"And you know how I feel about you. But are you sure you want to tell me all this? You shouldn't upset yourself this way. It's just stirring up bad memories."
"I've got to. Because the only way you can help me set things right is to hear me out and hear my sins. A long time ago, I did something real bad, something that has haunted me ever since."
"We've all done things we're ashamed of."
"But I've got a big skeleton hiding in my closet, and you have to help me bring it out in the open so I can go to my grave in peace."
"All you have to do is ask," Steve said—and meant it.
Ned turned his head to stare into the shadows, as though he could actually see the past unfolding there. He was silent for so long Steve dared to hope he would just drift off to sleep and forget all about the conversation in the morning. But then he faced him once more, and Steve could see the anguish that remembering had brought to his eyes.
"My father and I never got along. I worshiped my mother, and we never had a cross word, but my old man and I always seemed to be at odds over something. The final straw came when he got it in his head that I was going to marry Edith White. He liked her family and said she came from good blood to mix with mine to carry on the Ralston name. I refused but he kept on, and things got so bad I had to leave home. I hated to hurt my mother, but I just couldn't take the nagging any longer."
Ned described how, after drifting for a while, he had wound up in Texas to become a follower of Sam Houston, joining him in the memorable battle of San Jacinto in 1836.
"I got wounded pretty bad and was weak from losing blood. My horse took me a long way from the battle site, and a Tonkawa Indian girl found me and nursed me back to health. Her name was... Lakoma."
The way Ned spoke her name, hesitating for a second as though savoring the sound, told Steve that she was the key to what this was all about.
"She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, before or since. Her hair was as black and silky as a raven's wing, and her eyes were brown like good rich coffee. And her skin..."
Steve noticed the color had begun to come back into Ned's face as he savored the fond memories.
"Her skin was like fine wine. Lord, she was a princess! I loved her and she loved me. I know she did. She nursed me back to health, hiding me from her people, because she was afraid of what they would do if they found out she was helping a white man. Finally, when I was well enough to visit a nearby outpost, I found a message waiting that I had to return home right away if I wanted to see my mother before she died."
Steve could figure out the rest of the story. "So you left her and you never forgot her. But that was a long time ago. I doubt I could find her now if that's what you're about to ask me to do."
"She married somebody else."
Steve's brows lifted. Ned's story was taking an unexpected twist.
"I meant to go back. I promised Lakoma I would. But the truth is when I got home and found out she was actually dying of a broken heart from missing me, I was hard-struck with guilt.
"Oh, I wish you could have seen her when she saw me after all those years." He shuddered with the pain of rememberance. "Then you'd understand why it broke my heart. Her face lit up like sunshine, and she found the strength to sit up in that bed and tell me then and there that if I ever went off and left her again, the day I did she would be dead before the sun went down. And I believed her, Steve. I truly did.
"After that," he continued with a deep sigh, "I let my guilt convince me it wouldn't have ever worked out for me and Lakoma to be together. My parents would never have accepted an Indian for a daughter-in-law, so she couldn't have been part of my world, and I'm ashamed to say it but back then I wasn't willing to give up my world for hers. Especially when I knew it would kill my mother. So I tried to put her out of my mind, but I couldn't. Not a day went by that I didn't think about her. I tried to see she was taken care of. I had a friend out there, an Indian agent named Seth Greer. I wrote him and asked him to see if he could find her and let me know how she was doing. He found her for me, all right—and when he did, he married her," he added with a grimace.
"Then you knew she was taken care of."
"You don't understand." With a broken sob, his face crumpling with emotion, Ned whispered, "You see, she had my baby. She had my daughter, Steve. And I didn't know about it till it was too late. If I had, I swear I never would have married Edith. Nothing would have kept me from going back and doing the right thing by my child... not even my mother."
Steve drew a sharp breath. Now he knew why Ned had been unable to get Lakoma out of his mind.
"Seth wrote he was raising my girl like she was his own. I sent money to help out. He took some of it, and once in a while he would write a note telling me they were all fine. A few years ago—" his voice cracked again, and he swallowed hard before continuing—"he wrote me that Lakoma had died. It hurt me through and through, and I wrote right back to tell him how sorry I was, and how I would keep sending money for the girl but time went by and I didn't hear from him again. Finally, my letters started coming back marked UNCLAIMED. That's when I figured there was nothing else I could do. I'd lost track of him and my daughter. So once again I talked myself into believing it was all for the best. But now, faced with dying myself, I've got to try and set things right. And that's where you come in."
Steve groaned inwardly.
"I want you to go to Texas and try to find her. I know it won't be easy, because the only thing I can tell you is where Seth was the last time I heard from him. He had quit his job as Indian agent and was running a trading post near Fort Inge, west of San Antonio. And all I know about my girl is that her name is Raven. I figure they called her that because she probably had black hair like her mother," he added wistfully.
Steve realized he had been mistaken in thinking Ned was unhappy merely because he was lonely. The man was haunted by his past. But what could Steve do about it? Even if he did find the girl, surely Ned did not expect him to bring her back?
But that was exactly what Ned expected.
"I want to meet her before I die. I want to make her see things would have turned out different if I'd only known about her before I married Edith." He paused to blink back tears. "I'm sorry to say I've never been a praying man, but I'm sure going to be praying now that the Lord will give me a little extra time, that he won't call me home till you get back here with Raven so I can tell her what's in my heart and we can get to know each other. Who knows? Maybe we can even learn to love each other. Most of all, I want to make sure she gets what's rightfully hers."
"Halcyon," Steve murmured.
"Exactly."
Curiously, impulsively, Steve asked, "Where do Lisbeth and Julius figure in all this? They're going to be plenty upset."
"They will for a while, but I think they'll accept it in time. Edith spoiled them rotten, but they aren't all bad. Besides, I've provided for them. Lisbeth will have a generous dowry. As for Julius, he's going to have to learn what it's like to work for a living, and that'll be good for him." He saw no need to explain to Steve the details of his stipulation that Julius would have to work at the docks for a nominal salary till his thirtieth birthday, when he would then inherit the vast shipping holdings if he had not quit. Otherwise, Raven would also get that part of the estate.
"If Raven allows it," he went on, "they can keep on living at Halcyon. There's room for them all to raise families here, but that will be up to her."
"And if I can't find her?"
"You will," Ned said confidently. "You're a good man. You've got grit. I knew that the first time we met. And when you set your mind to do something, you do it. And maybe you could take Starfire."
Steve noticed that Ned's confession had taken a lot out of him. He had turned pale again and his breathing was becoming labored. "Well, I never could ride Starfire, remember? I busted my butt both times I tried."
Ned smiled. Talking about his prize racking horse always made him proud. "Well, that's nothing t
o be ashamed of. Nobody has ever been able to ride him but me. There's never been another horse with such spirit, and you know it."
The smile faded. "Steve, you've got to find my daughter and bring her home. I realize she may not want to come. Hell, Lakoma may have poisoned her against me. But you make her do it, whether she wants to or not. If she doesn't want to stay, I won't try to make her, but I'm bound and determined to meet her and have my say."
Steve frowned. "What if she decides to leave after you're gone? What will happen to Halcyon? I'd hate to see her sell it to strangers."
"That can't happen, because I've stipulated in my will that if she leaves within a set amount of time, everything will be divided between Julius and Lisbeth."
Steve nodded, relieved.
Ned reached to touch his arm, his expression intense. "Don't dawdle. I may not have much time left."
"I'll leave at first light. I'd better try to get a few hours' sleep between now and then."
"Don't tell anybody where you're going or why."
"You know I won't." He headed for the door.
"Steve?"
He turned warily. Ned had worn himself out. It was time to end the conversation.
"I want you to know I've provided for you in my will, but I'm not leaving you the racking horses, even though I know how much they mean to you."
"You don't have to leave me anything, Ned," Steve was quick to tell him. "I don't expect it."
Ned waved him to silence. "I included the horses with everything at Halcyon, because I'm hoping Raven has enough of me in her to love them like I do. But I have seen to it that you'll have enough money to buy some horses of your own and maybe even a little farm somewhere."
Steve felt a lump in his throat. "In these past three years you've given me something money can't buy. And if I ride out of here with nothing more than the clothes on my back, I'll always be grateful to you for making me feel like I was a part of something. You've been good to me, Ned, and that's why I'm going to do my damnedest to find your daughter for you."
Outside, her ear pressed against the door, Lisbeth listened, eyes wide, lips parted in a silent gasp. Frozen with shock over all she had just heard, it was only at the last possible second, when Steve's hand was turning the knob, that she came alive in time to avoid being caught eavesdropping and scrambled to hide once more.
Her heart pounding, she waited till she was sure Steve had left the house before daring to move. Then she hurried to the opposite wing of the house, where Julius had a suite across from her own. Some nights he stayed in Mobile, but much to her relief this was not one of them.
His door was locked, or she would have burst right in, so desperate was she to tell him what she had just heard.
It took him awhile to respond to her frenzied knock. "Do you know what time it is?" he asked, sleepy and annoyed.
She pushed by him into the sitting room, waiting till he had closed the door before announcing, "It would have been a blessing if Ned had died all those years ago when he was wounded at San Jacinto!"
Julius stared at her incredulously. "You came here in the middle of the night just to say that? Have you lost your mind?"
"No, but Ned has sure lost his if he thinks he can flaunt his shameful past and rob us of what is rightfully ours."
"Is this the aftermath of some nightmare you've had?"
"Oh, it's a nightmare, all right." She laughed bitterly. "The worst you could ever imagine," Not about to admit she had gone to Steve's quarters earlier, she said she had heard him go to Ned's room, and, because the hour was so late, feared it meant Ned had taken a turn for the worse, so she had gone to find out and then could not help overhearing what was said between them.
Furiously, she recounted Ned's confession.
Julius turned pale as he listened, and when she had finished, he murmured, stunned, "Mother always claimed he went away to sow his wild oats. Thank God, she was spared knowing they took root and sprouted."
"Well, she might have been spared, but we won't be. We'll be shamed forever. I'll be a social outcast. I just know it."
"No one is going to find out. Calm down. I don't think we've got anything to worry about."
"How can you say that? Once Steve brings that half-breed here, everyone will know. You've got to stop him." She grasped the front of his robe. "You've got to make him see it'll ruin everything.
"Listen," she said in a rush, "We both know how he loves the racking horses. We'll tell him he can have all of them if he'll just pretend to go look for her and then, after a while, come back and say he couldn't find her."
"But you just said you heard Ned tell him he was leaving him enough money to buy his own horses. He doesn't have to make any deals with us." Julius swung his head slowly from side to side. "No, I don't think it's wise to let him know we're aware of any of this."
"Well, we have to do something!"
"No, we don't, and if you'll stop and think about it, you'll realize you're getting all upset for nothing. Steve has to go to some godforsaken place to try and find a half-breed Indian girl known only as Raven that no one has heard anything about for years. The chances of his succeeding are practically nonexistent. As for finding out Ned had a child by another woman, it doesn't matter, and we shouldn't think less of him for it. It happened a long time ago, before he was married to Mother. No doubt he's thinking about it now because he knows he's going to die soon. People faced with death do that. They start trying to make peace with themselves. It's only natural."
"I suppose you're right." Based on what she'd heard Ned say, she knew there really wasn't much for Steve to go on. Still, she fretted. "I can't help wishing he wouldn't even try to find her."
"He has to, because if he refuses, Ned might get mad and snatch back the slice of pie he's carved out for him. Stop worrying and go get some sleep."
Lisbeth left him and tiptoed down the hall toward her own room, glad Julius had allayed her fears. Now she felt confident that Steve would ultimately fail.
And she would be waiting to gloat when he did, which would give her some revenge, at least, for how he had spurned her.
Chapter 3
The sun was a shapeless gold flame, toasting the land and parching the chaparral and mesquite that dared to sprout from the rocks and sand.
Since passing through San Antonio and heading farther west, Steve felt as though he were locked in wilderness and would never reach civilization again. The ground swells were long and so equal in height and similar in form that they reminded him of a tedious sea voyage he'd taken years back, when the ship had plowed along, hour after slow hour, without raising a single object to attract the eye.
Everything seemed to blend into the horizon in all directions, with nothing in between save an occasional barren hillock or dry gulch, starkly framed by the distant mountains.
He rode with a bandanna across his nose and the lower part of his face to keep the dust out of his throat.
He had traveled steadily since leaving Mobile, stopping only at night. During the day, he paused to water his horse while he ate a portion of his rations. Time was precious. It was going to be hard to decide when to give up and turn back if he could not find Ned's daughter. And if it came to that, he only hoped Ned would feel some peace to know he had tried his best.
He was alert for any hint of danger, because everyone he had talked to since crossing into Texas had said they lived in constant fear of an Indian attack. Nearly eight thousand soldiers were manning fifty-two forts on the western frontier, but even with all the reservations that had been established, it still wasn't enough to protect the settlers from the Indians, who were enraged over the white man's invasion of what they firmly believed was their land. Steve had not been too concerned till after he reached the other side of San Antonio. Now, alone in the wastelands, he could not help wishing he had a guide with him who would know where Indians were most likely to be and could spot signs he might not notice.
So, ever mindful of his surroundings, he wiled away
the hours by ruminating on his own life.
He thought about the money Ned was leaving him and how it really made no difference, regardless of the amount. The fact was, the one thing Steve wanted Ned could not leave him—and that was having a real home. He'd felt that he did for the first time in his life when he accompanied Ned back to Halcyon, but with Ned gone it would seem like home no longer.
He supposed sooner or later he would have to move on, because he sure as hell didn't intend to hang around and take Lisbeth up on her offer. Maybe some men would leap at the chance, but not him. If not for that awkward situation, he might have considered staying on to tend the horses.
Ned sometimes nagged him to find a wife. Steve would laugh at the notion, not admitting he had no intentions of ever getting hitched. He just couldn't see himself falling in love with a woman and wasn't about to marry otherwise. Love hurt. And he had learned the only way to keep from being hurt was not to expect anything from a woman beyond the moment at hand. That way, he was spared disappointment.
His mother had died giving birth to him, and no one seemed sure who his father was. After all, a woman struggling to survive on the Philadelphia waterfront in 1830, as his mother had been forced to do, could hardly be concerned with the names of her customers.
His only known relative, an aunt, had taken him to raise, and when she died before his fourth birthday he was put in an orphanage. Bitterly, he remembered clinging to indifferent matrons' skirts, crying and begging for attention, only to be impatiently pushed away, sometimes even slapped and knocked to the floor. Then, when he was old enough, he was placed in homes to do chores, forced to work hard for long cruel hours and beaten if he dared to complain.
He had learned about sex from girls in the households where he lived. A sixteen-year-old had sneaked into his attic bed when he was twelve and was the first of too many to remember. But there had never been any tenderness, just pleasures of the flesh which became solace amidst the misery of his life.
Simply Heaven Page 2
