"I can't let you sleep in my room, even for protection. There'd be no end to the gossip."
"Don't you value your life more than gossip?"
"I'm tempted to say yes, but sometimes gossip can destroy a life. Since I don't believe my life is in danger, I'm declining your generous offer. I find it amazing you would want to protect me."
"I feel responsible for what happened. If I hadn't been showing off--"
She smiled at him, surprised and pleased that he seemed genuinely sorry. "You can't meet any woman without trying to prove she can't resist you. Well, you made your point. You're a tremendously handsome man, charming, entertaining, and virile. I also believe there's a sweet, kind person somewhere inside you. Maybe you'll find the right woman to bring it out, someone so beautiful you'll consider yourself plain in comparison with her. You'll never find what you're looking for here. Now it's late and I'm tired. I'll lock the door and put a chair against it. You ought to do the same. After catching the rustlers, you might be in more danger than I am."
"Does that mean you believe Manly was rustling?"
She sighed in defeat. "I guess I always did. I just didn't want to. Let's not talk about it anymore. Tomorrow I'm going out to my ranch, and you're going back to San Antonio."
"What if I don't?"
"All you want from Pinto Junction is Mr. diViere, and he's not here. Make it easier on everybody. Go look for him somewhere else."
Hetta entered her room and leaned against the door as she closed and locked it, but she didn't move for a long time. She felt like crying, and she knew exactly why. It was that damned kiss. Until then she'd considered herself lucky to have a man like William. Now she knew William was a mirage.
He might think he was in love with her, but he really wasn't or he would have spoken to his parents long ago. He would have visited her without Ida having to arrange accidental meetings. He'd have held her hand, put his arms around her, kissed her the way Owen had.
But William had done none of this, and Owen Wheeler had come along. Pushing his way into her life, challenging her opinions, knocking down her prejudices, forcing her to question her own experiences. But it was the kiss that had changed her completely. She no longer wanted the quiet, safe life a man like William offered. Despite the danger, the almost certain heartache, she wanted the excitement a man like Owen Wheeler could offer.
Tears ran down her cheeks because she knew she would never have it.
She cursed Owen Wheeler. She was just someone who had caught his interest for the short time he would be in Pinto Junction. He would go away and forget he'd ever known her. She would never forget him. He would haunt her for the rest of her life.
She pushed herself away from the door, put her suitcase on a chair, and dropped onto the bed. She fell back and put her hands over her eyes. Was she going to end up like her mother, loving some man so much he could treat her like dirt and she'd still worship the ground he walked on?
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Tears of regret that she'd lost her chance for happiness. Not the delirious, heaven-storming kind implied in Owen's kiss, but the dependable, lifelong commitment. Now she was faced with wanting the impossible and knowing she couldn't have it.
She cursed Owen.
She never wanted to set eyes on him again.
Owen stared at his untouched beer.
"You going to drink that?" Myrl asked.
"Doesn't look like it," Ben Logan said. "I've finished two, you've had three, and he's still staring at his first."
"If you're not going to drink it--"
Owen pushed the beer over to Myrl.
"What's eating you?" Ben asked. "No use pretending it's nothing. You don't drink, you refused to play cards, you hardly open your mouth. If you didn't look so healthy, I'd say you were taking sick."
"Woman trouble," Myrl said. "He just got kicked out of Ida's house. Must have been some dustup behind that."
"He's not interested in Ida," Ben said.
"You saying it was over Hetta?" Myrl asked.
"Why don't you ask Owen?"
"You going to tell us?" Myrl asked.
"Don't feel like it," Owen said.
"Your privilege," Ben said, "but would it have anything to do with the fact that Ida and William just went past, Ida bending his ear something awful?"
"Where are they headed?" Owen asked.
"Can't say."
"Git up and find out," Myrl said. "Even with that gimpy leg, you can move faster than I can."
"They went into the hotel," Ben said when he came back. "Do you know what they want?"
"Yes," Owen said getting up from the table, "and I mean to see they don't get it."
Chapter Fifteen
Owen had been feeling guilty ever since Hetta closed her door in his face. He wondered if his compulsive need to prove his attractiveness came from being ignored by his parents most of his life. He felt a kinship with Hetta, yet he couldn't conquer the impulse to prove he was irresistible to her. He could tell himself he'd done it because William wasn't worthy to be her husband, but he had no reason to care who Hetta married.
Yet he couldn't stop himself from practically running down the boardwalk to the hotel and up the stairs inside. He reached the landing in time to see Ida and William standing outside the door to Hetta's room. He kept hidden from their view and listened.
"What are you doing here?" Hetta asked from inside the room.
"I couldn't let you stay here," Ida said. "When you wouldn't listen to me, I asked William to see if he could talk some sense into you."
"I'm not sensible, or I wouldn't have let Owen kiss me."
"That was Owen's fault."
"I forgive you," William said. "Men like Owen Wheeler prey on guileless young women who can't resist them."
"Ida resisted him," Hetta said, "but I didn't. You can't put all the blame on him. Maybe I'm like my father after all."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ida said.
"Your irreproachable behavior is one of the reasons I admire you so much," William said.
"Maybe I'm tired of being irreproachable. Maybe I want to be wild."
"You're too sweet and kind to ever do anything like that."
"What if I wanted you to tell me I was beautiful, that you couldn't do without me?"
Owen nearly laughed at the bewildered expression on William's face.
"I know what's really upset you," William said. "Ida's convinced me I've been wrong to wait so long to talk to my parents. I'll speak to them as soon as my father's better."
"I told you he was just waiting for the right time," Ida said.
"Maybe he waited too long."
Yes! Owen said to himself. Stand up to him. Tell him what a fool he's been. Throw him out.
"You're upset. You can't mean that," Ida said.
"I am upset, but I know something is wrong."
"It's Owen Wheeler," William said. "A man like him can turn any woman's head."
"Why? Are women so weak they can't know their own minds?"
"All women are weak," William said. "That's why they need husbands to guide them when they go astray."
Much more of this and Hetta won't need any encouragement from me to throw you out.
"Women are just as capable as men of knowing their own minds," Hetta said. "But I'm not at all sure of my own mind right now. I need time to think, to figure out how I feel."
"That's why it's important for you to come back home," Ida said.
"Meanwhile, she can keep cooking and cleaning," Owen said, stepping forward, "waiting for William to work up the courage to talk to his parents."
"What are you doing here?" William asked.
"Spying," Ida said.
"I'm staying here. My room is next to Hetta's."
"I insist you go back home with Ida," William said to Hetta.
Hetta stepped out into the hall. "Couldn't you stay away a little longer?" she asked Owen.
"This is a hotel. Anybody staying here has a right to use the hall an
y time."
"Do you want me to throw him out?" William asked.
Owen felt his temper begin to rise. "I was in the wrong before, but I'm not this time."
"Don't try to make him leave," Ida begged. "He might shoot you."
"For Pete's sake, Ida, people don't go around shooting off guns just because they wear one," Hetta said.
"He's shot two men already."
"Only because nobody in Pinto Junction had the guts."
"I can't believe you're defending him."
"I'm not. I'm just using common sense."
"Then you'd better marry William and let him do your thinking for you."
The look Hetta gave Ida brought pure joy to Owen's heart.
"If my life has to be ruined, I want to know I wasn't spineless enough to let somebody else ruin it for me."
"I don't understand you," William said.
"I don't understand myself," Hetta said, "but I will. Now both of you go home. I'm tired. I want to go to bed."
"But it's not safe here," William said.
"I'll see that no harm comes to her," Owen said.
"I wouldn't trust you to guard a dead cow, much less a woman I hold dear," William said.
"Normally you'd be wise to feel like that," Owen said, "but I've already caused her enough trouble."
"I don't want you to have anything to do with her," Ida said.
"That's up to Hetta."
"Go home, both of you. I'll lock my door."
Ida and William looked at Owen. He knew they wanted him to disappear. He started to stand his ground but changed his mind.
"I left a beer unattended," he said. "Make sure the chair isn't on a rug," he said to Hetta. "It'll slip."
"You would know something like that," Ida said.
Owen was pleased that Hetta had had the courage to stand up to Ida and William. It had to be hard, living in a small town with no money and no way to make a living, to turn down the help of the two richest, most influential young people in town. He'd always known she was stubborn and opinionated, but now he knew she had courage. He wasn't too fond of stubborn and opinionated--he had too much of that in his own makeup--but he had great respect for courage.
He stopped when he reached the street. Pinto Junction wasn't really much of a town. He could see practically every building by turning in a circle. He couldn't imagine what would make anyone want to stay, but there must be something that kept Hetta and William here, brought Ida back from San Antonio, Ben Logan home from the war.
Maybe he'd try to figure out what they saw that he didn't. It would also give him a better chance of understanding Hetta. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know.
"I won't let you come," Hetta said to Owen. "I didn't need your help last night, and I don't need it today."
"It's crazy to think you can live out at your ranch by yourself. Besides, you need a foreman."
"I'll hire one."
"You'll do it faster and better with my help."
They'd been arguing like this for the last hour as they rode their horses toward her ranch. Hetta had opened her door to find Myrl sleeping outside. When she'd asked him why he didn't sleep in his own bed, he had told her he was giving Owen a chance to get some rest. Apparently, Owen had stood guard at her door during the night. She was so stunned, she didn't point out to Myrl that sleeping on the job probably wasn't what Owen had in mind. It had never occurred to her that he would care that much. William hadn't offered to stand guard at her door.
Her mood had been almost conciliatory when Owen caught up with her just as she was leaving town. She'd conceded that she might have misjudged his character. His telling her she'd pegged him right did nothing to change her mind. He was a much nicer man than she'd given him credit for.
But her temper had become frayed when he listened to her every argument, even agreed with some, and still didn't change his mind about going out to the ranch with her. She had tried to control her tongue--how could she be rude to a man who had stood guard outside her door all night?--but there was only so much a woman could endure, and Owen Wheeler always went over the limit.
"You can't stay out there by yourself. Even old stick-in-the-mud agrees with me there."
"Don't refer to William by that name."
"Would you rather I call him mama's boy?"
"I would prefer that you not speak of him at all."
"At last we're in agreement on something. Since I'll be at the ranch with you, I might as well be your foreman. Some people say bandits have stolen all your cows. Others say nobody rustles your cows. I think it's time we found out the truth."
"I can do that without your help."
"If you ran into rustlers, they'd kill you. I'm sure you know how to use a gun, but women tend to feel that if they could just talk to a rustler, they could get him to have a change of heart. Meanwhile, the rustler has pulled his gun, shot you, and made off with the cows."
"You don't have a very good opinion of women, do you?"
"I love women."
"No, you don't. They're the enemy you have to conquer. I don't think you even like women."
"I've had firsthand knowledge of how treacherous they can be."
"I don't know what your mother did, but she didn't cause two dozen men to die. Nor did that girl who haunts you still."
"You can't know."
"You can't take all the responsibility for her death. You encouraged her to go into the orchard, but she went because she wanted to spend some time talking to a handsome and exciting man. Then there was the soldier who was so green or frightened he shot a woman. It wouldn't surprise me if he, too, remembers it and agonizes over it."
"You're not going to make me feel less responsible."
"Maybe not, but you'll get no sympathy from me if you continue to blame yourself. Or your mother. You've got looks, intelligence, and the will to get on with your life. Forget Laveau. Go back to San Antonio, or Virginia, and build a life for yourself."
"Are you going to take your own advice?"
"Yes."
"Does that mean you won't marry William?"
"It means I've decided I want a lot more out of marriage. If I don't believe I can get it, I won't marry William even if it means I never marry anyone."
"Good. Don't sell yourself short."
"I'm not selling myself short. I know exactly what I look like."
"But you don't know what you look like to others."
She turned in her saddle. She'd given up trying to please anybody and was riding astride. "If you dare to tell me I'm beautiful, I'll shoot you with your own gun."
"Someday you'll have sons and daughters who will think you're beautiful. Will you shoot them?"
"Don't be absurd."
"I'm not. People will see different things in you because they aren't looking for the same thing. You said William's looks didn't matter to you because you thought his character was admirable. Isn't that true?"
"Yes, but that didn't blind me to what he looks like."
"After a while it would. You'd see in his face all the kindness, the love, the gentleness, the thoughtfulness you valued. You'd know he made you feel loved, cherished, even beautiful. You would grow to love those features so much that one day they would be beautiful in your eyes."
Hetta didn't know what had taught Owen that truth, or even if he believed what he said, but it made her feel more kindly toward him. He'd given her hope of being beautiful in a way that time could never change.
But she'd never thought that even William could love her enough to make her plain face beautiful to him.
"Okay, I'll stop thinking I'm plain if you'll try to stop taking all the blame for that girl's death. You've got to try," she said when she could see him begin to withdraw, "or you'll never find anyone to love you like you want to be loved."
"I don't want anybody to love me."
"Everybody wants to be loved. It's human nature."
"Some men can do without love as long as they have enoug
h money and sex. The stuff you women want--togetherness, faithfulness, children--all that is a noose around those fellows' necks."
She wanted to disagree, but she'd seen too many men who were only too anxious to turn their backs on women who loved them, children who wanted little more than to see their faces before going to sleep at night. Most women were willing to settle for a man who was faithful, kind, and dependable. She'd had that and had thrown it way. Maybe she didn't want any man at all.
But that wasn't right, either. She would welcome a family and responsibility. Her husband just had to be the right man. She had found excitement and sexual attraction in Owen, but she'd never marry a man like him. She had found dependability and faithfulness in William, but he didn't make her pulses thunder the way they did when Owen kissed her. Why couldn't she want one or the other? Why did she have to have both?
She felt emotionally bruised and sore. Maybe after a few weeks on the ranch she'd have a better idea of what she wanted. In the meantime, she and Owen had to hammer out some ground rules.
"It'll be a tight squeeze," Owen said as they rode into what had been the ranch yard.
"You're not sleeping in the house."
"There's not enough to call it a house."
"Why don't you see if you can find Manly's old camp? Once you've settled on a bed ground, I'll meet you there when I need to."
Owen looked at her with a grin full of irony. And challenge. "You're not going to banish me to some thorn patch, force me to cook over a campfire, and ignore me for days at a time."
"I didn't ask you to come."
"Let's get something clear right from the start. We work out the rules together. I'm sleeping where I can see and hear you. We'll eat at the same time. When you ride out, I'll ride out."
"Doesn't look like you've left me many rules to make."
"Oh, there's lots more. You get to decide whether I can kiss you again. I'd like to do that, maybe more than once."
Hetta found that her breaths weren't coming nearly as easily as they ought. "There will be no kissing. You just did that to prove something."
"What was I proving?"
"See, you can't even remember."
"Oh, yes, I can. What about touching?"
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