I wondered where Jeremy was. At one of the ranches, perhaps, arranging to buy horses and a wagon for our return to New Orleans. The journey would not be arduous, but we would need many supplies. Jeremy had sold the bracelet to one of the Spanish landowners, and the money it had fetched would more than pay for all we needed. His manner had been grave, polite, deferential when he had come to my room, and although he had limited our talk to matters of business, I had felt that there was much more he wanted to say. He had managed to purchase new clothes for himself, had been dressed like a Spanish vaquero, wonderfully handsome in the slim tobacco-brown pants with a band of tiny silver studs and blue embroidery running up the sides and the short, form-fitting tobacco-brown jacket adorned with bands of similar design. His white shirt had been open at the throat, and a vivid blue scarf had been knotted carelessly around his neck. I wondered if he had purchased a sombrero, too.
Jeremy. What was I going to do about him? I owed him so much. I owed him my life. He was in love with me, there could be no doubt of that, and I was extremely fond of him. Did I love him? There had been moments when I was certain of it, other times when the very idea seemed absurd. I was physically attracted to him, no woman could be immune to that potent magnetism, and during these past weeks I had come to admire him for his strength, his resolution, his stern, uncompromising will and his remarkable bravery, characteristics so out of keeping with the jaunty, devil-may-care charmer I had met in New Orleans. I was attracted to him, yes, and I admired him, but … love?
As I sat there under the cottonwood trees in the silent, sleepy town in the middle of a vast, alien land, I realized that I was afraid. I was afraid to let myself love him. I was afraid to make any kind of commitment. I had loved Derek with all my heart and soul, and that love had almost destroyed me. There had been so much grief, so much anguish, and I couldn’t go through that again. Deep inside I knew that if I allowed myself I could love Jeremy Bond as wildly, as unreasonably, with every fiber of my being, and I was not going to put myself in that position again. There were too many dangers, too many risks involved, and I would be vulnerable, exposed, at the mercy of emotion. No, better by far to bury any feeling I might have for him and face the future alone, relying on no one, depending on nothing but my own strength.
The sound of hoofbeats brought me out of my reverie. I looked up, startled to see Em riding down the street on an enormous, red-brown horse whose shiny coat gleamed in the sunlight. She tugged on the reins, brought the horse to a halt in front of the inn and dismounted nimbly. Tying the reins to a hitching post, she stroked the horse’s cheek, said something to it in a low, gentle voice, and, giving it a final pat, hurried across the street to join me. Her chestnut hair was in a long, thick braid that flopped from shoulder to shoulder as she ran, and she had acquired a light, lovely tan. The extremely low neckline of her white cotton peasant blouse was embroidered with pink and turquoise flowers, the small puffed sleeves pulled off the shoulder. The vivid turquoise skirt that billowed over her petticoats was embroidered at hem and waistband with pink and silver flowers. She wore a pair of thin brown leather sandals that left her feet almost bare.
“Here you are, luv!” she exclaimed. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come, and I forgot the time and had to race to get back to town.”
“Em, where on earth did you get that horse?”
“Rusty? He’s mine, luv!”
“When did you learn to ride?”
“This week. Randolph taught me. Nothing to it. I was scared spitless the first time, of course, absolutely terrified, but I soon got over it. I’ve been riding all over the countryside, and I love it.”
“It seems a lot has happened this week.”
“You’ve no idea,” she said, smiling. “Like my outfit?”
“It’s quite different.”
“Gabriella gave it to me. She’s just my size. I think it’s ever so fetching, and I thought my hair would look nice pulled back like this, braided. Randolph says I already look like a senorita.”
“Who is Gabriella?”
“A lovely girl, luv. She speaks perfect English. So does her father. The two of them are going back to Mexico City, then on to Madrid. They own a gorgeous rancho ten miles outside of town, hundreds and hundreds of acres. They raise horses, stables like you’ve never seen, and there’s a great, sprawling house with thick white adobe walls and red tile roofs and patios and fountains and gardens and everything.”
“I see.”
“I own the place, luv.”
I gazed at her in amazement. Em caught her breath, so full of news she could barely contain herself.
“Maybe I’ve lost my mind, luv, but I’m gloriously, deliriously happy! Señor Lopez has been trying to unload the rancho for two years, ever since his wife died. He wants to take Gabriella back to Madrid where she’ll have an opportunity to meet fine Spanish gentlemen and get herself a suitable husband. I fell in love with the rancho the minute I saw it, all those green, green pastures and cottonwood trees, that wide, sparkling river.”
“You bought it,” I said.
“I didn’t have any money, of course, but I had all the loot I brought back from the island. The candlesticks, the gold and enamel boxes, the jewelry, all of it together worth a bloody fortune. Señor Lopez’ eyes lit up when he saw it. We made a trade then and there. He got the loot, I got the rancho. All the servants are going to stay on, besides Gabriella’s personal maid, and I’m afraid I’m going to have trouble with that cook.”
“You’re going to raise horses?”
“Randolph is, luv. I’m going to sit in the parlor and run the house and fan myself and be the best bloody wife a man ever had. We’re going to be married next week. At the rancho. We’ve already talked to the padre.”
“I think it’s wonderful, Em.”
Em plopped down beside me on the bench and fanned out her turquoise skirt, admiring the lavishly embroidered hem. The long, thick braid had fallen over her left shoulder, and her lightly tanned cheeks were flushed a soft pink. She was silent a moment, lost in thought, and then she looked at me with hazel eyes that were grave now, full of worldly wisdom.
“I couldn’t go back to New Orleans, Marietta. It has too many memories and none of them good. I was—the life I led there—” She hesitated, frowning. “I vowed to make a new start, luv, and I have. I’m damned lucky to have a man like Dick Randolph at my side. He’s ready to settle down, too, and he passes no judgment on me, on my past.”
“You’re going to be very happy.”
“Damned right I am. Randolph made male noises about not letting a woman set him up, he couldn’t let me buy the rancho, he had his pride, that sort of nonsense. I told him if he didn’t shut up he was going to get a boot up his ass.”
“What did he do?”
“He grinned,” she said. “He’s staying out at the rancho now, in one of the bunkhouses, getting the lay of things. Chris and Hurley and Marshall are with him. They’re going to stay with us, luv. They’re going to work at the rancho and share in the profits.”
“How is Chris, Em?”
“He’s bearing up nicely. He doesn’t talk much. He goes off by himself a lot, wandering along the river or riding over the range, spends a lot of time in the stables. He’s wonderful with the horses, luv. He didn’t want to go back to New Orleans.”
“I can understand that.”
“He’s young, luv. He’ll get over it eventually.”
“Being with friends will help.”
“Hurley and Marshall said they didn’t have anything better to do, and Randolph’s delighted. They’ll be a great help, and I’ll feel much better having three more crack shots around, too. There’s still an occasional Indian scare, you know, small bands of Comanches roaming about, looking for horses to steal. We’ll be well protected at the rancho, all those handsome vaqueros. They’re going to stay on, of course, and work for Randolph.”
“When are Gabriella and her father leaving?” I asked.
“Right
after the wedding. The rancho will be completely furnished, by the way. Señor Lopez is leaving all the furniture, that was part of the deal. He has a magnificent wine cellar, too.”
Em fell silent, a thoughtful look in her hazel eyes. She toyed with the heavy chestnut braid that fell across her shoulder and gazed across the square. I could tell that something was bothering her. After a moment she sighed and suggested we stroll around the square and take a closer look at the mission. We crossed the grass, walked under the cottonwood trees on the other side and began to move down the street opposite the inn. The town was so quiet it might have been deserted. It would come alive in an hour or so, would be noisy and festive when the canteens opened up and the vaqueros and ranch hands swarmed in for liquor and merriment.
“I’m happy for you, Em,” I said quietly. “Randolph is a very lucky man.”
“I’m lucky, too, luv. Men like him don’t grow on trees, I can tell you for sure. I should know.”
“That’s bothering you, isn’t it? The other men.”
“It doesn’t bother Randolph,” she replied. “At least he says it doesn’t. He’s fully aware he’s not getting a blushing virgin. He knows about my past—most of it. He loves me, luv, and I guess I love him. I’ve never felt this way before. So much has happened—” She paused. “Jesus, maybe I have lost my mind.”
“Nonsense.”
“Emmeline Jones, a respectable wife. Can you picture it? I’ve always been on my own. I’ve always been on the move. I’ve never depended on anyone. When I think of settling down in one place with one man, it makes me nervous as hell.”
“You mustn’t feel that way.”
“Do you think I can pull it off, luv?”
“I think you’ll pull it off beautifully. You’ve never had an opportunity to be respectable before, Em.”
“Maybe I’ll take to it,” she replied. “One thing about it, in this country no one gives a hang about your past. All the people I’ve met have been friendly as can be. I think they like me.”
“They’re all going to love you,” I assured her.
“We’ll see,” she said.
We stopped in front of the mission and gazed up at the stained-glass windows in their ornate, crumbling molding. Sunlight reflected in the lovely, multicolored panes, and color spilled over the steps in wavering patterns. The deep recess beyond the portico was full of shadows. I could barely see the huge, carved doors, closed now against the midafternoon heat. In the tower that rose above the roof a great bell hung silent, tarnished a moldly copper-green with age. I saw bird nests under the eaves.
“You’ll stay for the wedding, of course,” Em said.
“Of course.”
“There’s going to be a fiesta. Señor Lopez has arranged everything. All the vaqueros and their lady friends will be there to celebrate, most of the settlers, too. There’ll be lights and music and food and liquor and—Jesus, luv, I’m so nervous!”
“You’ll get over that.”
“What if he backs out?”
“He won’t.”
“What if I do?”
I gave her an exasperated look, and she sighed heavily. Then she grinned and took my hand, and we started back toward the inn. The clouds had all disappeared from the sky, leaving it a pure, pale blue that was almost white. Soft violet-gray shadows were beginning to spread over the adobe walls. Juanita’s father was out front, opening the heavy wooden shutters. He smiled at us. Em stroked her horse’s neck and began to untie the reins from the hitching post.
“Are you going back to the rancho?” I asked.
“Randolph and I are having dinner with the Lopezes. Afterward Randolph will go back to the bunkhouse, and Señor Lopez will bring me back here in one of the carriages. Everything very proper until the wedding. I wish you would come, luv. Gabriella and her father are eager to meet you. I could have a carriage sent back for you when I return.”
“I’d better not, Em.”
Em looked at me closely, concerned.
“You’re not going to have Juanita bring up another tray?”
“No. I’ll dine in the taproom.”
“And tomorrow you’re coming out to the rancho with me, whether you want to or not. I’ve been worried about you, luv. All of us have.”
“I just had to be alone for a while, Em. I’m all right now. I’m ready to get on with the business of living, no matter how trying it might be. When I get to New Orleans and sell the jewelry, I’ll be an extremely wealthy woman. That should be some consolation.”
“Luv—”
“I’m sorry, Em. I—I didn’t mean to sound so grim.”
“Things are going to work out for you, too luv. I know they will. Jeremy loves you. I’ve never seen a man so much in love. He’s been worried sick this past week, hanging about like a puppy dog, asking about you, wanting to see you, afraid to intrude.”
I didn’t reply. The wooden shutters clanged as Juanita’s father unfastened them and slammed them back. Em’s horse whinnied, arching its neck, its silky red-brown mane waving. The town was beginning to come alive. Siesta time was over. Em’s eyes were still full of concern, and I forced myself to smile, not wanting to dampen her own joy with my low spirits. The smile didn’t deceive her at all. She frowned, clutching the reins as Rusty whinnied again.
“You love him, too, Marietta.”
“Perhaps. I don’t really know.”
“You love him,” she repeated. “The past is over, luv, it’s over and done with. You’ve been hurt, and you’re afraid. I understand that, but you can’t let the past destroy the future. You’re young and beautiful and you have a whole lifetime ahead of you.”
“I can’t make any decisions, Em. Not now. Not yet.”
Em hesitated. She clearly wanted to say more but was reluctant to do so. I reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I just need a few more days,” I said lightly. “You go back to the rancho and have a grand time. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll let me show you the rancho?”
“Every inch of it,” I promised.
She smiled, relieved, and gave me a quick hug before slipping her sandaled foot into the stirrup and swinging herself into the saddle. She did this with astonishing ease, long braid flapping against her shoulder blades, her turquoise skirt billowing up over her petticoat. She tugged the reins gently, digging her knees into his flanks as Rusty reared and turned, eager to be gone. He galloped down the street, and Em turned in the saddle to wave merrily. I waved back and watched until she disappeared, amazed at her equestrian prowess.
I was very, very pleased for her. The feisty, scrappy little street sparrow who had known such hardship, such adversity, was finally going to have her day of triumph, and I knew that she and Randolph would be very happy, perfectly matched and far more in love than either would admit. They were going to make a new start in a new country. They would grow with it, and their future would be bright, exciting, full of challenge. As I visualized it, my own seemed even bleaker in contrast. A pensive sadness filled me as I turned to go back inside the inn.
Why was I so afraid? Why did I feel so lost, so disoriented? What was I going to do about Jeremy?
Twenty-Eight
Through the open windows of the spacious bedroom assigned to me I could hear the romantic twang of guitars and the merry babble of voices as the guests assembled on the patio. There must be at least a hundred people, I thought but the lovely, tiled patio shaded by cottonwoods and surrounded by gardens could easily accommodate them. Señor Lopez and his daughter would depart tonight to stay at the inn, beginning their long journey tomorrow, and as a parting gesture to the couple who would be taking over the rancho they had spared no expense. Em’s wedding and the fiesta following it would be the most elaborate social affair yet seen in these parts.
Colored lanterns hung from the branches of the cottonwood trees. Tonight they would spray red and blue and golden shadows over the dancers who whirled to the tunes pl
ayed by guitars and fiddles. Servants bustled about the tables set up on the lawn beyond the gardens, laden already with food and liquor, and in a gigantic pit two steers were cooking over smouldering coals. Señor Lopez had even exhumed fireworks that had been brought all the way from Mexico City some time ago and stored in the basement for just such an occasion. There was an air of excitement and anticipation that seemed to have infected everyone at the rancho for the past week as arrangements were made and invitations sent out.
I glanced at the clock. Less than half an hour remained before Em and I were due downstairs. Señor Lopez would escort her out to the patio and to the flower-bedecked altar where Randolph would be waiting with the padre. I would march behind them carrying a lavish, dripping bouquet of camellias, white roses, and lacy white fern. I stepped over to the mirror for a final examination, the skirt of my deep blue silk gown making soft, silken music as it rustled over the ivory lace underskirts. It was wonderful to feel fine silk caressing my skin again, to be wearing subtle, exquisite perfume and makeup, these last courtesy of Gabriella, whose bedroom this had been.
Glistening red-gold waves were sculpted on top of my head, rich with copper highlights, a mass of long ringlets dangling down my back. My lids were softly etched with pale mauve-blue shadow, my cheeks brushed with the faintest touch of pink that made the hollows less pronounced. I had applied a touch of lip rouge as well, the deep pink emphasizing their natural color. I looked at the reflection with cool objectivity. The tired, haggard look was gone, yes, but the eyes were still sad, the mouth still drooping faintly at the corners. The radiant glow that love alone supplies had been missing for some time, and the woman in the glass seemed older, wearied by life.
Love Me, Marietta Page 47
