The Wildest Heart (42 page)

There was not much time left for anticipation in any case. I lay in my bed that night and listened to the faint sounds of revelry that floated up from the village that nestled at the foot of the hill. Some of Montoya's men had come back from across the border with plunder—and captives, no doubt. I told myself that it was only the noise and the heat which kept me awake, for I had schooled myself during the time I had lived here not to wonder about the poor young woman in whose bed I now lay, and what her fate had been. It seemed there was violence everywhere here. Hidden behind a smile, lurking in the background of the most peaceful-seeming spring morning. And it appeared as if the course of action to which I was now committed could only lead to more violence.

I stirred, restless. How could Luz sleep, knowing that her betrothed was down there with the rest of his men? Just now, I could almost have sworn I heard a woman scream. And yet, earlier, Luz had shrugged carelessly, reminding me that her father too had been a
comanchero.

“It is always so when they return. And why not? Men are men.”

“And
your
man is there with them!” I could not help the sharpness of my voice, but she only shrugged again.

“He too is a man, and I am thankful for it. It makes no difference to me, as long as he climbs this hill and comes back to me every day.”

Why couldn't I develop a similarly philosophic attitude? Why couldn't I forget those things that must be forgotten if I was ever to have any peace of mind again?

I slept in the end, and woke late, when the nervous-looking maid brought me coffee. And after that there was hardly time for thinking, as I prepared for what lay ahead. A short journey—of only a few hours, Montoya had told me, to an appointed meeting place.

I expected to see Todd, and had steeled myself to meet the question in his eyes, but instead it was Mark who came, accompanied by five SD men, carrying gold in his saddlebags as Montoya had stipulated.

Poor Mark! His face was drawn and pale with strain and fatigue, and I couldn't mistake the look of anxiety and relief that came into his eyes when he first set eyes on me. How dear and familiar he looked—Mark, who had been my only real friend, the one person I could confide in.

He had pulled off his hat when he saw me, and his blond hair gleamed in the harsh sunlight. “Rowena! Thank God you're all right. If you only knew…”

“Yes, I have been quite a trial, haven't I?” I forced a note of lightness into my voice. “But the señor Montoya has been most kind, and as you can see, I am alive and quite unharmed.”

With the innate tact and delicacy he had always displayed toward me, Mark did not attempt any further conversation until after the money had been counted, and Jesus Montoya, bowing over my hand with exaggerated gallantry, had waved us on our way.

It was I who spoke first, my words sounding more abrupt than I had meant them to. “How is it that Todd did not come himself?”

Mark stammered awkwardly, “I—he—there has been some trouble with rustlers recently, not to mention the Apaches. Fences cut, ranch houses burned. Victoria himself came close to overrunning Santa Rita not too long ago. So you see, someone had to stay behind at the ranch, Rowena. I persuaded my uncle to let me come in his place, because I—oh, God! You cannot imagine how I've blamed myself. If I had been strong enough to persuade you not to leave, if I had only insisted upon going with you myself…”

“And thank God you didn't!” I said sharply. “What happened to the men who survived the Indian attack was not—pretty. I counted myself fortunate, afterward, that I happened to be a female.”

I saw the look in Mark's blue eyes and gave him an unwilling smile. “Oh, come, Mark! There's no need to be tactful any longer. Do I look as if I've been mistreated? Did you really expect to find me a miserable, groveling wretch, rendered almost mindless by my cruel captivity? I was lucky, you know, that the particular band of Indians who took me knew my father. In fact, their shaman called him blood brother. I was treated as a guest. No one harmed me…”

“Rowena, is that true?” Riding close beside me, Mark put out his hand and touched my arm almost pleadingly, his expression still worried. “You
look
unchanged, except that you have grown thinner. But there is something else. A difference I can only sense.” He gave a half-bitter, half-angry laugh. “I have always been sensitive to your moods, remember? Even now I can feel your withdrawal. Am I pressing you, Rowena? Is it still too soon for you to bring yourself to talk about whatever it is has brought a guarded look to your eyes? You look at even me as if you don't trust me. I—”

“It
is
too soon, Mark.” I interrupted him, frowning. “I'm sorry. Perhaps later we will be able to talk again, as if nothing had happened, and I have only returned from a short holiday, as I meant to have. Please, Mark.”

He lifted his shoulders despairingly, sensitive lips tightening. “I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm a tactless idiot. But I only thought—” he lowered his voice, and I saw his eyes flicker warningly in the direction of the armed and taciturn SD men who rode closely behind us. “I thought,” he went on determinedly, “that we should perhaps have a talk before you meet my uncle. There are certain things you
must
be made aware of, even though I'm aware that this is hardly the time or the proper place for such a conversation. You know my uncle's pride and his temper, and he…”

I had felt my body stiffen while Mark was speaking, and now I could hold my tongue no longer. “If there is something I should know, then you'd best come to the point and tell me what it is. I've had my fill of mysteries!”

It was to hide my own quickened heartbeat and the unpleasant memory of Jesus Montoya's sly hints that I spoke so coldly. Now, seeing Mark's hesitant, unhappy face, I tried to control my voice. “Is Todd not here because he cannot bear to face me? Did he really expect to find that I had been ravished by half the Apache nation? Is
that
what has stung his pride? I'm surprised that he should still have been willing to pay so much money to get me back. Or was that a matter of pride too?”

“Perhaps I shouldn't have spoken at all.” Mark's voice sounded harassed. “You have never been afraid of him, and I know that once he sees you again you will soon be able to convince him of the utter falsehood of those rumors we heard. You must not think too badly of him, Rowena. You know his habit of flying into rages! If Flo's letter had not come so late, he would never have…”

“
Flo's
letter?” My eyes, squinted against the glare, flew wide open, and I could not prevent the look of shock that must have shown on my face. “Is she alive, then? But we heard…”

“No, no!” Mark shook his head distractedly. “I'm sorry that I did not make my meaning plainer. It was a letter she had written
before
she—well, I cannot understand why it took so long to arrive, and I would have hidden it from him, destroyed it, if I could only have known what she had written. She was deranged; I tried to tell my uncle that.
You
know how she was! She hated you, resented you even though you tried to help and understand her. You remember the letter she sent to me? This one was addressed to Uncle Todd, and in it she—oh, God, how does one explain the workings of a sick mind? It was full of vituperations, excuses for her own behavior. Accusations—”

“Accusations?” My lips felt stiff. “But what could she accuse me of?”

Mark gave me a miserable, distressed look as he answered me unwillingly. “Of—everything that she herself was guilty of. Yes, you must be told, no matter how ugly it all sounds. She said that she had run off to Luke Cord only to keep
you
from doing so. ‘I did it for your sake, Pa.' Those were her very words. She accused you of—how can I force myself to say it? Of having an affair with Pardee, and then killing him to keep him quiet. Of carrying on with
me,
yes, even that. She knew that Cord had forced himself into your bedroom one night, and she made capital of it. She said that you and he were lovers. That you and he together had planned to kill my uncle that day, in Silver City, and you helped Cord get away afterward. There was no end to her filthy accusations!”

“And yet, it all hangs together very well, doesn't it?” It surprised me that my voice sounded so calm, and almost indifferent. “Her word against mine, and since she is dead, I cannot disprove it, can I? How clever of Flo. One would almost think that she…” I broke off quickly, for I had almost said what was in my mind at that moment. “One would almost think that she could see into the future.” Instead, before Mark could speak, I said, “And the rumors—I suppose that they too were equally damning? Poor Mark, what a lot you have been through!”

“Don't say that, Rowena! Do you think that my feelings for you would permit me to tolerate such slander? I told my uncle everything! That it was Flo, and not you, who was the guilty one. He knew her, after all. I think that he had almost begun to believe me when—”

“Ah yes, those rumors,” I murmured in the same coldly expressionless voice I had used before, and I thought Mark winced. “Rowena—”

“Tell me!” I said, strongly, and watched without pity as Mark stammered and stuttered over words.

“They started when a certain man—a
comanchero,
I believe—was arrested by the Rurales in Mexico. Trying to dispose of stolen silver, as I understand it. And the only reason they—there was a white woman with him, you see. Her name was Jewel Parrish, and she was quick to tell the Rurales that she was a captive, taken at the same time
you
had been captured. I went to Texas with my uncle, to the ranger headquarters in Austin, to hear her tell her story again.” Mark paused, and I had to prompt him.

“And?”

“Oh, God, why did I start to tell you all this? Understand me, she made no accusations. She was full of admiration for your fortitude and your courage. She told us what happened at the Apache camp, and she even seemed glad for you that—the man who bought you was someone you knew, and seemed glad to go away with…”

The rest of the “rumors” that I forced Mark to tell me were what I might have expected. Hadn't Montoya warned me? I felt myself growing numb and chilled, in spite of the intense heat, although my mind continued to function and to control the expression of the mixture of emotions that threatened to choke me.

I am sure that Mark attempted to spare me the worst. He still cared for me, in spite of everything, and he told me over and over that he believed in me, and that his uncle would too, once he had spoken with me.

“Who knows how this kind of talk gets started? A sly hint over a campfire. A stranger riding into town, frequenting the same bar as some of the SD cowboys. It was common knowledge that you had been taken captive by the Apaches, you were believed dead, at first. And then, when we suspected what might have happened and my uncle offered a reward for your safe return—don't you see how it all could have started? And of course it would be just the kind of thing that a swine like Luke Cord, who hates my uncle, would be capable of. Even if it meant vilifying
you.
To say that you were his mistress, to boast of the fact that he'd force my uncle to pay in order to get you back…”

“A trifle
used,
but in good enough condition for him?” I quoted the words with such bitterness that Mark looked startled.

“Rowena! How can you think such a thing? I never meant…”

“But I did, Mark. Why attempt to gloss over unpleasant facts? You say that I haven't changed—suppose I have? Suppose those rumors were true after all, would that make me a fallen woman in your uncle's eyes? Perhaps he would have preferred to hear that I had killed myself from shame and humiliation.
That
would have resolved the problem of what to do with poor Rowena, as well as saving you all a great deal of trouble, I'm sure!”

I laughed angrily at Mark's horrified expression.

“Poor Mark!” I said mockingly. “Now I've shocked even
you
.”

His fingers closed about my wrist as he brought his horse closer to mine.

“Good God!” he said, in a low, almost harsh voice. “Do you really think so little of me as to imagine this would make a difference to my feelings for you? You were a prisoner—a helpless captive, and that brute, that animal took advantage of it… oh, my poor, dearest girl, what you must have been through!”

I hadn't expected such tender understanding, not even from Mark, and I was speechless. What a hypocrite you are, I thought bitterly. Why don't you tell him the truth? Tell him, and watch his face change. Tell Todd; you owe it to him too. Shout it from the rooftops! But whether it was pride, or whether it was cowardice, I kept silent.

Mark was almost overly solicitous of me during the rest of our journey. When I appeared wrapped in my own thoughts he left me alone, although I saw him glance worriedly at me from time to time. I had become so used to riding for long periods of time that I hardly felt the time go by and felt no sense of tiredness until late in the evening, when we arrived in Deming, having crossed the border some hours before.

Mark had already explained, apologetically, that we would spend the night here and start out early the next morning, and here we were met by more SD men, most of them gun-hung Texans.

What had Flo called them once? “Pa's own, unofficial army!” How well I remembered her sneering voice. I grimaced, and said to Mark, “I suppose I should be honored. Such a large escort!”

He gave me a quick look before he said noncommittally, “My uncle felt it was necessary. He didn't want to take any chances.”

“Of having me carried off again after he paid such a large sum for my return? I wonder if he will think me worth the expense in the end.”

“Rowena, don't! You're so cynical.”

I could have told Mark that the cynicism he had accused me of was merely an armor against further disillusionment, but what would be the point? I merely shrugged instead and remarked that I was tired and wished to retire early. I had barely time to feel thankful that tonight I wouldn't lie awake staring at the ceiling before I fell asleep.

We left Deming in the gray light of dawn, and arrived at Fort Cummings just before noon. I remembered having met the major who was in command before. He was an acquaintance of Todd's, and all gallantry, although I could sense the curiosity he hid behind his smile and polite manners. I told myself that I must get used to this. By now there was not a person in the territory who did not know what had happened, or had not heard those rumors Mark had told me of. Mark and I dined in privacy with the major and his wife, and he offered us a small escort for the rest of our journey.

“Surely that's not necessary?” I said, before Mark could speak.

The major's wife, much younger than he, and less discreet, gave me a wide-eyed look. “Oh, but it
is
!
I mean—it would be so much
safer.
You cannot imagine all the trouble we've had recently. Not only from the Indians, but from outlaws and renegades as well. I've not left the safety of the fort for weeks now, and Burton says…”

The major cleared his throat warningly.

“Ah—hrrm—yes. And I'm sure Mr. Shannon realizes this.” He gave me one of his charming smiles. “But I can assure you, Lady Rowena, that we are not taking any
unusual
precautions. Some of my men will be going out on their regular patrol and it would be no trouble at all if they were to ride along with your party for some miles.”

The major's lady, when she took me to her room to freshen up before we resumed our journey, was less discreet. I thought I saw pity mixed with curiosity in her eyes as she watched me combing my hair.

“Will you be going to live back East now? I wish I had never come out here. It's so lonely, and one always lives in fear. I miss the changing of seasons in the Midwest, and even the snow. We came here from Kansas, and it was very different there.” Her voice turned wistful. “I suppose you must miss London, with all its gaiety. I have always longed to travel, and Burton says we will one day—but on a major's pay…”

I could almost feel sorry for the poor, discontented woman, and her husband who must risk his life for meager pay and very little glory.

“London is no gayer than any other city,” I answered her casually. “It all depends on what one enjoys doing. I have always liked the outdoors and the sunshine. I was brought up in India, which is not very different from this part of the world. No, I think I will continue to live in New Mexico. It offers a challenge and adventure, which is sadly lacking in the so-called
civilized
parts of this country.”

I met her shocked eyes in the mirror and smiled. Why did I suddenly feel so defiant? Was it only because everyone expected me to be shamefaced and reticent?

I was in a strange mood, and it kept me silent and uncommunicative for the rest of our journey that day, straining even Mark's understanding.

He was upset when I insisted upon going directly to my own house, instead of to the
palacio
where Todd waited for me.

“But Rowena, why? Surely you realize that the sooner you face him—you do not want him to think that you…”

“Are guilty? Is that what you meant to say, Mark?” I saw his hurt, puzzled expression and moved my hand impatiently. “I'm sorry. But I'm tired, and in no mood for either quarrels or defending myself this evening. Since Todd was content to wait until I was brought to him, he can wait a few hours longer, until I am ready to receive him. You can tell him I said so.” I looked straight into Mark's eyes as I added, “I have nothing to apologize for. And if you are afraid for me, then don't be. Your uncle will find it no easier to browbeat me now than he did in the past.”

I was being unreasonable, and I knew it. Todd would be angry, and vent his fury on Mark. But I had spoken the truth when I said I was tired, and Mark, after a long and searching look that seemed to take in more than I wanted him to, said nothing more to dissuade me from my purpose.

And so, at last, I returned to my inheritance. Home—the house standing square and strong against the backdrop of sky and mountains. This was
mine,
I had come back home.

With his usual tact, Mark stayed only long enough to make sure that I would be taken care of.

I remember that both Marta and Jules had tears in their eyes. It felt strange to be called patrona again, to see Marta crossing herself, muttering happily under her breath as she followed me from room to room, pointing out that nothing had been changed, everything was exactly as the patrona had left it.

“And we knew you would be back safe and unharmed, ma'am,” Jules said in an unusual burst of volubility. “I told Marta—as soon as they find out she's Mr. Guy's daughter, they wouldn't harm a hair of her head.”

I loved them both. As soon as Mark had left, refusing a glass of wine, I walked around the house, finding that everything was, indeed, unchanged. Here was my father's study, with the window open before his desk, and the locked drawer that still held his journals. And now, I thought, I would read them all. No more procrastination and lazing in the sun.

To take my mind off what lay ahead of me, I wandered back into the living room, finding the unfinished chess game that I had started with Mark so long ago, the ebony and ivory pieces in the same positions that they had been before.

The night, like other nights I remembered, had already started to fold down upon us with smoky wings, and I watched for a moment as Jules lit the lamps, whistling under his breath.

“I have made your bed every single day,” Marta whispered to me. “The linens are fresh and aired.”

Here, too, it seemed as if I had only left the day before. My bed made, with the covers turned back in readiness. My gowns hanging in neat rows in the carved armoire. Was it possible that I had really been away? That so much had happened to change me? Involuntarily I glanced upward, and found the trapdoor leading to the roof still bolted firmly shut.

Oh, God! Why must I remember
that
?
I told myself later that I must have grown irrational from sheer weariness, but I heard myself call to Jules.

He looked puzzled when I told him what I wanted.

“Take the bolts off that trapdoor, ma'am? But…”

Marta, coming in close behind him, said softly, “Would you argue with the patrona? This is her house, to do with as she pleases.”

And I pretended not to notice the long look that they exchanged; Marta frowning fiercely, and Jules's puzzlement smoothing out into a deliberately blank expression before he turned his face back to me. How much had they heard; how much did they suspect? And did it matter? There would be time to find out later—for the moment all I needed was a hot bath to take the travel-weariness from my body; a bowl of soup, and the haven of my own bed. I would think no further than that tonight.

I slept deeply and dreamlessly, until the heat of the sun outside and the sound of voices raised in argument forced me back to wakefulness.

Marta usually knocked softly before she entered my bedroom, but now she burst in precipitately, and had barely time to wail: “El patron—he is here, and insists…” when
he
filled the doorway behind her, pushing her roughly out of the way.

Todd Shannon. As big, blond, and invincible-looking as always, his bushy brows drawn together in an ominous frown. “An' what in hell was the meaning of that message you sent me? By God, woman, I ain't surprised that you'd want to hide yourself from me, but I see you've lost none of your high an' mighty ways either! Well, let me tell you something…”

I sat up angrily, wishing I did not need to rub the sleep from my eyes, and realized, belatedly, that I had been too tired last night to put on the prettily embroidered nightgown Marta had left out for me.

I saw his blue-green eyes narrow dangerously as I said pointedly: “I see that
you
have not changed at all! And surely whatever it was you came to tell me could have waited until I was dressed and ready to receive you?”

“You know damn well I'm not in the habit of being kept waiting, like I waited for you last night! No, and you'll find I won't be made a fool of either! So you get out of that damned bed you're hiding in an' come out here and face me if you dare. Because I'm warning you—you got a whole lot of explaining to do!”

In the face of his rage, I suddenly became calm.

“In that case,” I said icily, “I must remind you that you are in
my
bedroom and in
my
house, and unless you recollect what few manners you used to possess, Mr. Shannon, you will be obliged to leave without these explanations you seem to crave. Is that clear?”

For a moment I thought he looked ready to murder me. His eyes, like shards of jagged glass, sent splinters into my skin. “Why, you—you—”

Like a brown shadow, Marta edged around his big body, her eyes round with terror.

“Your robe, patrona.” Her subdued whisper brought some semblance of control to Todd Shannon's furiously red face.

His lips thinning, he swung on his heel, saying over his shoulder in a voice I hardly recognized as his: “I'll be waiting outside. Five minutes—or like it or not I'll be back in here, if I have to break the goddamn door down!”

I kept him cooling his heels for ten minutes while I put cold water on my face and chose a skirt and blouse to wear. He hated to see me dressed as a peasant. Let him find out he could no longer dictate to me! It was hard for me to imagine now that I had planned to marry him, that I had come close to being swept away by the sheer force of his personality. The Todd Shannon I rediscovered was an arrogant, blustering bully, far too used to getting his own way.

He greeted me, if it can be called that, with a sneer. “Damned if you don't look like some dirt farmer's gal in that getup. Is that how your half-breed boyfriend liked you to dress?”