by Ryan, Nan
A huge striped tent of white and gold shaded an area of neatly manicured lawn on the east side of the hacienda. Beneath the protective tent, white-jacketed Mexican servants presided at a long buffet table loaded with an array of meats, vegetables, pastries and desserts to suit every palate. Fine china plates, bearing the sunburst crest in gold, were stacked neatly at the table’s end—enough for hundreds of diners. In the middle of the table, dozens of white roses filled a huge round urn of shiny silver.
Large, flat silver platters held long-stemmed glasses of sparkling golden champagne. A round table, covered with a delicate white lace cloth, graced the very center of the huge tent; atop it, mountains of wedding gifts awaited the bride’s approval.
Barrett McClain had invited every employee of Del Sol to take part in the joyous occasion, as well as the citizenry of Marfa and the inhabitants of Fort Davis. Hundreds of people milled around under the big tent, drinking, eating, laughing, enormously enjoying the most extravagant gala they had ever attended.
Angie, pale but beautiful in her white satin-and-lace wedding gown, stood beside Barrett at the entrance of the big tent, greeting and shaking hands with the throngs of well-wishers. Her sweet smile remained firmly in place as she graciously let herself be hugged, kissed, cried over and stared at by the curious. The great swarms of people pulling at her didn’t bother her. Angie was in a daze, barely cognizant of what was taking place. There was little on her mind other than the fact that she was now quite safe; she was Mrs. Barrett McClain. She could sleep this night in peace, knowing no one would touch her.
It was relief, nothing else, that Angie felt as she stood by her new husband and pretended glowing happiness. Barrett seemed genuinely elated, proud to introduce her as his bride, though they both knew she was to be a daughter, not a wife. When finally all the guests had passed through the receiving line and Angie thought her hand would fall from her wrist, she heard the words she’d been longing to hear for more than an hour.
“Dear,” Barrett said, leaning close, a hand to the small of her back, “perhaps you’d like to go inside and freshen up a bit. Don’t change clothes; I think you should leave your wedding gown on throughout the party, but at least you can wash your face and relax for a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Barrett. I do need to press a cold cloth to my face.” She smiled weakly and obediently let him kiss her cheek. As she started through the crowd toward the house, to her surprise and displeasure, the two huge bodyguards left their positions and followed her at a respectable distance. Dismissing them from her mind, Angie gathered her long satin skirts and hurried inside the thick-walled mansion.
Delores met her there, smiling warmly. “Let’s cool you off, sweet Angie.” She plucked the pearl- and satin-trimmed veil from Angie’s long blond hair and guided the gowned girl up the stairs.
Inside the spacious mistress’s suite, Angie showed little interest in looking around, though she’d never been inside the luxurious room before. Idly she noticed that the elegant suite was decorated in rose and gold; the Aubusson carpet patterned in varying shades of rose was deep and plush, and cherrywood furniture was polished to a high gleam. The rose- and gold-flecked fireplace, flanked by velvet couches of rose, faced a huge pedestaled bed. Angie dropped tiredly into a chair while Delores hurried into the adjoining dressing room and bath. In seconds she was back with a rose-colored china basin of cool, clean water.
“Umm,” Angie cooed in appreciation when Delores pressed the refreshing damp cloth to her hot face and throat. Anxious to help her young mistress be as comfortable as possible, Delores, after bathing the tired girl’s flushed face and warm hands, pulled up a footstool, removed Angie’s shoes and stockings and bathed her swelling feet. Angie, purring contentedly, expressed her desire to remain where she was for the balance of the day.
Too soon it was time for her to return to her new husband and their guests. Delores replaced the veil atop Angie’s head and was patiently redressing her long blond hair while Angie stood in front of the open doors onto the balcony. Looking wistfully out at the baked, desolate countryside, Angie blinked, disbelieving.
“Wait, Delores!” She pushed the hairbrush aside, straining to see. Angie moved toward the open doors, stepping outside for a better look. A blood bay gelding cantered toward the south no more than a hundred yards from the house. The blue-black hair of its rider gleamed in the brilliant midday sun. Angie’s stomach knotted painfully. “Delores!” she said too loudly.
“Yes, señora.” Delores was at her elbow.
“That looks like … that …”
“Ah, it is Pecos. He leaves today.”
“Leaves?” Angie’s voice cracked.
“Sí, Angie.” Delores looked at the horse and rider with big, sad eyes. “He kissed me goodbye just before you come into the house.” The servant watched Angie’s face as she spoke.
Angie’s wide green eyes were riveted on the departing horse and rider. “You mean that Pecos will not be …”
“Señora, Pecos never stays long at Del Sol. He goes back to Mexico to work in his gold mine.” Her voice lowered. “He stays longer this time than ever before.”
Angie’s voice shook only slightly. “I see. Then he won’t be coming back?”
“No, he will not return for a long time, I think,” Delores said resolutely.
Mindlessly, thinking aloud, Angie murmured, “Then why couldn’t he have left before I … I needn’t have … I …” She caught herself. “I … I didn’t think it was actually Pecos because he’s not on Diablo. He’s riding a bay.”
Delores’s dark eyes went to Pecos. “Diablo is very old. Pecos leaves him behind so not to tire him on the long journey.”
Bitterly, Angie responded, “It’s comforting to know the man cares for something.” She smiled at Delores and whirled around. “I must get back to my guests.”
The party continued all day, and Angie noticed that her bridegroom, though a very religious man and usually a teetotaler, was consuming large quantities of liquor. At first, it was only long-stemmed glasses of bubbly champagne, but as the hours passed and shadows lengthened, Barrett turned to bourbon. Angie was a bit shocked, but said nothing. It was, after all, a very special occasion for him, and he wanted to be the gracious host, joining in to drink with his friends, to make them feel at ease and welcome in his home.
The more Barrett drank, the louder his voice, the deeper his laughter, the more affectionate his kisses to Angie’s ivory cheeks. Hot, tired, bored with the whole farce, Angie reached out when a tan-skinned waiter passed by with a tray of fresh champagne. She touched her glass to the short, heavy glass of bourbon her husband held, and he nodded his approval. “Drink up, my love,” he boomed, then laughed merrily when Angie took a sip, made a face and rubbed her tickled nose.
The long, sweltering day wore on. The guests ate, drank, danced and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Angie ate nothing, drank only the one glass of champagne, danced tirelessly with the cowboys and soldiers and spent the most miserable day of her entire life. She saw again the young, friendly wives she’d met at the Fort Davis party, but the joy and easy camaraderie were missing. The young ladies looked at her differently now that she was the bride of the elder McCIain, and Angie could read the thinly veiled questions in their eyes. She made no effort to explain. Somehow, it no longer mattered what they thought. Nothing mattered very much to Angie. She wished only for the day to come to a close so that she might go to her big bed upstairs in peace, to rest in comfort and safety. To sleep. Sleep. Blessed, dreamless sleep. That was all she wanted out of life.
Angie bit the inside of her soft bottom lip. Her stomach lurched. Pecos was gone. He was gone from Del Sol and he wouldn’t be coming back. Why couldn’t he have gone a week ago? If he had, he would never have come to her bed; she would never have given in to him. She would not have had to immediately marry his aging father. What a cold, calculating man Pecos was. He’d purposely stayed longer at the ranch than was his custom. He stayed solely to pro
ve he could break down her defenses and take her, make her eager to give herself to him. That done, he was ready to depart, free as the desert winds, untouched by what had happened between them, while her life would never be the same and her broken heart would never heal.
“Dear,” Barrett whispered close to her ear, his words thick, his breath foul with soured liquor, “You’re to go on inside now and clean up.”
Delighted to hear those welcome words, Angie nodded gratefully. “Thank you Barrett. This gown is terribly warm and uncomfortable.”
“Delores is waiting for you,” he said, beaming. He nodded to his two shadows to escort his new wife to the house.
Inside, Delores waited at the base of the stairs. Her expression was one of concern, but Angie didn’t stop to question her. She could think only of getting upstairs, stripping off the hot satin gown and changing into a cool summer dress. It was not until Angie sat cooling herself in the rose marble tub that she discovered why the servant looked upset.
“Delores,” Angie called to her, “which dress did you bring up for me to wear?”
Delores, her brown forehead creased into a worried frown, appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, holding a shimmery, thin nightgown. “señora, I …” She fell silent, her head bowing.
Angie stood in the tub, grabbing for a thirsty towel. “What is it, Delores?” Unease began to creep over her. “Where’s my dress?”
“Angie, you are not to wear a dress, you are …”
“Delores, I need a dress! It is only sundown; the party will last for hours yet. Bring me a dress immediately. Go back downstairs to my room and choose a suitably cool one and be quick about it.” Irrationally, Angie felt that if she put enough command into her voice, she could right this strange, foreboding situation, that she could stop Delores from telling her what she couldn’t bear to hear.
Sadly, Delores whispered, “You are not to go back down to the party, Angie. Senor McClain says that you are to stay upstairs, bathed and wearing this nightgown.”
Angie lunged from the big tub, the towel clutched around her wet body. Horror began to register. Still she sought to correct the error. “Delores, I’m not going to bed! I will go back down to my guests. I must have a dress.” She was almost frantic, her emerald eyes wild.
Shaking her dark head in understanding, Delores said sadly, “Angie, you are a new bride. Surely you know what is supposed to happen on a wedding day between—” Color suffused her dark face. “Child, Senor McClain will be up here in very few minutes. He want to … he going to …”
“No!” Angie stormed past her. “No, you do not understand, Delores! You see, that’s not the way it is to be. No!”
Delores followed the distraught girl into the bedroom, the nightgown clutched in her brown fingers. “Angie, my sweet niña, though it is much too early for decent people to engage in … such things, still … you married Barrett McClain and that gives him the right to …”
“Dear Delores.” Angie smiled nervously. Delores didn’t understand the arrangement. She would explain. “Barrett made me his wife in name only. That’s all he wants me to be, all that I want to be. Why, he wouldn’t dream of … of …” Chill bumps popped out on her bare arms at such a distasteful thought.
Seething at the devious patriarch of Del Sol for lying to such a sweet, trusting child, Delores was nevertheless shocked that Angie would believe he wanted nothing from her. She said softly, “Angie, I wish you were correct. I wish that were the case, but it is not.” Delores sighed heavily.
Angie felt the pinpricks of fear on her bare spine. The doctor’s examination came back all too vividly. It was Barrett who had ordered it done. He wanted to be sure she was a virgin when he took her. Why hadn’t she seen it then?
Delores touched her arm. “Angie, you are the señor’s wife and he wants to come to your bed. I had no idea you thought it would be otherwise; I thought surely you knew that he … You belong to him; you are his wife. You gave him the right when you married him.”
“Oh, dear God, what have I done? What have I done!” Angie lamented tragically. “I wanted to be safe from … I … Oh, Delores!” Green eyes wide with terror, Angie, near hysterics, started for the balcony. “I’ll run away, I’ll …” She turned back and started across the room to the door leading into the long corridor. “I’ll go get a dress myself and I’ll escape. I’ll …”
“Oh, my poor frightened pet,” Delores moaned, and followed, grabbing her arm. “Asa Granger is right outside the door and Punch Dobson is at the door of Barrett’s suite. There is no escape, Angie.” Delores pulled the covering towel from the trembling girl. “In five minutes the door to the señor’s suite will open and he will come to you. If you do not want to greet him nude, then please put on this gown.”
Hot tears scalded down Angie’s flushed cheeks; she trembled violently and felt she was going to be ill. Zombie-like, she stood while Delores patiently slipped the slick, transparent gown down over her blond head. It fell over her hips and to the floor, but covered nothing. Delores blushed when she looked at the young, slender body. Large, pink nipples pushed proudly against the tight bodice; gleaming thighs, hips and long slim legs could be seen as though she wore nothing at all.
“Help me,” Angie said in a strangled, heartbroken voice.
Tears springing to her eyes, Delores murmured, “My baby girl, I wish I could. Listen to me.” She took Angie’s shaking shoulders and held her. “I know you are a virgin; it will hurt, but it will not last too long, I think. The senor will become so excited when he sees you, he can’t hold out. That will make it easier for you. You must try to relax your body and …”
A determined knock on the door leading into the master suite interrupted her instructions. “No, no,” Angie breathed and hugged the stocky Delores, shivering with dread and fear.
The heavy, carved door swung open, and Barrett McClain, wearing only a dressing robe of gray satin, stepped into the room. “Get out of here,” he said thickly to Delores, while his glazed eyes raked over his new wife.
“Sí,” Delores apologized, seeing the passion in his gaze. She loosed Angie’s clutching hands and scurried for the door.
Angie, her wide, horrified eyes locked on the approaching old man, heard the click of the lock after Delores’s departure and felt her heart sink. Throwing her arms over herself, she said simply, “Please …”
Barrett was now smiling wickedly, and to Angie’s disgust and horror, she saw the gray shiny satin of his robe gently rising between his legs at his arousal. “Angie, my wife, my love,” he murmured heavily, slurring his words. “I want you.”
“Barrett!” She found her tongue and began to plead. “You can’t do this! It isn’t right; you promised me, you gave me your word!” She was frantically trying to cover herself from his searing eyes.
He reached her and stood looking down at her body. “My dear, you are forgetting. You are now my wife, and I have decided to make a woman of you. You’ll enjoy it tremendously after the initial pain. I understand your needless apprehension. You’re virginal and you don’t know what to expect, but I can assure you, Angie, darling, I will instruct you. I’ll show you exactly what to do. You’ll learn rapidly from me.”
“No!” she screamed at him. “I will not sleep with you! You told me I’d be a daughter to you. You lied and I won’t have it. I’m getting out of here right now.” She whirled from him, but he caught her arm and jerked her back. The wild, hungry look that leaped into his eyes terrified her, and Angie knew he was very, very drunk, incapable of listening to reason.
“Angie,” he said, grinning wickedly, “you can be like a daughter. You’ll be like my daughter in public, but we’re all alone now. This is our private, guarded domain. Here we are man and wife. We can do anything we choose in this room and the Lord will sanctify it. Now, no more foolishness.”
Desperate, she fought for time. “Barrett, it’s not decent! The sun is still in the sky. The yard is full of guests; they’ll be here for hours. It’s te
rribly rude for us to leave them. Let’s go back and join them, then when they’ve all departed, we will come to our room.” Her brain was spinning out of control; if she could get him to agree to go back and mingle with the guests, she could pour more liquor down him, slip away into the crowd, run to the stables and saddle Ángel and ride away. To flee as far and as fast as her trusted mare could take her. Ride forever until …
“I don’t care about our guests,” Barrett slurred. “I want what belongs to me and I want it now. The sun is setting; it’s he perfect time for lovemaking, Angie.” He held firmly to her upper arm, his grip so tight it was cutting into her flesh. His other hand slowly moved up toward her full breasts.
“No,” she shouted and began to fight him. She was amazed at his strength as he easily subdued her. He wrapped a thick shock of her long golden hair around his palm and held her head immobile, very close to his face, and began to talk in low, determined tones, saying shocking, filthy things that revolted and sickened the cold, terrified Angie.
“Darling, darling,” he murmured, his breath hot and foul upon her frightened face. “Let me explain. You see, my pet, you have a warm, dark, tight little cavern between your creamy legs. No one and nothing has ever been up there, but today that is going to change. I’ve something hard and ready to push up into you, and when I do, you will like it, indeed you’ll soon be begging me for it. At first it will hurt, but once I’m inside you, that pain will turn to supreme pleasure.” He smiled at her.
“Oh, dear God,” she sobbed, “stop! Please, please don’t.” Angie opened her mouth to scream. Her tight, aching throat was too closed up to allow the screams to surface properly, but her cries for help were loud enough to irritate the passionate, eager Barrett McClain.
“Darling,” he warned her through thinning lips, “let me make certain you understand the situation. You are my wife.” He jerked on her hair, making her wince with pain. “I am going to make love to you. You’re understandably a bit nervous, but I’ll tolerate no more screams. Just beyond that door, Asa Granger and Punch Dobson are guarding our honeymoon privacy. There is no way out of here for you, Angie. If you will not willingly let me initiate you in our marriage bed unaided, then I shall call my two trusted bodyguards inside this room with us to assist me with my pleasant task.” Barrett began to smile, a cold, pleased smile. He saw the look in her big eyes; she knew he meant exactly what he said. He could tell that the threat of having the two big men holding her down, watching while he climbed atop her, would subdue her.
