Spellbound Trilogy: The Wind Casts No Shadow, Heart of the Jaguar, Shadows in the Mirror

by Jeanne Rose

  Drawing on her finely-honed uppercrust manner, she sat iron-spined and staring straight forward until the uniforms became scarce and a few women appeared. She drew close to one who trod the board sidewalk.

  "Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm looking for a place to stay the night. Do you know of anyone who might rent a room to me?"

  Dressed in a proper if too-hot for the climate high-necked dress and hat, the woman sniffed and said, "No one who would want your sort under their roof. Try Murphy's Saloon."

  The rebuff stung, but Iphigenia swallowed the cut she would have liked to return. She would find the stables and ask the owner for assistance.

  Halfway through town, she spotted a sign that guided her to McCaffrey's Corral back on a sidestreet. She passed a carriage coming out of the corral. A man with a shock of white hair latched the gate behind them and headed for the barn.

  "Excuse me," Iphigenia called. "I need a stall for my mount."

  The elderly man slowed and squinted up at her. "No problem long as you got cash up front."

  "I have money."

  The man took the reins from her and stroked Belinda's nose while Iphigenia dismounted with a groan.

  "Been traveling hard?"

  "Two days, added to which, I am still getting used to riding astride."

  He merely grunted, giving her clothing a speculative once over. "So how long you plan on being in Fort Davis?"

  "Only until tomorrow, I hope," Iphigenia told him, retrieving her bag. "I'm in search of some distant relatives. Do you know of Abner and Naomi Frickett?"

  "Nope. Might have better luck at the general store. Mail goes out from there."

  "And of course the store is closed."

  "Until morning."

  Good thing she'd already planned on waiting until morning to find them.

  "Belinda isn't the only one who needs to be put up for the night. Can you tell me where I can find a room?"

  "We got hotels. Try the Lempert or the Texas Star."

  The Texas Star was closer. And Iphigenia was relieved to find that the establishment had a dining room, so she wouldn't have to go in search of food. A quick wash and a brush through her hair and she was ready for the thick steak advertised on the dining room's chalkboard.

  A good meal, a good night's sleep and she would be ready to face anything.

  MONTE DIDN’T WANT to face the truth that he was in quite a quandry. Staring into his campfire, he knew that when he found Iphigenia -- and he would, for she'd left a trail straight to Fort Davis that a greenhorn could follow -- he wouldn't be able to let her go.

  He needed Iphigenia. His whole family needed her, even Ginnie, though it would be as hard as pulling teeth to get the girl to admit to such.

  An even better reason was that he loved the woman -- he was still mourning the fact that she didn't feel likewise.

  So what was he going to do once he caught up to her?

  All along he'd known Iphigenia was in some kind of desperate situation to have left New York in the first place. Maybe it was something he could fix. Then he could send her back home or to some other city where she would fit in.

  And leave him with a broken heart.

  But what else could he do? He couldn't force her to love him. And he hadn't yet taken care of Xosi, though he'd scare up that medicine man first thing when he returned to the R&Y. He only hoped it wouldn't be too late to protect everything he held dear.

  And he only hoped he would be able to find the right words to keep Iphigenia from disappearing from his life forever.

  THE FIRST THING Iphigenia noted when she drove her rental buggy to the Frickett ranch the next morning were a half-dozen thin, barefoot children playing tag in the dirt road leading up to a shabby adobe house. There were six of them, the oldest being nine or ten, the youngest a mere toddler. No sign of a baby, though.

  And beyond the children was a pasture where several horses grazed. None of the creatures looked tended to. Coats were dull, manes and tails lumpy as if loaded with burrs. One of the poor horses had a huge open sore on his withers that looked as if no one had even bothered to tend it.

  A sense of unease washed over her. These people looked to be too downtrodden to take on another's child. She prayed Hope had been better cared for than the Frickett's children or livestock.

  She stopped the buggy and descended. The noisy children quit their game and gathered round as she slapped the dust from her traveling suit's skirts. After her encounter with the woman in Fort Davis, she'd decided she needed to be presentable.

  "Who're you?" a small boy, filthy from top to toe, asked.

  A girl a mere inch taller and equally dirty, her simple dress tattered, added, "We never get no visitors."

  Iphigenia looked to the oldest of the brood. "I'm here to see your parents."

  "What for?" he asked, expression surly.

  "I am Hope's mother."

  "Who?"

  Wondering if she'd taken a wrong fork on the way out -- indeed, hoping she had -- Iphigenia said, "I'm looking for the Frickett place."

  "You found it," he assured her.

  Giving Iphigenia an unpleasant jolt.

  "You do have a baby here, don't you?" she asked, her stomach tightening. "Hope Wentworth?"

  When he shook his head in the negative, her heart plummeted, but then he said, "We got a Dinah, though."

  "Your little sister?"

  "Nah. She don't belong to us. Don't know why Ma took her in."

  "Oh, then she is here." Iphigenia took a deep breath. No doubt Aunt Gertrude had thrown the baby at them without bothering to give them her name ...if she'd even remembered it. "Can you take care of my horse and buggy for me while I speak with your parents?"

  "I guess."

  A jittery sensation filling her, Iphigenia approached the house and noticed the adobe walls were crumbling. The door was open. She glanced into the dark, bleak kitchen and saw a thin woman with straggly brown hair at the stove.

  "Excuse me. Naomi Frickett?"

  "The same." The woman turned, eyeing her clothing speculatively, enviously. She herself was wearing a wash-worn shapeless gingham. "What can I do for you?"

  "I am Iphigenia Wentworth." She looked around for signs of a baby, but no cradle graced the kitchen. "My mother was your mother's second cousin." Surely Hope was here somewhere, she thought frantically, as she informed the woman, "I've come for my child."

  Naomi's mouth dropped open, but she quickly covered her surprise. "Abner! Better get in here."

  "Where is Hope? I'd like to see her."

  Naomi Frickett stared down into her stew. "You'll have to talk to Abner about that."

  Which made Iphigenia even more nervous.

  "What're you squalling about now, woman?"

  The man who came through the doorway nearly filled it. He was wearing a wrinkled suit and a ruffled shirt, the garments totally incongruous with the setting. His heavy-jowled face needed a shave, and his bloodshot eyes were having trouble focusing on the scene in the kitchen.

  Naomi wiped her reddened hands on her skirts. "Abner, this lady is Iphigenia Wentworth from New York City. Dinah's real Mama."

  "Actually, her name is Hope," Iphigenia asserted pleasantly, trying to keep a positive attitude when warning signals were going off inside her. "I assume Aunt Gertrude's solicitor didn't tell you that."

  Naomi Frickett didn't blink, merely said, "Abner, she's come for the baby," in a fear-filled tone.

  Her husband turned his sour gaze on Iphigenia. "Oh, you have, have you?"

  Iphigenia licked her lips and forced a smile. "Yes. She's mine and I had no say about giving her up. I was in my sickbed when she was taken away without my permission. But I do want her." Heart pounding, she appealed to Naomi. "As a mother, you can understand how I feel. I've been frantic about my baby and determined to get her back. The whole thing was a terrible mistake, one I've come to rectify."

  Abner grabbed a bottle from a shelf near the stove. "An' how much do you propose to pay to rectif
y it?"

  "Pardon me?"

  "How much are you going to pay us to get the brat back."

  Pay?

  Brat?

  Iphigenia felt sick.

  "I am certain Aunt Gertrude compensated you quite well to take care of my child --"

  "It's all used up," Abner said, taking a swig straight out of the bottle that no doubt contained tequila or some similar spirits. "I need more."

  Used up how? Certainly not on his children or on his wife or on his property. Undoubtedly he was hording the money other than buying himself fancy clothes and enough liquor to keep him drunk. Though appalled, Iphigenia knew she needed to be very careful as to how she handled the situation.

  "May I see Hope?"

  Abner belched. "Name's Dinah."

  "May I see Dinah, then?"

  "Get the damn brat!"

  Naomi scurried to do her husband's bidding. And for the moment she was in the kitchen alone with Abner Frickett, Iphigenia sweated with fear. She thought the man capable not only of greed but of great cruelty, and prayed that he hadn't turned on her baby.

  Dear God, please let Hope be all right ...

  Naomi returned, carrying the little girl, naked but for a rag wrapped around her bottom. Again appalled that they hadn't even clothed Hope properly, Iphigenia realized that she would at least be able to see any signs of neglect or cruelty. No bruises. An adequate amount of flesh on her little bones ...unlike the other children. She was even clean, thank goodness, and therefore hopefully free of disease.

  "Here she is," Naomi said, bouncing Hope on her hip, her expression softened.

  And Iphigenia recognized the woman's fondness for the baby, settling more of her fears. Naomi, at least, thought of Hope as more than a damn brat. Undoubtedly her husband had kept her so downtrodden, she'd been unable to help herself or her own children, even with Aunt Gertrude's money.

  Telling herself she must keep her head before Abner Frickett if she wanted to get out of there with her daughter, Iphigenia held out her arms. "Please."

  The woman looked to her husband for permission. He took another swig of drink and grinned, showing her his rotten teeth.

  "Let her hold the brat so's she knows what she's missing."

  Iphigenia was hard-pressed not to cry when Naomi handed over her child. "Hope," she cooed, trying to keep her voice from trembling. The little girl put a hand in her face and smiled. "You're so beautiful."

  More beautiful than she had remembered. The red wrinkled skin had smoothed out to creamy firmness. The fine whisps of fair hair were now soft blond curls. And her eyes were a brilliant blue that reminded Iphigenia of a clear sky on a fine summer day. Hope blinked at her and let out a squeal of pleasure.

  "Oh!" Overwhelmed by the emotions that swept through her, Iphigenia placed her cheek atop Hope's head, inhaled her scent and held her baby as if she would never let her go again. "I've missed you so."

  "That's enough!" Abner barked. "Take her, woman!"

  "No, please, not yet," Iphigenia pleaded, her heart breaking anew even at the thought of having Hope removed from her arms. "I've hardly had time to look at her."

  "Time enough."

  Naomi's expression looked fearful. Iphigenia expected the woman might bear the brunt of her husband's displeasure if she didn't respond immediately. Worse, Abner might take out his anger on Hope, and he was big, too powerful for Iphigenia to fight. She forced herself to hand the baby over, prepared to negotiate for her release.

  "What is you want?" she asked the man.

  "Money." He waved the now half-empty bottle at her. "I thought I said money."

  Iphigenia refused to flinch. How could anyone place a price on a child? Rage coursed through her but she managed to ask calmly, "How much?"

  Abner scrunched up his face. "Now let me see. For all the good care we've taken of the brat ...uh, the angel that I've grown to love like one of my own ..."

  "How much?" she repeated.

  He grinned, took a gulp of liquor and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his suit. "I'd say a thousand U.S. will do me right fine."

  Iphigenia gaped. "A thousand dollars?"

  "I weren't talkin' about no pesos."

  "You're out of your mind," she said, her anger surfacing. "She's my child. I'll have the law on you!"

  Abner guffawed. "You jest do that, missy. I have a piece of paper drawn up by that solicitor of your aunt's that says the baby's ours. It's all legal like. Some judge friend of hers signed it and everything. So bring on the law if that's what you want, but it won't do you no good."

  Seeing the futility of that action, Iphigenia cried, "But I don't have a thousand dollars!" appalled anew at her aunt's heartless actions.

  Abner drained the bottle. "Then I guess we'll jest keep this here angel until you figure out where to get it. Woman," he snapped at Naomi, "git the brat outta here."

  Without waiting for another word, Naomi scurried out of the room with the baby.

  Her breathing nearly stopped. Yet somehow, Iphigenia got hold of herself in the midst of her panic. He wanted money, she knew where she could get it.

  The jewelry sewn into the hem of her petticoats.

  She'd intended to support herself and Hope on the money from their sale until she could figure out what to do. But there was no question that she would have to sell them immediately merely to regain custody of her child. Then she and Hope would be required to live frugally until she could come up with some plan for their support.

  Anything to get her baby away from this monster ...

  She straightened. "I shall see what I can do."

  "I bet you shall," he said, mimicking her.

  Clenching her jaw so that she wouldn't cry, Iphigenia stormed out of the decrepit house. The children were making over the livery horse.

  "He's so much prettier than our horses," the older of the girls said.

  Only because her father did nothing to tend to his own, Iphigenia thought, though she didn't say so. "Thank you." She took the reins and stepped up into the buggy. "And thank you all for taking such good care of him."

  The children smiled and waved, and Iphigenia felt her heart break anew, this time for them. No one should have to live in such squalor. She pasted on a smile and waved in return, then drove off to a chorus of friendly shouts, knowing that, while she might be able to buy her baby's freedom, these poor children would remain under the thumb of a father more horrible than she could ever have imagined.

  BY MID-AFTERNOON, Iphigenia saw the desperation of her situation when, after having every other shopkeeper in town turn her away, her last chance said, "A hundred dollars is the best I kin offer you."

  Iphigenia stared at the diamonds and rubies and emeralds in gold settings that she'd spread out on the counter. "But they're worth thousands."

  "Yeah, maybe in some fancy city like New York or San Francisco. But we don't have much call for jewels out here. I'd have to give them to one of the traders who comes through every coupla months. He'd have to bring them elsewhere -- maybe San Antonio or El Paso -- to even sell them to someone who could turn us a profit. Meanwhile, I'd be waiting until the trader came back this way for a return on my money."

  "You do not understand. This is for my daughter. So I can rescue her from a horrible man who demands I pay him one thousand dollars for her safe return."

  "Sounds like a matter for the law. Or the army." When she didn't respond, the man's expression turned truly regretful. "A hundred's the best I can do," he repeated.

  "Then it is no use."

  Too numb to cry, Iphigenia swept the jewelry up and into the velvet pouch she'd brought the pieces in. They had begun as her future with her baby. Then they'd become Hope's salvation. Now it seemed they were worthless, at least here.

  What was she to do?

  Despondent, Iphigenia realized she would have to go elsewhere, to a city where she could get more for the jewels, at least enough to free Hope.

  "Which is closer?" she asked the shopkeeper. "El Pas
o or San Antonio?"

  "El Paso."

  A far enough ride, one she had no desire to make alone. "I suppose Fort Davis has no train depot."

  "No, but Marfa does. That's a good twenty ride mile south of here. The Southern Pacific'll take you straight to El Paso."

  He gave her directions and she thanked him with as much warmth as she could muster. Then she returned to her hotel, changed into her man's clothing once more, checked out and fetched Belinda.

  Iphigenia left Fort Davis the way she'd come, through the military area. Again she ignored the stares and too-friendly calls from some of the uniformed men. She backtracked a bit, so intent on finding the crossroad that would lead her to Marfa, that a rider was practically upon her before she realized she wasn't alone.

  "Iphigenia!" came a familiar demanding voice.

  "Monte?"

  Stunned, Iphigenia whipped around in her saddle and spotted the man she loved charging for her, hell bent for leather. She brought Belinda to a halt. Dear Lord, what had brought Monte so far from the ranch? Realizing he must have come after her, a rush of emotion filled her and she could no longer hold herself back. Tears trailed down her cheeks and she began to cry even as Monte drew his mount up next to hers.

  "What the hell, Iphigenia, are you hurt?"

  She shook her head and cried harder, unable to stifle the sobs that shook her.

  Monte dismounted in a flash and was by her side, dragging her out of the saddle. She clung to him, too distraught to fight or even to be embarrassed. His warmth was an oasis in the midst of her grief.

  "What's wrong?" he asked when the sobs subsided some. She tried to wriggle free, but he held fast. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

  She needed to tell someone. She had to tell someone. Staring up into the rugged face she knew as well as her own, she began, "I came to West Texas for a very personal reason."

  "Really?" A sarcastic note colored his tone.

  And her cheeks. What would he think of her once he knew? It took all her courage to go on.

  "A little more than a year ago, I met a charming man. I thought I was in love." But she hadn't understood what real love was until she'd met Monte. "One thing led to another ..." She couldn't look at him. ". . . and I bore his daughter."