Rage of Passion

by Diana Palmer

  “Here's my Becky,” Janet gushed, opening her arms to the little girl, who darted into them with unabashed affection.

  “Oh, Auntie Janet, I'm so glad you came,” Becky enthused. Becky had taken instantly to the older woman during that chance meeting, and when she'd learned that Maggie was Janet's goddaughter, she'd “adopted” herself as Janet's niece. Maggie hadn't fussed, and Janet had been delighted. The poor child had no other living relatives, except her terror of a father.

  Becky hugged the old lady tightly, her eyes closed. She drew back a long minute later. “My daddy is trying to make me come and live with him, and I told Mama we should run away, but she won't.”

  Janet darted a searching glance at Maggie, who was standing red-faced in the center of the kitchen while old Mary gaped briefly at the small group before ambling back to her tea cakes and silverware. Mary had been with the family since Maggie was a child. She didn't work for them full-time anymore but only came in when she needed a little extra money—and Maggie often worked overtime to provide that money, to help the woman who'd been so much a part of her childhood.

  “So that's still going on, is it?” Janet asked haughtily. “Really, dear, you should let me ask Gabriel to speak to Dennis. He wouldn't mind.”

  Maggie could just imagine Gabriel doing anything for her. It was whimsical. She shrugged. “My attorneys are handling it, but thank you for the offer.”

  “I feel guilty. I've lost touch with you all since you moved to Austin,” Janet said. “If it hadn't been for our chance meeting downtown, I wouldn't have invited myself to visit you.”

  “You know you're always welcome here,” Maggie chided.

  Janet searched her face quietly. “I've been away too long, haven't I, dear? I should have been keeping an auntly eye on you.” She shook her head. “I lose track of things these days. Absentmindedness, I suppose. I remembered after I ran into you that I hadn't ever mentioned your marriage to the girls. That's how terrible I am.”

  “We haven't seen each other in a long time,” Maggie reminded her with a smile. “But it's so nice to have you here.” She led Janet into the dining room, where the older woman sat down at the cherrywood table, fanning herself with her hand.

  “Darling, it's so hot, even for spring. How ever do you stand it?”

  “I'll get you a fan,” Becky volunteered, and opened the buffet drawer, pulling out a large wooden fan with a beautiful spring scene on one side and the name of a local funeral parlor in huge black letters on the other.

  Janet smiled appreciatively at her and began to fan herself furiously. “If you only had air conditioning.” She shook her head. “We had to put it in two years ago. The heat is getting more unbearable every year.”

  Becky seated herself primly in a chair beside Janet while Mary bustled around serving tea cakes and steaming cups of freshly brewed tea. Afterward, Becky was sent out to play and Mary went into the kitchen to finish dinner and watch the little girl out the back window.

  “Now,” Janet said firmly, transfixing Maggie with those piercing light eyes. “Let's hear it all.”

  Maggie knew she had no choice, so she told her godmother everything. It felt good to get it off her chest. It had been so long since she'd had anybody she could talk to.

  Janet listened, only occasionally asking questions. When Maggie had finished, she stared into her teacup for a minute, then spoke. “Come home with me,” she said, looking up. “You need a little time away, to think things through. The ranch is the perfect refuge—and the one place Dennis won't come looking for you.”

  That was true enough. Dennis, like Maggie, had heard plenty about Gabriel Coleman, and Dennis wasn't suicidal.

  “But what about Becky?” Maggie asked. “I can't take her out of school now….”

  “We'll come back for her week after next,” Janet assured her. “She's in boarding school, darling. They won't let Dennis have her without a court order. She'll be safe.”

  Maggie fingered her cup with a sigh. It sounded like heaven—to get away from the city, to be able to think in placid surroundings. If only it weren't for Gabriel…

  Memories of him had colored her young life for years. He was stamped permanently on her thoughts like an indelible ink. She knew so much about him. Like the time he'd forced some rustlers off the road into a ditch and held the three men with a shotgun until one of his hands got the sheriff there. Then there was the knockdown-drag-out fight with one of his men right in the street.

  Maggie had actually witnessed that. Sometimes she wondered if it hadn't happened because of her. She'd been spending a couple of weeks with his sisters at the ranch when she was about sixteen. They'd gone into town with Janet to shop, driven by one of the hands, a new man with too-interested eyes and a way of talking to the young girls that amused Robin and Audrey but terrified Maggie. Gabe had been at the hardware store, right next door to the grocery store where Janet shopped. And when the girls had come out, the new man had put his hand on Maggie's waist and insolently let it drop to her hip in a blatant caress.

  Gabe had moved over a rack of shovels with alarming speed, and his powerful fists had made a shuddering mess of the new cowhand. Gabe had fired him on the spot, oblivious to the fascinated stares of passersby, and in language that had colored Maggie's face a bright red.

  Gabe had started to move toward her, and with visible apprehension she'd backed away from him, her green eyes wide and frightened. Whatever he'd meant to say never got said. He'd glared at the girls and demanded to know what they were staring at. Then he'd ordered them back to the car and stalked off, lighting a cigarette as calmly as if nothing had happened. The girls had said later that he'd explained the man had gotten in trouble for mistreating an animal. But Maggie had always wondered if it hadn't been because he'd insulted her. It was one of those unfinished episodes that haunted her.

  Maybe it had all happened a long time ago, she conceded. Still…Memories were one thing, but living under his roof was quite another. And she definitely preferred to keep Gabe at a safe distance. Like the distance from San Antonio to the Coleman ranch.

  But saying no to Janet Coleman was like talking to a wall. Within minutes, Maggie found herself agreeing to the visit.

  Chapter Two

  If Maggie had thought Janet would just go back home and leave Maggie to follow, she was dead wrong. Janet helped her pack and even drove them to the exclusive boarding school to drop Becky off and tell the office where Maggie could be reached if she was needed.

  Mrs. Haynes, who ran the school, was a good friend of the family. It was comforting to Maggie to know that the woman was aware of the situation with Dennis and knew not to let him take the child. She still felt uneasy about leaving Becky, but she needed time to think and plan. If she was to keep her daughter, she had to act quickly.

  “I hate leaving you here,” Maggie told the child as she hugged her goodbye. “Becky, I promise you, as soon as school is out, we'll make some better arrangements, so that you can stay with me all the time.”

  “You mustn't worry, Mama,” Becky said seriously, sounding for all the world like an adult. “I'll be just fine. And as soon as school is out, you come right back here and get me, all right?”

  “All right, darling,” Maggie promised, smothering an amused smile. “I will. Be a good girl.”

  Minutes later, Maggie and Janet were on their way to the massive ranch the Colemans owned, which was far to the north of San Antonio, up near Abilene. The nearest town was Junction, a modern little place with just enough stores to qualify for a post office. It even had an airport of sorts.

  “I'm sorry I couldn't get Gabriel to fly me here,” Janet apologized as they sped up the long highway in the sleek silver Lincoln Mark IV that was the older woman's pride and joy. “But he was busy with roundup and couldn't be bothered,” she muttered darkly. “After all, I'm just his mother. Why should I come before the cattle? He couldn't even get a good price for me since I'm too old and tough!”

  It was all Maggie
could do to keep from laughing. Janet had a dry sense of humor and she was delightful as a companion. Yes, maybe this would turn out for the best after all. It was going to be a nice visit, and she'd be able to put Dennis and the horror of the past into perspective and plan her strategy to keep Becky out of her ex-husband's clutches. If only it weren't for Gabriel…

  It was spring and already hot in this part of the world, and the ride was tiring despite the air conditioning and the car's luxurious interior. Janet had to stop frequently for gas and soft drinks and rest rooms. But eventually they passed through the edges of the beautiful hill country, nearing Abilene, and brush turned to lush, cultivated flatland.

  “We have two airplanes, after all,” Janet continued her chatter as they drove the final few miles. “Not to mention a helicopter.” She glanced at Maggie. “You're worn out, aren't you, dear?” She sighed.

  “No, not at all,” Maggie said gently, and even managed to laugh. It had been a long time since she'd felt like laughing, but there was something very relaxing about Janet's company. “We've seen some beautiful country, and I'm really kind of glad we did it this way. You're tired though, aren't you?” she probed gently.

  “Me?” the older woman scoffed. “My dear, in my youth, I could break wild horses. I'm a Texan.”

  So was Maggie, and the girl she'd been would have gloried in the challenge of a wild horse. But so much of the spirit had been drained out of her in the past few years. If it hadn't been for Becky, she wasn't sure how long she could have kept her sanity under that kind of pressure.

  “I hope you're going to enjoy the ranch,” Janet was murmuring as she pulled off onto a graveled road with a huge sign near it that read, “Coleman Ranch, Purebred Santa Gertrudis Cattle.”

  “I know I will,” Maggie promised. She smiled at the sight of the big red-coated cattle grazing behind rugged, rustic fences. “Santa Gertrudis is the only native American breed, isn't it?” she murmured knowledgeably. “Founded on the King Ranch and now famous all over the world. They're so beautiful…. Oh, what I wouldn't give for some of my own.”

  Janet drew in a deep breath, her gaze wistful. “Oh, my dear, if only I'd brought you here sooner…” She shook her head as she turned back to the road and eased the car forward. “It's so ironic. Gabriel is obsessed with cattle. You'd have made the perfect daughter-in-law.”

  “No matchmaking,” Maggie cautioned, feeling herself go taut with apprehension. “With all due respect to your son, the last thing in the world I want is a domineering man in my life again. Okay?”

  Janet smiled gently. “Okay. And I wouldn't do that to you, truly. But you are so special, my dear.”

  She smiled back. “You're pretty special yourself.” She glanced toward the big white clapboard house with its graceful long porches and green shutters. It had a faintly colonial look about it, but without the huge columns. There were wicker chairs all over, a big porch swing, and flowers blooming in wild profusion everywhere. It was spectacular.

  “It's about the same size as your own, isn't it?” Janet laughed. “My father built it with no particular style in mind. It often draws comment for that.”

  “It's lovely,” Maggie sighed. She glanced toward the long wire fences, frowning. “I expected white fences,” she murmured.

  Her companion laughed. “Gabriel is tight with a dollar,” she teased. “There are hundreds of acres of land here, and fencing is expensive. Especially electric fences, which are all he uses these days. He cuts costs wherever he can. Actually,” she added, “it's a full-time job just keeping track of cattle and keeping rustlers out. We only keep purebreds here, and when a bull can bring as much as half a million dollars, you can understand why Gabriel is so careful about security. He has a man full-time to do nothing but maintain security here.”

  “Good heavens,” Maggie exclaimed. “People still rustle cattle?”

  “Yes, they do. They come in big trucks. It's been modernized along with cattle ranching, but rustling is still a problem.”

  “I wouldn't have guessed,” Maggie said as Janet pulled up to the steps and stopped. She barely noticed Janet's sudden stiffening or the disturbed look in her eyes; she was too busy watching the man who was approaching the stopped car.

  He was tall. Lithe and lean, he walked with an arrogance that immediately put Maggie's back up. He was dressed like a working cowboy, but he moved like no other man she'd ever seen. He was graceful, from the top of his wide-brimmed tan hat to the toes of his worn, warped boots. His dusty leather batwing chaps were flying with the sharp movements of long, powerfully muscled legs, and what she could see of his darkly tanned face under his hat wasn't at all welcoming.

  He paused beside the car, and Janet rushed out with an exclamation of pleasure to hug him with the enthusiasm and warmth that seemed so much a part of her. But he drew back sharply.

  “For God's sake, stop that!” he bit off, grimacing. He held his side and caught his breath with a hot curse. “I've been bitten by a rattlesnake. The arm's still swollen, and it'll be days before I can get back to work. I don't need it broken!”

  Janet flushed, looking flustered and taken aback. “I'm sorry, dear…”

  “I can't ride a horse, can't bounce around in the damned trucks, I can't even fly the plane!” He glared at Janet as if it were all her fault. “Landers is even having to drive me around. I've been sicker than an overfed dog.”

  “I…I'm sorry. You do look pale,” Janet said uneasily. “It must be painful.”

  “I'll live.” He looked past Janet to the younger woman, and his chin lifted, his eyes narrowing. He scowled thoughtfully as Maggie stepped from the car, and she saw his eyes under the shadowy brim of the hat.

  She was tempted to turn around and run. It was that kind of look. There was nothing welcoming in his lean, sharp-featured countenance. He had a crook in the middle of his nose, as if somebody had broken it. His black eyebrows were as shaggy and thick as the hair on his head, and his protruding brow shadowed eyes as light as candles, as penetrating as only blue eyes could be. His high cheekbones ran down to a firm, hard-looking mouth over a stubborn chin. He wasn't a handsome man, although his face had character and his body was as sensuously powerful as that of a movie star. The fabric of her dreams—in the flesh. But it was no surprise to Maggie that he was thirty-eight and unmarried. It would take a strong woman, a fiery woman, for a man like that. She felt cold chills at the thought of what he might expect of a woman in intimacy.

  The feeling must have been mutual, because the look he was giving her spoke volumes. She could imagine how citified she must seem to him, in her lacy white blouse and white slacks, with dainty strapped sandals. She should have worn jeans, she thought belatedly, as she'd planned to in the beginning. Why had she dressed up so? She needed this vacation so badly, and here she'd gone and antagonized him at first glance.

  “Gabe, you remember Mary's daughter, Maggie Turner, don't you?” Janet asked.

  Maggie stared up at him, watching the fleeting lift of his eyebrows. He looked at her with cold disinterest. “I remember her.”

  “It's nice to…see you again,” she faltered.

  He nodded, but he didn't return the greeting. He dismissed her without a second thought and turned back to his mother impatiently as a truck with the ranch logo purred to a stop nearby. “I won't be gone long, but I'm expecting an important call from Cheyenne. If it comes through while I'm gone, have the party call back at five.”

  “Certainly, dear,” Janet agreed. “I'm sorry if I've…we've come at a bad time…”

  “Don't you always, Mother?” he asked with a cold smile. “Isn't Europe more your style than dust and cattle?”

  “I came to see you,” the older woman said with quiet pride.

  “I'll be back directly.” He turned without another glance and walked to the truck, grimacing despite his iron control as he climbed inside the cab and managed to close the door, waving away the cowboy who offered to help him. They drove off in a cloud of dust.

/>   Janet sighed half-angrily. “I'll never understand him,” she said under her breath. “I didn't raise him without manners. I'm sorry, Maggie.”

  “There's no need to apologize,” Maggie said quietly. “I gather that he's in some pain.”

  “And irritable at having to stay at home when there's work to be done. Roundup is a bad time for everyone. Besides that,” she said miserably, “he doesn't like it when I come here. I have to confess that I needed you as much as you needed the rest. I don't like having to cope by myself. But truly, you'll enjoy it. He won't be around much,” she added with a hopeful look. “Just until his arm will let him go back to work. Knowing my son,” she added bitterly, “it shouldn't take more than a couple of days. Nothing keeps him down for long. He'll convince the doctor that strapping it will accomplish miracles.”

  “He isn't the most welcoming man,” Maggie murmured.

  “He'll be gone before you know it. Now come on and let's get settled in,” Janet said firmly. “This is my home, too—even if I'm not allowed to visit it very often!”

  Maggie didn't reply. She wasn't sure that she'd done the right thing in coming. Gabriel was stone-cold hateful, and time hadn't improved his old dislike of her. She knew instinctively that if his mother hadn't been around, he'd have packed her right back to San Antonio. It wasn't the brightest beginning.

  She spent the next two hours reacquainting herself with the big house and getting to know the new cook and housekeeper, whose name was Jennie. She was small and dark and gay, and Maggie liked her immediately.

  She settled in, changing her white outfit for jeans and a yellow blouse. She brushed her short hair toward her face and hoped that her appearance wouldn't antagonize the cattleman any further when she went down to have supper with the family.

  Gabriel was already at the table, looking furious and glaring at her the minute she walked into the spacious, elegant dining room. In fact, his look was so accusatory that she froze in the doorway, flashing on a line from a dog-training manual about not showing fear and making no sudden moves. Perhaps it would work with the half-civilized cattleman whose mother was obviously kicking him under the table.