Native Silver

by Helen Conrad

  These last few years, living and working in Marin County, three hundred miles to the north, she’d had other things to occupy her mind. That was one of the reasons she’d moved north in the first place, to get away from all this. But now, since the small plane accident that had taken her parents just a few years before, Granpa Jim was all she had left, besides her sister Lisa, married to a local dairy farmer.

  It had been a telephone call from Lisa that had brought her back from her self-imposed exile in Marin County where she’d been working as a library assistant for the last few years. She thought about that conversation now as she moved through the cool water. It was almost as though she’d been waiting for an excuse to come home. She’d certainly jumped at the chance when it was offered.

  “How is he?” she’d asked, as she always did. “How’s Granpa?”

  Lisa had let out a long sigh. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. He doesn’t really care much any more. Well, he is in his eighties. I guess he should be allowed to let go. But he’s getting to the point where he’s going to need full-time help. And . . . well, I do think his mind is starting to slip.”

  Shawnee’s hands had felt icy cold. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s more than the usual drivel about Rancho Verde and how the Santiagos stole his land. He’s started seeing things.”

  Shawnee remembered feeling a strange calm coming over her, as though she’d known a struggle was coming to an end. Her way was becoming clear. “What kind of things?”

  “Some of them are pretty weird and nebulous. The other day he insisted there was someone in the house trying to get him to sign some papers.”

  She found herself nodding. “How do you know it wasn’t true?”

  “Come on, Shawnee. What would anyone be trying to get him to sign? It’s all crazy.”

  She’d shrugged that away. “Is it?”

  “You know it is. He really does need more looking after. I run over at least once a day, but Brad needs me here and he gets peeved if I spend too much time over there.”

  “Of course. You’ve got a dairy to run. How are the cows?”

  Lisa’s voice rose with her annoyance like the mercury on a thermometer. “The cows are fine. The cows are great.” Her quick breath echoed along the phone line. “Really, Shawnee, I don’t know why you persist in imagining me to be some sort of modern-day milkmaid. There’s a lot more to the dairy business than milking the cows. We do have machines for that, you know. There are more important things for me to do. There are contacts to be made, images to project. It’s not all as earthy and basic as you imagine. You ought to come down and see for yourself.”

  Yes, Shawnee agreed silently. I ought to do that. It had been five years since she’d left the sleepy Destiny Bay back country valley and moved north. Maybe it was time to go home.

  “Does he ever ask for me?”

  “Who?”

  “Granpa Jim.”

  There was a pause. “Yes. Yes, he does.”

  “What does he say?”

  Lisa sighed, and Shawnee heard affectionate resignation in the sound. “You know how he is. He hasn’t seen you much lately, so he thinks you’re still about seventeen. He’s sure you’re the only one who ever understood about Rancho Verde and he thinks you’ll still want to hang around and listen to all his old stories like you did when you were a kid. He misses you. He thinks you’re the only one who cares.”

  “Maybe he’s right,” Shawnee whispered, knowing that was hardly fair to her sister who had done all the outright caring for five long years, but knowing Lisa had never shared her grandfather’s memories the way she did herself.

  “What?”

  “I’m coming down.”

  “Oh. For a visit?”

  “To stay.” Her mind was made up. She should have done it long ago. When she’d begun working with Miki, she’d begun to dream of what they could accomplish together. Miki was ready, but Shawnee had been putting off making the commitment. Now there was no room left for excuses. It was time to put it to the test.

  “To stay? But…”

  “I’ll stay with Granpa Jim. It’s time I came, don’t you think?”

  And here she was, back home, and with her had come the horse that she hoped would help Granpa Jim win a moral victory over the Santiagos, something to return the glow to his face, something to cherish before he died.

  But first she had to find a way to pull herself out of this thoroughly embarrassing situation. She’d been in the water long enough. In fact, her fingers were turning into skinny little prunes. It was high time to make a getaway. If she could only think of a clever way to do it!

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHY MAIDENS AND CABALLEROS

  David lay back and let the water rush past him. Funny. That sounded like the story of his life. Lately he felt as though time was a river and he couldn’t seem to launch a boat in it.

  Maybe things would have felt different if he hadn’t gone away to university in the East. Maybe he would have been satisfied with life here in this backwater part of the state if he hadn’t gone away for so long. Maybe he would have been satisfied with nothing changing, with life on a slow boat to nowhere. Maybe.

  But he had gone back East and he’d found out a lot about himself—that he was damn good at a lot of things. His friends were all on their way to important, exciting careers in engineering or computer science. And here he was, back at the ranch.

  This was what he’d been born for. That was what his father had always said. But he’d never expected his father would die so soon and leave all the responsibility on his shoulders. He was restless. He couldn’t deny it. He had a vague feeling that something had to give. Glancing over at the beautiful girl who had jumped so providentially into his life, he wondered briefly if she could be the catalyst for something new. Might be. Time would tell.

  David hadn’t said a word to Shawnee for at least ten minutes, so when he spoke, she turned towards him, surprised to see that he’d pulled himself up out of the water and was sunning on a huge boulder on the far side of the stream.

  Quickly, she turned her gaze away from his shiny flesh.

  “How did you find this place?” he was asking curiously. “I didn’t think anyone else knew it was here.”

  She hesitated, the truth on the tip of her tongue. But no. She didn’t want to tell him who she really was. And she didn’t want to lie. So she evaded the issue.

  “You didn’t really think you could keep a place like this a secret, did you?” Her voice had a low, husky quality and she didn’t know why that was, but it seemed right for the setting, so she didn’t try to change it. “I’ll bet this has been a secret hideaway for lots of people, since the days of the earliest settlers.”

  Now why had she put it that way? He’d think she meant it was a place for lovers to meet, and that wasn’t the point she wanted to make at all.

  “You’re probably right.”

  She didn’t look fully at him, but she could tell he’d shifted his position. His voice took on a dreamy quality that might have surprised her if she’d been paying more attention.

  “Who knows? Maybe we’re re-enacting history here.”

  “Oh?” She was edging her way towards the shore, wondering with half a mind how she could make a run for it with the least public display of skin, trying to keep track of what he was saying with the other half. “In what way?”

  He was leaning out over the water now, his chin in his hand. “Can’t you picture it?” he asked musingly. “The lovely Indian maiden---” He cocked an eyebrow at her, the devilish gleam in his eyes hardly shuttered at all, “—that’s you—swimming in the waterfall, her inky-black hair spread out around her. She’s stolen away from her tribe to find a moment’s privacy, to think, to dream.”

  “To get clean,” Shawnee countered drily. She couldn’t tell for sure if he was teasing her, or if he really enjoyed gazing back into the past, but she wasn’t going to let him catch her flat-footed. “And my hair’s not ink
y.”

  He frowned his disapproval for her mundane view of history.

  “She’s stolen time to dream,” he said firmly. “As she floats in the water, she hears the sound of hoof beats coming closer—closer.”

  “And she runs for her life,” Shawnee offered.

  David sighed with mock impatience. “She does nothing of the sort. She waits, alert, sensing somehow that this visitor is going to be someone who will change her life.”

  He was surprising her with this turn for the romantic. She would never have guessed he had stories like this floating around in his head. She found herself fighting hard to hold back her curiosity.

  “And the visitor?” she asked with attempted casualness.

  “The visitor is a tall, handsome caballero on a black stallion, newly arrived from Spain.”

  She couldn’t resist a chuckle at that. “Gee, I couldn’t guess who this handsome guy might be.”

  David threw her a mock glare. “It’s me, of course. Who else?” He narrowed his eyes, looking back in time. “He’s dressed in dark twill pants with silver buttons lining the seams. His white linen shirt is open at the neck, and a red sash is tied about his waist.”

  Shawnee smiled, remembering that she’d seen David dressed exactly that way in a Californio Days parade years before. He’d been riding a palomino, though. She’d thought at the time he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, even if he was a Santiago.

  “And what happens when he arrives?” She was caught up in the story now, intrigued and moving towards the boulder he was reclining on rather than away, looking straight into David’s dark eyes, totally forgetting that the two of them were naked as the day they’d been born.

  “He reins in his horse, seeing the lovely girl in the water. For a long moment, they gaze at one another. The girl feels no fear. The caballero can hardly believe his eyes. Slowly, he slides down off the horse and walks towards the stream.”

  “And then?” Her voice sounded breathless, but she hardly noticed.

  “He’s been on a long voyage from Spain, and an even more tiring trip on horseback up from Mexico. It’s been a long, long time since he’s seen a woman, especially one as beautiful as the girl he sees before him. For a moment, he thinks she must be a mirage. He goes down on one knee to take up a handful of water and drink, his eyes never leaving her.”

  Somehow Shawnee had come close enough so that David could easily reach out and take a strand of her wet hair in his fingers, but she had no inclination to stop him, or to move away again.

  His voice was so low now, it was almost a whisper. “She moves toward him in the stream, as though drawn by an irresistible force. He can see her naked body through the clear water, her rounded breasts, her white thighs. He can hardly breathe. Suddenly he needs her more than he needs the water to slake his thirst.”

  David’s eyes were dark, but it was a misty darkness that pulled her in and let her wander like a lost thing in a fog. She felt as though she could stare into them forever and never, ever get bored.

  “Then what happened?” she whispered when he didn’t go on.

  But the mood had shifted. David was staring back at her, and suddenly she had the idea that something about what he saw disturbed him. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost harsh, a direct contrast to the ambience he’d created with his story.

  “He waded in and grabbed her, what do you think happened?”

  Her head snapped back and she stepped away from him, as shocked as if he’d dashed her with cold water. “No!” she protested.

  “Of course he did.” David sat up, seemingly tired of the whole affair. “He threw her across the saddle and took her back to his camp with him.”

  “Like a deer he might have caught for dinner?”

  The new turn outraged her and she wouldn’t stand for it. “He did nothing of the kind.”

  David looked at her speculatively. “Oh no? Then what do you think happened?”

  She avoided his eyes. “He took off his clothes and joined her in the stream,” she said tentatively and immediately regretted it. That was much too close to what had actually happened here today.

  But David didn’t even seem to notice the connection. He hooted his opinion of her version. “He didn’t do that, I promise you. Men in those days never took their clothes off for anything. They wore the same thing for years at a time. He would have fought to the death before taking his clothes off in front of a woman, anyway.”

  She knew he was probably right, but she still couldn’t accept his ending to the romance. “All right. All right.” She thought fast. “Then he watched her for a few moments, hardly able to breathe, just like you said. And then . . . and then he ran for his horse and sped away, not daring to look back.”

  “What?” David’s face exhibited his disdain for her version.

  “Yes, that’s what he did.” She raised her chin with false bravado. “But he held the image of her beauty in his heart forever.”

  “Totally unbelievable.”

  “It is not. Men in those days had more respect for women. Things like rape were almost unheard of in the old West.”

  “Who said anything about rape?” Now she’d really offended him. “She’d made it obvious that she wanted him, too.”

  “And just how had she done that?” She would have laughed at how seriously he was taking this if she weren’t being just as silly herself.

  “By looking into his eyes,” he stated with complete certainty. “By moving toward him in the water.”

  By doing just what she’d been doing for the last ten minutes? Shawnee began backing away as fast as she dared.

  “You take a lot for granted, Mister,” she murmured, wondering if she could get to her horse in less than five seconds. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”

  He looked after her sternly, then his face relaxed into a crooked grin. “Don’t worry. I’ve got no plans to throw you over my saddle.”

  “Good thinking,” she retorted, looking back over her shoulder. “If you did, I’m afraid I’d have to shatter a few of your precious assumptions about women and what they want.”

  As she watched, he dived into the water, his body a flash of brown strength as the sunlight reflected along his length, and she found herself stopping to watch it, her breath caught in her throat. He had the physical beauty of an animal from the wild, and she knew she couldn’t count on him to be any tamer, either. It was high time she vacated the scene.

  He rose from the water, shaking the drops from his hair, and she paused. “I’m getting out now. I’m counting on you to look the other way.” She tried to make her voice very sure and bold, hoping he would do what was obviously right. But one glance into his laughing eyes and her heart sank.

  “Not a chance,” he told her lightly. “You’ve still got to pay for your trespassing ways. As the injured party, I decree that payment shall be in the form of one long look at your lovely white body as you rise with sensuous dignity from the water.” He narrowed his eyes teasingly. “I think that’s a pretty light sentence, don’t you?”

  She was annoyed, chagrined and flattered, all at the same time, and she held back the sharp reaction that sprang to her lips. She was hesitating at the edge of the pool, trying to gather courage for the run up the shore. Staring at him for just a fraction of a moment, she realized it was now or never. Something in his gaze told her she’d better make a run for it while she had the chance.

  Turning, Shawnee gritted her teeth and began a quick scramble up the bank, out of the cool water. She didn’t have to look back to see if he was watching. She knew he was. But she wasn’t going to let it paralyze her.

  The bush that held her clothes looked a hundred miles away. She ran for it, but her steps seemed to take so long, just as they did in dreams, reaching for a goal that never came any closer.

  Finally she was there and she stepped behind the bush, knowing it offered scant concealment, but willing to use anything she could get. Now to pull on her clothes as
quickly as possible and get out of here!

  Everything stuck to her damp skin, making her wish she’d had time to sun herself dry as she’d always done in the old days, when she’d been the only person in the world who knew about this special place. Before David Santiago had come pushing his way in.

  She wondered where he was right now, what he was doing, but she didn’t dare look. Then she had her boots pulled on and was ready to jump up on Miki and ride off when she heard his step behind her. She whirled, backing up against her horse, surprised to find David dressed in his riding-breeches and boots, with his shirt slung over his tanned shoulder.

  “That’s a beautiful animal you’ve got there.”

  He was looking at Miki, not at her. She ran a nervous tongue across her lips.

  “He’s all right,” she answered evasively, wishing David had stayed in the stream. She wanted to leave right away. If he should notice anything amiss with her horse, all her plans would be so much dust in the wind.

  “He must be almost sixteen hands high. He’s an Anglo-Arab blend, isn’t he?”

  David went on, and Shawnee was sure he was wondering why she was standing in front of her horse as though to keep him away. But that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  “Yes,” she answered tensely, glancing through the trees to where David’s chestnut thoroughbred stood calmly waiting for his rider. Thoroughbreds had replaced the Anglo-Arabs when the Santiago family took over Rancho Verde, and Miki was a descendant of that old herd, long since sold to a ranch in Northern California—sold when the Santiagos had stolen the Carringtons’ birthright away from them. Shawnee frowned and turned to put a hand on Miki’s neck.

  There hadn’t been many horses left by the time Granpa Jim had lost the ranch, but those remaining were sold to Grandpa’s distant cousin, Murph Carrington, who was just starting a horse farm called Windways in Marin County. When Shawnee had moved north five years before, right after the death of her parents, she’d gone to visit that family, and they’d invited her to come and ride any time she pleased.