He watched her carefully, alarmed now, but refusing to show it. “I have heard of it.”
“Well, we who are promoting Denver and Colorado expect it to be passed soon, and we think it is a wonderful way to attract new settlers—people who will be more permanent and reliable than the transient mine workers. That land your grandfather ranches will likely be opened up to settlement, and there isn’t a thing he can do about it.” She folded her arms. “Of course, your grandfather could lay claim to his hundred and sixty acres under the act, but I highly doubt that is enough land if a man wants to have a ranch. In the meantime, others will claim pieces of land all around it.”
She walked past him, then turned to face him again. “I can put on quite an advertising campaign to promote that area, Mr. Vallejo. I can also pay people who would be very glad to harass your family and make sure they vacate that land completely. I also have enough pull to claim it for myself—all of it. I’ve been thinking that it might be a good area in which to invest, since it is closer to Pikes Peak. Colorado City is growing, and the land to the south could become good farmland. I already own land to the south, and I need more, Mr. Vallejo. Denver is too dependent on outside resources for its food. We’ve got to start growing more of our own, and I intend to expand my farming project.” Her face became brighter as she saw the dread move into his eyes. “Of course, what I could do is buy up all that land and let your family stay on as hired help. How would your grandfather feel about working as my farmhand? Is he just a rancher, or does he like to dig in the dirt and carry water?”
Ramon felt a lump in his throat that made it ache. He wished he could destroy her. He could defeat this woman in every way—except when it came to power and money. “You are a cruel woman, Señora Kirkland,” he said, his voice gruff with hatred.
She held his eyes boldly. “When it comes to what is best for my children, yes, I can be very cruel, Mr. Vallejo. I don’t mind the label. Out here a person has to be tough, and sometimes cruel, to survive. I want you to stay away from my daughter, Mr. Vallejo. I want you to go back to your hacienda for a few months. Let Irene think this was all just a passing fancy. As long as it hasn’t gone too far, she’ll get over it. She has everything she needs, and she has plenty of love and support. She’ll be all right. She doesn’t know it yet, but later this fall I am sending her to a finishing school in Chicago. She will be gone until next spring. By then you will be out of her blood, and she will be out of yours.”
Ramon shook his head. “How little you understand. Perhaps it is because you have never truly loved that you cannot realize Irene will never be out of my blood, or out of my heart.”
“What do you know about my ability to love, Mr. Vallejo? There is a lot you don’t understand, and I don’t intend to explain it to the likes of you. In any case, you are young and handsome, and Irene is even younger, and very beautiful. Both of you will easily find another to love and return your love. Both of you have many years ahead of you, but not together, Mr. Vallejo. Leave my daughter alone, and leave Denver for a while, or I will see that your family is left homeless. I am sure your grandfather must love his hacienda very much. Do you want to be responsible for making him a wandering beggar in his old age, for taking away what pride he has left? You said yourself he would consider marriage to a white woman a disgrace to the family. Marry into your own race, Mr. Vallejo, for your grandfather’s sake. It will save a lot of people a lot of heartache.”
“And what about Irene? What is she to think? I have a right to at least speak with her once more.”
“You have no rights, Mr. Vallejo. If you try to see her again, or if you ever let on to her that we had this conversation and turn my daughter against me, I will make good on my threats. I think you know I can and will do it.”
He slowly nodded his head “Sí, I suppose you can, but I will make you a promise, Señora Kirkland. Someday Ramon Vallejo will be a wealthy man, perhaps even as wealthy as the Kirklands. Someday my name will be just as important within Denver society. You have only given me more incentive than I have ever had before. And nothing you have done or said here today will change the way I feel about mi querida Irene. Perhaps I will marry another, and perhaps she will do the same. But the love we feel will always be there. Time and circumstance will not erase it.”
She hated him for being capable of such love. She wondered for a moment if she was against this just because it was wrong for Irene, or because she was so jealous of their young, devoted love, their ability to express that love with such passion. She saw a sincerity in Ramon’s eyes that told her he truly did love Irene for herself, that he wanted nothing to do with her money. She found it incredible and decided he must be a very foolish and reckless man. But then Mexican men were supposed to be. hot-blooded, putting their lust and desires before practical necessities.
“Perhaps you will always love her, which I doubt,” she answered. “But you will never have her. Good-bye, Mr. Vallejo. I will explain to your patŕon that your grandfather is sick and you have to go back to the hacienda right away.”
“I will do my own explaining,” he told her. “Do not worry. I will be gone before the sun sets.”
Bea felt his bitter hatred. “Very well,” she answered. She started for the door, then turned. “By the way, was there some kind of trouble yesterday when you and Irene went riding?”
He frowned. “Why do you think there was?”
“Just answer my question, Mr. Vallejo.”
He held her eyes. “Three men—drifters. They tried to make trouble for Irene. I chased them off. One of them probably has a very bad headache today, perhaps a dent across the side of his head where my rifle barrel landed on him.”
“I see.” She began rummaging in her purse. “Well, you must have made quite an impression on Irene, being her valiant savior and all. I am sure that is what motivated her to let you kiss her. She’ll realize her folly, in time.” She pulled out a wad of bills. “This paper money won’t buy as much as gold, Mr. Vallejo, but it does have purchasing power. Here is two hundred dollars for coming to Irene’s aid, although I must add that you had no business letting her ride that far in the first place, no business riding with her at all.”
“She asked me to,” he told her. This time it was Ramon whose eyes were hostile. “I don’t want your money, Señora Kirkland. I am sorry that you do not understand there are other things more important than gold and power. You must be a very unhappy woman. I only hope Irene does not end up bitter and hateful like her mother. It would be a shameful loss.”
Bea stiffened, shoving the money back into her handbag. Without another word she turned and left, and Ramon stared at the doorway, a fierce pain in his gut that made him grasp his stomach. The worst part about this whole thing was that he was not going to have the chance to explain. If he told Irene the truth, Bea Kirkland would make good on her threats, and he could not do that to his grandfather and the rest of the family. But just to leave, to say nothing—Irene would think he had used her, toyed with her heart, grabbed the opportunity to kiss a rich gringa. She would hate him.
Tears filled his eyes and he turned away. Of course she would hate him, and Bea Kirkland knew it! That was the plan. Without having to say a word to Irene, she had managed to put an end to their love, and the only one who would look bad was Ramon Vallejo.
Irene could hardly eat for thinking of Ramon, wondering how and when they could be together again. Bea had asked her to take care of Kirk all day while Bea was away on business. There had been no opportunity to go up to the new house. Because John had stayed in town all day, she could not even ask her brother if he had talked to Ramon. She swallowed a piece of meat, but it felt like lead. She wondered if people ever died from loving too much, especially if they couldn’t have the one they loved.
“Irene, you take a tray up to your father when we’re finished,” Bea told her, interrupting her thoughts.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered quietly.
“I think he’ll do much better
now that he’s getting some decent food. Men on the march don’t eat nearly as well as they should.”
“Father says he’ll feel better when he goes to the mountains again,” Irene put in.
Bea scowled. “Him and his mountains. They’ll kill him one of these days, that’s what.” She glanced at John. “John, I have a project for you that might surprise you.”
John looked at his mother curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Bea answered, gauging her words. She hated to hurt Irene, but it had to be done and over with. “It seems that Mexican fellow—Ramon Vallejo, isn’t that his name?”
John nodded, glancing at Irene, whose stomach began to ache more.
“Well, the man has just up and left us flat, without finishing his work.” Bea dished herself a second helping of potatoes, refusing to look at Irene. “That’s how it is with these Mexicans—totally unreliable. He was nearly finished. Henry Brown isn’t sure why he left. He said something about going back to his own people, where he belongs, something about missing his home—lives someplace south of us, I’m told.”
“Ramon? He wouldn’t just leave without finishing a job,” John told her. “And I know he’d tell me good-bye first.”
Bea cocked her eyebrows. “Well, now you know what I’ve been telling you all along. You simply can’t count on people like that. Who knows the real reason he left? I remember Mr. Brown telling me once that there is some woman down near Colorado City that Ramon is supposed to marry. Perhaps Ramon missed her and decided to go home to be with her. Whatever the reason, it’s probably best that he’s gone. I didn’t like him being around Elly and Irene when they were up there. Mexican men can be very charming. I’ve known more than one instance where pretty young girls were taken advantage of by men like that, just for a chance to touch or kiss what they call gringa.”
She kept the conversation casual, as though completely innocent of any knowledge of the reason Ramon might have left, giving no thought to the fact that she was teaching Elly a good lesson in deceit.
“So, John,” Bea continued, “since you love carving so much, I thought you might want to try your hand at finishing what little is left.”
“Me?” John’s eyes lit up. “But I’m not as good as Ramon, Mother.”
“You’re good enough. We’ll call it a temporary reprieve. I know it’s hard for you to concentrate on the family business, but you must understand that is how it must be, John. I’ll let you finish the work up at the house if you promise not to put up a fuss when I send you back to Kirkland Enterprises.”
“I won’t. Thank you, Mother.” He shook his head. “I can’t figure out why Ramon left, though. I wish he’d said good-bye.”
Irene suddenly scooted back her chair. “I feel sick again, Mother,” she said, her voice strained. “May I be excused?”
Bea looked at her in concern, her heart torn at the look in Irene’s eyes. She reminded herself this was for Irene’s own good. “Irene, you have said you were sick two nights in a row. I think the doctor should see you.”
“I—I don’t need a doctor,” she answered, struggling not to break into tears.
“Well, if this keeps happening, I’ll have Dr. Aimes look at you the next time he comes to see Kirk. Run upstairs then, and get yourself to bed.”
Irene quickly left, and Elly, who was certain she knew the reason Ramon had left, smiled inwardly. She knew her mother had gone up to the house this morning. Oh, how she wished she could have heard what Bea had told Ramon! Whatever it was, he was gone, and now Irene knew how it felt to love someone and not be able to have him.
Irene hurried to her room, closing the door and breaking into a torrent of tears that racked her body violently. Ramon! What had happened! Why had he gone? Was it true what her mother had said about Mexican men? Had Ramon just used his dark, handsome looks and charm to get a kiss from her? Would he go home and laugh with his friends about it?
The tears poured forth uncontrollably. She felt totally alone and deserted, in spite of having her family around her. After what her mother had said, how could she go to Bea and tell her about this terrible hurt? Elly would only laugh at her and tell on her, and her father was too sick to be upset with something he probably would never understand anyway.
She cried until she thought she might be sick. She felt weak and spent, with barely the strength to sit up when she heard someone knock at the door. “You in there, Irene?” She recognized John’s voice. “Yes,” she answered in a voice that sounded small and far away.
John cautiously came inside, closing the door. He came over to the bed and sat down beside her. “I’m sorry…about Ramon.”
His words brought back the hurt again, and she broke into a new fit of tears. “I…don’t believe it, John. It can’t be true…that he just left like that. Something happened. He wouldn’t just…leave…without talking to us.”
“I know what you mean. We were good friends.”
She turned a puffy, tear-stained face to his. “Do you think it’s true…what Mother said about Mexican men? Ramon…kissed me, John. You’re…the only one who knows.” Her chest jerked in a sob as her brother stared at her, surprised. “Do you think…he just used me…that he would laugh at me?”
John shook his head. “I don’t know, Irene. I don’t know much about stuff like that.” He put his arm around her shoulders, feeling sorry for his older sister. “Maybe he just knew the best thing to do was go back to his people, Irene. Maybe he did it for you, even though he knew it would hurt your feelings. Maybe he just didn’t want to make trouble for anybody. You know Ramon. He’s kind of quiet, and he’s pretty close to his family. Maybe he thought it was all for the best. But that wouldn’t mean he didn’t really love you. Maybe he did it because he loves you.”
She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief that was already soaked with her tears. “Do you…really think so?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of. Ramon is an honorable man. I don’t think he’d hurt you on purpose. And maybe he left without even seeing me because he was afraid he’d see you again, too, and then he’d lose his courage to do what was right.”
“Maybe.” She blew her nose. “And maybe he’ll come back, John.”
The boy sighed deeply. “The way he left, I bet he won’t. He must be pretty determined. He’ll probably marry that Mexican girl, Irene. He told me about her a couple of times.”
Irene gripped her stomach, a raging jealousy tearing through her with relentless pain. “But …I want to be his wife.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “You can’t be, Irene. Even I understand that. But you’ve got your memories of him. We both do. And we know most of what Mother says about Mexicans isn’t true, and it probably isn’t true about the Indians or the Chinese either. Let her think what she wants. We don’t have to be like her.”
Irene straightened. “No,” she answered, remembering her father’s words. Don’t ever change, Irene. Don’t let life’s heartaches turn you into a bitter, unhappy woman. “I love Mother, John.” She met his eyes again, feeling suddenly calmer. “But I don’t ever want to be like her.”
“Elly is like her, only worse. At least Mother has some excuse. I mean, she had a hard life in the beginning and all. When she does something we don’t like, it’s usually because she really thinks it’s for our own good. Elly, she’s just plain mean,” he said.
Irene rose, going to her dresser to get out a clean handkerchief. She didn’t want to think about Mother or Elly right now. She was sick with love and disappointment, and she wanted to feel the hurt, realizing that the more she hurt, the more she was sure Ramon had loved her, for surely he had done this for her, just as John said. Was Ramon hurting, too? Was he crying? She liked to think that he was. It was her only comfort.
“I’d like to wash my face and go to bed,” she told John, her head beginning to ache fiercely. “Thank you for coming to talk to me, John.”
He shrugged, getting up from the bed. “I feel bad, too, s
o I know you must feel a lot worse. Just think about Chad Jacobs, Irene. Anybody can see he likes you a lot, and he’s good-looking and successful and all.”
“He’s all right. But he’s not Ramon,” she answered quietly. How could she explain to her younger brother how it felt to realize Ramon would never hold her again? That she would never feel his mouth on her own again, never be able to be a wife to him? She turned to face John. “I’ll always love him, John. Always. It’s our secret, isn’t it?”
Her brother nodded. “I’m not a tattletale like Elly.”
Elly. Irene thought about the way her sister had come in after she did yesterday, out of breath from running. Had Elly seen something and told her mother? Surely not. She would have blurted it right out and stood around to watch Bea scream and yell and give orders. She would have wanted to bask in Irene’s punishment, and Bea would have dragged Ramon to the house and ordered both of them never to see each other again. But Bea didn’t seem to know anything about it. In fact, she seemed upset with Ramon for leaving without notice, before his work was finished.
Irene and John hugged. John wished he could do or say something to make Irene feel better. He loved his older sister. In the whole family Irene was the only one he could talk to, the only one with whom he felt comfortable.
He knew his father wanted to be closer to him, but there was something about Kirk that made it difficult for John to talk to his father. Maybe it was because Kirk was such a man of the world, had done so many exciting things in his life. His father was big and strong, a mountain man who knew how to survive difficult situations. John always felt inadequate around the man, wondering if he would ever live up to his father’s image.
He headed for his own room, unaware that Elly had come up the stairs in time to see him come out of Irene’s room. Elly’s heart filled with jealousy over the fact that her brother and Irene had always been close. She stuck out her tongue at John, then tiptoed to the door to Irene’s room, listening carefully. She stifled a snicker when she heard Irene sobbing. She felt victorious, and the knowledge that Chad could never belong to her was easier to bear. Even the prettiest girls didn’t always get what they wanted.
In the Shadow of the Mountains Page 18
