Savage Desire

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Such soft skin…like satin…Ginny, you should know by now that I’ll never let you go. Don’t you?”

  A fierce surge of need to protect her nearly swamped him, made his hands clench tightly in her hair, that glorious mass of copper fire that had tantalized and tormented him since the first day he had seen her.

  “She is an obsession with you,” Paco had once told him, and he’d been right, known it then even though Steve denied it.

  One day, he’d tell her everything. He’d tell her about Beth and what had happened to him at Prayers End years ago. He’d tell her how, when he’d thought she was dead, he hadn’t felt life was worth living anymore. That he’d only survived because he had not been able to accept her death.

  And he’d tell her that he had another child, one he felt an obligation to assure his life was all it could be. Would she understand? With her fierce mother’s heart, would Ginny accept the knowledge that he’d created a son with Beth Cady?

  Damn him for being a coward, he just couldn’t tell her about it now, not when she still seemed so fragile.

  38

  “Before we leave here, you’ll learn to shoot well, Ginny. I’ll give you a pistol, and you can learn to use it as expertly as you do your knife.”

  “With practice, I’m sure I can.”

  Steve spent three days working with her until he was satisfied that she could at least hit a target. Gunfire sent birds screeching into the air of the small, rocky valley at the bottom of the falls as Ginny aimed at pieces of wood.

  One after the other, the chips Steve hung from a tree branch were shattered, bullets smashing them to splinters. The Colt he’d given her was heavy, so that she had to use both hands to hold it steady. Steve, his swift draw so graceful and easy—and deadly—could put two bullets into a wood chip in the time it took her to put one. But she was accurate enough.

  “If you don’t kill ’em you’ll sure as hell scare ’em to death,” he said, spinning the chamber of his revolver and loading it with quick efficiency. A black brow cocked, and there was a glint in his dark-blue eyes as he surveyed her. “Just hope you get the drop on a man, because by the time you get the pistol out of the holster, he’d have you so full of lead you could be used as an anchor.”

  “Your faith in me is touching.” Disgruntled, she arched a brow and smiled. “But you might keep that in mind the next time you get the notion to intimidate me again.”

  “Ginny, your arrogance never disappoints me!”

  Too soon, Steve said they were to leave the valley. She met his gaze with a steady stare that refused to yield.

  “I still have some unfinished business to attend in San Antonio. Paco should have been able to report Luna’s death as an accident by now—an unexpected fire in his room.”

  She remembered the fierce glow on the horizon, a hazy memory of that night, and understood now what it was. She nodded. “Yes. I’m sure any inquiries have been settled by now. Steve, don’t leave me behind. Take me with you.”

  “Ginny, you’d be safer at my grandfather’s house.”

  “No, Steve. What difference does it make if I go to San Antonio or to Zacatecas? We were together last time, and it didn’t help. I’ll stay with you. Whatever happens to us, at least we’ll be together. Besides, I’m ready for a change. San Antonio sounds very inviting right now.”

  When dubious shadows darkened his eyes, she lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. “I won’t interfere with your plans, Steve. I just want to feel safe again.”

  “San Antonio is not necessarily a safe town,” he said dryly, but didn’t offer any more arguments.

  Relieved, Ginny wondered what he would say if he knew what she planned. He wouldn’t be happy, but she was determined to exorcise all the old ghosts, rid their relationship of any lingering specters from their past.

  It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to go on….

  THE JOURNEY

  39

  When they rode out of the valley early the next morning, Ginny looked back only once, a faint sense of regret filling her that they were leaving behind what had come to represent to her a romantic interlude in their lives.

  Paco rejoined them in Chihuahua, finding them in the sala of a small posada in Santa Rosalia near the mineral springs where people went to bathe in the medicinal waters.

  “Those Rurales gave me a hard time,” he grumbled when Steve asked what had taken him so long. “Díaz may be getting rid of the bandit problem, but he’ll end up having a bigger problem on his hands unless he keeps a tight grip on his police force. They have too much power, and since most of them are former bandits themselves, they have no scruples.”

  “Creating a climate of confidence is el presidente’s way of coaxing in more foreign investment. He hopes to lure European as well as American investors.”

  “Hearst is buying up a lot of cattle country. And we know who has invested heavily in mining interests.”

  “Yes.” Steve nodded thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowed and hard as he met Paco’s troubled gaze. “I heard rumors that American Smelting and Refining Company will set up ore smelters as soon as the plans are approved. The Galena Mine has laid more track and feeder lines from the mine to the smelters, with plans to join a major railroad.”

  “And we know who is behind that, amigo.” Paco sat back in his chair. “Brandon switched loyalties before Lerdo could even reach the Rio Grande. He’s become quite friendly with Díaz now, as well as Hearst. Díaz’s policy of paying foreign employees more than Mexicans for the same work will start trouble before long. And Bishop informed me that el presidente is playing one side against the other by encouraging British and European capital to counterbalance the U.S. investments.”

  “I wonder how Brandon is dealing with the possible loss of his profits to British investments?” Steve said dryly. “He intends to dominate the silver market, and he’s close enough to the border to get his ore to the smelters quickly, then get it on the market. He’s managed to do it without a lot of interference by the Mexican government, but I have a feeling that’s about to change.”

  Paco laughed softly. “Sí, amigo, I think perhaps his luck is about to run out.”

  William Brandon was beginning to think the same thing, and frustration battled with anger as he realized that his son-in-law was behind this most recent turn of fortune. He crumpled the telegram in one fist, eyes smoldering as he regarded the messenger.

  “No, there is no reply.”

  Damn Steve Morgan! Swiveling around in the leather chair, he leaned back to stare out the window of the office that looked over the San Antonio River. Cottonwood trees thrust bare branches over the slow winding curve of the river. A willow swayed in the wind. It would be spring before long, and he had to get the ore out of Mexico before the rains started in May.

  Now, it seemed the new president had been informed of the Galena’s profits and had politely and firmly reminded him he was a guest in the country. A Mexican envoy would be made available immediately to survey the mine and offer any government assistance.

  How much did Díaz know? Was he aware that only three months ago Steve Morgan had been a prisoner in the Galena Mine? And that he had killed four guards before their brief rebellion was over? It was not something he wanted known, especially in the United States. If the newspapers got wind of it, they would have a field day with that bit of knowledge. He could see the headlines now if they learned that a United States senator was involved in the operation of a Mexican mine that had imprisoned his own son-in-law. Thanks to influential friends, nothing had yet been leaked, but should a journalist get wind of it…

  And now this! It was easy enough to recognize the fine hand of Steve Morgan behind Hill’s withdrawal from the plan to expand a railroad through Mexico. Suddenly, the rights to prime land through one of Hearst’s ranches had been yanked away, access denied. It meant excruciating delay and much higher costs. The country was too rugged in places, the land brutal and almost impossible to lay tracks through. Now he l
earned that the railroad rights he had thought finalized ran through the ranch that Morgan had purchased from Hearst. To go around could take months, time he didn’t have.

  How long before Díaz increased his discreet taxation on the silver production? Already, the governor of Chihuahua had been ousted, Terrazas having supported the erstwhile president instead of the victor.

  Disgruntled, Brandon heaved himself up from his chair. Perhaps it was time to compose a telegram. Jay Gould and Dr. Thomas Durant were both influential men who knew how to get things done. And they weren’t squeamish about crushing their opponents when necessary.

  Steve Morgan would soon realize he had gotten in over his head. He may be ruthless, but he was a mercenary more than a businessman. He would never be able to withstand the combined forces of three of the most powerful men in all of America.

  It had taken over a month for production to improve at the mine after Steve’s interference. But Luna was responsible for that fiasco! It had nearly caused an international incident with Spain, but Luna’s untimely—or timely, if one chose to see it that way—death in a mysterious fire had put a swift end to the problem.

  Odd affair, that, Brandon mused; a fire in some remote village in the mountains killing the man so conveniently. It was almost too convenient. Why was it that Morgan seemed to attract coincidences far too often?

  It couldn’t be just coincidence that he and Virginia had disappeared right after Luna’s death, nor that railroad rights had abruptly been blocked immediately after Steve escaped from incarceration in the Galena.

  Damn Luna…he’d warned him to be careful even while approving of his plan to get Steve out of the way, but he had never thought the Spaniard fool enough to imprison him in the Galena! No doubt Luna had planned all along for the blame to fall elsewhere should the authorities or influential friends come to Morgan’s rescue. God, he’d been a dupe, a convenient scapegoat for Luna’s own schemes of vengeance.

  After sending a telegram, William Brandon went to the Vance House Hotel and took his usual seat at the table by the window. The river wound in a distant, placid curve through the town. When the rains came, it could turn from tranquil to turbulent in a matter of moments, boiling over riverbanks to sweep along everything in its path.

  But now it was calm enough, winding through stands of cottonwood trees and scrub willows, with new construction springing up precariously close to the banks as the town limits spread. San Antonio had been settled since the early 1700s and gone through as many changes as the landscape.

  A rough town still, it boasted burgeoning commerce and a reputation as a place where one could buy almost anything, legal or illegal. Since the arrival of the new railroad in February, San Antonio had become a boom town. New industry was pouring in every day. Cattle lots sprang up, and even more saloons, hotels and mercantile stores were being built to handle the influx of cowmen.

  He made an appointment to meet with Thomas Pierce of the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Railway. Pierce and his associates had organized a new company, but Pierce had since bought them out and the Pierce Line was operating under the nickname of the Sunset Route. Pierce, Brandon had observed, was eager for expansion, a man with vision—a man willing to take chances in business.

  A man who might be willing to take the Sunset Route across the Rio Grande…

  It would be perfect. He had already managed to lay tracks almost to the border, feeder lines that would get his ore to market more quickly and safely. Bandits had taken a toll at times, stopping silver convoys to steal the ore. Another expense had been incurred to hire guards to get it out safely.

  Satisfaction replaced Brandon’s earlier pique, so by the time he finished his steak and had a brandy in front of him, he was in a much better frame of mind. Leaning back, he only smiled when he recognized the man coming through the door.

  Shanghai Pierce, an obstreperous Texan and owner of some of the richest land in the state, strode into the dining room as if he owned it.

  With a sigh, Brandon braced himself with distaste for Pierce’s imminent companionship.

  “I heard you were in San Antone,” Pierce said as he plopped down in the chair opposite Brandon. “You oughta come down my way. I know how to treat a guest, by God! So what’s this I hear about your new venture, heh? Still plannin’ on runnin’ a railroad into Mexico?”

  The temptation to excuse himself was great, but the senator merely smiled politely, his tone low in the hope that Pierce would lower his own voice.

  “I’m always interested in new commerce, of course. I like to diversify.”

  Pierce cackled, slamming his open palm on the table with a loud smack. “Hell, don’t we all! Damn, but it ain’t no coincidence that I done bought me some more land in Wharton County. Gonna see about puttin’ up some sites on it to load and unload cattle. Got the Texas and Mexican Railway in mind to run a line across it, name me a town, maybe. Pierce’s Station sounds damn good to me.”

  Nodding, the senator debated involving Pierce, but it seemed a better bet at the moment to court Thomas Pierce. He’d never really liked the brash Texan across the table. Nor did it endear the man to him when Pierce grinned slyly and brought up Steve.

  “Where’s that son-in-law of yours these days? He still running from the law? Damn, but he’s the fastest gunslinger I’ve ever seen work! Took ole Jed Langley without a blink, by God, and Jed’s the fastest around. Or was. Got hisself killed a while back, plugged in the back by some cowpuncher he pushed just a bit too hard. Had a temper, Langley did. I always knew he’d end up dead instead of making old bones.”

  Irritated, the senator managed to say coolly, “I have no idea where Morgan is at this moment. We don’t keep in touch.”

  “No? Well, he gets around, that’s for sure. Thought you might be meeting him here, since your daughter’s arrived. Wheeoo! I don’t mind sayin’, Morgan has good taste when it comes to women! Damn, I thought that Italian gal was a looker until I saw your daughter. She’s a beauty!”

  Brandon felt his face freeze into a polite smile that he hoped masked his surprise at finding out Virginia was in San Antonio.

  “So you’ve run into Virginia?”

  “Senator, I had to stop myself falling off the sidewalk tryin’ to get close to her! Lord, those green eyes and that red hair—like a cloud, by God!” He chortled. “That’s about as fanciful as I get, though I wouldn’t mind giving Morgan a run for his money for that one!”

  A trickle of sweat dribbled down under his high collar, and he fought the urge to swear. If Virginia was here, then Steve was no doubt close by. It could be very awkward!

  While Shanghai Pierce talked about Virginia, Brandon busily constructed a plausible reason for being in San Antonio. It would never do to allow Steve Morgan to know too much about his plans. He knew too much as it was. Damn him! Why was he here?

  It wouldn’t have made Brandon feel much better to know that Steve was wondering the same thing.

  Just his luck, Steve thought, to ride into trouble again. He should have sent Ginny on to his grandfather’s despite her objections. Now there were bound to be problems he hadn’t anticipated.

  Most of all, with Ginny.

  “Did you know she was going to be here?” Ginny eyed him skeptically. “Is that why you wanted me to go elsewhere?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions, Ginny. I had no idea that Francesca would be here. San Antonio is not exactly the kind of place she likes to visit.”

  “Ah, I’d forgotten. The great Signorina di Paoli seems to prefer singing in London or Paris…yet here she is. What a wretched coincidence!”

  “Believe it or not, it is a coincidence. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been out of touch lately.”

  “Oh, Steve, I know that. It just…surprised me that she is here, that’s all.” Ginny smiled but she sounded uncertain as she moved to the window of their hotel room. Across the street, the marquee of the Majestic Theater advertised the world-famous opera singer, Princess Francesca di Paoli,
in San Antonio to celebrate the grand arrival of the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Railway.

  It didn’t make things any better that Shanghai Pierce was in town as well. The man was unscrupulous. A perfect match for Brandon, but even the senator had enough scruples not to get too involved with him.

  Ginny turned away from the window. With the light behind her forming a hazy halo, she looked to Steve like a seductive angel.

  “You needn’t look so wary, Steve,” she said. “I don’t intend to make any kind of a scene.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  She smiled slightly, and moved to the wardrobe where her new clothes had been delivered earlier. “These will do,” she said now as if there were nothing more important, “until I can have some made. I suppose I should be accustomed to having garments strewn all over Mexico, but somehow, I never quite adapt to misplacing my beautiful gowns. Such a waste, when all of them were sewn especially for me.”

  She turned suddenly, eyes wide and innocent. “But then, you probably left them in New Orleans anyway when you packed contraband instead.”

  Amused, he said as he buckled on his gun belt, “You have no faith in me, Ginny love. I sent them to my grandfather’s, but maybe not as we had planned.”

  “So I found out. Honestly, Steve, I constantly surprise myself with how much of your plans I can guess. You forget, I’ve worked for Bishop, too, and can always discern his fine hand mixed up in your plans.” Her loose hair brushed against her waist, and she pulled it over one shoulder, combing her fingers through it. “Should I ask where you’re going?”

  “You can if you like. Paco is waiting on me. You’re getting skinny, my love. You need some meat on your bones. Have a good meal tonight, and don’t wait up for me.”

  Before she could do more than splutter a protest, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her, his mouth effectively cutting off any more questions.

  “Behave yourself,” he said when he lifted his head, “or you’ll upset Missie.”