Bea glowed with pride at the letter, and only Irene suspected it was Elly’s way of winning her mother’s confidence and attention. She mentioned to Chad that night that she was sorry for Elly, who she suspected had always felt a little neglected. She would never know the twinge of guilt the statement brought to her husband, who just the day before had written to Elly to tell her how much he missed their liaisons. Irene still had no idea her husband had slept many times with her own sister in their bed. Nor did she know that the reason Chad had been home more at nights was because his latest affair was with his secretary, Milicent Delaney, who gladly obliged him in the back room of Kirkland Enterprises. He didn’t worry that Milicent would give away their secret. After all, she had a husband and three children of her own. She wanted their affair to remain secret as much as Chad did.
Chad felt smugly satisfied. He had found a replacement for Elly, while putting on a show of the happy father-to-be. At least this was a baby he could acknowledge and take credit for, and Irene’s pregnancy was proof to the outside world that they had a happy marriage.
The only dark spot for Irene on that Christmas of 1868 was that no one had heard from John in months. He was twenty now and had been gone four years, choosing to stay at school year-round so that he could finish sooner. “I can’t come home,” he had written Irene once. “I hate it here in the East, hate the weather, hate what I’m doing. If I come home, I’ll never come back and finish, and dear old Mother wouldn’t like that, would she?”
Progress reports from Harvard showed John was doing well scholastically, but the few letters Irene had received showed a despondent young man who was not living the life he would have chosen, and she worried about his drinking. Six months ago the letters had stopped completely, and Bea had said she would “check into it,” complaining that John had never been a very grateful son.
Irene tried not to fret over John, not wanting to let herself get too upset. She wanted to stay happy and calm, to take no chances with her pregnancy. She wanted this child more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She was sure the baby would change everything for her marriage. Chad seemed so happy, was so much more attentive. With a baby to hold and love and nurture, she was sure she could at last find the happiness that had so far eluded her.
Winter of 1868 passed into spring of 1869, and because the rest of the family was busy with the new railroad company, Irene took over the projects closer to home, one of which was the building of yet another new Methodist church. The family’s chosen church had again outgrown its capacity, and a much bigger, grander building was being planned. They had come a long way from the little log building in which the Reverend Stanner had preached. Irene offered to head the committee to raise funds and take bids for the project, and in March of 1869, a meeting was called to talk to various contractors.
In spite of her growing belly, Irene felt good, and she took on the project with enthusiasm, hoping to have her baby christened in the new church. She sat at the front of the current church with the other members of the committee, while members and bidders filed inside for the meeting. She opened the meeting herself, explaining what the church wanted to do, apologizing for the absence of her parents and husband.
She looked up when the door opened to allow yet another member of the public inside, and her words stuck in her throat when she saw who had just entered. She stared at him in such surprise that others turned to look, deciding Mrs. Jacobs’s sudden speechlessness was due to the fact that a Mexican man, most likely a Catholic, had entered the building.
Ramon Vallejo looked back at Irene with equal surprise. He had not known this was her church, or that she was on the planning committee for the building project in which he was interested. He had been back in Denver only a few days. He had become good friends with Jack Scotland, a wealthy Irish-Catholic who attended mass at the grand cathedral he had built in Los Angeles and who had contacted several of Denver’s elite to suggest that Ramon Vallejo was the best man for any major building project. It was an excellent connection that promised to secure Ramon a permanent niche among Denver’s upper echelon.
Ramon had returned a rich man. Irene stared at a tall, dark, even more handsome man than the one who had left. He wore a dark silk suit and a white ruffled front shirt. He had changed, his physique more manly now, and his skin even darker from the California sun.
Their eyes met and held for a moment, both of them in near shock. Irene had not expected ever to see him again, and Ramon had not expected to encounter her so soon after returning, or to see her heavy with child—Chad Jacobs’s child. He was almost stunned at the stab of jealousy the sight brought to his soul. He had been so sure, after being gone four years, that he had finally gotten over her, that it was safe to come back to Denver—safe for his heart.
Now, here she stood, as beautiful as ever, but pregnant with another man’s baby. So, the marriage must be improving, he thought. That was good—for Irene. He moved into a pew and sat down, feeling the stares of others. Irene somehow managed to find her voice and finish her talk. Questions were raised and answered, and bids were made. Suddenly Ramon wanted the job more than ever, just because this was Irene’s church. It didn’t matter to him that it was a Protestant church. He would do as beautiful a job as possible, because it would be Irene’s place of worship, the place where she found the faith and the hope and the courage she must need to be a wife to Chad Jacobs.
The bidding began, and Ramon deliberately bid lower than any of the others. One of the wealthier men of the church stood up and spoke in favor of Ramon, describing the letter he’d received from Jack Scotland, who vouched for Ramon’s excellent skills. “I even have pictures of the cathedral Mr. Vallejo built in Los Angeles,” the man said. “If I had known he was going to be here tonight, I would have brought them with me. The work the man did on that church is beyond description in beauty and design. He even carved a huge, twenty-foot crucifix, and we all know how difficult it has to be to carve a human face.”
“That’s just the point,” another man said, rising. “The man is Mexican. He’s Catholic. We can’t have a Catholic man building a Protestant church.”
“I don’t think God cares about his race or religion,” one woman said. “He might be Catholic, but he worships the same God as we do. And we all know that it is about time, as Christians, that we accept people of other races. After all, the Mexicans were here first. Unlike the Indians, they have never caused us trouble, not here, anyway.”
Arguments flew back and forth. Finally one man asked Ramon directly if he was such a skilled builder, why was he bidding so low? Ramon glanced at Irene, and she knew the real reason. Her heart rushed with awakened memories, with an old love she now, more than ever, must not show. She was carrying Chad’s child, had been another man’s wife for four years.
Ramon turned to the man who had questioned him. “My reasons are personal,” he said. “I could ask much more, and I would deserve it. However, in this case, I wish to do the Christian thing. This is a church, not a place of business. This will be God’s house. Besides that, I feel I owe it to Denver. This is my home, and I am happy to be back here where my roots are deep. I am making this offer as a gesture of affection for Denver and for Colorado.” He looked around at the others. “I can assure you, I will do as fine a job for your Protestant church as I did for the Catholic cathedral in Los Angeles. The only thing I ask to make up for my low price is that if you are as pleased with my work as I think you will be, you all will give me your support and recommendations for other building projects in the city.” He looked at Irene again. “I have come back to Denver to stay, and I will be opening my own contracting business here.”
As he sat back down, he gave her a gentle smile. She wondered if he had found a wife in Los Angeles, or if he was still single. She told herself it didn’t matter. When the vote was taken, the room was divided. The deciding vote was Irene’s.
“Mr. Vallejo did a lot of work on my parents’ mansion,” she said, “and
he built my present home. I can vouch for his expertise. Considering the fact that we must always watch our budget because of Denver’s constantly unpredictable economy, I feel we must take the lowest bid, especially when it comes from someone I feel could rightfully ask the most money. He is indeed worth every penny. My vote is for Mr. Vallejo.”
People began filing out once the meeting ended. Some stopped to shake Ramon’s hand; others shied away from him, still not certain that a Catholic man should build their Methodist church. Irene waited her turn, feeling overheated, in spite of the chilly, wet March night. She felt a little uncomfortable in her condition, finding pregnancy, as did many other women, somewhat embarrassing proof that she had been with a man, even though it was her own husband. Somehow it was even more embarrassing in front of Ramon.
She wondered how he felt now, if everything had changed. Of course it had. He had been gone four years. They had both matured. She was twenty-two years old, and Ramon must be at least twenty-six now. It had been six years since…since that stolen kiss. They were practically children then, weren’t they?
Suddenly she was in front of him. He took her hand, squeezing it warmly, his gentle, handsome smile still able to melt her heart. “Thank you for your vote, Mrs. Jacobs,” he told her, aware there were people around them.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Vallejo,” she answered, angry that her eyes were damp with tears.
Ramon could feel her trembling slightly. He squeezed her hand more firmly in a kind of reassurance that everything was all right. “I will do a good job for you,” he told her.
“I’m sure you will,” she replied.
He reluctantly let go of her hand, talking to a few others, finding excuses, as Irene did, to linger, until at last he and Irene were the only ones left. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders self-consciously, letting it hang over her belly as though to hide it.
“So,” he said, his eyes moving over her, “you are with child. Is it your first?”
“Yes,” she answered, dropping her eyes. “We’ve…tried for a long time. I was beginning to wonder if something was wrong.” She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment.
“I am glad for you,” he said gently. “You must be happy then.”
How could she tell him that this baby was her only hope for happiness, that she prayed it would bring the closeness she and Chad had never had, that her husband was a notorious womanizer? What business was it of his anymore? What right did she have talking about her marriage to this man who was supposed to be out of her life now?
“Yes,” she lied.
Ramon sensed a strain. He knew she was probably lying, but did he have any right to question her further about it?
“Irene,” he said softly, “I did not know you were on this committee.”
“It’s all right,” she answered, putting on a confident smile. “I’m glad you’re back in Denver, and that you’re here to stay. I’m equally glad to have you building this church. Chad and I will help you get started any other way we can, just as Chad promised before you left.”
She was trying to be so strong, so nonchalant about his return. He looked at her lovingly. “I did not come here to make trouble, or to upset anyone,” he assured her. “I missed Colorado.” And I missed you, he wished he could add. But there must be no more such talk. They both sensed that. “Irene, I just want to tell you—we will both always hold fond memories. No one else needs to know about our…special secret. But I do not want you to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about it. I would like to be able to be friends.”
“Yes, I want that too. Considering my activity in the community, and that you will be involved in other building projects, we have to find some kind of happy compromise, don’t we? After all, we might end up working together again.”
He nodded, longing to hold her, to kiss her again, wondering if she was longing for the same. He put out his hand. “Friends?”
She took it, her own hand trembling. As soon as he wrapped his hand around hers, she felt a strength, a warming comfort. He would do his best not to cause her undue pain, she was sure. Ramon was back, and they could at least be friends. “Amigos,” she answered with a smile. She detected tears in his eyes, but neither of them would say anything more about their feelings. It was forbidden now more than ever. “You look wonderful, Ramon. California must have been good for you.”
He nodded. “I did a lot of healing there. I found a new strength when I was working on the crucifix, and I know in my heart that I am forgiven for…for the hurt I caused Elena. I learned to live with the pain of losing my son, who is at least with his mother and will not suffer the heartaches and pain we who live are often doomed to suffer.”
She folded her arms, self-conscious of her belly and her ballooning breasts. “Have you remarried? You should, you know.”
A sadness filled his eyes. “I had little time in Los Angeles to think about women.” He smiled briefly, and both of them reddened slightly, realizing there was only one woman he had ever really wanted. “Perhaps, in time, I will think about it again. But no, right now there is no one special.”
Why was she glad of that? He deserved happiness, and she had no right wishing that he stay single. What did it matter to her now? The man should find love again, should have companionship, children to take little Juan’s place in his heart, if that was possible.
“Thank you so much for the horse. I have it sitting on a fireplace mantel,” she told him. “I will always cherish it—and the words of your letter. I…destroyed the letter.”
He nodded. “It is best. I am glad you like the horse.”
Chad came inside then, having come to pick up Irene. He was surprised to see Ramon, and he thought at first that Irene and Ramon were looking at each other rather intimately. But he brushed away the notion, realizing they were, after all, old friends. He greeted Ramon warmly, shaking his hand vigorously and asking about his work in Los Angeles. He wondered how Ramon would feel if he knew Bea Kirkland was the one who had stolen Hacienda del Sur from under his grandfather’s feet, that Chad had handled the illegal paperwork. Still, he liked Ramon, and he echoed Irene’s promise to help Ramon’s business grow.
The three of them exited the church together, and Chad helped Irene into the waiting carriage. Ramon was glad to see the man seemed to be doting on her and appeared to be very happy that he would soon be a father. Chad turned to Ramon before the buggy drove off. “I can’t wait to tell my mother-in-law who has been chosen to build the new church. Bea will be in a dither over this one, but I’m glad to have you aboard, Ramon.”
Chad tipped his hat and entered the carriage, quickly driving off. Ramon smiled at another secret victory. Yes, he had offered to do this project for far lower than its worth—only for Irene’s sake, once he realized it was her church. But he was getting a bonus, and it wasn’t just good advertising. This was Bea Kirkland’s church. He was getting an unexpected payment from this job. This would stick in her craw even more than the fact that he had built Irene’s home.
Ramon Vallejo was back in Denver to stay. He had money and prestige now, and good backing. The day was fast arriving when Bea Kirkland would no longer be able to look down her nose at him. He imagined her reaction when she heard the news about the church. His little victories over Bea Kirkland made the pain of returning and having to face Irene again more bearable. If he could not put his energy into loving Irene, he would put it into his very pleasurable revenge against her mother.
“She will be in a ‘dither,’ all right,” he muttered, watching the carriage clatter off into the darkness, wondering if Irene had looked back at him. He could not see her.
Chapter Twenty-six
May 1869
Cattle had become big business in the state, with three hundred thousand head of beef now rambling over the vast, rolling hills of eastern and southern Colorado. The B&K Ranch was one of the biggest and best managed, thanks to Hank Loring. With cattle selling for twenty dollars a head, Bea was realizing tremendou
s profits.
The Overland Stage Company had sold out to Wells Fargo, which was now one of the biggest transportation companies in the West—and one in which Bea was an important stockholder. The company was competing with the railroad, but continued to do well by running connections into mining towns and other places where the railroad still could not go.
A rival newspaper to Bill Byers’s Rocky Mountain News, called the Denver Tribune, opened its offices in Denver. The Denver Horse and Railway Company would soon complete its tracks and hoped to be in business by 1870. More industry had moved into Denver, and farmers were learning how to use Colorado’s unique soil to the best advantage, producing more food and decreasing the state’s reliance on outside sources.
The city of Denver remained in many ways a rough prairie town, yet it had theaters now, a library, churches, and schools. The Kirkland mansion sat stalwartly among other elaborate but less ostentatious houses on Kirkland Hills, overlooking an amalgamation of office buildings and shacks. The city was a grand mixture, a crude mining town still struggling for prestige and respect, as well as a place of beauty and opportunity, where gold in the nearby mountains was still plentiful. The city’s tills were enriched by foreign investment, due to heavy advertising abroad as the fastest-growing city in the West. Bea contemplated making a trip to Europe as a city representative, to look for even more foreign backing. She kept close watch on the New York Stock Exchange, upon which Kirkland Enterprises had begun selling shares. However, to protect the business in case of a stock market crash, Bea kept seventy percent of the company holdings in the family. She still did not fully trust the stock market, could not bring herself to put “her” company into the hands of thousands of stockholders who were strangers to her.
In the Shadow of the Mountains Page 46
