by Ryan, Nan
“Get out of my house and off my land!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
WHEN THE GRAY, bleak winter dawn finally came, Angie stood at the ice-crusted window staring sightlessly out at the frozen countryside through red-rimmed eyes. She’d been there, watching, the greater portion of the long, cold night. The drizzling sleet had intensified, tapping loudly against the crystal panes and obscuring the large estate and vast ranges spread out before her.
She’d been there when, deep in the dead of night, the sound of hoofbeats had made her rub frantically at her teary eyes and quickly lower the damp handkerchief to the cold window to wipe clean the fogged-over glass. Pressing her nose to the wet pane, Angie had lifted her hands to cup either side of her head in a desperate attempt to see out. Her vision was limited, but the tall, lean figure atop a big bay was unmistakably Pecos. Angie did not give the rider accompanying him so much as a glance. Her eyes were only for the man with the heavy wool jacket turned up around his ears, his Stetson pulled low and his trousers stuffed into his boots.
Her lips touching the glass, she silently mouthed his name. “Pecos, Pecos.”
As though he could hear her above the worsening storm, he pulled up on his horse, turned abruptly in the saddle and looked straight toward her. For one heart-wrenching moment she could see his handsome face through the falling sleet. Then he had whirled and was gone, and Angie felt as though her insides had been physically ripped from her aching stomach. Every part of her screamed with pain, and insanely she considered rushing out into the cold. The image ran through her head of her hurtling barefoot over the frozen ground, shouting his name until he turned and saw her. She could almost feel those powerful arms scooping her up from the icy earth to press her close to the warmth and safety of his chest while she rained kisses on his handsome, smiling face. The image evaporated along with the sound of hoofbeats.
Pecos was gone.
ANGIE OPENED HER EYES. The low pain she’d felt the night before had intensified. Tears slid down her unhappy cheeks. It was a familiar pain; it told her that her womb was as empty as her heart.
Pecos had been gone for almost three weeks. Foolish though it was, Angie had secretly hoped that she was carrying his child. It was insane, she knew, but she loved him despite all he’d done to hurt her, and night after night she’d lain in her lonely bed wondering if a part of him could be alive inside her.
Her hopes now dashed, she knew she’d lost him forever. There’d be no child of their love, nothing of him to treasure. No cooing, dark child to cling to her breast and drive away the emptiness in her heart.
Angie turned in despair to the pillow where once his dark head had lain. She buried her face and cried out her agony. Not even a trace of his clean, masculine scent remained on the pillow.
Pecos was gone.
PECOS POURED COFFEE from a big tin pot and set it back on the stove. Eleven brown-faced men crowded together in his tar-paper shack. Among them were the young Jose Rodriguez, cross-legged on the plank floor, and Reno Sanchez, the latest addition to the mining crew, a cigarette between his lips, leaning against the closed kitchen door.
Pecos took a seat on the scarred table. He placed his steaming cup of coffee on it and.cleared his throat.
“I realize it’s night, and it’s cold, and you’re all anxious to get home to your families.” Pecos’s eyes swept the attentive faces turned on him. “I’ll not beat around the bush. I’m broke. The pay you’ll receive at the end of the week is the last there is.” A low hum went through the miners and dark heads shook knowingly. “I feel damn bad about this—” his wide shoulders lifted and Pecos shook his head “—but since Lady Luck seems reluctant to smile on me, I’ve no choice but to—”
“Excuse por favor” a small, graying Mexican interrupted. He set his coffee aside and rose. “Sefior Pecos, we know there is no money.” Pecos listened as the miner, growing so excited he switched from broken English to Spanish, explained that all the men had agreed they’d work on for a time. Perhaps they’d hit the vein. They’d all saved a little money since they’d started working at the Lost Madre, and they were willing to loan the money to him. Pecos could repay them when he found his gold.
Pecos adamantly objected to such a noble sacrifice from the gathered workers, but they insisted. A slow grin finally lifted the corners of Pecos’s full mouth, and the workers knew they’d won.
From his perch atop the table Pecos lifted both hands, “All right, all right, amigos.” A loud cheer went up from the smiling men. “I’ll take you up on your offer on one condition. The money you put up will be to purchase shares of the mine.” Immediately loud chattering spread throughout the little kitchen. Pecos spoke above it. “It’s the only way I’ll agree to use your money. Will you go for my proposal?”
The eager dark heads bobbed happily, and within half an hour Pecos had fully explained what they would get for their money. Not all the miners understood completely, but they trusted their lanky, young boss and were more than confident he’d give them a fair shake. Good-nights were said as the tired men departed, leaving behind only Jose, who stood at the door buttoning his coat, and Reno who was helping himself to a cup of stale coffee.
“I think we will all be wealthy someday, Pecos, sí?” Jose grinned at Pecos.
“I hope so,” Pecos drawled, returning the young man’s smile. “If you’re going to marry Rosalinda, you’ll need a lot of money.”
“Ah, sí, it would be nice, but she will love me even if I’m poor.” His eyes flashed as he added, “She thinks I am very much a man.” He threw back his muscular shoulders, proud of his newly developed body.
“That you are, Jose.” Pecos clapped him on the back. “Guess you’re on your way over to Rosalinda’s right now?” His heavy brows lifted.
“Sí, Pecos. Her kisses heat up the cold nights.”
Pecos chuckled, as did Reno. It was Reno who said in a fatherly tone, “Be careful, Jose, you wouldn’t want—”
“Do not worry, Reno,” Jose happily interrupted. “With Rosalinda’s father in the next room, she is as safe as the nuns down at Holy Trinity.” His dark eyes gleamed, “But when we marry …” He jerked open the door and went out into the cold, laughing merrily.
After the boy had gone, Pecos yawned and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Damn, Reno,” he said musingly, “can you beat these men we work with? Renews your faith in humanity. I just hope to hell I can make it up to them.”
“My friend, put it from your mind, we will strike gold,” Reno assured him. “Let’s forget the mine for tonight, go into the village and have a drink, maybe dance.₀”
Pecos walked away, pulling the long tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. “You can. I’m going to bed.”
Reno followed his tall friend into the other room. “Damn you, Pecos, it is time you snap out of it. You can’t go on this way.”
Pecos whirled around. His eyes were flinty hard. “Shelve it, Reno, you’re not my damned guardian, and I don’t—”
“No, I am your friend,” Reno interrupted, his hands on his hips. “I know what is the matter with you. You are in love with—”
A lean hand snaked out and grabbed Reno’s shirt collar with such speed and force that Reno’s eyes bugged and the words choked off in his throat. Pecos leaned menacingly close. “Don’t ever mention her name, do you hear me? Never. I’m not, nor have I ever been, in love.” He released Reno’s collar and dropped his hand. A slow weak smile spread over his lips and his gray eyes softened. “It’s only you Mexicans that go around constantly searching for love.”
Unconvinced, Reno admitted, “That could be, Pecos. And if you’d ever been in love, you’d know why we do. The years I had with my wife, Teresa, were the best. There’s nothing quite as wonderful as waking up beside the woman you love.”
Pecos turned away, his eyes filled with misery he desperately wanted to conceal. “I wouldn’t know, pal,” he said dryly, taking off his shirt and tossing it over the back of a chair.<
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“Wouldn’t you?” Reno ventured, then grabbed his coat from the peg and left, Pecos frowning after him.
Pecos sighed, took off his shoes and trousers and crawled into bed, stretching out on his back. His elbows folded on the pillow and his fingers cradling his head, Pecos recalled all too vividly how it felt to wake up beside the woman he loved.
Mornings were when he had found Angel at her loveliest. Warm from sleep, her soft, curvaceous little body seemed to fit his with perfect precision. That golden head buried on his shoulder smelling of roses and soap, its tumbled beauty pleasantly tickling his nose when he turned his head to her. Her sweet face pressed openmouthed against his chest, her gentle breath a whisper upon his flesh brought a shudder of remembered pleasure. She had slept with one slender leg draped across him, knee bent and resting on his lower belly, the other stretched out by his, her tiny toes digging into his calf and her slim arm clinging sweetly to his middle.
Pecos groaned aloud. His chest constricted. Reno was right. There was nothing in the world so wonderful as waking up beside the woman you love. And there was nothing so painful as waking up without her there.
THE WINTER OF 1887 rapidly turned into the most brutal ever recalled in southwest Texas and all across the United States. Frigid winds howled across the ranges. The land was gripped in blizzards so punishing that cattle from as far away as Montana drifted southward with the storms to Texas, thousands dying in the process.
At Del Sol, the Arctic air bit through the heaviest woolen mackinaws of the vaqueros and caused the bewildered cattle to huddle together, too cold to move even to eat. The cowboys had to feed the cattle where they stood. It was a cold, tiring task and the men who pulled line duty complained bitterly.
Angie paced the floor in the warmth of the mansion and worried. She felt alone, deserted. She knew full well that both Miss Emily and Delores had not completely forgiven her for sending Pecos away. They both treated her with respect and affection, saying nothing, but she could read the displeasure in their eyes. Even when Miss Emily had questioned her soon after Pecos’s departure, Angie could see the older woman was not satisfied with the answer.
“But you love each other,” Miss Emily wailed tearfully.
“No, Aunt Emily,” Angie corrected coldly, “I loved Pecos; Pecos loves money. That’s the only reason he came home, the only reason he …” She rolled her eyes skyward.
“Did he ask you for money, Angie?”
“No, he didn’t, but … Look, Aunt Emily, to put it bluntly, your nephew pretended to be in love with me so that he might take Del Sol away from me. We’ll discuss it more fully at a later date. I have a splitting headache.”
No, she had not convinced Miss Emily, and she had not even attempted to convince Delores. Delores, like Emily, loved Pecos, no questions asked.
Unfortunately, theirs was not the only lack of support Angie encountered. The charming Pecos had apparently worked his magic upon the entire crew at Del Sol in the brief week he was home, and now Angie found the foreman a little less willing to take orders from her. It was the same with the cowboys and vaqueros. At a time when she needed every hand to give his all, she was sure many of the employees were not.
Cattle bearing the Sunburst brand were dying daily from lack of food and water, and Angie had a hunch it was because many of the men manning the line shacks were spending the freezing days inside their huts instead of out on horseback, breaking ice from the creeks and carrying feed to the starving cattle.
Angie felt a heavy weight bearing down on her slender shoulders. If it were not so threatening to the future of the ranch, the miserable winter following directly on the heels of the blistering summer of drought would be almost laughable. Who but she could be so unlucky as to inherit a cattle empire, only to encounter the most devastating weather troubles ever to hit the big ranch? Knowing there was no one to whom she could turn to advise her, to hold her close or cuff her on the chin and say, “Hey, things aren’t so bad; we’ll make it,” Angie took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, dressed in heavy clothing and set out for the nearest line shack, one of the sullen ranch foremen riding beside her.
Just as she’d expected the two vaqueros jumped as though they’d been shot when she threw open the door of the oneroom dwelling and stepped inside. One man, wearing only long underwear, was stretched out on his bunk, though it was mid-morning. The other, unshaven, eyes red, sat before the fire, a half-empty whiskey bottle at his elbow. Angie’s stormy green eyes made a quick sweep of the cluttered, filthy room, and she fought to maintain her composure.
“If you value your jobs, this will never happen again. There are cattle out there starving while the two of you hibernate like a couple of lazy bears.” Their faces flushing, one turned away to pull on his trousers, while the other blinked, trying to focus, unable to believe that a tiny, blond woman was standing inside the dirty line shack reprimanding him. “I’m leaving now, you’ve half an hour to get to work. If you’re not in the saddle by then, you’ve spent your last day at Del Sol.”
Both began to plead at once, while the tall foreman, twisting his hat nervously in his hands, said nothing. He was responsible; he’d not checked on the boys in the shacks since they’d been out. It had been too cold.
Angie, unmoved, swept out of the shack and onto her horse. With a kick of her booted heels to the horse’s mid-section, she headed in the direction of another range shack, some six miles away. The foreman mutely mounted and followed her.
The next shack looked much the same as the first had. For the next week, Angie rose early each morning, and warmly dressed, toured the shacks with a very contrite ranch foreman. Her temper grew more fiery with each disappointing day. Furious that these same men who’d worked so hard for Barrett McClain and for Pecos, had so little respect for her they would let prime cattle die while they lolled away their days shut up inside their shacks, she raged at the men, her voice shrill with emotion.
Angie never knew it, but the men she so scathingly blessed out gained new respect for her. To see the soft, lovely little female come out into the storms and march into their domain to inform them that they could either get to their chores or leave, impressed the tough old cowhands. Dumbstruck, they stared at her while she stood, hands on her hips, informing them hotly that she intended Del Sol to get through the winter with or without them, to take their pick.
None knew that at night, exhausted from her long rides across the ranges and wrung out from shouting at them, Angie slipped into her bed and cried. She desperately needed help and there was none to be had. There never would be. She felt she had failed and that the vast fortune would all be lost. Her body aching, her heart heavy, she would tiredly close her eyes, murmuring sadly, “Pecos.”
The cold, lonely winter dragged on, and Angie awoke one snowy morning deciding she couldn’t stand one more worry-filled day at the isolated Del Sol. Pulling the cord beside her bed to summon Delores, she smiled when the servant entered her room carrying a breakfast tray.
“Delores, will you please pack my trunks, I’m going back to San Antonio for a couple of weeks.”
Delores, noting the paleness of the blond girl propped up against the pillows, said understandingly, “Sí, señora. I will be happy to.” She set the tray on the bedside table. “I am glad you go; you look frail, and there are dark circles beneath your pretty green eyes. You work too hard.”
Angie took the coffee cup while Delores spread a linen napkin across her knees. Smiling, Angie said truthfully, “Delores, it seems I just can’t please you. As I recall, you chastised me for being a lazy, good-for-nothing when we were last in San Antonio. Now you chide me for working.” She smiled up at the brown woman.
“Honey—” Delores pushed at the golden hair falling into Angie’s face “—all I really want is for you to be happy.” Her dark eyes searched Angie’s.
Lowering her own to the steaming coffee cup, Angie said with as much conviction as she could muster, “I’ve never been happier.”
> Chapter Thirty-Six
ANGIE FOUND little relief from her loneliness in San Antonio. Miss Emily had remained at the ranch, unwilling to venture outside the walls of Del Sol until the terrible, biting winter had ended. Delores had wanted to accompany her but Angie had insisted she stay with Miss Emily.
It was less than a week since she’d come to San Antonio and already Angie was restless. Her efforts to amuse herself with new gowns and jewels had failed, and she wondered if anything would ever be enjoyable again.
One bitter cold evening, Angie roamed her opulent suite, feeling caged and wary though she’d rested throughout the day. Pecos had been unceasingly on her mind, and she felt drained. Pacing back and forth across the deep rug, she again reminded herself that the tender times she’d shared with Pecos had been merely a ploy of his to divest her of her fortune. While he’d held her in his arms and expertly made love to her, his scheming mind had been filled with thoughts of money.
Angie pulled the satin lapels of her blue dressing robe together and sadly shook her head. Aloud she mused, “What did I expect? He’s the son of the vile Barrett McClain.” A chill skipped up her backbone. “How could I have imagined myself so in love with a man with Barrett McClain’s blood running through his veins? I must have been insane. Pecos is as corrupt as his disgusting father; it sickens me to think I made love to him.”
Angie’s wedding night flashed through her mind and she felt the bile rising in her throat. Turning, she hurried across the big room to the bath. Bending over the tub, she twirled gold-plated faucets, unreasonably eager to take a bath. Stripping the long satin robe from her shoulders, Angie stepped into the tub feeling dizzy and weak. “Pecos is Barrett’s son and every bit as evil,” she said to the rushing water filling the tub around her. “Pecos is a part of Barrett McClain.” Angie lifted the big bar of jasmine soap from its gold holder and began to scrub briskly, feeling dirty and used and sick all over again.
