell you something about the
Forester men. They’ve always had a bad reputation when it comes to women.”

She looked into Trace’s eyes. “You think because I am Mexican and obviously a simple country girl who showed up dressed inappropriately that he would try to take advantage of me?” She began to cry.

“I didn’t say that.” Trace put the cigarillo back in its silver case and walked over to pat her shoulder. “Frankly, I don’t know what he is capable of and I don’t want to have to kill him. His father—”

“Uncle Trace, times are changing. You can’t just go around getting in a gunfight with every man you don’t like.”

“More’s the pity,” he snapped. “I just wish Cimarron were here. She’d know what to do.”

“It’s all right. It’s over now.” She straightened her shoulders, feeling guilty about the handsome farrier who had come at her offhand invitation. She didn’t know what Uncle Trace would think about that.

“Good. Now we’ll be here another day or two. I’ve got business, buyin’ a few blooded horses and cattle. Why don’t you forget about tonight and tomorrow, you go get Fern, and you two do some shoppin’? I have an account at all the stores. My wife has seen to that.”

“That’s what I’ll do.” She paused to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Trace.”

He mellowed. “Just forget about high society,” Trace grumbled. “You’ve got the wealth and the power of the Durangos behind you. That should be enough.”

But it wasn’t enough, she thought. She wanted security—to be able to hold up her head in Texas society and never be laughed at or ridiculed again for her Anglo looks and her Mexican name.

“Good night,” she whispered and went into her room and closed the door. Surely the Durangos and the Foresters
could coexist in peace so she could realize her ambitions. It would be heady to be married to a man of power so that everyone, including those snooty gringa girls, would envy and look up to her with respect. Maybe tonight had been a disaster, but it hadn’t killed her dreams. She wanted security, a big house, and an important husband. If she had all that, no one would dare whisper about her questionable background.

Edwin Forester. He could offer everything she hungered for and surely he couldn’t be as bad as Uncle Trace said. However, when she tried to think about the elegant gentleman, the face that kept coming back to her was Rio Kelly’s. She remembered the feel of his powerful arms around her, the virility of the man. But he was poor; poor and powerless. Yet she felt shame that she had caused him such humiliation.

As she drifted off to sleep, the lips that kissed hers were not the fine gentleman’s but the hot, passionate mouth of Rio Kelly.

The next morning, she and Uncle Trace had breakfast together in the fancy dining room with all the silver, crystal, and snowy linen tablecloths. Today she wore a large white lace hat with aqua ribbons and an aqua, long-sleeved percale dress with a perky bustle. Last night seemed like a faraway dream. She looked around, smiling. “This is the way to live.”

Trace shrugged. “
Si.
It’s all right, but I prefer the patio at the ranch.”

That was because he could look out over several hundred thousand acres the Durangos owned, she thought.

The waiter came to their table and she noticed how he snapped to attention, making sure the coffee, Spanish omelet, and sweet rolls were just to Senor Durango’s liking.
Yes, this was the way she wanted to live permanently; waiters and salespeople hurrying to wait on her because she was also respectable and important.

They finished with little conversation.

Trace threw down his napkin and nodded to the waiter, who hovered in the background. “Excellent, as usual, Pierre. Charge it to my account.”

The waiter rubbed his hands together. “
Merci,
sir.” He pulled back Turquoise’s chair as Trace got up and the pair walked outside into the cool spring morning.

She immediately opened her white lace parasol against the bright sun.

“Well, shall I call you a carriage?” Trace asked.

“No, I think I saw some interesting shops down from the hotel,” she answered. “And I’ll send a messenger to Fern to join me for an outdoor luncheon at that new tea shop on Congress Avenue.”

“Fine. I may not be back until the middle of the afternoon.” Trace nodded and looked toward the new horse-drawn streetcar moving down the street. “I think I’ll try riding that. Austin is certainly up to date.”

He tipped his Stetson to her and turned to run after the slow-moving vehicle. She watched him get aboard, then returned to the hotel lobby and hailed a bellboy to take a note to Fern. Yes, an outdoor lunch would be fun. All the best ladies would probably go there. Fern would want to hear about last night. Maybe Turquoise would leave out the most humiliating parts. Should she tell anyone about how Rio had taken her in his arms and held her so close? No. She shook her head. That would be too scandalous.

She turned and started down the sidewalk, twirling her parasol on her shoulder. There were at least two shops she’d like to see that were less than a block away, but first she decided to deal with Mrs. Whittle. She wasn’t good at confrontation, except where a principle was at stake. She’d
taken on the drunken lout who was whipping a horse and she could take on Mrs. Whittle.

She caught one of the slow-moving horsecars and rode to the La Mode Dress Shoppe. Turquoise marched inside, folding her parasol and laying it on the counter, behind which stood the arrogant Mrs. Whittle, studying her ledgers.

The lady looked up. “How may I—Oh, it’s you.”

“Did you not expect to see me again?”

Mrs. Whittle gave her an arrogant smile. “So how did you enjoy the debutante ball?”

“That was cruel ofyou”—Turquoise faced her—“knowing I did not know the proper thing to wear.”

The lady sniffed. “Maude said you made a fool of yourself. That’s what a Mexican wench gets for trying to get into white society. I hope you learned your lesson.”

“Now I’m going to give you a lesson. Do you remember an old Texas saying that what goes around comes around and your sins will find you out?”

“Superstitious nonsense.” Mrs. Whittle shrugged.

“Well, this isn’t!” Turquoise slapped the sneering face and then grabbed her parasol and strode out, holding her head high. She had learned her lesson all right; she could only wish she was a high-class gringa girl who could demand respect. She burst into tears as she walked down the brick sidewalk. She was hurting inside and couldn’t erase the humiliation she felt. Would she always be mistreated and scorned by white Texans for her Mexican name? She longed to have the money to buy that dress shop and fire the snooty owner.

After a few minutes’ walk, she had calmed down and wiped her eyes. Of course it was childish to wish that. Mrs. Whittle wasn’t worth the misery Turquoise was feeling.

After a block, a buggy pulled up next to her. It was the finest, with bright red wheels and pulled by a black horse
of excellent quality in a new harness shining with silver. The driver took off his hat and bowed. “Miss Sanchez? I can’t believe I ran into you. Do let me give you a ride to wherever you’re going.”

She blinked, looking at Edwin Forester’s clothes. He was dressed in the latest fashion, boutonniere and all, and smiling down at her.

“I—I don’t think I’d better—”

“Oh, nonsense! There’s no use in your walking when you can ride.”

He stepped down from the seat and bowed again, then took her hand and kissed it. “I can’t forget what a wonderful time we had last night.”

She knew she should protest, but she looked at that fine buggy and the elegant gentleman and let him help her up onto the seat. Uncle Trace would be so upset, but maybe he need never find out. She could only hope.

Edwin Forester climbed up beside her and snapped his little whip. The fine black horse started off at a smart gait.

“I’m just so pleased to run into you again. What were you doing in this area?” He gave her a dazzling smile.

She took a deep breath. He smelled of fine aftershave and he seemed so genuinely glad to see her. “I was confronting Mrs. Whittle at the La Mode Dress Shoppe for deliberately putting me in an embarrassing situation with the wrong dress last night.”

He gave her a reassuring nod. “You were beautiful in it.”

“But the proper dress for a debutante, as I now know, is simple white with long white gloves. I must have looked like a fool.”

“I don’t know what the others were wearing.You were so lovely, I never noticed them.”

She chewed her lip. “That’s kind of you to say, Senator, but—”

“Do call me Edwin.” He reached to pat her hand.

“Well, Edwin, I really shouldn’t be here with you. Uncle Trace—”

“Oh, yes.” He gave her a mock frown. “I had forgotten about that little problem. I should sit down and have a talk
with Senor Durango. I feel we should let bygones be bygones. This whole thing is senseless, especially since we are the two most powerful families in Texas. If we could partner up, we could control all of the Lone Star State.”

She couldn’t help but be dazzled by him. “But you’re already a state senator.”

“Oh, yes, but I want more. I’ve been thinking about running for governor and then, who knows? Maybe the United States Senate. Have you ever been in Washington, D.C., my dear?”

She shook her head, feeling like a yokel. She’d never been out of Texas and had only been to Austin a few times.

“Oh, you’d love it.” He smiled down at her. “Fancy parties every night, balls at the White House.”

“You’ve actually been to the White House?” Turquoise gasped.

“Oh, yes, the president and I are good friends.You’d love the grounds, such beautiful flowers, and the shops are wonderful. And I must say, as beautiful as you are, Washington would love you. You’d be on everyone’s social list.”

“Do you really think so?” He was so cosmopolitan and sophisticated.

“Of course. Why, you’d be the most popular hostess in the city, all the important people vying for invitations to your parties and the ladies all copying your gowns.”

They were driving down bustling Congress Avenue toward the capitol.

“I’ll show you the sights of Austin,” he said grandly. “The capitol isn’t much right now, but there’s talk of a grand new building. Just imagine the parties I could have if I became governor.”

She suddenly saw herself on his arm, leading the grand cotillion. She would be dressed in the latest fashion and as the governor’s lady. No one would look down on her for her questionable background.

Edwin drove her around to see the sights and she was aware of women stopping on the street and giving her envious stares.

“I feel so conspicuous,” she murmured. “You must know everyone in town.”

“Well, I know all the best people,” he said, “and I’m so happy that now I know you.”

She felt herself flush and looked away. “I must have looked a fool in that bright, gaudy dress.”

“That was not your fault.” His voice was stern and cold. “Let’s forget about that unfortunate incident, shall we? Just think, if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“You’re being kind—too kind.”

“No, I meant it.” He reached out and patted her hand. His hands were pink and manicured—a gentleman’s hands, not like Rio’s big, strong, calloused hands.

“Let me show you the river,” he said and snapped his little whip at the fine black horse, “beautiful clear water and very old trees.”

She started to protest that she really should get back, but he had turned down a country lane and they were soon driving along the river. “It is beautiful,” she admitted.

“They say that under those big live oaks over there is where gentlemen occasionally duel.” He pointed to a shady dell as they passed.

“Duel? I didn’t think men did that anymore.”

He laughed. “Maybe in the rest of the country, but in Texas, it’s still a way for gentlemen to settle their differences. We wink at the law. In fact, I own a set of exquisite dueling pistols myself.”

“Have you ever shot anyone?” she blurted.

“Now that’s not something for elegant young ladies to question.” He smiled at her. “But I inherited the pistols. The Foresters go a long way back. Our family was part of Stephen Austin’s original Three Hundred, you know.”

He seemed quite proud of that fact and rightly so, she thought. “My goodness.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “When David Austin brought the first Anglo settlers to Texas, there were only three hundred of them; the blue bloods of Texas aristocracy. It’s on both sides of my family.”

She couldn’t help but be impressed. Still, if Uncle Trace knew she had gone driving with him, there would be trouble. “I really should get back. I have a luncheon date.”

He glanced sideways at her. “Not a young gentleman, I hope?”

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “Just a girlfriend I don’t get to see often.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I have a rival. Here, we’ll cross this low creek and go back to town.”

“It looks a little deep,” Turquoise protested as he drove into the water and abruptly, the buggy stopped. She heard him swear under his breath, then he applied the whip to the horse. “Get up there, you lazy nag!”

“Stop!” Turquoise protested. “The horse is doing all it can. We’ve hit some mud, that’s all.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Well, I guess I’ll have to get my boots muddy.” He made an expression of distaste and stepped down. The water was halfway up the fine leather. “And I just bought these boots, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Turquoise said.

“It’s not your fault,” he replied, smiling up at her.

“Perhaps I’d better go for help but I don’t want to leave you alone, my dear.”

“If you’ll just carry me over and set me under that tree, I’ll be fine until you return.”

“Of course, and I imagine you’re light as a feather.” He sluiced through the water back to her and she stepped off the carriage into his arms.

She knew immediately that this gentleman had no
muscle to him, because he took two steps backward and then went down, cursing. They were now both drenched and sitting in the cold water.

“Damn it! This is so embarrassing.” Forester staggered to his feet as she scrambled to hers. “Excuse my language, Miss Turquoise, but this is a new coat besides the boots.”

“Mr. Forester, I’ll just go sit under the tree and you see if maybe you can drive the empty buggy out of the creek.”

“Good idea.” He reached up for the reins and the whip, but Turquoise protested again.

“It’s not the horse’s fault,” she said.

He looked humiliated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just hate to be inconvenienced and I’ve ruined your dress. I think we passed a farmhouse about a mile up the road. Maybe they’ll have a team of work horses to get us out with. Will you be all right, my dear?”

“I’ll be fine.” She nodded and waded over to sit under the tree. “I don’t think I care to walk that mile with you.”

“Of course.” He sounded grumpy as he started off up the road. Turquoise watched him until he was out of sight, then sighed. Her pale aqua dress was soggy and she was getting cold. She glanced up at the sun. It must be near time to meet Fern for lunch and her friend would be worried. Worse yet, if Uncle Trace came back and found Turquoise missing, there might be hell to pay. Why had she been stupid enough to come on this outing?

She knew why; she’d been dazzled by the influence and the power of this handsome, refined man and he seemed entranced by her. Edwin Forester was the most eligible bachelor in town and every well-bred girl in Austin had set her cap for him. If she could get past Uncle Trace’s objections, what would it be like to snare the richest, most important man in Austin? She pulled her knees up and laid her arms on them. The black horse stood in the ankle-deep water and drank, flicking its tail at an occasional fly. It
would be stupid to sit here and shiver and wait. Maybe she could get the buggy out of the creek herself. She was good with horses and Edwin didn’t seem to be.

Turquoise took a deep breath and waded out into the creek. Feeling around the front wheel of the buggy, she found the boulder that was blocking the wheel. If she could only lift it out of the way …

She struggled to lift it, but it was too heavy. Behind her, she thought she heard a rider approaching, but she ignored it, pulling again on the rock. It was slick and it slipped out of her hands, and she sat down in the water with a big splash, her white lace hat falling off. “Damn, damn, damn.” She watched her hat float down the creek.

“Well, hello, senorita, we meet again.”

She looked up to see Rio Kelly mounted on a fine bay horse as he reined in on the other side of the creek and leaned on his saddlehorn. He watched her, an annoyed frown on his dark face.

She had never felt so foolish. “Well?”

“‘Well’ what?”

“A gentleman would help me.” She kept her voice icy.

“After the trouble you caused me last night?”

“I’m sorry about that. Perhaps the senator overreacted.”

He snorted. “I’d say so.”

She tried to stand up, but her wet skirts threw her off balance and she plopped back down in the water. “Would you please help me?”

“I don’t feel inclined.”

She felt her temper rise. “Never mind. I’ll get myself out.”

“This should be amusing.” He reached in his shirt pocket for “makins,” then began to roll a cigarette.

“Are you just going to watch me?”

“
Si.
Oh, excuse me, Miss Sanchez. I know you are really white and don’t speak Spanish, it means—”

“I known what it means,” she snapped. Maybe she
should try another tack. “Look, I—I am sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Embarrass me? Ending up in jail overnight was a little more than that.”

“The senator said he just had the guards throw you out in the street.”

He glared at her. “Uh-huh. The senator is a liar.”

“I don’t believe you, and he’s none of your business.”

“You’re right. None of this is my business.” He leaned back in his saddle and smoked.

“Are you just going to leave me here?”

“
Si,
senorita. Let your fancy man get his boots wet.”

“I’ve never been treated so—”

“No, I’ll bet you haven’t. You’re spoiled and snooty, missy. It’s about time you learned the whole world doesn’t dance to your tune.”

“I will have you thrashed by the senator.” She was furious.

“Tell him to bring some help.” He didn’t smile as he smoked and watched her.

“I’ve never met anyone so rude.” She staggered out of the water, her small shoes squishing as she walked up to him.

He shrugged, looking down at her. For an instant, they stared into each other’s eyes. She thought for a split second he would reach down and lift her up on his horse. He was certainly strong enough to do that. What if he did and then tried to kiss her? If he did, how should she react? His lips looked full and soft and she had never been kissed before.

The buggy horse neighed behind them and the spell was broken. She stomped over and sat down under a tree.

Rio looked over the buggy critically. “Mighty fancy rig.”

“Senator Forester offered me a ride this morning as I was going shopping.”

“And there’s so many shops out here on the creek?” He raised one dark eyebrow at her and grinned.

“I do not like what you are insinuating!” She was
furious, both with him and herself for getting into this situation.

“Senator Forester does not have a good reputation with women,” he said. “Everyone in Austin knows that.”

“That’s just dirty gossip,” she said, flaring. “He’s been a perfect gentleman with me.”

“Perhaps he is afraid of your guardian. Trace Durango has a reputation of being the best gunfighter in Texas.”

“Senator Forester is refined. I can’t imagine him brawling in the middle of the street or carrying a gun.”

“Like the rest of us uncivilized Texans?” Now he stroked his horse’s mane. “Well, I’ve got to go.” He turned his bay stallion. “Come on, Peso.”

She couldn’t help but notice the way he handled the horse, so different from Edwin Forester. “I’ve got to get back to town. I’m meeting my friend Fern for lunch at about one o’clock.”

Rio shaded his dark face with one big hand and looked at the sun. “I’d say you’re late.”

“Oh, goodness. If I don’t show up, she’ll go looking for Uncle Trace and there’ll be trouble.”

“Imagine that. I’d like to be there to see that.”

“It may be awhile before the senator gets back. He’s gone for help at a farmhouse about a mile up the road.”

“I know the place. That’s where I was headed to see if they had any horses that needed shoeing when I came across you.”

She looked up at him. “Are you just going to leave me here?”

“Si.”
He pushed his black Stetson to the back of his dark hair. “You’re not in any danger and since the senator is too stupid to get his own buggy out, I reckon he’ll bring help.”

“I’ll pay you to give me a ride back to town.” She kept her voice lofty as she leaned over and wrung some of the water out of the soggy aqua dress.

It was the wrong thing to say; she knew it immediately. “Senorita, I am not a paid servant. I was about to offer my help, but I can’t be bought. Besides, don’t you think you’ll be embarrassed to come down Congress Avenue in a soaked dress, riding behind a lowly Mexican vaquero? What would people think?”

She drew herself up as proudly as she could, standing there in that wet dress and squishy shoes. “Never mind. I’ll wait for Edwin to return.”

His eyebrows went up. “Edwin? You call him Edwin?”

“What do you care? If I don’t get back, Uncle Trace may find out and go gunning for the senator.”

“Half the people in Austin would pay to see that little drama. Well,
adios,
Miss Sanchez. That means—”

“Damn it, I know what it means!” she shouted at him.