The twins’ fifth birthday only a few weeks after their mother’s death had been a hushed affair, but Shea had given them their first personal horses, Thunder, a steel-gray son of Azul, and Lightning, sired by Azul out of Ladorada, as creamily golden as the mare.
Talitha had helped work the young geldings and as Shea and Santiago gave the boys a boost into the fine new saddles brought up from Chihuahua, her heart swelled with the beauty of flame-haired Patrick on his dark horse, black-haired Miguel on his golden one. The boys had good hands and even in their jubilation they used the reins lightly.
As they went off for their first canter, followed by Belen, Shea’s smile faded. His bleak gaze sought the cross on top of the hill. Hesitantly, Talitha put her hand on his.
“I think she can see them—and how proud it must make her!”
Shea patted Talitha’s hand. At the evening meal for which she and Anita had fixed all the twins’ favorite foods, he teased them gently and said they’d have to be top vaqueros to live up to their horses. He put them to bed that night and sang them a couple of lively Irish songs. But then he’d gone outside and though Talitha lay awake long after Anita, who was sleeping in the sala in order to suckle Caterina when she woke up hungry, had soothed both babies to sleep, she never heard him come in.
At last, unable to stand her worry anymore, Talitha put on her sandals and made her way in the light of a half moon to where she’d been certain he was. Only he wasn’t kneeling or sitting by the grave. He lay upon it.
A terrible fear that he was dead froze Talitha, but she must have made some sound for he slowly raised his head. “Oh, Shea!” she cried. “Shea, please—”
“Go in, lass,” he said. When she didn’t move, he added dully, “I won’t murder myself. There are the lads and now that—that new one. They’re her own sweet flesh and I’ll see to them, I swear it. But leave me be, Tally. Leave me as close as I can get to her now.”
So she had gone back weeping, and finally slept, and morning had come.… Anita said it was a mercy and a marvel he didn’t turn to mescal, but Talitha almost wished he would if it would help him rest, take the puzzled grief from his eyes. Still, life went on. Gradually, his appetite improved and he seemed to sleep better.
The twins had cried for their mother, but almost as desolately for James. Luckily, they had happy dispositions and responded to the vaqueros’ increased male tenderness. On their new horses, they were improving the skills they’d played at since they were able to walk, and they slept among an array of Chusma’s grandchildren with their small sister—when they had time.
Yes, thought Talitha, watching them now as they flanked Santiago, that’s how it is; if you’re alive, you go on living. And after a while, you could laugh again. But why had Santiago’s look, just for a second, reminded her of Judah Frost’s?
She didn’t like to think of that man. Nor, though she didn’t want Shea and Santiago to lose the money they’d invested, did she want Frost to come back.
He did, on the day of the Feast of the Roof, celebrated that year only because of the twins. At the sound of approaching horses, Shea rose quickly and went to the door while the vaqueros got in reach of the rifles.
“It’s Judah Frost,” Shea said, sounding pleased and more excited than he had for a long time. “And there’s someone with him.”
With an almost doomed feeling, Talitha got out two more plates. Of course, he’d return. Like death, danger and evil. Why couldn’t Shea sense that about him, why had he had to jump in and become his partner? Now Frost had an excuse to come back; and the man he’d brought along was probably as bad as he was.
She wasn’t prepared for Marc Revier. Introduced by Frost as his partner and “the best mining engineer in the country, educated at the Royal School of Mines in Freiburg,” Revier had steady blue eyes with good-humored crinkles at the edges, brown hair and a rather broad face with strong bones.
A scar slashed his left cheek and brow, so he must have been in a fight once, but it was hard to imagine. There was something sure and immovable about him as if he were part of the mountain whose secrets he searched out and though he wasn’t as tall as either Frost or Shea, he seemed to be except when they were standing close enough for it to be obvious.
When he took Talitha’s hand, bowing slightly, something warm and strengthening seemed to flow from his touch. Disconcerted, she mumbled a greeting and avoided his eyes.
She didn’t want him to look into her; see how she missed James and Socorro, how tired she got of the unending demands of the household, how much she worried for Shea. She could endure all these things by not thinking of them more than she had to and by simply doing whatever most needed it, but something about this man made her think he understood, and that she couldn’t bear. It tore away her defenses, made her want to weep.
So, in a way she hadn’t dreamed, he was dangerous.
But her armor hardened when Judah Frost smiled at her, a flame beneath the winter of his eyes. “Only four months and you’re changing into a young lady. How proud your father will be of you!”
A knife turned in her heart. “My—father?”
“Jared Scott, no other.”
“He—he—Where is he?”
“In San Francisco. Eagerly awaiting your arrival. He would have come for you himself, but he has a rich ‘diggins’ he can scarcely afford to leave. I told him I had to make the trip here and back anyway, on my own affairs, and would be most happy to escort you to him.”
Talitha thought of her father. All she could remember was his dancing in the firelight and riding away with his battalion. Long ago. Before the Apaches. Before Rancho del Socorro and all that had happened since. It seemed more than just one lifetime ago.
“I can’t go,” she said.
Shea said quickly, “Now, lass, we can manage.” To Frost he explained, “My wife is dead. There’s a baby left and Tally’s been wonderful with her. But if her father’s found, of course she should go to him.”
“I don’t see why!” flashed Talitha. “He’s gotten along without us seven years. My mother’s dead, James with the Apaches! I don’t know my father and he doesn’t know me.”
“But, Tally—”
She caught Shea’s hand. “You’re my family! You, the twins, Caterina! Don’t make me go away.”
He gathered her to him for a moment. She hadn’t been in his arms for a long time, since she was little, and she thought what a waste that had been for only now did she know how wonderful it was. But when her arms crept around him, he made a soft, smothered sound and stepped away.
“You’ve been our daughter, Talitha. You always will be. This is your home so long as you want it. But it’s a hard life for you here. You’d have more chances in a town. Parties, pretty clothes, church, a chance to meet some young men.”
“I don’t want to meet them!”
“Not now, maybe, but you will in a few years. At least think about it. Mr. Frost is mighty kind to go to all this trouble.”
Why had he? Frowning, she said rudely, “Well, I wish he hadn’t! I won’t leave unless you make me, Shea, and then I won’t go to San Francisco!”
Judah Frost bowed with a hint of mockery. “Forgive me, Talitha. I truly thought I was serving your best interests. Perhaps you’ll give me a letter to carry to him.”
Admit that she couldn’t write? Talitha’s cheeks burned. “I’ll send some message,” she said in a strangled tone, and set about putting more hot food on the table, as Frost expressed his shock and regrets over Socorro. He was so perfect in his sympathy, so tactful in words and manner, that Talitha ground her teeth.
How she’d love to expose him! But she couldn’t, not ever. He might kill Shea.
The Pajarito Mining and Exploring Company had been legally established and Shea and Santiago each held twenty-four percent of the stock.
“We’ve already found a vein of silver copper glance,” said Revier with that slow, friendly smile at Talitha as she brought him fresh tortillas. “We’ve sme
lted it down and sent it to Guaymas where it ought to fetch a good price for the Asiatic market, perhaps as much as a dollar thirty per ounce.”
“And it was carried on the Santa Cruz Freighting company’s first trip,” laughed Frost. “I raised the capital for the company while I was gone and Louis Jaeger up at Yuma Crossing’s come in on it and is supplying teams and wagons. The next thing is to find a good port in northern Mexico so we won’t have to go to Guaymas to sell or buy.”
“I might be able to find such a place.” Santiago’s abrupt proposal brought everyone’s gaze to him. “One of our vaqueros was part Seri. He told me of several natural harbors along the coast where his people use fishing boats.”
“What’ll do for flimsy small craft may not accommodate cargo ships,” said Frost. “But I’d be most grateful for your efforts. When can you go and what sort of expedition will you need fitted out?”
“Why, señor,” smiled Santiago, and there was something in his eyes that made Talitha uneasy, “I would need you to judge the value of the harbor for I have never seen the sea. We need no one else, just a pack mule for supplies. Thus we shall travel much faster.”
“But Apaches—”
“The farther south we go, the less danger.” Santiago lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Besides, if we meet Apaches it’ll make little difference as to our numbers unless we mean to recruit an army.” His tone held the slightest hint of surprise; could the señor be afraid?
The pupils of Frost’s eyes seemed to dilate. His jaw hardened. “When can you leave?”
Santiago looked at Shea. “It’s a slack time from now till spring,” he said. “I should be back by then.”
“It’s up to you,” Shea acceded, but Talitha’s body tightened in protest even as Frost suggested they leave next morning. She waited for a chance to catch Santiago by himself and after the meal when he said he was going to pack his aparejos, she followed him.
The vaqueros’ quarters held only beds made of rawhide woven between posts driven in the earth, pegs for clothing, a bench and a chest. Saddles, bridles and ropes were hung up much more neatly than vests and extra shirts.
“Santiago.” She paused in the door, but her hands reached out to him. “Don’t go! Please don’t!”
His head lifted with the swift grace she loved in him. He studied her intently. Then he turned and busied himself with his clothes. “Doncellita, it is necessary.”
“Why? Let him find his own port!”
This time when he looked at her, it was she who dropped her eyes. “Am I wrong? I had somehow believed Señor Frost’s company unwelcome to you.”
“It is. I don’t like him—or trust him—one bit.”
“Why is that?”
Should she tell? If Santiago went in the house right now, took a rifle, accused Frost of threatening. Talitha with her friends’ deaths, what would happen? Frost was wearing his gun. She didn’t want to find out if he was as deadly as he claimed. The way he’d carelessly blasted that squirrel had convinced her. The only safe way would be for Santiago to shoot him without warning. She shuddered at that idea, knit her hands together and tried to speak calmly.
“I don’t know. I just don’t like him and I don’t want you to go off together.”
“Would it be better, Talitha, if I went somewhere else?”
She stared at him, puzzled. “Somewhere else? I don’t want you to go anywhere!”
At her cry, his hands tensed on the shirt he was folding. “Don’t make such uproar, chiquita! This Sangrón Bembo Zonzo will be back before you know it!”
She flushed. “You can’t be mad over that still? Oh, Santiago, Socorro’s gone, and James! Don’t you go, too! Nothing will be the same!”
He looked at her for a long time, in a way that stilled the pleading that welled to her lips. “Nothing’s the same anyway,” he said at last. “It never can be. Believe me when I say I have to go for a while.”
It was no use to argue. Tears forced from her eyes, ran down her face, persisted though she brushed them angrily away. “You’ll come back? You’ll at least promise that?”
He came around the bed. To her bemusement, he took her hands. “I’ll come back. Don’t worry about that, my sweet little, fierce little Talitha. I could never stay away.”
And then he pushed her out. As she walked defeatedly toward the house, she glanced up to see Judah Frost watching her.
All that day she was careful to stay where he couldn’t find her alone, but that evening while she was tending Caterina, he came over and bent close, pretending to admire the baby. “So you don’t fancy going to California?” he asked softly. The others, listening to some story of Marc Revier’s, couldn’t hear.
“No,” she returned shortly.
“Then where, Talitha? Where shall I take you?”
“Nowhere!”
“Ah, but it must be somewhere. Some place, some time. I’m patient, Talitha, but be sure it will happen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I wish you hadn’t come back and I hope I never see you again!”
“Careful, love. That big Irisher may hear. You’d hate for him to get hurt, wouldn’t you?”
Talitha turned her back, tucking the covers in loosely at the sides so that perhaps Caterina would fall asleep before she managed to kick them off. The tall man behind her laughed under his breath.
“I have my ranch, Talitha, a freighting company and a mine. Try to get it into your head that what I want, I get. You are young and I can wait but in the end, I’ll have you.”
She was grateful for the approach of footsteps on the hard-packed earthen floor. Marc Revier smiled down at Caterina who made a bubbling laugh and reached for him.
“May I hold her?” he asked Talitha. His English was perfect, with only a hint of accent. “It’s long and long since I had such a one in my arms.”
Caterina looked not the least bit sleepy. Talitha picked her up in the blanket, handed her to the engineer who put her against his shoulder, steadying the back of her head with one big hand.
“You have children?” Talitha asked, relieved that Frost had moved away.
“No.” Revier smiled at her over Caterina’s fluffy hair. The dim light from fire and candle made his blue eyes seem dark, but she was glad she could still see the good-humored lines at his mouth and eyes. “But my sister had two small ones when I left Berlin, one this age. I was amazed, when she first compelled me to pick them up, how sweet the flesh of a child is. Healing, a balm.”
He stared at something beyond them, then said, with a wry down-turning of his lips, “You don’t need that healing yet, Miss Talitha. You must think me babbling.”
She shook her head, liking this stranger in spite of his association with Judah Frost. “Sometimes, when I’m sad, playing with Caterina helps more than anything.”
Which was a marvel. It was only of late that Talitha had been able to look at the baby without remembering her birth, Socorro’s life draining, James going away. It must be even worse for Shea. She sighed and forced her thoughts down another channel.
“Will you go hunting for this port, Mr. Revier?”
“I’ve nothing to do with the freighting, except to smelt down bullion to be hauled. My work’s at the mine and in looking for new locations.”
The pleasantly different sound of his voice charmed her. She would have wanted him to go on talking even if Frost hadn’t been holding forth over by the fire. “How did you chance to come to Sonora, Mr. Revier?”
“Well, like many people from all over the world, I first went to California. I was lucky to find enough gold to invest in this company of Mr. Frost’s, and I was glad to leave California.” He searched for words. “Everyone there seems to be running a fever and it gets more crowded every day. The easy gold is gone and the fighting’s on for what remains.”
“I hope it never gets to be like that here.”
“So do I,” he agreed soberly, then twinkled at her. “Let us hope for just a comfortable amoun
t of silver that pays expenses and yields a reasonable profit.”
“I think your partner wants more than that.”
“Frost? Yes, he’s ambitious, but mining’s only one of his ways of getting rich.”
Rich? It was a word she’d not heard much, but when she stopped to think, she supposed that Shea and Santiago, from selling horses and cattle and the half-profit from Don Narciso’s mine, might be considered a little bit rich. If their investment with Frost didn’t turn into a loss.
Tilting her head at Revier, she asked flatly, “Don’t you want to be rich?”
He chuckled. “I want enough to do what I want when I want and how I want. That’s riches, Talitha. The man so bound up in money-making that it owns him has no freedom, is as much a slave as one he might buy and set to work in his fields.”
She approved of the sound of that though she didn’t completely understand. “Don’t you miss your own country?”
“Yes.” He stroked Caterina’s shoulders. “But I miss my niece and nephew more. I was schooled in England till it was time to study my profession, because my father admired the English to the point of marrying one, so it’s been nothing new to be away. But I shall always love Berlin.”
“Will you go back?”
“To visit, yes. I couldn’t live there unless things changed much more than they’re likely to in my lifetime. I need a freer air.” Again his gaze reached far away. “On the March days of 1848, when King Frederick saluted the bodies of those who’d died on the barricades, and a few days later when he paraded through the streets in the red, gold and black tricolor of the new Germany, I hoped—we all did! I was a member of the Prussian constituent assembly that started in May to plan a new order where all men would vote, where the power of the nobility would be sharply curbed.”
“But weren’t you—” Talitha paused, embarrassed. “Your family must have been pretty well off for you to go to school in England.”
“My father’s a wealthy merchant—and a slave.” Revier shrugged but a trace of pain roughened his words. “He disowned me for charging the barricades. Just as well. I have no bent for commerce but my brother-in-law does.”
The Valiant Women Page 32
