by Nan Ryan
At the sound of the shot, off they went, moving as quickly as possible while attempting to keep the egg from falling off the spoon. Again the crowd cheered and whistled, and Anna heard people calling her name, rooting for her.
It was exhilarating.
From the corner of her eye she saw Sally drop her egg. Anna kept going. Others were dropping out now. The finish line was only twenty short yards away. Anna wanted to win. She was out in front of the others. Victory was within her grasp. Her heart was pounding with elation. Everyone was cheering her on. Brit’s deep baritone voice rose above all the others. She was giddy with delight.
And then a moment’s distraction spelled defeat.
Beverly Harris, standing at the finish line, her red hair aflame in the sun, purposely moved across Anna’s line of vision and slipped her arms around Brit’s hard waist from behind.
Anna made a misstep.
The egg teetered and fell to the grass. The Methodist preacher’s wife raced across the finish line, the winner.
Beverly Harris laughed.
Seething, Anna silently vowed to have the last laugh.
Fourteen
Exhausted, but content, the imposing, black-garbed LaDextra, mistress of all she surveyed, sat at a white-clothed table on the east lawn’s middle terrace as the searing summer sun finally slid below the string of distant western mountains. As the fiery red gloaming preceding full twilight bathed the guests in its warm pastel glow, LaDextra sighed with satisfaction.
It had been a wonderful day and she had enjoyed it to the fullest. She had spent most of her time seated comfortably beneath the shade-giving striped tent on the broad west lawn, surrounded by a circle of her closest, dearest friends, visiting, gossiping, watching the young folks act as friendly rivals in various competitive events.
She had laughed and applauded as she’d watched her golden-haired granddaughter compete in the ladies’ egg-in-the-spoon competition. But her wrinkled face had fallen and she’d loudly exclaimed, “Dangnation!” when, almost to the finish line, Anna had lost the race. For no apparent reason Anna had made a misstep and the egg had toppled from the spoon.
But much to LaDextra’s delight, Anna had proved to be an extremely good sport. She had laughed at herself, kicked the dropped egg with the toe of her slipper and hurried forward to congratulate the winner. Such a sweet, thoughtful child, LaDextra mused complacently. Such a priceless joy in this tired old woman’s life.
Now LaDextra looked down the table at Anna, who was presently lifting a spoonful of rich peach ice cream to her lips. LaDextra watched, amused, as Anna tasted that first bite, pursing her lips and rolling her big blue eyes with ecstasy. Looking even lovelier than usual this evening, she was nothing short of a vision in the new white eyelet dress.
The wide ruffle encircling the blouse’s low neckline had slipped off Anna’s right shoulder, but she was so caught up in relishing her ice cream, she hadn’t even noticed. She looked incredibly young and innocent, more like a fifteen-year-old than the twenty-five-year-old she was. The dying sun touched her golden hair, setting it aflame and tinting her pale pearly skin a warm winsome pink. She was by far the prettiest girl at the party. And LaDextra would bet anything that the young man seated beside Anna would heartily agree.
Dr. McCelland was on Anna’s right. He, too, was enjoying the frozen dessert, but he was, it was apparent, enjoying Anna’s company even more.
Friendly by nature and always kind to everyone, Anna chattered companionably with the bashful physician, who said little, content just to listen. Anna easily made him laugh and blush and have a good time. Anna, too, seemed to be having a good time. Which made LaDextra especially happy, since the girl was as dear to her as life itself.
Satisfied that Anna was enjoying herself, LaDextra temporarily shifted her attention elsewhere. Squinting in the fading orange light, she glanced around at the many tables crowded with laughing, talking diners, many of whom were still on their second or third helpings of Hap Kinney’s delicious barbecued beef. She searched doggedly for the dark, handsome face of the only other living human being who was as dear to her as life.
LaDextra’s wrinkled face broke into a wide grin when she spotted the smiling Brit holding forth at a table of vaqueros and their wives and children. He might have been one of them, so olive was his skin, so black his hair. And when he abruptly stood up to gesture for Buck Shanahan to come join them, she saw that he was dressed this evening in the vaquero’s native garb.
He had at some point in the day gone to the house and changed out of the soiled blue cotton shirt and faded Levi’s he’d worn for the three-legged race, the softball game and finally the impromptu bucking-bronco rodeo down at the stables.
Now he was immaculate in a snowy white shirt open at the throat and a pair of snug-fitting black charro trousers with silver conchos going down the outside of each long leg. The circular silver disks winked in the fading light before he sat back down. He, too, LaDextra could see, was enjoying himself. The beautiful, red-haired Beverly Harris was seated beside him, and Beverly, like the others, was laughing at something he had said.
Brit was a charmer, no doubt about it. Lately, LaDextra had noticed that he had even managed to halfway captivate the reticent Anna. Where once Anna had remained distant and stone-faced no matter how amusing a story he told, she had now begun to loosen up and laugh like everyone else.
Thank goodness.
There was nothing LaDextra wanted more than for the two people dearest to her to get along, to like each other. Each night she prayed that Brit and Anna would become good friends, would, as the years rolled by, grow genuinely fond of each other, become close, like brother and sister.
Her dream was that the two of them would be content to share The Regent. She could not bear the thought of either one of them taking everything and leaving the other with nothing. She worried constantly about being fair to them both. She worried about breaking Brit’s heart if she left The Regent to her true heir, Anna. And she worried about breaking Anna’s heart if she left it to Brit, who had worked so hard and so tirelessly to make it the profitable, renowned empire it was.
And to divide the ranch would be to kill The Regent and everything it stood for. Unthinkable!
Will Davis abruptly drew LaDextra out of her reveries when he leaned over and said, “You look quite tired, my dear. Shall I escort you into the house for a half hour rest?”
LaDextra shook her white head and said to her old friend, “Not on your life, Will. I don’t intend to miss a single minute of the fun.” She reached out, patted his hand where it lay atop the table. “You having a good time?”
The distinguished-looking attorney smiled and said, “Yes, I am, and everyone else is as well. I’ve heard more than one guest say that this is your best Fourth of July celebration ever.”
“It has to be,” said a suddenly pensive LaDextra. Then she quickly waved away the questioning look her offhand remark had brought to Will’s eyes.
Full darkness had fallen.
Colorful paper lanterns cast their mellow light over the diners at the tables and over the polished dance pavilion on the terrace below. An orchestra was taking its place on the raised dais, and soon lively music filled the still night air.
Before the first tune was finished, couples were eagerly making their way down to the floor. Old and young alike danced to the upbeat music. Those who didn’t immediately join in turned their chairs toward the dance floor and clapped their hands in time with the music.
Anna, clapping enthusiastically, urged Dr. McCelland to do the same. Sally Horner, seated on Anna’s left, didn’t need any prodding. The boisterous, fun-loving Sally not only clapped, she stood and tapped her foot, setting her yellow skirts astir.
The first several tunes the orchestra played were all upbeat. The dancers whirled rapidly about, their feet moving fast, their hearts beating faster. Their faces soon flushed, and they laughed, fought for breath and anxiously clung to each other, spinning wildly about
on the polished floor while the onlookers cheered and whistled, enjoying the spectacle.
Anna, intensely aware, as she had been all evening, that Brit was with Beverly Harris at a table nearby, forced herself to keep her eyes off him, to watch only the dancers whirling below.
While Anna determinedly watched the dancers, Brit covertly watched her. He, too, clapped and laughed and carried on with his table companions, but he was distracted. He kept glancing at Anna and Dr. McCelland. Brit was looking directly at her when the young physician leaned close, whispered something in Anna’s ear. She laughed with obvious delight and laid a hand on McCelland’s forearm.
Brit felt his heart squeeze in his chest. He was jealous, but it was an emotion so foreign to him, he didn’t recognize it for what it was.
“Well, will you?” Beverly’s voice, close to his ear, broke into his troubled thoughts.
“Will I what?” Brit asked.
“Dance with me, of course,” she said, reaching for his hand.
“Later,” he said, begging off. “I’m too full to dance right now.”
“Oh, very well,” she said petulantly.
Brit pushed back his chair and took a long, thin cigar from his shirt pocket. As he struck a match and cupped his hands around the tiny flame, he again glanced at Anna. And he kept glancing at her often, could hardly take his eyes off her.
He stood it for as long as he could. When finally the orchestra changed its rhythm dramatically, concluded the up-tempo tunes and went into a slow romantic song, Brit crushed his cigar out in a crystal ashtray and, ignoring Beverly’s shrill protestations, excused himself.
“I’m sorry I don’t dance,” said Dr. McCelland. “I know you’d enjoy dancing and I wish—”
“No, it doesn’t matter,” Anna sweetly assured him. “It’s fun just to watch.”
Dr. McCelland nodded and turned his attention back to the dance floor. Anna quickly seized the opportunity to glance at Brit’s table. He was gone! With her brows knitted, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she looked anxiously around.
And she jumped, startled, when she felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder and heard a deep masculine voice ask Dr. McCelland for permission to dance with her.
“Certainly. By all means,” the doctor said, graciously rising to his feet.
Brit thanked the physician, took Anna’s arm and guided her down to the dance floor. Once there, they clasped hands, stared at each other with deep meaning and began to dance.
Neither said a word.
Anna was breathless to find herself in Brit’s arms, which was where she had wanted to be all evening.
Holding her close against his tall, hard body, Brit silently glided Anna around the crowded dance floor. Her heart beating with his, her temple resting against his firm chin, Anna made no attempt to fight what was happening to her, to them.
Neither did Brit.
While they swayed seductively together, he gently took both her arms and raised them up around his neck. She locked her wrists behind his head. He laced his fingers behind her narrow waist. She sighed and leaned back in the circle of his arms.
They looked into each other’s eyes, their expressions identical—wistful, yearning. Their bodies moved perfectly together as if they were one being. Brit’s muscular thighs brushed against Anna’s through the folds of her white eyelet skirts, and his flat, rock-hard belly was pressed flush against her slender frame. Mesmerized by the growing fire in his midnight eyes, she softly gasped when he drew her even nearer. Unobtrusively inserting a black, trouser-clad knee between hers, he drew her so close that her breasts flattened against his solid chest and she felt his hot breath fan against her cheek.
Feeling weak and shaky, Anna laid her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. Slowly she turned her head until her face was very close to his tanned throat. She saw the strong pulse pounding there and had an overwhelming desire to press her mouth to it. She could almost feel that throbbing power beating against her open lips, making her dizzy, thrilling her.
Vowing that one day she would kiss that pulse point, Anna raised her head, tipped it back and again looked straight into Brit’s dark, smoldering eyes.
Gazing down at her, Brit read the clear message in her beautiful blue eyes. He shuddered against her because he felt exactly the same way.
The music ended.
They stopped dancing, exchanged quick looks of regret that this sweet closeness was over. Without a word, Brit escorted Anna back to her table and reluctantly released her into the company and care of the good doctor.
But before he returned to his own table, Brit gave Anna one last fleeting glance.
That look spoke volumes.
Fifteen
And the merriment continued to escalate.
The dancing became more spirited as a grandly uniformed mariachi band took the dais shortly after eleven. The laughter and talk grew louder as freely flowing champagne was consumed by young and old alike.
Anna, sipping the bubbly wine from a stemmed glass, moved her shoulders in rhythm with the music while she watched smiling vaqueros spin their wives and sweethearts around the dance floor.
Whistles and shouts rose from the crowd when the band, led by a burly, mustachioed cornet player, broke into a rousing rendition of a Mexican dance. Sally, draining her second glass of champagne, slammed the glass down on the table, licked her lips and reached for Anna’s hand.
“Come on, Anna! Let’s go down and join them.”
Feeling warm and giddy and totally confident from the effects of the champagne, Anna thought it sounded like a fine idea. She laughed, nodded, reached out and plucked a red rose from the table’s centerpiece. She snapped the stem, stuck the scarlet rose in her hair above her left ear and said to Dr. McCelland, “You will excuse us, won’t you, Doctor?” And didn’t wait for a reply.
Eager to get down to the floor, Sally, clinging to Anna’s hand, pulled her firmly along. As they maneuvered through the mob, Anna cast a quick glance at Brit’s table. Her heartbeat instantly quickened. He was looking directly at her. Their eyes held for one fleeting second, sending shivers of excitement through Anna.
At last Sally and Anna reached the crowded dance floor.
Their hands clasped behind their backs, bright smiles on their olive faces, vaqueros lifted their-knees high and struck the heels of their boots against the wooden floor as they turned and spun and danced around their female partners.
Anna studied the movements of the pretty señoritas and imitated them. She was a quick study. In less than a minute she had the steps down and was whirling around, stamping her heels and swirling her skirts with the best of them.
With the white ruffled bodice slipping low down one arm, Anna flirtatiously flashed her skirts, moved her bare shoulders provocatively and swished her long hair about as she turned her head one way, then the other.
She quickly drew an appreciative audience. Soon other dancers stopped to watch and applaud. Laughing, feeling flushed and wonderful, Anna danced ardently, bringing her own special brand of playfulness and passion to the lively tune. Lost in a world of her own, she was oblivious to those around her. She was unaware of all the attention she attracted by dancing with happy abandon.
But if she was unaware, Brit was all too cognizant. His dark face set in hard lines, his firm jaw ridged, he watched unblinking as the whirling, laughing Anna easily beguiled dozens of other men, just as she beguiled him. He saw the way they looked at her, knew what they were thinking, what they were feeling.
His chest uncomfortably tight, his teeth clamped so hard his jaws hurt, Brit manfully fought the fierce temptation to go down and yank her right off the floor. To scold her hotly for behaving so seductively and making a spectacle of herself. To let her know in no uncertain terms that she was never to dance and flirt and flash her skirts for anyone but him.
Brit exhaled heavily when the rollicking dance finally ended and a breathless Anna left the floor and headed back to her table, amidst much appreciati
ve applause and shouts for more.
Pushing her heavy hair behind her ear, Anna again glanced at Brit. And a jolt of unease shot through her. He was looking at her, but his eyes were icy cold. Anna was baffled.
Back at the table, she gratefully accepted another glass of chilled champagne and drank thirstily. And she laughed, delighted, at the shocked expression that came to Sally’s flushed face when big Buck Shanahan walked up, nodded to everyone, paid his polite respects to LaDextra, then looked at Sally and asked, “Miss Sally, would you care to dance?”
Her eyes wide, her mouth rounded into an O, Sally couldn’t speak. Could only nod. But she shot to her feet so fast her chair overturned. Grinning, Buck righted the chair, took Sally’s arm and led her down to the dance floor.
“You’re looking mighty pretty tonight in that bright yellow dress,” Buck said as he took Sally in his arms.
Sally replied brashly, “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight in that starched white shirt.”
Buck threw back his blond head and laughed. His arm tightened around her waist and he said, “Say, you’ve lost some weight.”
“A pound or two perhaps,” said Sally, cleverly concealing the fact that she’d been starving herself for the past two weeks so she could fit into the new yellow dress.
“Well, I hope you don’t lose any more,” said Buck.
Sally stopped dancing. “You mean you don’t trunk I’m fat?”
“Fat? You?” Buck snorted. “No sirree, Miss Sally. Anything I hate it’s a scrawny woman.” His arm again tightened around her. “You feel just about right to me.”
Overjoyed, Sally tightened her hand possessively on Buck’s strong neck and said coquettishly, “And you feel absolutely perfect to me.”
Buck’s face reddened. But he squeezed her other hand and said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sally.”
