by Jeanne Rose
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Warmed by his concern when it was he who had been most affected by the death, she said, "A cup of tea helped. Would you like one?"
He shook his head. "Tea won't fix my problems. I need to look for something."
She followed him through the dining room and into the corridor leading to his study. If she put this off, she might not find the courage later. He hardly noticed her presence, so intent was he on searching through shelves and drawers. He even removed the cushion on his chair.
"Monte, may I speak to you a moment?"
"I'm sure I couldn't stop you from speaking your mind," he said, sounding distracted.
"I've been thinking about how I came to be here --"
"You've decided to leave," he interrupted in a flat tone, straightening from his search.
"No, not that. This is very difficult." And very unconventional, but then she had never let that stop her before. "I, uh, would like to stay."
He stared at her uncomprehendingly.
She felt her palms sweat as she stated, "I came to marry you and I am willing to go through with my part of the bargain." Troubled daughter and haunted house or no.
His expression relayed shock and something else ...but still he said nothing.
"Your children do need a mother," she went on, her confidence shaken. "And, uh, we are attracted to one another." She thought about mentioning the difference her trust fund could make for the ranch, but she didn't want to bribe him. "Other people have gone into marriage with less."
She was trying to think of how to introduce Hope into the conversation when he finally spoke up.
"No."
"No? You don't want to marry me?"
"Marriage shouldn't be some kind of damn bargain." He was glowering at her, making her insides quake. "Marriage is for two people who love each other."
Iphigenia swallowed hard. She loved Monte, so that must mean he didn't love her ...or didn't think he could. What else had she expected? Her own father hadn't loved her. Aunt Gertrude hadn't loved her. The father of her child hadn't loved her.
Why should Monte be any different?
Wondering if she was such a terrible person that no one but an innocent like Cassie could love her, Iphigenia ground out, "I see."
She could also see that Monte was stiff with tension. Something akin to fury distorted his bronzed features. Was he so enraged with her merely for bringing up the subject? Devastated that Monte had dismissed her proposal so very thoroughly, Iphigenia backed toward the door.
Eyelids stinging, she ran to her own room before he could see her cry, knowing that whatever she did, wherever she went, she would always be haunted by his rejection.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IN A FOUL MOOD over Iphigenia's bloodless suggestion that they marry, Monte managed to avoid her for the rest of the day. In addition to overseeing the normal work, he had the arrangements for Norbert Tyler's burial to attend to. Late in the afternoon, an undertaker and a coffin arrived. Norbert was laid out for the proper Christian service to take place the following morning. Some of the wranglers claimed that Norbert had once said he'd been baptized Protestant, so a man had volunteered to go escort the minister from the scruffy little church in Pine Bluff for the occasion.
Monte stayed with the cowpokes all day, ate supper with them at the bunkhouse, and waited until late at night after everyone had retired to return to the house.
Once in his lonely bed, Monte's thoughts were filled with Iphigenia. Her beauty, her passion, his need for her. He didn't know why he let her proposal get to him deep in his gut. Nearly any other man would have jumped at the chance to call a woman of beauty and breeding his own. Even a particularly difficult woman like Iphigenia Wentworth. But Monte had known Amanda's love, and he wasn't about to accept less from any woman he would consider marrying.
Besides, even if he were tempted to marry Iphigenia in the hopes that love would come -- which he wasn't, Monte assured himself -- he couldn't take such a chance with her life.
He hadn't forgotten about Xosi.
More certain than ever that the key to her phantom existence lay in the little mirror Xosi had given him in Mexico, he'd made a renewed effort to find the damned thing, nearly tearing up his office in the effort. No luck. Someone had stolen it from his desk. He'd asked his kids about it. They'd all denied ever seeing it. He'd believed Stephen and Cassie implicitly. He'd hoped Ginnie was telling the truth.
And he wondered about Jake O'Brian.
His foreman had easy access to the house. Less than a year before, Monte wouldn't have thought the man capable of developing thieving ways. But Mexico had changed Jake for the worse, maybe not only in temperament. Had the foreman searched the study and stolen the mirror, thinking it was valuable? Had he somehow released Xosi in doing so?
Xosi.
Not in the mood for another bout with her, needing a good night's sleep, Monte rose and moved to the trunk sitting beneath the window. Lifting the lid, he rummaged blindly, his hands finding that which he sought -- a leather thong holding a bear claw decorated with feathers and stones. His Comanche father had the piece made for him, and Monte had faithfully worn the symbol of good medicine for many years.
Until he'd returned from Mexico.
Thinking the bear claw hadn't protected him or those he would have saved, he'd stopped wearing it. His mistake. At least he hoped so.
Monte slipped the thong over his neck, hoping that it would keep Xosi away and allow him a good night's sleep. Hoping that it would somehow reverse the burden of the curse. For Monte was beginning to believe that he was cursed in truth and that it had to do with his being there when Montgomery released the dormant Aztec gods in Mexico.
A doomed feeling haunting him, Monte figured that unless he did some fancy thinking, he was going to pay with the things he held dearest.
A TENSE IPHIGENIA watched the next morning unfold through her bedroom window. Some distance from the outbuildings, Monte and Stephen and the men were gathering to give the dead cowpoke a proper burial.
She let the curtain drop, then went back to her task of packing the smallest of her bags. At last she was going to Fort Davis to rescue Hope. One horse couldn't carry much -- and containers of water were most important -- so she had to content herself to take only a single change of women's clothing. Her jewels were still secreted in the folds of the petticoat she'd worn the day she arrived. In addition, she packed a few personal items, nearly panicking when she couldn't find her mother's music box.
She searched not only the dresser, but the whole room. No use. The music box was gone.
Ginnie!
Furious with the girl, Iphigenia thought to seek Ginnie out and shake her until she returned the precious item, her only tangible reminder of the mother she lost. But doing so would lose her precious time. And perhaps having the music box would bring Ginnie some kind of comfort that she desperately needed. Realizing that the music box was merely an object, that she would always hold dear what little memory she had of her mother, Iphigenia let it go.
Monte's rejection had pushed her into action. In her heart, she'd known all along she didn't belong on the R&Y. Hard work and enough dust to choke a horse, not to mention a mysterious ghost -- Monte Ryerson could keep everything for himself.
With that in mind, Iphigenia added the map she'd copied from the one in Monte's office and went in search of breakfast, knowing she had to eat enough to keep her going all day. As it was, she would have to spend the night on the trail -- Fort Davis was too far for a tenderfoot to reach without stopping to rest. She didn't want to worry about having to spend more than one night in the wild merely because a demanding stomach made her stop for meals, as well.
Her heart lurched when she found Cassie and Carmen in the kitchen together. For some reason, she'd thought she would be alone this morning.
"Morning, Miss Wentworth," Cassie said, her smile only a bit dimmer than usual.
"Cassie." Unnerved, Iphigenia glan
ced at the food on the stove. "Carmen, I'm ravenous. I would like a big breakfast -- several eggs, tortillas, rice, beans."
The housekeeper gave her a surprised look, for Iphigenia usually ate little in the morning, but said, "Si, Señorita Wentworth."
Iphigenia was edgy at the unexpected company. She had thought to find several canteens and fill them with water -- she hadn't forgotten Rueben's warning that water was the most important item in the desert. Also, she needed to pack extra food for when she camped out. Doing so would be impossible until she was alone. While Carmen cracked an egg into a frying pan, Iphigenia poured herself coffee. She sat at the kitchen table with Cassie, wondering how she would manage gathering the needed supplies now.
"You're planning on working with the men again?" Cassie asked.
"No," Iphigenia said, then realized the girl was staring at the man's shirt and trousers she was wearing. "I mean, not immediately, of course. Because of Mr. Tyler. But later." She forced a smile and hoped Cassie would buy it.
The girl nodded. Expression sober, she said, "It's terrible someone was killed here. It's terrible to have a curse on you." She sounded as if she were about to cry.
Which got to Iphigenia. Her throat felt as if she'd swallowed a lump the size of Texas when she said, "This curse business is ridiculous. You have had bad luck, but your father thinks the source is human. Someone who wants to pay him back for some grievance."
"You believe that?" Cassie asked.
"Definitely."
And Iphigenia felt a pang of guilt that she was going off and leaving them all before the situation was settled. Poor Cassie ...
Iphigenia tightened her jaw. She had to stop thinking like that. There was nothing for her here, she reminded herself, while her own daughter waited for her at Fort Davis. Still, she could hardly look at the girl without longing filling her. She would miss Cassie most of all. Well, maybe not most. But after Monte.
Carmen slid a full plate before Iphigenia. She'd asked for a lot of food and she'd certainly gotten it. She supposed she could bring along anything she didn't finish, rolling leftovers in tortillas. That would be easy enough to eat along the trail without taking preparation time.
Trying to figure out how she was going to sneak away under Cassie's nose, she asked, "So what are you going to do with your morning?"
"I don't know. Pa said I didn't have to go to the burial, but ..."
"Do you want to go?"
"I think Pa needs me."
Tears struck the back of Iphigenia's eyelids. "He does need you, Cassie. He loves you so much." She loved the girl, as well, though she didn't dare say so. If the girl broke down, Iphigenia might not be able to leave her. "Though a burial isn't a pleasant event for anyone."
"But maybe I should go."
Iphigenia didn't argue, and in the end Cassie did go, Carmen insisting that she accompany the girl. The two left the house and set off across the grounds, the housekeeper's arm around the girl's waist.
Watching them, Iphigenia put a last forkful of eggs in her mouth and washed it down with coffee.
Then, refusing to think about the people she was leaving, she made her final preparations.
EVEN ON THE FIRST good night's sleep he'd had in weeks, Monte couldn't shake the doomed feeling as he stood before Norbert Tyler's grave. The cowboys gathered round, hats in hand. Nearby, Stephen put a protective arm around Cassie, while Carmen pulled a shawl over her head and crossed herself.
"We are gathered here to pay our last respects to Norbert Tyler," the minister began.
And Monte's mind drifted, weaving along the path of troubles that had plagued him for months now ...
. . . until the sound of hooves flashing against the hard earth jolted him back to the resent.
Riding straight for the small group gathered around the grave was Luis Padilla. He was accompanied by several men, one of whom used to work for Monte. The minister's words faltered and everyone looked to the newcomers. Luis stopped his horse mere yards from where Monte stood.
"So there has been yet another death," the Mexican said.
Monte knew he referred to his brother Roberto as being the first. "You know something about the details, Luis?" he asked, staring at the bullwhip strung to the man's saddle.
"Only what I hear." The Mexican glanced back at the barn where tracings of the bloody signs still stained the wood. "You are cursed ...if not by God, then by someone with a great hatred."
"Like you?" Could the man have done this terrible thing, then come to gloat? Monte wondered.
Not answering directly, Luis once again said, "I am a God fearing man, a good Catholic." He pointed at the minister. "You have brought a heretic to bury the dead. Find a priest to bless the dead man's immortal soul ...and to remove the curse from this place before it spreads."
A murmur rumbled through the crowd.
"Afraid for your own skin?" Monte asked, his temper building.
"Roberto should have been so cautious. You handed him over to demons, then did not even return his body so he could be buried properly in consecrated grounds. Now Roberto's soul has no rest. Nor do I."
Wanting a closer look at the bullwhip -- he still had the piece of leather in his pocket and thought to see if it was a match -- Monte moved in on Luis. "Revenge gives no rest."
He shot a hand out to grab the leather, but Luis's mount shied. The Mexican's eyes burned fire at Monte as he backed his horse away from the gravesite.
"Do not touch me or mine!" Luis warned. "Or there will be another grave for your men to dig!"
Another rumble through the crowd, this time louder.
Cassie screamed, "You leave Pa alone!" while running to her father's defense.
And startling Monte good.
"Cassie, stop!" Stephen yelled, chasing after her.
Not fast enough. As his daughter whipped by, Monte caught her around the waist and hiked her to him. Cassie thrashed against his chest, as if she wanted to get at Luis Padilla even as she had at Ginnie a few days before.
"Calm down, girl," he ordered.
Cassie settled in his arms, but she was sobbing quietly. Luis's burning, hate-filled stare settled on her. The hairs on Monte's neck rose at the unspoken threat.
"You get off my land now, Luis Padilla. I've never hurt you or yours intentionally, and I never will. Not unless you give me good reason."
The Mexican remained where he was for a moment, as if he would defy Monte, then, without another word, sharply reined his horse and rode off. Like good little soldiers, his men did the same.
And Monte stared after them until the cloud of dust faded in the distance.
Realizing he was still crushing Cassie to him, he eased his hold on the girl and turned to the silent men surrounding the grave. He could feel a wave of unease roll over them. The minister stood at their head, his prayerbook folded closed, his head bowed.
"Reverend," Monte said, "sorry about the interruption ...and about what was said here. Luis Padilla has the right to his own beliefs but not to insult you. I apologize."
"No need, Mr. Ryerson," the minister said. "I am used to intolerance."
As was Monte, if for a reason of race rather than religion. He nodded. "If you'd go ahead and finish your service, I'd be mighty grateful."
And while the minister prayed over the dead man, Monte thought about Luis Padilla's suggestion that he have the curse removed from his spread. Couldn't hurt. Besides, he was ready to try just about anything to improve his luck -- not that he would use a priest to do so. But he might consult a Comanche medicine man who would know how to reverse curses and banish ghosts.
In the meantime, surely his bad luck had been used up for a while. For the life of him, Monte couldn't imagine what else could go wrong.
IPHIGENIA SLASHED away her tears as she took one last look back at the Ryerson spread. She'd been riding uphill and had reached the summit. Once over the top, the newly familiar landscape and buildings would be a thing of her past.
Over by the far pas
ture, the burial was just ending, the tiny, insect-sized cowboys scattering to do their day's work. How tragic that a murdered man couldn't be mourned properly with even one day off. How lucky that she'd left when she had, giving her time to ride far enough away so that no one would spot and try to stop her.
Iphigenia noted four figures walking together to the house. A lump filled her throat. The woman and girl were Cassie and Carmen, and no doubt the men were Stephen and Monte. Monte. Her heart surged painfully when she thought of leaving the man just when she'd discovered she loved him. But if he didn't at least care for her enough to consider marrying her, her departure was for the best.
Eyes filling with tears once more, she turned the little dun mare and headed away from the only place that had had ever felt like a real home to her.
"You and I are going to do just fine together," she told the mare, patting her neck. "Even if you aren't considered a distance horse." Still getting used to riding astride, she didn't care to travel too fast, anyway.
She'd chosen to take the cutting pony because the dun was spirited and smart, if not particularly impressive in looks. Never before having considered doing anything so daring in her life as setting out alone across the wilds of Texas, Iphigenia figured she could use all the help she could get. Besides, she had a connection to the cutting pony that she wouldn't have with another horse. She was even going to make sure to pay someone to return the mare to Monte, who treated animals decently.
"You'll need a name if we're to be companions," she told the dun. "Something pretty, so you'll feel special." Everyone should feel special sometime, even animals. She thought a moment, then said, "Belinda." Beautiful in Spanish. "That's what I shall call you."
She would talk to the mare until the animal was sick of the human voice, Iphigenia thought. Doing so would help her get through two days of scary riding. She didn't want to think about the night ahead. She didn't want to think about Monte, either, but she couldn't shake the memory of his harsh visage.
