by Jane Toombs
Diarmid sat on the bed, propping himself against the iron headboard, seemingly at his ease.
"Since he's not with you," Diarmid began, "I assume Myron hasn't returned to San Francisco? At my ranch south of Los Angeles, I received inquiries about him but he never arrived there. Have you heard anything?"
"You know we haven't." Miriam's voice was sharp.
"I'm sorry." Diarmid kept his tone level. He was determined not to be drawn into an argument about Myron.
Looking at Irv, he added, "I'd hoped I could discuss my one-third share in the store with both you and Myron."
"Anything you have to say to me, you can say to my wife," Irv announced.
Diarmid wasn't really surprised that Irv had married Miriam--it was the obvious solution. As he'd tried to tell Myron. If Myron had listened to him, the man would be alive today.
Miriam glared at Diarmid. "We owe you nothing!"
Diarmid raised his eyebrows. "My lawyer thinks differently." He was bluffing, he had no lawyer.
"You can't--" Miriam began but stopped when Irv reached down and grasped her arm. "What do you want?" Irv demanded.
"My share," Diarmid told him. "I'm willing to be bought out."
"How much?"
Diarmid had walked past the store before sending the note. Since he'd left, they'd built a two-story addition and, judging from the stream of customers going in and out, business was brisk. The barber across the street had told him they'd opened a second store in Sacramento. His share was, he thought, worth at least $15,000. He also knew Irv would never agree to that much.
"$13,000," he said.
"You're crazy!"
"We'll both wind up paying lawyers a couple thousand apiece if we drag them into this," Diarmid pointed out.
"Don't give him a cent of our money!" Miriam cried.
"Be still," Irv ordered. "To be rid of you once and for all, I might be able to dredge up $5,000," he told Diarmid.
Diarmid shook his head. "If cash is so tight, I'd accept dividing the payment over a reasonable period of time."
After negotiating, with occasional outbursts from Miriam ignored by both men, Diarmid settled for $10,000, as he'd meant to all along, to be paid immediately.
As he was closing the door behind them, Miriam thrust herself against it. "You killed my brother, I know you did! “She cried. "I can't prove it but someday, somehow, I'll get even. For everything."
Irv pulled her away, Diarmid shut the door and leaned against it. Thank God that was over! It only occurred to him then that he didn't know whether Miriam had gone on to have the child and, if so, whether it was a boy or girl. He shrugged and walked to the window again. He'd cut his last tie with San Francisco, he'd gotten what he came for, now he could return to his golden valley and build a house for Angelica.
Chapter Six
Looking into the long silver-framed mirror in Stella's bedroom, Angelica stared doubtfully at the reflection of her riding costume. "I don't know. It isn't as though I knew his wife but perhaps this blue is too bright a color. After all, she is buried at the ranch."
Stella sighed. "You're not going to visit her grave, you're going because Diarmid asked you to advise him about the new house he means to build."
Angelica fiddled with her jacket. "You don't think this fits too tightly?"
Stella's eyes met hers in the mirror. "Why are you so nervous?"
"It's too soon!" Angelica turned to face her. "Don't you think so? Why is he asking me to visit the ranch when his wife has been dead only three months? And to visit alone, besides. It's not entirely proper."
"If it bothers you, why go?"
Angelica turned back to the mirror. "You know why. What else is there to do in El Doblez? Diarmid Burwash is the only unattached man I've met who isn't either a fisherman or a vaquero." She fluffed the front curls of her brown hair. "A girl has to think about marriage whether she wants to or not."
“I wasn't aware you didn't want to get married."
“I don't have a choice, do I? I'm hopeless at working in the cantina, you've said so yourself."
Stella nodded. "That's true enough. But I thought all young women were eager to marry. God knows I was so damn eager I rushed into what turned out to be a terrible mistake."
Angelica, curious, faced her again. Stella almost never talked about her past life. "What was wrong?"
"Fernando was a brute. There's no more to say."
Had he beaten her? Angelica wondered with a thrill of fascinated horror, remembering the scars she'd once glimpsed on Stella's breasts. "How can a girl tell what a man's like before she marries him?" she asked plaintively.
"She can't. But most of the brutes show their true colors one way or another early on. If you pay attention. I didn't."
Angelica bit her lip. "I overheard a customer in the cantina say something terrible about Diarmid."
Stella raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know your Spanish had improved that much."
"I understand it quite well, I just can't twist my tongue into speaking it. Anyway, this vaquero told another man that he suspects Diarmid set the fire himself. Then they both looked at me and smirked under those nasty black mustaches. I was so astounded I couldn't move."
"Diarmid would never do anything so dreadful!"
"It wasn't me that said he did. You're quite fond of him, aren't you?"
"I think of him as my younger brother." Stella's tone was sardonic. "How do you feel about Diarmid?"
"I don't know. I guess that's what worries me. He's not at all like Nathan Hamilton--he was my gentleman friend in Philadelphia. We weren't engaged or anything but he did call on me." Angelica sighed, recalling how handsome Nathan was. She adored blond men. In California, it seemed everyone she met was swarthy. If only she still lived back east in her uncle's three-story brick house set among other proper houses on a paved street. If only she lived closer to Nathan...
"You know Diarmid will soon ask you to marry him." Stella wasn't asking a question.
"Yes." How could she not know? Every time he looked at her she could see the longing in his eyes. Not that he'd behaved improperly. Heavens, no, he hadn't so much as held her hand. Nathan had. He'd kissed her, too. Three different times. She'd rather enjoyed it.
"You'll accept."
Angelica nodded. What else could she do? Stella tried not to show it but she knew her cousin found her a burden.
"You don't dislike Diarmid, do you?" Stella asked.
"He's all right."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic. He'd do his best to lasso the moon for you if you asked him."
"Marriage is forever," Angelica said. "That frightens me."
"Marriage is only till death do us part." Stella's tone was grim. "Luckily, in my case."
What about Concepcion? Angelica wanted to ask. It wasn't lucky for her. But she didn't have the nerve, she didn't want to think or hear any more about Diarmid's wife and how she died.
Not that she actually believed he set the fire. It was touching the way he'd hovered over that tiny shriveled-looking little baby. He'd never have done anything to hurt the child.
If I marry him, I'll have babies, Angelica thought. She wanted children, didn't every girl? Why, then, did the thought of bearing Diarmid's babies dismay her? Because they'd be dark, like him, instead of the blonde, blue-eyed children she'd dreamed of having?
Pack your dreams of Nathan away, she advised herself. He's part of a past you can never go back to.
Boots crunched on the path of crushed shells leading to the front door. Diarmid, come to escort her to the ranch.
"Why don't you come with us?" she asked Stella as she fitted on a dark blue silk bonnet.
"I'm a working woman, remember? Besides, Diarmid didn't invite me." Stella sounded a bit peeved.
I can't help it if she's fonder of him than I am, angelica told herself. Not that Stella would want to marry Diarmid. Heavens, she was years older. Angelica picked up her gloves and walked slowly to the front door.
&nbs
p; She'd be riding Stella's palomino mare, a beautiful golden horse with a blond tail and mane.
“I was told they call them Isabellas in Spain," Stella had told her. "After the queen. So that's what I named her. Fernando all but had a heart attack."
Isabella was certainly a horse fit for a queen. Angelica found the sidesaddle more cumbersome than the eastern ones she was used to but the palomino's gait was so smooth it made no difference.
"A fine mare," Diarmid said after he'd helped her mount and swung onto his buckskin.
"Stella says she stole her from under the noses of her in-laws." Angelica smiled. "Of course she's only joking. “The mare was a gift to her from her husband. Naturally she brought Isabella with her when she left Mexico City."
"That blue becomes you," he told her.
"You say that about every color I wear. How can I believe such indiscriminate flattery?"
Diarmid smiled at her. "I'm entitled to my opinion. You're a beautiful woman whether you wear blue or not."
They rode in silence through El Doblez. Angelica didn't look to either side; the less she had to do with the villagers, the better she liked it. Nathan, she remembered, had never once said she was beautiful. Or even pretty. He'd admired her piano playing and the little sketches she'd done of roses and lilies of the valley. "You have an artist's hands," he'd said.
"I miss my piano," she said wistfully after they'd left El Doblez behind.
"Some day I'll buy you one. The finest in the world."
She slanted a glance his way. Did he mean when she was his wife? He hadn't really asked her to marry him, not in so many words. Instead, he seemed to take it for granted that she would.
Diarmid checked his horse at the top of the rise so she did, too. Below them the green and rolling valley stretched for miles. All grass and small bushes, no trees except in narrow strips along the few streams. She missed the woods of Pennsylvania.
"Why doesn't California have more trees?" she asked.
Diarmid started, as though she'd roused him from a reverie. "We don't get enough rain here," he said. "I was talking to a merchant in Los Angeles who has Australian blue gum tree seedlings for sale. Eucalyptus, he called them, and he told me they grow so fast you can see it happen. Since you like trees, I'll buy some of the seedlings to plant around the house." He kicked Bruce into a trot and she followed him down the hill.
"I don't understand why you want me to look at the house site," she said, "when I know nothing about such things."
"I want to be certain the location suits you."
Angelica frowned. Enough was enough. "Why does what I think make such a difference?" she demanded.
"I want my wife to be happy."
"But I'm not your wife!"
"You will be. As soon as the house is ready to be lived in."
She raised her eyebrows. "You certainly take a lot for granted. I don't recall your asking me to marry you, much less my acceptance."
He spread his arms and grinned at her. "It was meant to be. You can't go against fate."
Angelica blinked, undecided whether to make an issue of his arrogance or to go along with him since she did mean to marry him. "You make me feel as though I have no mind of my own," she said tartly.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't look it. "I realize a girl should be courted," he went on, "but I haven't the time. I also know it's proper to wait at least a year before asking another woman to marry me." Diarmid stretched a hand toward her. "Angelica, I can't bear to wait that long. I knew I wanted you for my wife from the moment I first set eyes on you."
"But--but you already had a wife when we met. How can you say--?"
"I can only tell you the truth."
She turned her face away, her heart hammering fearfully in her chest. Even if he'd wanted to be rid of Concepcion, surely he wouldn't have started the fire. Only a madman would do such a horrible thing. Controlling her impulse to turn Isabella and gallop back to the safety of El Doblez, Angelica took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"You're frightening me," she admitted.
"Forgive me," he begged. "I love you, I don't mean to frighten you. I want to keep you from harm for the rest of your life."
Till death do us part. Angelica swallowed. She turned to Diarmid, screwing up her courage to tell him she wished to return to Stella's. He wasn't looking at her but off to the east, shading his eyes to see more clearly. She stared in the same direction and saw two horsemen.
"Who's that with Manuelo?" Diarmid asked as if to himself. Without another word, he urged Bruce into a lope, heading for the men.
Not knowing what else to do, Angelica followed him. When she neared the two men she recognized Manuelo. The other rider was older, white-haired, dressed in black with silver ornamentation on his jacket and his horse's saddle.
"Don Francisco!" Diarmid exclaimed, reining in Bruce.
Concepcion's father. Angelica halted Isabella a few yards from the three men, devoutly wishing she were anywhere else. She'd been right to have doubts about how proper it was to accompany Diarmid today. But if she rode away now she was likely to cause more commotion. He was sure to pursue her--than if she stayed off to one side and kept quiet.
The don nodded curtly to Diarmid. He didn't so much as glance at her. "Manuelo informs me your new house will be built here." He gestured toward a depression between two rounded hills immediately in front of them.
"Yes," Diarmid admitted. "But, sir, why didn't you let me know you were coming? I would have--"
The don cut him off by slashing his hand through the air. "I don't want your hospitality. We no longer have any connection."
"I'm sorry--"
"Don't speak to me of sorrow! About the house site--you can't build here. I promised the Indians who live in the mountains I'd never put anything in that spot."
"What do Indians have to do with it?" Diarmid demanded.
"I made the promise because those two hills and the dip between are sacred to them. Why interfere with another man's gods?"
"I made no promises." Diarmid said.
"I realize that. Too late." Don Francisco's voice, heavy with icy anger, made Angelica shiver. She hated strife of any kind.
"You killed her," the don accused. "You killed my daughter and made certain my grandson would survive only long enough to fulfill the agreement. Long enough for you to be sure of the land."
"I did no such thing!" Diarmid cried. "Bonny Charlie--the boy was my son. I did all I could to keep him alive. And Concepcion--" He shook his head. "I failed her by being gone when I should have been at her side. But the fire was none of my doing."
"You dismissed the servants. Even old Rosa, who raised Concepcion. They loved one another--how could you be so cruel? You sent them all away so no one would be there to see when you murdered my daughter."
Angelica, stunned with shock, hardly breathed. She flinched when Don Francisco stabbed his finger into the air to point at her.
"You even have the gall to bring another woman here with my poor child not yet cold in her grave. May God punish you as you deserve--I have no heart for it." The don turned his back on them all and rode away. After a moment of hesitation, Manuelo rode after him.
For long moments Diarmid stared at the departing don. Finally he turned and looked at Angelica. "I didn't kill her," he said brokenly and she saw tears on his cheeks.
Pity for him overwhelmed her horror. "No," she said soothingly, "no, I don't believe you did. And you loved little Charlie, I know that."
He dismounted, strode to her and lifted her from the palomino. Taking her into his arms, he held her gently. "Marry me, Angelica," he pleaded. "If you don't, I'm lost."
Now that he'd asked her in so many words, she saw nothing she could do but accept. Still, she was determined to put off the date as long as possible. "We can't marry," she reminded him, "until there's a house for us to live in."
He held her away from him, looking into her eyes. His gleamed with what she thought must be triumph.
"Order your wedding gown," he said. "I'll begin building the house tomorrow."
He pulled her close and his mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss that was nothing like those she'd received from Nathan. She felt half-suffocated and, at the same time, as though she were being devoured. Putting her palms against his chest, she pushed at him.
"Please don't, you're crushing me," she said.
Diarmid knew exactly what kind of a house he wanted. Not adobe, not a Californio hacienda. And not a Scottish cottage, either. He planned to build his home of wood, high off the ground, with steps up to a porch that swept around both sides from the front. There'd be two stories with an upper veranda and a tower above. A grand house, painted white.
