by Jeanne Rose
"We don't have any other relatives, at least not in this part of the country," Cassie said. "My Pa has a half-sister named Louisa up in New Mexico Territory but we've never gotten around to visiting her."
"That's too bad. I'm sure you will meet one of these days." But her assurances didn't seem to impress the girl, who continued to observe her eagerly, like a half-grown pup waiting for a pat on the head. When the buckboard hit a big bump, she bounced on the seat and hastened to change the subject, "How long will it take us to get to the ranch?"
"It's quite a piece," said Cassie. "We're hoping to get home before dark."
It was mid-morning now. Iphigenia's heart sank. "How far is quite a piece?"
"Seventy miles," said the laconic Stephen.
Iphigenia's mouth nearly dropped. "Good God!" Then she remembered she should watch her language. "Er, good heavens, I mean."
"We'll stop and rest, have a meal at noon," Cassie told her. "We brought tortillas and some chili."
"Chili? Tortillas?"
"Chili is a spicy stew," Cassie explained. "This one has more beans then beef. Carmen, our housekeeper, also made the tortillas."
Stephen put in, "Tortillas are a type of flat bread."
Iphigenia was more interested in the mention of a housekeeper. "So your father has someone to cook and clean and do the laundry?"
"Of course. You won't have to do any of that." Cassie's tone was full of pride. "Our Pa owns one of the biggest ranches in this area of the country -- three thousand acres. Our house has glass windows and real wooden floors. It's very nice. That's why Pa wants to marry a real lady."
Glass windows and wooden floors? That made Ryerson well-to-do for this part of the country? Iphigenia told herself to be thankful for small favors. She was already appalled at her surroundings, an endless-seeming wildness where nothing existed for seventy miles beyond El Paso, a horrid place in and of itself. Gazing out on the road that wound around rocks and sometimes too near deep crevices, Iphigenia once again wondered about her decision to come here. At the very least, every bone in her body would be bruised by the time they reached the ranch.
MANY HOURS LATER, Iphigenia was far too numb to feel any bruises. She hardly noticed that the land had changed subtly.
As the buckboard topped a gentle hill, Cassie announced, "This is my Pa's spread -- the R&Y."
Iphigenia focused bleary eyes.
Before them stretched a surprisingly grassy vale crossed by a big creek, in places edged with real broad-leafed trees. At the nearest end of the basin, inside a huge fenced enclosure, sat a sprawling house of timber and adobe. Several tall trees shaded the back of the house, while some distance away from the residence, numerous barns or sheds stood, often connected to pens for animals. Horses grazed, as well as cattle. Within one of the pens, some mounted men were chasing the latter, swinging ropes against their mounts and yelling.
Still sorting cows? Iphigenia wondered. She glanced up at the swinging sign over the gate as they rolled through -- the name Ryerson had been carved into the wood.
She'd be meeting Monte Ryerson any minute. If she weren't so fatigued, she supposed she should try to brush off some of the new dust that had accumulated on her traveling costume over the filthy miles. Her hair felt like a hornet's nest but she'd grown tired of wearing her hat, removing the fancy felt with feathers and veil to place it in her carpet bag along with her leather gloves. She'd also folded and laid aside her parasol when her arms grew too tired to keep holding it aloft. Doing so had exposed her to the sun, of course, and now the skin across her nose felt sore, probably sunburned.
Stephen slowed the team of horses as they neared the house, turning to Cassie, "You'd better tell her now."
The girl had been quiet for the last hour or so of their journey -- Iphigenia assumed from weariness.
"Tell me what?" She frowned at both youngsters.
"Um." Cassie looked like she wanted to squirm. "Er, well, you're going to be a surprise."
"Some surprise," Stephen complained. "What is Pa going to say? I shouldnt've agreed to any part of this."
Cassie swallowed. "Pa didn't place that advertisement in the newspaper, Miss Wentworth. I did." Her voice was a little shaky. She added quickly, "Please don't be mad. He'll like you -- you're so pretty -- and he really does need a wife."
Iphigenia's mouth went dry. "I'm a surprise?" Suddenly her entire plan was in doubt. "Damnation!" Surely she couldn't have come all this way for nothing. She had to be reunited with her baby at any cost.
"There's Pa out on the porch," Stephen said darkly.
Iphigenia looked dead ahead. A tall figure detached itself from the shadows of the structure's front overhang and descended a short flight of steps to approach. The man's walk was all smooth muscle and, as he came closer, Iphigenia noted his bronzed skin, strong features and shoulder-length blue-black hair.
Good Lord, the man was a savage.
Monte Ryerson glared at all three people mounted on the buckboard, though his attention centered on Stephen. "Where the hell have you been all day? I thought you took off with your little sister and sold her to some bandits."
"Sorry, Pa."
"Sorry isn't an explanation."
Stephen gave Cassie an angry look, prompting the girl to speak up. "We went to El Paso to fetch Miss Wentworth. She came all the way from New York on the train."
"Who the hell is Miss Wentworth?"
Ryerson's hostile eyes burned into Iphigenia. Eyes that seemed as black as his hair. He was attractive in his own way, she admitted, but so wild and fierce-looking, she could imagine him lifting her scalp. The only Indian she'd ever seen before had been in a Wild West show.
The man continued to stare, addressing her directly, "Who are you?"
For the first time in her life, she was nearly speechless.
"Well --"
Cassie intervened, "Miss Wentworth came here to marry you, Pa. She's looking for a husband and you need a wife."
Surprise suffused Ryerson's features, followed by an expression that seemed far from pleased. Again, he spoke directly to Iphigenia, "What kind of trick are you trying to play here? I oughta run you off my property."
Run her off the property? After days of uncomfortable train travel, then hours of a bone-crushing buckboard ride?
Leary of the man's latent ferocity, Iphigenia nevertheless managed to find her tongue ...along with a righteous flare of anger. "I am not running anywhere, Mr. Ryerson. I am exhausted and frustrated, as much a victim of your daughter's ruse as you yourself." She reached for her carpet bag and threw it to the ground. "I am getting off this chariot from hell and walking into your primitive excuse for a house. If you don't like it, then you must do what you will -- drag me behind your horse or shoot me full of arrows."
Now it was her would-be husband's turn to become speechless. As Iphigenia dismounted from the buckboard, she saw the light that flared in the depths of his dark, dark eyes. Surprise? Or, perhaps, respect?
MONTE SIMPLY STOOD stockstill and watched the haughty blonde pick up her carpet bag and march toward the house. Despite grime and too much sun, Miss Iphigenia Wentworth was truly and elegantly beautiful. Her chiseled features revealed bone structure as finely formed as any blooded horse's and her masses of pale gold hair seemed to shine in the growing dusk. Most fascinating, she held herself with as much pride and fire as any warrior.
That thought reminded him of her reference to his Indian heritage. Before she'd gotten her back up, he'd caught a flash of fear in her expression. No doubt a mail-order bride from New York hadn't expected to be mated up with a half-breed.
That she was mail-order at all, though, was the problem. Obviously feeling guilty, Stephen was blurting out all the details of the newspaper advertisement and the purchased train ticket even as Monte turned his attention back on his kids.
"Why would you do a stupid thing like that?" he asked his son, angry. "You're too old for such shenanigans." And he came around the buckboard to deal with Cassie, w
ho was sliding to the ground. "Don't you think you're going anywhere, girl. You're in deep trouble. I oughta lock you up for a year."
She gazed up at her father, mouth trembling. "I thought you would like her!"
Cassie had always been more dreamy than practical but Monte had never thought she'd do something crazy. "You can't match people up like a cow and a bull. And where did you get the money for the ticket anyhow? Did you dig around the bureau in my room? Search my pockets?"
A fat tear seeped out of Cassie's eye and slid down her cheek. "I wouldn't steal! I borrowed the money from Stephen." Then she broke into sobs and took off at a dead run, holding her pink skirts up out of her way.
"Come back here!" Monte roared, striding in pursuit.
But the girl only ran faster. Behind Monte, Stephen called, "She did borrow the money from me, Pa, honest."
Monte stalked on, until he heard a new, icy voice, "Enough! Stop right there!"
He whipped around.
The blonde had dropped her carpet bag to run after him. "Leave the poor child alone! Perhaps she has made a mistake but she doesn't deserve to be beaten."
"I'm not going to beat her," Monte growled, upset that anyone would think so. Was his anger that ferocious-sounding? "I never beat a young one in my life." And he only intended to catch up with Cassie and give her some more talking to. "Go back to the house and mind your own business."
"This is my business." Iphigenia Wentworth retreated a couple of steps and fear glinted in her eyes. But she stuck out her chin and placed her hands on her hips. "I answered an advertisement in good faith, whether it was placed in a newspaper by you or your child. The damage has been done. I am here. It would seem more sensible to work out this matter between the two of us, not rant and rave at her."
"I won't have my daughter thinking she can do whatever she gets into her head."
"Then talk to her when you have calmed down. If you are ever calm. With a father who shouts and makes accusations and wishes to think the worst, it is no wonder she longed to obtain a parent who was softer and more liberal."
The blonde's speech sounded impassioned, as if she had some personal experience with the subject.
But Monte wasn't about to be told what to do and by a stranger. "Who says she wanted another parent?"
"She did. She wanted a wife for you and a mother for her. That is how the advertisement was worded."
At this new bit of information, Monte scowled, though his anger was slowly fading.
"You do not have to worry about the imposition of my presence here anyway," Iphigenia went on. "I had a good reason for traveling to Texas. As soon as I have taken care of it, I shall be most happy to return to New York."
That didn't sit well with Monte. "You're not taking off until I have a say. Besides, you just stood there and admitted that my daughter wants a mother."
"But you don't want a wife."
He couldn't tell if that was a relief to her or not. If she was relieved, he couldn't help feeling annoyed. "Don't plan on going anywhere. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Her eyes widened. "You don't mean to say that you would consider marrying me?"
"You came here under that assumption." Whether or not he intended to carry through. "And my daughter paid for your train ticket, is expecting something from you. You're gonna have to stick around, at least for awhile, until things get sorted out."
"But ..."
Good. That shut her up. "Go back to the house. I thought you said you were tired. Sit down and wait until I come back." As he still wanted to talk to Cassie, if not give her the tongue-lashing he'd originally intended.
"Sit?" The woman took a big breath. "I am no dog to be ordered about."
Now she was acting downright rankled. "Look, lady, I don't know how you want me to talk to you. Go sit, lie down, prance up and down, dance on the roof. I don't care."
He turned his back and walked away, surprised to hear low cursing behind him, a string of words that would make a churchman blush.
Miss Iphigenia Wentworth might be a lady -- she certainly looked like one and spoke with education -- but she could use language that would do justice to an old cowpoke with the seat of his longjohns caught in barbed wire.
GINNIE RAYERSON said nothing as the blonde woman fumed past her on the porch. What a stupid thing for Cassie to do -- send away for some mail-order bride through a newspaper. She couldn't understand what her sister was about. But then, they'd been growing apart the last year or so.
Ginnie herself wasn't very interested in the whole show. She'd only watched because everybody was making so much noise.
Who cared about the ordinary world, when one had a secret that went far beyond it?
Filled with anticipation, she slid into the house and sneaked down the long corridor that connected most of the rooms. Her own territory beckoned, the small space she'd carved out for herself in the attic under the eaves. She ran up the narrow stairs that led to her makeshift lair, flopping down on the narrow bunk she'd moved out of the room she used to share with Cassie. Her bed was right under the window where she had a view of grazing land and mountains looming in the distance.
But the landscape she was most interested in could lie in the palm of her hand.
Reaching beneath the mattress, she pulled out the little mirror necklace she'd found beneath a chair downstairs. She polished it with a sleeve and stared into the mirror's silvery face.
"Are you there?" she said softly, searching for the spirit who inhabited the thing. Then she reworded the question in Spanish.
There was no answer in either language.
But maybe that was only because it wasn't dark enough.
Xosi Baci would eventually appear, Ginnie could count on that. And once again, Xosi would tell Ginnie not to worry, that she was very smart and important, that Xosi would help her get whatever she wanted.
Of course, Ginnie had asked what Xosi wanted in return: Freedom.
Xosi had already had a taste of that last night with Ginnie. But Ginnie suspected that Xosi had also managed to free herself from the mirror at other times to wander through the house in the dark.
Unless the footsteps and the laughter had only been a dream. Ginnie wasn't sure exactly who or what Xosi was but she was fascinated by the mirror and its inhabitant, respectful of Xosi's power. Fed up with her own boring existence, disheartened by the gap that had grown between her and the rest of her family, Ginnie would give just about anything to possess some power herself.
She felt certain the little mirror and its magic could give that to her.
CHAPTER THREE
"SENORITA WENTWORTH?"
"Hmm? What?" Dozing, Iphigenia started, wondering where she was.
A dark-haired, middle-aged woman peeked shyly through the doorway. She spoke with a soft accent, "I have made a late supper. You may join us at the table if you are hungry."
Hungry? Iphigenia's stomach growled. "I shall be there. Thank you."
Rising to her elbows, she gazed about the bedroom that Carmen, Ryerson's housekeeper had made up for her. Exhausted and thankful she hadn't been trundled into the master's quarters -- although that would have been unlikely since he hadn't known of her existence before today -- she'd barely washed up, removed her outer clothing and shimmied out of her corset before she'd fallen on the bed to drift into deep sleep. She had no idea of how long ago that had been.
But she wasn't about to pass up food. The chili stew and insubstantial tortillas felt like distant memories. She rose, groaning at her stiff back and sore muscles, throwing aside her covering and swinging her feet to the floor. Then she turned up the wick of the kerosene lamp that glowed beside the bed. Her trunks lay in the middle of the room, having been carried there by some surly-looking, mustached men.
She'd have to get dressed and she didn't really want to. She'd been so comfortable sleeping in her petticoat and camisole.
But supper beckoned. She stood, stretched her sore body and hobbled for the washstand to scr
ub her face and arms again. Then she rummaged in the carpet bag for keys, opened a trunk and pulled out the first garment she found, her brown riding habit.
That seemed appropriate for a ranch, where, she was certain, people didn't dress formally for dinner. She was also fairly sure that no one around here wore corsets. She thought she could squeeze into the riding habit's skirts if she left the top buttons open and wore the shirt outside.
She was equally casual with her thick waist-length hair, brushing it back quickly and tying it with a ribbon.
Outside, in the corridor, delicious aromas wafted, drawing her along at a fast pace. She would be able to find the kitchen and the dining table by the smells alone, even if she hadn't seen those areas of the house when she first entered. Carmen had stared at her curiously but had been helpful, providing her with a pitcher of washing water as well as a place to rest.
Carmen still wore a questioning look when Iphigenia entered the dining room. Monte Ryerson stared openly, his black gaze disconcerting. His three offspring were already seated, Cassie's face swollen from weeping. Still, the girl managed a shaky smile.
Iphigenia couldn't help feeling sympathetic toward the girl, had found her emotions surprisingly stirred when Monte had carried on, yelling at his daughter when they'd arrived.
She took the chair next to Cassie's. "Good evening."
"Good evening."
No one else said a word. Stephen merely nodded, Monte maintained his silent stare and Cassie's sister, Ginnie, didn't even raise her glance to the visitor. Iphigenia had caught sight of the slimmer, darker twin upon entering the ranchhouse. Acting as furtive as a wild animal, the girl had then quickly disappeared.
Well, Iphigenia shouldn't care that her presence was or was
not appreciated at the moment. Her goal was sustenance.
"Please help yourself." Cassie passed a heaping platter of roast beef that made Iphigenia's mouth water.
