by Sandra Brown
“You are, but no, none of the projects I’ve started will be stopped.”
“I’ll see to it that they are,” she threatened with a tone of voice that would have intimidated many a brawny man.
Lauren didn’t even blink. “I don’t think you will,” she stated calmly. “What would everyone think if my ‘noble’ efforts were halted by my own mother-in-law?”
“No one would know,” Olivia said with a trace of amusement. Was the girl simple?
“Yes they would. I’d tell them.”
“Oh, I see. It’s your intention to disgrace me?”
“Since when is it a disgrace to aid one’s fellow man?” Lauren considered the interview over then, and left Olivia alone with her hatred.
If Olivia planned to stymie Lauren’s actions, she found herself ill-equipped and ill-trained to do so. This was the type of work Lauren had done all her life. She was a good administrator. It was a rare talent to be able to talk someone into doing an unpleasant task and leave them thinking that it had been their idea in the first place.
Everyone was enamored with the courageous Mrs. Lauren Lockett. Olivia’s subtle, tentative suggestions that her daughter-in-law might be a bit ambitious met only high praise and enthusiasm for the projects.
When all her committees were in full swing and Pueblo already showed signs of improvement, Lauren decided to return to Keypoint. For the present, she had done all she could do. The cold hostility in the house in Coronado had become untenable. Now, as she faced Olivia purposefully, unafraid of the woman’s imposing mien, she said, “I spoke to Jared about Elena and Carlos, and he agreed.” That was the first time that Lauren Holbrook Lockett had told a lie, but she felt that she would be forgiven. “Besides, with both Jared and me away, I’m sure you can spare her. Pepe can escort us to Keypoint and bring the wagon back. He should be able to return the day after tomorrow.”
“You have it all planned, I see. What do you hope to accomplish with this little escapade? Do you intend to tell certain persons our plans in hopes that they will be aborted?” Olivia’s green eyes were daggers as she glared at Lauren.
“If I told Rudy,” she paused after emphasizing his name, “it could endanger him and his family. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety.”
“How thoughtful.”
Lauren ignored the sarcasm and continued, “I don’t think your barbarous plans will ever see fruition, Olivia. I don’t think Jared will take part. I’ve come to know him, and it would be against his nature to do such a despicable thing. It’s your soul I fear for, Olivia, not Jared’s.”
Olivia laughed with genuine pleasure. “What a fool you are. You think you have redeemed my son. I warrant that he would be a challenge for any missionary to try to save.” Then all amusement left her cold, beautiful face. “Don’t count on Jared. He belongs to me and will always do as I tell him to.”
Lauren rose gracefully from her chair and, totally composed, left the room.
* * *
The next morning dawned cold, rainy, and dreary, in perfect harmony with Lauren’s mood. Rosa bid a tearful goodbye to Elena, but the younger girl was jubilant. When Lauren had told her about taking her to Keypoint so she could live with Carlos, Elena had been overcome with gratitude. She couldn’t believe that it was really going to come about. Despite the dreadful weather, she was chattering merrily when they left.
The trip took longer than usual because of the rain and the muddy roads. Lauren sat on the seat of the wagon with Pepe, while Elena sat huddled under a tarp in the wagon bed.
They were cold and tired and hungry when they finally reached the ranch house late in the afternoon. Gloria ran out to meet them and hugged Lauren to her in a sisterly embrace.
“We’ve missed you so much. It’s good to see you. Where is Jared? Is he coming later?”
The mention of his name brought a lump to Lauren’s throat, but she answered calmly enough, “I don’t think he’s coming out this time. He has business in Austin.”
Gloria would have said more, but Lauren’s obvious reluctance to talk about her husband stifled any questions she would have asked. Would these two never get their differences settled?
“Gloria, this is Elena, Carlos Rivas’s wife and my friend. I’ve brought her with me to help you here in the house. I hope Rudy can arrange for them to live in one of the cabins. Do you think that’s possible?”
“We’ll make it possible. Welcome, Elena,” Gloria said, taking both of the girl’s hands in her own. “We think a lot of Carlos and I’m happy to finally meet you. We were sorry to hear about your baby. Will you help me take care of my children? They are more than I can handle.”
Gloria was reacting just as Lauren knew she would. Elena would be happy here. Lauren sighed and went into the house to greet the children and Maria. As each child was hugged, he or she had a special story to relate to Aunt Lauren. She listened to them avidly, jealous of their carefree innocence. They were full of questions about their hero, Uncle Jared, and she told them about his winning the shooting contest. They listened with wide, round eyes to the entire episode with the automobile.
Gloria shooed them into their rooms and Maria stepped forward to embrace Lauren, who welcomed the succor she found in those slender arms. Maria pulled away from her and looked deeply into the sad gray eyes. “I think you are unhappy, Lauren, no?” Lauren hung her head and nodded miserably. “We’ll talk later.” Maria patted her arm and turned to welcome Elena.
When he came in that evening, Rudy gave her a hearty kiss. At a signal from Gloria, he refrained from asking too many questions about Jared or the situation in Coronado.
Pleading exhaustion, Lauren retired early to her room. It was painfully reminiscent of Jared—his things, his clothes, his scent. Everything was a grim reminder of their parting.
She knew he hadn’t meant to strike her. That had been an accident. What she considered to be his betrayal was the harsh, angry words he had flung at her. Could those words have come from the same mouth that had kissed her with such tenderness? Kisses that even now as she remembered them made her body tremble?
It was futile to deny the sensations that rocketed through her whenever she recalled his lovemaking. Her body became as malleable as melting butter when she recalled his hands and lips and how they had aroused and pleased her. The intricacies of her body and his had been revealed to her under Jared’s practiced touch, yet she longed to know more. She wanted to feel again that sublime ecstasy that had encompassed her the moment his masculinity filled her and made her complete.
Love words he had chanted in her ear came back to haunt and mock her as she tossed restlessly on her pillow, which was already damp with tears.
* * *
Rudy gave the use of a cabin about a mile away from the large house to Carlos and Elena. He even permitted Carlos to take a day off to set up housekeeping. Very little got accomplished, but Elena was radiant the next morning when Carlos dropped her off at the ranch house before he reported to work. She fell right in with the routine in the kitchen and herded the children around with the patience of an experienced schoolmarm. The children adored her and minded her far better than they did either their mother or their indulgent Aunt Lauren or their grandmother, whom they manipulated unmercifully.
Lauren wasn’t in the Christmas spirit, but the holiday came nonetheless. On Christmas morning, James and John were delighted with a new pair of suspenders and play guns with holsters. The girls squealed when they found new petticoats and hair ribbons in their boxes from Aunt Lauren.
There was so much confusion amidst the packages and presents that Santa Claus had left behind, that no one noticed when Lauren slipped back into her bedroom and shut the door.
Some compulsion she couldn’t name moved her toward the closet and she opened it slowly. She looked at Jared’s clothes hanging there, an old pair of boots flung negligently onto the floor, a leather vest hanging on a nail inside the door.
“Jared,” she groaned, and pressed he
r face into one of the shirts that, even though it had been laundered, still retained his scent, the aroma of his tobacco and the faint smell of leather. She sobbed for several minutes into the cloth until she felt gentle hands on her shoulders.
“Lauren, are you ready to talk about it now? I’ll listen if you are.”
“Oh, Maria, I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems, especially not you, when Ben’s death is so heavy on your mind.”
Maria led her to the bed and they both sat down. The children’s exuberant exclamations came from the next room. Maria patted Lauren’s hand, giving her time to assemble her thoughts.
“I… this… my marriage is a farce,” she blurted out. Unevenly, brokenly, she told the whole story from the time she had met Ben to William Keller’s attempted rape and the Prathers’ censorious acceptance of his lies. She was ashamed to tell Maria about the terms of her deal with Olivia, but she related them dispassionately, omitting any mention of the Vandivers. “You probably think I’m terrible to sell myself that way.”
“I’m in no position to pass judgment on anyone, Lauren. But under the same circumstances, I would have done the same thing. Sometimes our choices in life are between the lesser of two evils. You did what you hoped would be the right thing. No one can condemn you for that. Besides, I think your motivations included something besides Ben’s wishes and the money, didn’t they?”
This was the question that Lauren had asked herself time and again. Had she been in love with Jared even then? Was that why she had gone along with this outlandish scheme? Nothing was clear to her anymore.
“You fell in love with Jared, didn’t you?” Maria asked softly. Lauren nodded and Maria continued, “And this marriage of convenience has become something else, hasn’t it? You’ve… been with Jared?”
Lauren covered her face with her hands and sobbed, “Yes, oh, yes. Not until just a few days ago and… oh, I don’t know, Maria. All my life I’ve been conditioned to believe that men did ‘bad’ things to women and that ladies protected themselves from that debasement. Even though we’re married, I know that Jared doesn’t love me. Is it sinful for me to feel what I do? To find pleasure in…”
“Did you think it was ‘bad’?”
“No,” Lauren answered vehemently, and Maria suppressed a smile. “When I first came to Ben, I was young and unsure, too. I tried to deny the joy he could bring me. But when I saw that I was giving him great happiness, I could share it without guilt or shame. I, too, was brought up to think that the woman should expect nothing but pain and degradation from lovemaking. God, not Man, created sex, Lauren. And even though Man perverts it and misuses it, it is still a gift to two people who love each other.”
“But Jared doesn’t love me. I’m terrified of the day he’ll grow tired of this farcical marriage and send me away.”
“I think Jared is fighting his own battle of feelings, Lauren. I don’t believe he could have been coerced into marrying anyone, no matter how high the stakes, if he hadn’t been attracted to her. He’s far too headstrong. And I think sending you away is the last thing he wants to do.” She looked at the tearful young woman and her heart went out to her. Ben had wanted them to be happy. He’d had such high hopes that their relationship would bloom into love.
“Lauren,” she said gently, “don’t be afraid of loving Jared. If I hadn’t loved Ben, think of the useless life I would have had. Think of the misery he would have had to bear alone. I don’t think you will regret loving your Lockett any more than I do having loved mine. The only regret I ever had was not being able to give Ben more children.”
Lauren sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief Maria had extended her. “Thank you, Maria. You go on and join your… our… family. I’ll be out later.” She smiled tremulously.
Maria stroked the tear-stained cheek and then left Lauren alone to wonder where Jared was spending Christmas.
Chapter 20
Two weeks after Christmas, the residents of Keypoint enjoyed a few days of unseasonably mild weather. The old-timers predicted that the worst of the winter wasn’t over if the weather was this warm in January, but everyone was glad to see a respite from the howling winds that sometimes brought icy rains and sleet.
One morning, Lauren rode out by herself. Maria had a cold and she hadn’t wanted to bother Rudy or one of the vaqueros. It was amazing how much she missed Flame. But any recollection of the mare reminded her, too, of Jared. A Jared vicious and violent. She pushed those thoughts from her mind.
Never losing sight of the compound and judging her direction by the Rio Caballo, she cantered up and down several hills, grateful for the exercise. She had been gone about an hour and was on her way back to the house when she noticed her mount’s ears pull back sharply. About the same time, Lauren heard a mumbled curse followed by a moan. She reined in the gelding and listened. The moan was repeated, coming from the direction of a clump of cedars. She nudged the horse nearer. When she was a few feet from the grove, she could barely make out a form lying on the ground.
She dismounted cautiously and took a tentative step forward.
“Stay right where you’re at.” She heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked and she froze, her heart jumping to her throat.
“Don’tcha come no closer.” The voice was sinister, but clipped as if the effort to speak was painful.
“Are you hurt? I heard you moaning.” Lauren was quaking on the inside, but she felt this person needed help.
“You Jared Lockett’s woman?”
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Lockett. Who are you?” She took one more step forward.
“I said don’t come no closer.” The last word raised an octave as the sentence dissolved into a long, heart-constricting wail.
Throwing caution aside, Lauren ran into the thicket. She pulled up sharply and covered her mouth to stifle the scream that rose from her throat.
The man was ragged and dirty, his ankle caught grotesquely in a trap of some kind, blood oozing out around the steel teeth that were biting into his flesh.
His face was a hideous nightmare. This was Crazy Jack, the hermit. It was a death mask this poor creature wore instead of a face. Red ugly scars adorned the sides of his head where his ears should have been. Two open holes that gaped eerily served as his nose.
Lauren swallowed the bile that flooded into her mouth. “Mr. Turner, let me help you.” She crept closer to him.
What was left of his face was contorted in pain. His lips were pulled back in agony over a scarcity of teeth, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Lauren noted that the fingers which had held the rifle were now clenched around the injured leg. The firearm had been abandoned on the ground.
“Don’t want no help,” he hissed.
“You may not want it, but I think you should have some.” The firmness in her voice surprised him. He opened his eyes and looked at her suspiciously, searching for some threat. He saw none.
“Can you get this goddam contraption off my leg?”
“I… I don’t know.” She looked at the ominous thing and shuddered. “I can try.”
“Well, quit jawin’ then and do it afore I bleed to death,” he grumbled. “Take aholt on either side and pull as hard as you can.”
“Won’t it hurt when I lift up your foot?” she asked timorously.
“Yes, goddammit, but it’s hurtin’ like hell now, and I got to git it off, ain’t I?”
“Very well,” said Lauren decisively, removing her gloves. Obviously the man was determined to be rude.
Her heart was thudding as she knelt down beside the disfigured hermit and gently closed her fingers around his shin above where the trap had sprung on his ankle. He gasped even at this slight pressure and she looked at him with pity. “I’m sorry, I know it’s excruciating.”
“Go on and git it over with,” he rasped.
She placed her fingers on either side of the trap, finding as good a hold as she could on the blood-slick metal. Tentatively she tried to pull the tra
p apart. It didn’t budge and Crazy Jack’s breath sucked into the vacuum of his mouth as the pain increased. “Harder, lady.”
Lauren tried again, exerting tremendous pressure. Just as she was about to give up, she felt the metal beneath her fingers give way a fraction. The muscles of her arms ached with the effort she was demanding of them. Finally the sides of the trap sprang apart, tearing into the poor victim’s flesh before coming free of it.
Jack screamed. The trap’s teeth had left deep puncture wounds around his ankle. They were bleeding profusely. Lauren went to her saddlebags and retrieved a canteen of water. She knelt down again beside him and poured the liquid onto the wounds. Jack actually laughed at her.
“Water won’t do no good, Missy. Get that canteen off my horse. He’s around here somewheres.” She looked around until she saw a mangy animal nibbling on the short grass under the trees. She approached him timidly, afraid that he might be as shy of people as his owner, but he stood docilely as she lifted the canteen from where it hung around the saddle horn. She uncapped it and the unmistakable odor of whiskey assailed her nostrils. This must be the rotgut that Jared had told her the old recluse distilled.
She paused only an instant before generously bathing the punctures with the liquor. Jack winced and his eyes began to water, but he didn’t scream again. He gestured for her to take the scarf from his neck and wrap it around his leg. It was grimy and dark with grease.
“Why… why don’t I use mine? It’s…” she suppressed the word cleaner and substituted, “larger.”
“Ain’t takin’ no charity—”
“No, no, nothing like that.” She didn’t give him time to protest further as she whipped her bandana from around her neck. She formed a silent, selfish prayer of thanksgiving that she wasn’t wearing the blue silk one Jared had given her, but one of cotton print she had bought for herself in Coronado. Not allowing herself to think of the pain she must be causing the poor man, she hastily tied the scarf around his oozing wounds.
