by Jeanne Rose
"That would be good. Anything that has been close to her or that she loves."
"I'll do it right away. Tomorrow."
"Good." Xosi assumed her most motherly tone, knowing that was what this girl wanted. She hovered over Ginnie, stretched out a ghostly finger to stroke her face. "Sweet little chica. Now go to sleep and do not worry anymore."
For once released, Xosi liked to wander on her own for as long as she could. She had no control over the length of time she could flit about the outside world, though she was confined to the darker hours.
Thank Dios, Ginnie saw fit to sink down to her pillow with a satisfied sigh. The girl was breathing heavily even as Xosi floated down the narrow attic staircase.
The corridor lay before her, deep with night and shadow. Yet she knew exactly where the invader's room lay. She flew toward it, wishing she could scream in the blonde woman's ears and keep her awake all night.
CHAPTER SIX
IPHIGENIA SLEPT restlessly, tossing and turning her way through strange dreams, the fitful sleep making her rise later than usual the next morning.
Not that she should be in a hurry. After last night's ride, she realized she needed to prepare and get her bearings before attempting a journey to Ft. Davis again. It would take days to study the map, prepare a simpler version for herself, and collect supplies. Not to mention that she would have to make arrangements for the return of a horse and anything else she borrowed from Monte.
The man had finally acted decently toward her. She would be decent in return.
Further, she intended to keep her promise regarding Cassie. But her heart sank when she went into the kitchen and found the girl waiting for her. The eager expression on Cassie's face touched her more deeply than she wished.
She cleared her throat and reached for the tea kettle sitting on the back of the stove. "Do you have tasks to do about the ranch?" she asked diplomatically, pouring herself a cup of hot water, then steeping some tea. "I hope my arrival has not interrupted your schedule."
"Tasks? You mean chores? Sure, I collect eggs from the hens for Carmen. And I help her with the cooking whenever she asks. Sometimes I even help Stephen or Pa outside." Cassie offered, "Now I can help you, too. Are we going to have another fancy dinner tonight?"
"I don't think the rest of your family enjoyed the last one very much."
Cassie shrugged. "Pa has to get used to new things, you know."
"And sometimes people can't or won't get used to the new. Your father prefers more informal dining."
"Well, I thought the meal was beautiful."
"Thank you." The girl was so sweet. And so unaware of Iphigenia's other motives. She suggested compromise, "Maybe your father will agree to having a fancy dinner from time to time, such as on holidays. That would be a nice way for you to celebrate."
Cassie nodded, not noticing that Iphigenia had used the word you, rather than us. "That might be possible."
But the conversation came to a halt when the back door sprang open, admitting a wide-eyed, pale-faced Carmen.
Iphigenia couldn't help feeling alarmed. "What's the matter?"
Carmen twisted her hands. "Two men have quit. Señor Ryerson rode after them but I do not think he will change their minds. They believe someone has put a curse on this ranch, a spell to raise the dead."
"Why on earth would ranch workers come up with a story like that?" Iphigenia asked.
"A terrible thing happened. A herd of cattle on one of the high ranges stampeded off a cliff last night," Carmen said, her voice shaky. "Cattle do not do such things -- they must have been very frightened. The men were miles away but they saw fiery lights and heard loud sounds."
"Explosions? Those are man made and have nothing to do with curses."
"There were no marks on the ground, the men said. It was not explosions." Carmen paused, lips trembling. "And there have been other things."
"Like those horses?" Cassie turned to Iphigenia. "A bunch of them spooked and ran off the night before you came. But Pa says there has to be an explanation."
Carmen crossed herself. "I do not think anyone can explain. Horses know when spirits walk. All animals know and some of them die of fear. I myself found two chickens lying dead in their coop."
"Perhaps they had a disease," Iphigenia suggested.
Carmen shook her head. "Their necks were broken. Blood ran from their beaks and some of it had been used to paint strange signs on the building."
"Then someone killed them." Someone horrible or sick, Iphigenia thought, if that person had wanted to paint signs in blood.
Cassie looked troubled. "When did the chickens die? I've never seen any blood."
Carmen sighed. "It was yesterday. My husband washed the signs away as best he could."
The housekeeper looked like she wanted to collapse. Iphigenia pulled out a chair for her. "Why don't you sit and rest?"
The woman sank down gratefully, but wasn't finished with her tales. "I do not know whether these bad things were done by the living or the dead. At night, many people have seen lights flitting from window to window in this house. Even I have seen such, and heard noises when I did not leave before dark."
Iphigenia felt a little thrill. "Noises?"
"It's Ginnie sneaking around," asserted Cassie. "She's been acting strange for months."
Ginnie? Possibly.
Then again, possibly not.
Mind spinning, Iphigenia realized that the restlessness she'd suffered the night before had been due partially to an annoying, rattling doorknob and what seemed to be laughter and footpads in the corridor. Recalling that she heard the same sounds the night she was drunk on tequila, she'd gotten out of bed and opened the door, only to see no one. Carmen obviously noticed her brooding expression. "Have you seen lights, Señorita Wentworth? Or heard noises?"
Iphigenia wasn't about to admit to such irrational fears, especially if cowboys were quitting because of them. "I do not know what spooks horses or stampedes cattle but I do know that houses make unusual sounds as they settle." As for the lights, she also remembered waking and seeing something greenish-white flash in her bureau's mirror. She'd been chilled to the bone and had pulled the bed's extra blanket over herself. Yet she insisted, "There are always logical reasons for unusual occurrences."
"Perhaps they do not believe in ghosts and curses in New York," said Carmen.
"Curses I can't speak for." But as to ghosts, Iphigenia disagreed, "There are houses that are reputedly haunted in New York, just as anywhere else. Including one that belongs to a second cousin of mine. I stayed there several times and all the doors on the second floor refused to stay closed some nights. There were also unusual noises."
Cassie listened attentively. "And you weren't afraid?"
"Ghosts can't hurt you. They can only scare you." Iphigenia added, "If you let them. That was my cousin's opinion, and it made sense to me." Though she'd never had to think much about it since that time. "Did someone die on these premises? The ghost in my cousin's home was supposed to have been a servant who committed suicide."
Carmen shivered.
But Cassie said, "Great-gramma Ryerson died in this house, then Great-grandpa, but it was years and years ago."
"And why should they haunt us now?" asked Carmen.
"Who knows?" Needing to warm herself from the inside, Iphigenia sipped at her cup of tea. "We should pay no attention to restless souls. If you ignore them, they will go away." At least according to her no-nonsense, yet believer of a cousin. And the noises in the New York house had ceased once Iphigenia had adopted that attitude. "We have enough problems with living people and the situations they create."
Such as the threatening men she'd met the night before. Who knew how many lawless individuals populated West Texas?
Thinking on that, she realized she would need a better weapon than a dueling pistol when she set out to find her baby again. She would also do well to learn any skills that seemed useful for this wild country.
THIS CURSE R
UMOR had to stop.
Angry because he hadn't been able to persuade his two wranglers into staying on with him, Monte rode several miles to Luis Padilla's small ranch. Little faces peering out of the windows watched him tie his horse to the fence in front. Padilla's children were watching ...and, possibly, the late Roberto Padilla's kids, as well.
Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the door, noting some equipment lying to one side on the floor of the adobe house's covered portal. A bullwhip coiled among several lengths of rope like a snake.
The response to his knock was a shout, "Go away!" No doubt Luis himself.
"I want to talk. I'm not leaving until you come out here."
Dark muttering rose from inside the house but footsteps clumped to the door. The wooden panel opened, revealing Luis's angry face. "You are not welcome in my home, Señor Ryerson. No one invited you --"
Monte cut him off, "I'm not asking for hospitality. I told you I want to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about. My brother is dead."
"Which you seem to think is my fault. Roberto was my friend as well as one of my best ranchhands. When he was kidnapped by bandits, I went down into Mexico to get him back."
"But you failed, didn't you, Señor Ryerson?" Luis said bitterly. His large dark eyes were accusing. "And my brother died a horrible, bloody death. He left a wife and two
children --"
"I gave them compensation." A year's wages, in fact. Roberto's widow must still have some of the money, since she'd moved in with her husband's brother and his wife.
"No one can bring Roberto back," Luis said. "He was a good man." He added, "Let his death be on your head."
"Are you saying you're cursing me?" Monte tried to keep his anger in check. "Have you told others that you wish me ill?" And might Luis have even helped the bad luck along a bit?
The man crossed himself. "I do not make curses. I am a good Catholic. God will take care of those who are evil."
Referring to himself, Monte figured. When Luis had first heard about Roberto last fall, the Mexican had made remarks about Monte's "savage" upbringing. And Luis obviously believed Monte had some connection with Roberto's ritualistic death. Monte had turned to Shorty and his foreman Jake O'Brian for back-up, only to have Jake refuse to talk while Shorty got the same reaction from Luis as Monte himself.
"Do you believe the spirits of the dead are haunting you?" Luis sounded hopeful.
Monte himself had once glimpsed the spooky kind of light the men were buzzing about but he said, "More likely somebody alive is persecuting me."
Luis didn't bat an eye. "Perhaps you should pray for help with your problems, Señor. Perhaps God can help you."
Though the man's tone indicated he'd far rather see the devil on Monte's trail. Eyes burning, Luis Padilla slammed the door in his face.
Monte mounted his horse, feeling no better than when he arrived. Luis had always been the more hot-headed of the two Padilla brothers, but he was also religious and conservative. Monte hated to think the man would try to harm him in any way.
Still, peculiar things continued to happen on his spread. Eerie lights. The spooked horses and cattle. Either someone clever was pulling these stunts and making them look strange. Or else someone or something was haunting the R&Y ...possibly even spurred on by an evil witch who'd been hired to put a spell on Monte.
Raised to believe in Comanche magic and spirits, he couldn't quite dismiss any possibility. He'd heard the ghostly laughter and footsteps in his corridor at night. He'd dreamed of Xosi Baca, or else actually seen her.
Xosi. Gooseflesh rose on his arms. He'd assumed guilt had brought her forth at the time but now he wondered.
Not that he intended to admit any such uneasiness to his men. Many of his cowboys were more than uneasy, just plain superstitious and out-and-out fearful. If enough wranglers quit on him, he'd have to go out of business for sure.
"WHIRL THE LARIAT over your head, then toss it over the calf's neck," Stephen told Iphigenia.
Trying to concentrate, she focused on the scampering brown animal the boy drove toward her from the other end of the corral. She whipped the loop around and let it fly. The rope hit the calf, but merely grazed his side, sending him bucking back in the other direction.
"Good try." Stephen grinned.
Iphigenia laughed. "You're trying to flatter me." She wasn't certain that roping was a useful skill but she was having fun anyway.
Taking a walk after trying to calm Carmen, leaving Cassie to do some chores, she'd spotted Stephen practicing looping a rope around a fence post. He'd been most happy to explain his technique. Between that discussion and Iphigenia's apology for making him uncomfortable the night before, he'd suggested that he show her how to make slip knots.
From there, they'd gone on to full lariat lessons. Iphigenia had done surprisingly well on the fence post but was disconcerted when they moved into a corral to face a living, moving target. She'd tried and failed a half dozen times, earning Stephen's amused chortles. She hadn't cared that he was laughing at her. She appreciated this more relaxed, humorous side to him. After what she'd been through lately, she enjoyed humor of any kind.
"Try it one more time." Stephen yelled and waved his arms at the calf.
Iphigenia gathered her rope again, aiming it at the calf's head. When the rope whirled through the air and actually circled the animal's neck, she cried out with surprise and pleasure.
Then the calf took off and jerked her off her feet. She hit the ground with a thump and an "Um-mp!"
"Let go of the rope!" shouted Stephen.
"I will not!" said Iphigenia, laughing, gripping the rope even as the calf bleated and circled, dragging her several feet. He was much stronger than he looked. "I have worked too hard!"
"You are one stubborn woman."
Even in her predicament, Iphigenia recognized Monte's voice. She stared up as he loomed over her, his expression dark and enigmatic. She couldn't seem to find words, caught her breath as the calf jerked her a little further.
"Guess we'll have to tie this critter down," Monte drawled, grabbing hold of the rope. Then he used one smooth motion to pull the calf toward him, flip it over and tie its legs with a loosened loop.
It bleated piteously.
Iphigenia struggled to her feet, unable to keep from reacting to the noise. "Let it go. That's cruel."
"He's not hurting. He's scared and mad. But he'll have to get used to being roped and tied, since he'll need to be branded some day."
"More cruelty."
"Would you rather he was rustled off, maybe eaten before his prime?"
"Ugh, must you mention the poor animal's final purpose?" She glanced at the calf's silly face. "I don't think I could eat roast beef if I had to stare my dinner in the eye first."
Monte chuckled, his sober expression softening. "Actually, this guy looks pretty healthy and well-made. Instead of turning him into a steer, I just might let him grow up into a nice bull. A lover rather than a dinner. Does that make you feel better?" His tone was light, bantering, almost flirtatious.
Did he mean to toy with her? "Any circumstance which extends the animal's life is certainly a more positive prospect for him."
Monte untied the calf and let it buck away. "So you've got a soft heart beating beneath that frostbitten outside of yours."
Iphigenia should probably disagree, should probably say that her heart was as cool as her demeanor. That was the flippant sort of answer she had given men in the past. But she and Monte weren't trading barbs in an elegant New York parlor. As brief as their relationship had been, the man had touched an elemental part of her.
Not wanting to show her mixed emotions, however, she stared down at the skirt of her brown riding habit and dusted it ferociously.
"Haven't you got anything else to wear besides that thing and the fancy green dinner dress?"
"Of course." As best she could, Iphigenia dusted the back of her skirt. "I have many ensembles. I packed at least two more ridi
ng habits if I remember correctly." Though both were fancier and considerably tighter at the waist. Having gotten used to going corsetless, Iphigenia hated to think of returning to stays and laces. "I did not realize you expected me to be a fashion plate."
"Don't give a hoot about fashion. Only thought you might want to loosen up and get more comfortable, especially if you're spending time outside."
"She could wear a split skirt," called Stephen, who had busied himself at the other end of corral, as if to give them privacy.
"Where would I get something like that?" Iphigenia had noticed the garment Cassie wore today -- a trouser-like affair with flaring legs that ended some inches above the ankles and showed the wearer's boots.
"Have to have one made," said Monte. "And that would take awhile." He eyed Stephen. "My son's probably got an old pair of pants and a shirt that would fit you."
"I can wear trousers in Texas?"
"It's a free country."
"For men." Not that she intended to lecture him on women's suffrage. She wasn't the sort to become involved in political affairs. "I have to admit I find the idea of trousers appealing. I once wore a man's suit to a country party. Except for the starched collar, I found it amazingly comfortable."
"A man's suit?" Monte knit his brows.
"I was trying to prove an annoyance to several people."
"I bet you succeeded."
"Indeed. I was amused."
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Amused because you annoyed people? That how you had fun in New York?"
She stiffened. "I participated in other activities, such as going to the theater and the opera. Though the crowds could be a bore." She added, "And I rode whenever I could, either in the country or through the city's central park."
"Sidesaddle," he said, a statement, not a question.
"It taught me a great deal about balance."
"You ride real well," he admitted. "Did you go hunting in the country, too?"
"I didn't care for that." Maybe she did have a soft heart. "I learned to shoot by aiming at stationary targets or at skeet."
