by Jeanne Rose
"I cannot help wondering what Monte's reaction will be when he discovers we have left," she said to the mare. "Relief, most likely. I was an inconvenience, you know, Belinda. I turned his life upside down." She sighed. "I even made his daughter Ginnie turn against him openly." A fact she bitterly regretted. "No doubt he'll be glad to see the last of us," she sadly admitted.
The little mare bobbed her head and snorted, as if in agreement. Tears sprang to Iphigenia's eyes once more.
"None of this," she muttered darkly, blinking the moisture away. "We have to keep our wits about us so that we do not get lost or savaged by wild creatures."
For the land before her was intimidating. Beyond the profusion of grasses and cacti, yucca and mesquite, beyond the dry washes, rose rock walls. Erosion and weathering had produced dazzling formations in tints of beige and deep brown, golden red and lavender. The landscape was beautiful ...and could be equally deadly.
"We are going to make it, Belinda," Iphigenia assured the mare, patting her neck. "You and I make a splendid team as we already showed everyone."
As they'd showed Monte.
Memories of him plaguing her, Iphigenia goosed her mount into an easy lope along the still clear-cut trail and focused all her energies on the journey.
"SHE LEFT, Pa!" Cassie yelled at Monte the moment he stuck a boot on the back stoop. "Miss Wentworth up and left us!"
Monte's heart jagged, but he quickly got hold of himself and demanded, "What are you talking about?"
"She's gone."
"Gone where, for a walk? Or a ride?"
He looked around as if he could spot her through the gloom of dusk. He didn't like the idea of her being away from the ranch house alone after sunset, whether on foot or horse.
"No, you don't understand," Cassie said, pulling at his arm. "She took her things."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, already pushing past his daughter through the kitchen and to the corridor.
He nearly raced down the hall to Iphigenia's bedroom, Cassie directly behind him. He threw the door open. The room seemed neat and tidy as usual, and when Monte crossed to the armoire and opened it, a multitude of her fancy Eastern outfits popped out at him.
That helped him simmer down some. "Cassie, look, her clothes are still here."
"I did look. Miss Wentworth didn't take much, but her traveling suit that she wore on the train is gone. And her mother's music box."
Monte still didn't want to believe this. "Maybe she put them elsewhere."
"I looked. Her hairbrush and mirror are gone, too. And the stuff she uses on her skin to keep it pretty."
Something cold and hard settled in his gut. "When?"
"I haven't seen her all day, not since we left for Mr. Tyler's burial. I thought maybe she was so upset by the murder and maybe so tired from helping you and the men that she was getting extra rest. I didn't start worrying and trying to find her till an hour or so ago."
"She's finally gone?" Ginnie asked.
"And it's all your fault!" Cassie accused, dashing past Monte.
Monte glanced toward the doorway where Ginnie stood. She seemed happier than he'd seen her in weeks. Fearing Cassie was right about Ginnie having something to do with the blonde's departure, he asked, "Have you seen Iphigenia today?"
Monte didn't like Ginnie's sly smile when she said, "I say good riddance."
"You shut up!" Cassie yelled.
"What're you so upset about?" Ginnie wanted to know, her taunting tone getting under Monte's skin. "We don't need her!"
"I do so!" Cassie countered. "I love her!"
Fearing his daughters were about to get into another fight, Monte stepped between them. "The two of you don't always have to agree, but it would be nice if you tried getting along better."
"Yes, Pa," Ginnie said, giving him a look of innocence that made him want to take her out to the woodshed.
Not that he ever had.
But then his emotions were in turmoil. No denying it, Iphigenia was gone. But for how long? And to where?
"She doesn't know this country," he said more to himself than to his daughters. "What does she think she's about?"
"She's been using us, Pa," Ginnie told him, a fear he himself had had. "Now she doesn't need us any more, she's taken off. Maybe with another man."
Monte clenched his jaw and gritted out, "Not another word, Ginnie."
"You gotta find her, Pa," Cassie said, clinging to his arm, her expression desperate. "Bring her back before something bad happens to her."
Though he'd been out working the herd all day, though Iphigenia probably had an eight or ten hour head start, he didn't hesitate. Already rushing out to tack up a fresh horse, he said, "I'll find her."
But whether he would bring her back was another question. He couldn't force Iphigenia to do anything. He didn't think she'd gone off with another man, but Ginnie had been right about Iphigenia's using them in some way. He'd sensed it all along. Her and her secret ...
No matter. He had to see that Iphigenia was safe. When she'd asked him to marry her, he'd gotten all bent out of shape because she hadn't said anything about love. But then, neither had he.
Love? Was he really in love with the redoubtable Miss Iphigenia Wentworth?
Monte couldn't find any other explanation for the gut-wrenching feeling he had around the beautiful blonde. What other explanation did he have for the way she seemed to get inside his skin when he was least expecting it? He had to be in love with the woman.
Which made everything worse. He hadn't dealt with Xosi yet. What in the blue blazes was he going to do about Iphigenia when he found her?
PEERING THROUGH the dusk, Iphigenia was searching for a place to camp before darkness descended like a blanket across the land. She'd passed through craggy canyons, across a shrub-dotted desert trail and down into a dry arroyo. She'd checked the crude map she'd copied from Monte's and knew she should be finding fresh water somewhere closeby.
"Smell any water, Belinda?" she asked, finding comfort in the sound of her own voice.
The dun whickered and shook her head.
"Well, never fear," she said with more assurance than she was feeling. "We shall find it."
They moved up the arroyo into thickening vegetation. She recognized prickly pear cactus, sumac bushes and low-growing oaks. Then Iphigenia picked out the most dulcet sound in the wilderness -- the melodious ripple of running water.
Relieved, she dug her heels into Belinda's sides and turned the mare toward the sound. Minutes before dark swallowed them whole, she spotted the thin spray of water trickling down a tiered wall of rock. At the bottom, a small pool drained into a shallow creek that flowed for a dozen or so yards before being guzzled by the thirsty soil.
Belinda must have smelled the water, for the dun's head came up and her pace picked up as she made a direct path for the pool. Arriving at its edge, the mare stopped and snorted, her flesh vibrating with eagerness.
Iphigenia gladly dismounted, groaning when she tried to straighten her legs which seemed as if they might be permanently as bowed as the dun's. While gingerly flexing her limbs, she allowed the mare to drink. She herself finished the water in the last of her three canteens, then refilled them all and looped them back over the saddle horn.
"Better make camp while we can still see what we're doing," she murmured, leading her mount to a flat area about a hundred yards away from the water.
After tying a lead to a bush, Iphigenia removed the horse's bridle. Next she set the canteens, her bedroll and her bags down, then deftly undid the saddle leathers. But when she removed the saddle itself, the weight made her stagger and nearly threw her to the ground. She saved herself only by dropping it with a loud thud. The dun edged away at the disturbance and eyed her balefully.
"Let's hope I have enough energy in the morning to lift the damned thing," Iphigenia told the horse. "I do not fancy riding bareback."
Belinda snorted in agreement.
Thankfully, the area was luxurious wit
h grass, so Belinda settled right in, munching away. Iphigenia's stomach growled, reminding her she'd only had a bit of left-over breakfast all day. By the light of a half moon and a sky sprinkled with stars, she unpacked her saddle bags, lit a small lantern, then gathered dried grasses and twigs and made a fire despite Reuben's warning about not drawing attention to one's self. She would smother the flames and douse the lantern as soon as she'd cooked herself a meal.
Into a small pot, she poured water and beans that Carmen had been soaking, enough for tonight and the morning. Then she added a few chunks of salt pork for flavoring. As the water bubbled, the aroma made her mouth water.
Startling Iphigenia.
"Good heavens, Belinda," she said, now automatically sharing her thoughts with the mare, "a short while ago I would have been satisfied with nothing less than a proper meal with the proper number of courses, served in a proper manner. Now here I am, looking forward to beans and pork that I shall eat out of a cooking pot."
Had her tastes changed so?
Or was it she herself who had changed?
Iphigenia thought about the possibility as she continued to feed the small fire and stirred the contents of the pot.
"I was very demanding in my father's house," she admitted. "Though I didn't actually crave all those expensive gowns and jewels, fine foods and wines, but rather what they stood for -- the one thing that had been withheld from me. If I couldn't have my own father's love, I could demand he spend his precious money on me."
But to her amazement, she had found few material things but had seen much love on a West Texas ranch. And she had even felt the warmth of Cassie's and Stephen's love for herself. They had made her feel special. So had Monte, though obviously his attraction had been to her body rather than her heart.
Yet again burying the debacle of her proposal, Iphigenia turned her thoughts to her daughter.
"Hopefully, tomorrow or the next day, we shall reclaim Hope from the Fricketts." Iphigenia couldn't wait. "I intend to lavish every emotion on my daughter that my father withheld from me. No little girl will ever feel so wanted and so loved."
And, unless she were as cursed as Monte, Hope would love her equally in return.
Spirits rising, Iphigenia tested the beans and pronounced them done. She unwrapped a chunk of corn bread that Carmen had meant for that evening's meal. She saved half for the morning, then took a bite, following the cornbread with a big spoonful of beans.
"Mm, delicious," she told Belinda, "though I doubt you would have the proper appreciation for human food." Unless it was an apple or carrot, neither of which Iphigenia had had access to.
She continued eating with enthusiasm. When she was satiated, she wrapped the remainder of her food and took it a dozen yards or so from her camp, then placed rocks on top of the small pile.
A hug for Belinda, who was still grazing, and Iphigenia was ready to sleep if she could. She smothered the fire, climbed into her bedroll and reluctantly doused the lantern's flame. Exhausted, feeling far older than her years, she settled down, hoping for a good night's rest.
Visions of Monte dancing through her head, she drifted ...
. . . until several jagged howls popped her eyes open and made the blood rush through her veins.
Coyotes or wolves in the distance bayed at the half moon. In the distance being what she needed to remember. No reason a wild animal would get anywhere near her.
But as Iphigenia settled once more, the surrounding desert suddenly sounded alive. A faint noise in some bushes. Twigs and leaves being brushed. A snort. A gentle pronghorn or a dangerous bobcat? How could she tell?
Her chest twisted with building anxiety.
Then it came to her that Belinda with her honed animal instincts would be the gauge by which she could judge their danger. She listened intently. The little mare whickered softly and the hoot of a nearby owl mocked her.
And Iphigenia laughed aloud at herself.
Much more relaxed, she closed her eyes and let the night sounds lull her. Scrabbling. Low chattering. Then a screech that made Belinda snort and dance and Iphigenia pop up once more, the hairs on the back of her neck raised.
"Go away!" she whispered.
More screeching, the angry sounds distinctly familiar.
Now irritated that her rest was disturbed, Iphigenia found a match and lit her lantern. Sure enough, there by her food supply, she caught a glimpse of glowing eyes surrounded by black masks. Two guilty-looking raccoons were caught red-handed having dragged out a few morsels of her food and trying to decide whether or not to continue. Iphigenia picked up some stones and tossed them toward the raccoons -- aiming to miss, of course. One striped-tailed animal nearly did a back-flip in its haste to flee, while the other snatched a final piece of cornbread and stuffed it in its mouth before scampering away.
And Iphigenia didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh at the antics. She glanced over at the dun, who was staring at her. "Can you imagine the nerve, Belinda?"
In answer, the mare blew softly through her nose.
Tension relieved, Iphigenia lay back and snickered, wondering what Monte would have to say if he could see her now.
Monte.
Why did her thoughts always gravitate to the man who'd rejected her?
Iphigenia could see Monte in her mind's eye as clearly as if he stood before her. Her heart pounded as if he were stretched out next to her ...kissing her ...touching her. She closed her eyes, willing him away.
But feared Monte Ryerson would be a part of her forever.
XOSI SENSED Ginnie's triumph the moment the girl called to her. Such strong emotion made it easy for Xosi to escape her jail. She fled gladly.
"Chica, what is it?"
Sitting cross-legged on her bedding, Ginnie grinned at her. "We did it, Xosi, you and me!"
"What exactly did we do?"
"Rid ourselves of Miss Iphigenia Wentworth," the girl said, her voice low as if she feared someone might be listening. "The pouch I made with the hair from her brush and that music box she loved worked exactly as you said it would!"
Xosi experienced a thrill of triumph. "So your father told her to leave?"
"No. She up and went herself." Ginnie's grin died. "I just hope Pa doesn't find her."
A triumph that was short-lived. "Your father went after her?"
"He was afraid she might hurt herself. But she got a good head start, enough to get to a town for sure. Hopefully she'll lose Pa along the way. Or at least refuse to come back with him."
"But what if he does find her?" Xosi worried.
"Then we'll put another spell on her."
Xosi hoped it wouldn't come to that -- she wasn't certain exactly how the first had worked. But she didn't want Ginnie to doubt her, so she merely said, "Perhaps you are worrying for nothing, chica."
"I hope so. If I never see Iphigenia Wentworth again it'll be too soon."
"Sleep and dream that she stays away."
"I'll try. Xosi ..."
"Si, chica?"
"Once she's gone for good, does that mean you'll be around all the time?" Ginnie asked hopefully.
"We'll see."
If only she could promise that. Xosi wanted nothing more than to walk the halls of this house as a living, breathing, flesh and blood woman. Having experienced Montgomery summoning up the old Aztec gods, she believed anything was possible. However, she also firmly believed that Monte would have to desire her, to feed life into her cold body to make her transference possible, to make her live again. And so far, even though she'd been able to tempt him, he had resisted the darker side of his nature.
"Remember, dream the blond gringa away," she instructed in the motherly tone that Ginnie so liked. She understood even as she used the girl, having grown up motherless herself. Motherless and fatherless. Her brother Tezco had been her only family. "Think on what you want most, chica, hope and desire with all your being."
Ginnie's emotions would feed her, keep her in this shadow world, possibly until daybre
ak. If only Monte hadn't gone after the gringa! Rage swept through her at the missed opportunity, for Monte was weakening to her seductive charms.
Seeing that Ginnie's eyes were closed, her breathing deepening, she fled the room, bitter that she would be held captive in the mirror once more by morning.
Would this torture never end?
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER STEADILY CLIMBING up into the mountains for better than half of her second day on the road, Iphigenia was exhausted and feeling a bit woozy when she finally got to the top of a rise and spied Fort Davis.
"We did it, Belinda!" she said, patting the little mare's neck.
The sun had set and dusk was gathering. Too late to seek out her mother's people until morning, she realized with mixed feelings. At least she wouldn't have to spend another night in open country. Her cash was limited, but she had enough to stable her horse that night, plus obtain a hot meal and soft bed with a roof over it for herself.
Most important, she would be able to prepare herself for the emotional reunion ahead.
First thing in the morning, she would track down the Fricketts and relieve them of Hope. She only wished they wouldn't be too sad at losing her baby after having her for three months. She remembered Aunt Gertrude's maid saying they had several children of their own, so surely they would be able to part with one who was not.
"Come, Belinda, only a short while longer until you have oats, a nice change from wild grass," Iphigenia said, urging the mare forward.
She passed a creek on the way into the settlement. Buildings were of stone or adobe and had peaked tin or cedar shingle roofs. Davis was an open fort, no walls surrounding it or separating it from the adjoining town to its south, so she followed the winding road past officer's quarters and soldier's barracks.
More than one uniformed man spoke to her, undoubtedly because she was alone and dressed so unconventionally. God only knew what they thought of her.
