In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  “That’s too bad. He’s a good kid. I’ve always hated drinking myself.”

  Elly sat up. “I’ve always wondered about that. Why don’t you drink, Chad? I’ve never known a man who didn’t drink.”

  He turned away, reaching over to pick up a cigar. “My father drank, in extreme excess. When you see enough drunken rages as a child, you learn to hate liquor.”

  “Chad! You never told me that before. Have you ever told Irene?”

  “I don’t talk about my childhood—with her or with you. Enough said.”

  She sighed. “You should know by now you can talk to me about anything.”

  “All right then. How about telling me what you know about Irene and Ramon Vallejo.”

  She pulled a sheet to her waist, leaving her huge bosom naked. Her mouth dropped open at his question. “Ramon!” She hesitated. “Why do you ask that?”

  He lit the cigar. “Because while Irene was in the hospital, Ramon came storming over to my place, telling me I ought to be with my wife, telling me what a rotten husband I was. He landed a fist into my gut and a boot in my groin before I realized what was going on. It was pretty damn obvious he thinks of Irene as more than just a casual acquaintance.”

  She smiled, then laughed. “Ramon did that?” She laughed again. “Then he does still love, her! I wonder if Irene loves Ramon.”

  Chad frowned. “She told me they were just good friends. What the hell are you saying?”

  “Oh, it was before Irene met you. She was only fifteen or sixteen. One day I went up to the new house while Ramon was still working on it, and I caught him and Irene kissing.”

  Chad paled visibly. “Irene? And Ramon?”

  “Oh, Chad, it was a long time ago. I told Mother, but don’t you ever tell Irene that I did. Mother chased him off without Irene knowing what had happened. She thought Ramon ran out on her. He married a Mexican woman after that—the one who was killed in the flood. I know Irene well enough to know nothing ever happened between them once she started seeing you. Irene is too much of a priss to go cheating on a man, but I know it really hurt her when Ramon left and got married. I decided she deserved to hurt, just like I was hurting with love for you,” she pouted.

  All Chad could think about was his mother. Was it possible Irene wasn’t the perfect woman he thought she was? The thought literally terrified him. It was one thing for him to cheat on Irene. But he had taken her for a wife, and he expected complete, perfect loyalty on her part. He had married her because she was not like his mother and the others. Had he been wrong about her after all?

  “I think I’m going to have a little talk with my wife.”

  “Oh, Chad, don’t tell me you’re jealous of a Mexican man!”

  He grabbed her arm. “She’s my wife! She’s my property!”

  “Chad, I didn’t think you cared.”

  “Of course I care.” He got up, stark naked, and paced.

  “Keep your voice down, Chad. We’re in a hotel, you know.”

  He came closer. “Do you think Ramon still loves her?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She saw the anger in his eyes, and she smiled inwardly with delight. There was going to be trouble over this. She loved the thought of perfect Irene having to defend herself as the cheating wife, when Chad was sleeping with her own sister. “It isn’t Ramon I would worry about,” she told him, a gleam in her eyes.

  He set his cigar aside. “What do you mean?”

  “I’d be more worried about that Hank Loring, if I were you. She’s been seeing an awful lot of him, you know…camping out with him, riding with him.”

  “She’s just learning about the ranch.”

  “And I thought you were smarter about things like that. Didn’t you see how Hank looked at her when we were all there for supper last weekend? I’d find out what’s going on, if I were you. There he is, a big, strapping, handsome man, a lonely widower.” She watched his eyes, delighted at the worry she saw there. It was so easy to manipulate him. She imagined Irene trying to defend herself and Hank. Anything she said would just make her look more guilty. “If I were you, I’d ask a few questions the next time you go home.”

  His gray eyes gleamed with fury. “Yes, I think I’ll do just that.” He paced again. “You’d better get back to your room and get some sleep.”

  She pouted. “Oh, Chad, you aren’t going to let this change things between us, are you? I don’t want to go back yet.” She got up and walked over to him, rubbing against him. “Just once more?”

  He thought of his mother, remembered hearing her say those words to strange men. “Not tonight,” he answered, pulling away from her. Irene! She wouldn’t do that, would she?

  Elly scowled and pulled on her robe. “I never should have told you about Ramon and Hank. What do you care what Irene does anyway, as long as you’re free to do what you want?”

  “That’s different. Just go, Elly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “Don’t send me off like just another whore, Chad. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

  He met her eyes, hating her for having this damn control over him. Hating her…hating her. That was the key for him. He walked up to her and yanked off her robe. “Don’t go back then.” He jerked her over to the bed and pushed her onto it, his hatred making him want her again. He wanted to use her, hurt her, as he had been hurt. In moments he was pushing inside her again, angry, thinking about how men had used his mother this way.

  Elly took him gladly, wildly, loving it when he was savage about it. All Chad could think about was the possibility that Irene was cheating on him—like his mother, like his mother, like Elly and the others had. Not Irene! He’d go home and find out. He would show her once and for all whom she belonged to. There would be no more turning away her own husband! He pushed hard and deep, just as he would to Irene when he saw her again. She had no right turning him away! She had used the baby and his infidelities as an excuse long enough. A wife was a wife, and he would show her whose property she was! No other man was going to out-do Chad Jacobs!

  “How about a little celebration picnic?” Hank suggested, as he and Irene watched the last of the newborn calves branded. “The roundup is finished and we had a good winter, more calves born than we expected. I’ll be helping herd a few head of cattle to the Denver stockyards before long, be gone a few weeks. I might be out of line by saying it, but I’ll miss you, Irene.”

  She sat on a wooden fence, unable to bring herself to meet his eyes. She almost wished the roundup had never ended. She had loved helping, loved being with Hank every day. “And I’m probably out of line telling you I’ll miss you, too,” she answered. She looked down to brush some dust from her suede skirt. “A picnic sounds wonderful. When do you want to go?”

  He leaned next to her on the fence, standing almost as tall as she, even though she sat on the top rail. “Tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Have someone accompany me home and I’ll get everything ready. You can meet me there in the morning.” She finally met his eyes, both of them realizing they had no future, yet unable to act rationally. “It will be kind of nice to just go riding for the enjoyment, instead of chasing after calves and eating dust.”

  He gave her a wink. “You’re a full-fledged cowhand now, Mrs. Jacobs. I’d hire you any day.”

  She laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Loring.” She turned to climb down, and he grabbed her around the waist to help her. She grasped his arms, and the touch sent heated desire through both of them, painful, unspoken passion that made Irene’s cheeks feel hot. He set her on her feet, and she quickly pulled away from him and mounted Sunrise. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning…about nine?”

  He nodded, holding her eyes as he shouted for two of his men to ride with her back to her house. “Look forward to it,” he told her.

  She smiled, her heart racing, wondering why the right men seemed always to come into her life at the wrong time. She rode off, and Hank watched after her.

&
nbsp; You’re asking for big trouble, Hank Loring, he told himself. But at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. If he lost his ranch and everything dear to him, it wouldn’t matter, if he could somehow have Irene Jacobs.

  They rode into the foothills, enjoying the fresh smell of mountain air, the May weather still cool from snows melting in the higher elevations. Irene’s heart soared at the sights and sounds and smells of this land she loved, rode Sunrise through the vast, magnificent open grassland into the rich, green foothills, longing just to keep riding right into the mountains again.

  Spring roundup had taken them over the vast expanses of eastern Colorado. Now they could ride into even greener country, where streams were swollen from spring runoff, and the rich scent of pine met Irene’s nostrils in a pleasant stimulus. “Someday I’m going back up there,” she told Hank, nodding toward the snow-capped peaks that rose ahead of them. “The happiest memory of my life is when I went to the mountains with my father. I live right here at their feet, but life has been such a whirlwind, I’ve never had the chance to go back. Is there anything more splendid or more beautiful than those mountains?”

  Hank did not reply, for to reply would be to betray his feelings. Yes, there is something more splendid and beautiful, and she’s sitting right next to me.

  Irene smiled, turning to look at him, admiring his rugged handsomeness, the powerful forearms beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. She looked at the mountains again, thinking this place, several miles from the ranch, was a delightful array of colors and smells and sounds. “Let’s eat right here,” she said, dismounting.

  She wondered why she had done this, knew it was wrong, but had done it anyway. Hank spread out a blanket, and Irene set out the food. They ate, they talked, and both knew it was time to start being honest. Before the afternoon was over, Hank had told her the gruesome details of his wife and daughter’s deaths, how he had met her in the first place, how much he had loved her, how happy they had been when their daughter was born. His voice had choked, but he knew Irene would understand it was all right for a man to weep over such a thing. He spoke of his hatred for the Indian called Yellow Eagle, but told her he could sometimes understand the frustration of the Indians.

  Irene found herself spilling out the truth to Hank about how she had lost her baby. It felt good to be able to tell someone the truth. Before she knew it, she was even telling him about her love for Ramon, amazed at how easy it was to tell him such intimacies.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember that first day we met, back when you were with your pa and his friend? You asked about Hacienda del Sur.”

  It seemed like such a long time ago. “I remember,” she told him. “I’d like you to take me there sometime. I’d like to see Ramon’s land, although it doesn’t belong to him any more.”

  “It’s part of the B&K now.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you know that? Your mother took it over. I’m still not sure how she did it.”

  “My mother!” Did Ramon know his land belonged to Kirklands now? What was going on that she didn’t know about? Why did Bea hate Ramon so much? A sickening dread moved into her heart. Had her mother somehow known all along about her and Ramon? Did she have something to do with the reason Ramon left that first time?

  “I remember you asking about the Vallejo land,” Hank was saying. “I got the funniest feeling that day, like there was something very special about the place for you. I remember the look on your face when I told you Ramon had married. It’s strange how things work out, isn’t it? Cruel is the better word.”

  “Yes,” she said, “very cruel sometimes.” She was beginning to understand how cruel her mother could be. She looked at Hank. “I still see Ramon occasionally, back in Denver. And we still…” She looked away. “We’re good friends, a lot like you and me. Ramon is quite a successful builder now.” She sighed deeply, wondering what had gone on behind her back. Poor Ramon. She was going to find out the truth the next time she saw her mother. “Do you think it’s wrong, Hank, to be married to one person and love someone else? It seems to happen to so many people.”

  He watched her, wanting her, needing her. “No. It’s not wrong. I loved my wife about as much as any man could love a woman, but every time I set eyes on you, I had thoughts I shouldn’t have had.”

  She reddened, turning away. “I guess I felt it.”

  The air hung quiet for several seconds, with only the sound of the wind in the distant mountains. A hawk flew silently overhead, its shadow moving across them.

  “It’s even possible to love more than one person at the same time,” Hank added cautiously. “There are different kinds of love, Irene. You still love Ramon. I expect maybe you always will. And then there’s…you and me.”

  “Don’t say it, Hank. I’m just feeling lonely, that’s all.” She quickly stood up. “Maybe we’ve let our friendship go too far. I’ve turned to you when I had no right. You just…you’re so easy to talk to, and I’ve held all this in for so long. I’m sorry.”

  He stood up and came to stand behind her, putting a big hand on her arm. “Sorry for what? For bringing me the most happiness I’ve felt in a long time?” She started to pull away, but he kept a firm grip. “Get rid of him, Irene. After what you’ve told me, I can’t believe you’re still with him. I always knew there was something terribly wrong. Chad Jacobs is no good. He’s destroying you!”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t give up that easily. He’s my husband. I vowed to love him forever.”

  “And he made the same vow, but he broke it. He destroyed the marriage, Irene. Nothing that has happened has been your fault.”

  “But he would find a way to make it look like my fault. And maybe it is, at least partially. Maybe I…maybe there’s something wrong with me. You don’t know…I can’t…” She covered her eyes, breaking into tears. “My God, Hank, don’t make me tell you things I can’t talk about.”

  “Like the fact that you don’t desire him, that you think it’s your fault he turns to other women, that you’re a failure in bed?”

  She jerked away. “Stop it!”

  He grabbed her arms and forced her to face him. “Those are damn stupid thoughts, Irene! You’ve never wanted him because you’ve never really loved him. You were pushed into that marriage! If you don’t love a man, you can’t respond the way a woman ought to respond—with real passion. You’ve never even known what it’s like to enjoy sex, have you? It’s just been a duty.”

  She tried to pull away, but he pulled her closer, his power too much for her. “I can guess how you would respond to Ramon, if you felt you were free to do it. You aren’t sure you love me that way, but you want me, don’t you, Irene? You want me, and that scares you to death, because sex scares you to death. What did he do to you, Irene? What are you leaving out?”

  “Just take me back, Hank.”

  “Not yet.” He lifted her chin with a strong hand. “Not just yet.” She met his eyes, and in the next moment his mouth was covering hers, his strong arms were coming around her, crushing her against his powerful chest. She started to resist, but it felt too good, too delicious. His hand moved to her bottom, pressing hard so that she felt his own urgent need while he smothered her with a groaning kiss that awakened passions she had not felt since kissing Ramon.

  She wanted him! The realization almost startled her. Chad had made it all so ugly, and never once had she enjoyed just being a woman pleasing a man. She thought of Ramon…Ramon. If he ever touched her again this way, she would surely break the wedding vows she had so faithfully made. She hated Chad even more for putting her in this position of wanting to do something so terribly wrong.

  Hank released her mouth, his breathing heavy, his grip strong. “My God, I want you so much, Irene,” he groaned. “And you want me, I know it. Somebody needs to show you what it’s like to be with a man out of sheer desire and passion.”

  “No! No, it isn’t right.” She put her hands agains
t his chest. “I have to think. Take me home, Hank, please. Please help me by not touching me.”

  She could feel him trembling as he slowly let go of her. “It’s going to happen, Irene, and there won’t be one damn thing wrong about it, you hear me? Someday you’re going to realize you can and should get rid of that man and let yourself be happy. I love you—enough to tell you that I don’t even care if you turn to Ramon instead of me. I only know you’ll never be happy the way things are now, and the longer you cling to those wedding vows, the deeper you’re going to fall into a pit of sorrow you’ll never be able to climb out of.”

  She pulled away, quickly picking up the picnic items, tears stinging her eyes, needs boiling deep inside that made turning him away almost painful. She remembered now how she had felt that first time Ramon had kissed her, and when he had kissed her at the house after his wife had died. She had wanted to respond with wild abandon, much as she imagined a whore might respond, and it surprised and almost frightened her.

  She quickly tied the basket onto her horse, rolling up the blanket and throwing it over her saddle, desperately afraid that if Hank managed to get her down to that blanket, there would be no turning back. “I want to go home,” she told him.

  She heard a deep sigh. “Fine.” He said nothing more. He mounted up, and she did the same, wearing a split riding skirt so she could ride full saddle instead of sidesaddle. The sight of her straddling the horse made Hank feel almost crazy with the want of her. He rode off ahead of her, afraid to touch her again or even look at her, for fear he would not be able to stop himself. She was in too delicate a condition for that. There could be no hint of force. It had to come from her. She had to recognize her own needs and desires and realize there was nothing wrong with wanting a man.

  Irene followed him, hardly able to see for the tears. He wanted her, but she was not free for the taking, or free to give herself willingly. She had known this could happen, had let herself be led along by her own loneliness. Now she had hurt Hank. She had not wanted to do that, and she hated herself for it.