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

by Jeanne Rose

  But no, Ginnie hadn't lusted after riches or power, only love. And Xosi knew she alone was responsible for what had happened to her. Though she had never murdered anyone in cold blood, like Barkley, selfishness and greed had been her downfall. The curse went back to that fateful night in the Aztec ruins in New Mexico Territory when she and her brother Tezco had sought a part of an ancient sacrificial wheel for the madman Montgomery. They had needed the artifact to seek a far greater treasure. And in removing the golden wheel piece from its sacred chamber, they had released the old gods ...or demons.

  From that night on, Xosi had seen both terrible visions in her mirror, as well as foreshadowings of events to come. Tezco had been equally haunted, and she had feared for her brother's very sanity if not his life. Still, her greed drove her. She had made one last attempt at snatching forbidden riches and in doing so had condemned herself. Little had she known that when Montgomery cut out her heart, she would be trapped in a curse of her own making.

  But Ginnie was a true innocent. Surely if she died, she would go to a place of rest. Unless Xosi had brought the curse on the girl's head...

  Dios, no!

  She could not take the chance. She could not let Ginnie die.

  "Unhand her, bastardo!"

  A few feet along the bridge, Barkley glanced over his shoulder, real fear tightening his features. "Stay away from me, you spook!"

  As well she should. Even nearing the water, Xosi shook inside. The water threatened to destroy her, to suck what tenuous life was left from her. She knew she could not cross the creek herself and survive.

  But Barkley was dragging Ginnie, blade at her throat. The girl was sobbing, holding her arms out to her.

  Xosi could not remember ever having done an unselfish thing for someone other than Tezco in her life.

  But in death, she would never have peace if she closed herself off from the plight of the chica she loved even as much as she had her own brother. Ginnie had for months provided her only link to the real world. And the girl loved her like a mother.

  Feeding on the fear and the fury of the four people surrounding her, even knowing she would put an end to what little existence she had left, Xosi gathered strength and rushed forward, determined to be Jonah Barkley's worst nightmare.

  MONTE WAS RUSHING after the ghostly green haze that was still growing in size and power, and Iphigenia wasn't far behind. She sloshed through the water, her gaze glued to the sight of the translucent whirlwind rising from the earth and shooting directly over the bridge where Jonah Barkley dragged Ginnie ever closer to the rotting middle. Part of her was aware that she was witnessing a most unusual sight, though she didn't have time to think much about it.

  Raising a hand against the pulsing haze, Barkley yelled, "Get away!" and stepped on a board that cracked and pitched beneath his weight. "Get away from me, I say!"

  With a screech, Ginnie somehow freed herself and fell forward, clawing herself away from the murderer.

  "Hang on, Ginnie!" Monte yelled as he hit the bridge running. "I'm coming."

  You have caused enough death for one lifetime!

  More words inside her mind. Iphigenia stopped, transfixed, as the glowing haze took shape, a larger-than-life Xosi floating over the man who backed toward the hole in the bridge.

  "This can't be real -- you're some kinda trick!" Barkley yelled, voice shaking, even as Monte helped his daughter up and gathered her in his arms. "I don't believe in ghosts!"

  Though you believe in evil, horrible man. You worship it!

  Suddenly the greenish-colored Xosi ignited into a bright red blaze, her burning image sweeping over Barkley, embracing him, completely surrounding him. He screamed and screamed, slapping at himself as if trying to put out the flames that were really some sort of illusion.

  Xosi shrieked louder and louder, her voice sending the hairs at the back of Iphigenia's neck standing straight up. The sound was that of an inferno ...inescapable death.

  "Aah!" Barkley screamed, beating harder at the flames licking him.

  You can't survive my blaze!

  "Water will damn well put you out!"

  With that, Barkley purposely pitched forward into the creek. A blazing Xosi still hovered over the bridge. Even as he was swept downstream, the reddish glow softened to gold, then flickered to green as the current dragged him under.

  Ironic that the water Barkley had killed for would prove to be the death of him, Iphigenia thought.

  Xosi remained visible, though her glow had become dim. And Iphigenia saw her face change, saw it grow more peaceful and beautiful. The ghost began to drift and waver, her image fading. By crossing the water, Xosi had given up the last shreds of her own existence. The ghost aimed a loving look at Ginnie, who was sobbing in her father's arms.

  "Xosi, don't go!"

  I must. Do not cry for me, chica, but remember me kindly.

  The remaining light faded into the night. Realizing that Xosi had been misguided rather than evil, Iphigenia slipped the mirror necklace off and threw it out into the swirling black waters. "May you find peace."

  Beside her, Monte added softly, "Go with God."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IPHIGENIA AWAKENED with a start. Deep afternoon shadows filled her bedroom, and a slender figure hovered around her dresser.

  "Ginnie?"

  The girl started and whirled around. "I'm not trying to steal anything, honest."

  Iphigenia believed her. "What are you doing?" She sat up and slipped her feet to the floor.

  Ginnie lifted something from the dresser and hugged it to her chest. Crossing to the bed, she held it out. "I was returning this."

  Iphigenia took the keepsake and lovingly stroked it. "My mother's music box."

  "I'm sorry I took it."

  She knew Ginnie's returning the treasure meant something -- not only that the girl was free of her own mother's death at last, but also that Ginnie no longer was filled with resentment or hate for her. Perhaps they could make a fresh start. Rather they could if she were staying. During the long ride back to the ranch, taking a circuitous route far downstream of the unsafe bridge, Iphigenia had had plenty of time to think about rescuing her own child.

  She would have to be going only too soon.

  Her throat constricted, thinking of leaving the people she loved. Ginnie's trying to make amends only made things worse. She cleared her throat. "Have you seen your sister? She was very worried about you."

  Ginnie nodded. "I made up with her and Stephen. Cassie asked me to move back into our room. I said yes."

  Iphigenia smiled. "Good."

  "I told Pa I was sorry, too, for causing trouble. And for blaming him for Ma's death. He said he understood."

  "I'm sure he did. He loves you very much."

  "He loves you, too." Ginnie stared down at the floor. "Do you love him?"

  Yes. But she said, "I suppose I do."

  "Then you'll be staying on?"

  Surprised that Ginnie would broach the subject so calmly, Iphigenia asked, "How would you feel about that?"

  "I think you should. For Pa and Cassie and Stephen."

  "If I stayed, it would be for you, as well."

  Ginnie lifted her head. "I guess that would be okay ...now that Xosi's gone." Twin tears ran down her cheeks.

  Sympathetic, for she knew the girl felt as if she'd lost a mother twice, Iphigenia cupped her face. "Xosi loved you very much, you know. She helped save your life."

  "And lost hers because of it."

  "No, Ginnie, Xosi really died in Mexico. I think you know that. You were only acquainted with her spirit."

  "Then why did her spirit come here?"

  "Unfinished business." And not as simple as Xosi's refusing to be separated from Monte. Uncertain what Monte's children believed in, Iphigenia drew on her own faith. "I think when a person's soul is caught between heaven and earth, it's often because they still have to prove themselves worthy of a higher life. Xosi did that when she gave up her connection to this e
arth for you. I'm sure her sacrifice freed her spirit to go to God."

  Ginnie sniffed and nodded. "I'll miss her."

  "But you'll always have her with you, here." Iphigenia touched Ginnie's chest where her heart beat.

  Before they could further that discussion, the sound of pounding hooves and a carriage approaching the house alerted Iphigenia. Surely not more trouble. Monte had said he was going to Pine Bluff early to telegraph the law about the situation.

  "I had best dress."

  "I'll go see what's going on."

  Ginnie left her alone and Iphigenia chose a modest green day gown that didn't require too much fuss. As she slid into the garment, she heard raised male voices outside but couldn't make out whose. She ran a brush through her hair, gathered the long tresses in a simple twist and pinned the mass in place hurriedly. The voices were now coming from inside the house if she were not mistaken. Taking time only to slip into her shoes, she rushed out of her room and down the corridor.

  And stopped short outside the parlor where she was greeted by a shocking sight -- Monte practically nose to nose with her father.

  "It's time Iphigenia left this Wild West of yours and returned to civilization and her much safer life in New York. That's where she belongs," Horace Wentworth was saying.

  "That's up to her."

  "You can and will release my daughter from this absurd marriage. I don't care how much it costs me."

  Monte's bronzed features darkened with fury. "I don't want your damned money."

  "Then what do you want?"

  "Father! Enough!" Furious, Iphigenia stormed into the parlor where the entire household had gathered to watch the spectacle. Obviously their marriage was no longer a secret from anyone. "How dare you try to buy off Monte like he was some needy beggar! He's more man than you've ever met in your life. And he owns more land than you've ever thought to possess. His stature in Texas is equal to your own in New York."

  Though she wasn't certain that was true -- Monte was cash poor, as he'd told her -- she couldn't tolerate the idea of her father looking down his nose at the man she loved.

  "Iphigenia." Horace Wentworth had the grace to appear embarrassed. "I didn't know you were there."

  "As if that would have made a difference."

  Sighing, Iphigenia realized her father wasn't alone. She noted his slickly dressed gunman-guide Graves by the door, and directly behind her father, she caught the hem of a dress peaking out from the sofa. Though she couldn't see her, she realized a strange woman sat next to Cassie. Iphigenia was startled, for her father had been too wrapped up in his work over the years to seek female companionship. Aunt Gertrude had always served as his hostess.

  But Horace Wentworth's newfound interest meant nothing to her. "What is it you want, Father? Why have you returned to the R&Y? To torture me some more?"

  "Is that what you think?"

  Her father nodded and swallowed hard as if he understood why she would believe that, and Iphigenia would swear she was witnessing genuine emotion from what had to be the most cold and distant person in the world.

  "What else could it be?" she asked, aware of the tension in the room.

  But not all bad tension. For Carmen was holding Ginnie affectionately as she sometimes did Cassie. And Stephen was trying to smother a smile.

  "I brought someone to see you," her father said.

  He stepped aside and Iphigenia's eyes widened. For there on the sofa next to a beaming Cassie sat a pretty young woman holding a baby wearing a lace-trimmed gown and matching bonnet. Her baby.

  "Hope?" Stunned, Iphigenia nevertheless rushed to the young woman, who, smiling, held out her child. "Hope, dear Lord, it is you!"

  Gathering the baby to her breast, she pressed her close and silently began to cry.

  "I took care of Abner Frickett for good," her father was saying. "Now I have a legal document that says he has no claim to Hope. And while I was at it, I slipped Naomi enough money to get her and her children far away from the odious man. Her choice, of course. Couldn't force her to it."

  Iphigenia couldn't believe her father had actually come through for her. She couldn't believe her daughter was actually in her arms. She removed the bonnet and smoothed the silken blond curls from Hope's brow, then kissed the soft skin of her forehead. Hope gurgled and sucked on two fingers. Iphigenia inhaled and was dizzy with her sweet baby scent.

  She stared at her father through tear-filled eyes. "You did this for me?"

  "Of course I did it for you."

  Horace Wentworth cleared his throat and looked around the room as if he were uncomfortable discussing something so personal with all these witnesses.

  "Why don't we go into the kitchen to see what Carmen is making for supper," Monte suggested.

  Stephen protested. "But, Pa --"

  "That includes you."

  Cassie rose and pulled the woman who'd been tending to Hope with her. They followed Carmen and Ginnie and Stephen out of the parlor.

  "I'll just wait outside, Mr. Wentworth," Graves said.

  Monte was the last to leave the room. Before disappearing, he gave her a searing look that Iphigenia only wished she understood.

  Filled with more happiness than she had known was possible, Iphigenia perched on the sofa, adjusting her daughter on her lap so that Hope lay against her arm. She trusted she was holding her daughter correctly, for she had no experience with babies. But from the way Hope smiled at her and squealed, she figured she was doing fine.

  "You're so beautiful," she murmured, awed anew that she had created this perfect little person.

  "She is, isn't she?" her father said, taking the chair opposite. His fingers fidgeted with the wooden arms. "Reminds me of you when you were her age. Your mother even had a similar garment for you."

  Startled, Iphigenia met his gaze, softer than she ever recalled seeing it. "You remember what I looked like twenty-seven years ago?"

  "Of course I do." Again he seemed embarrassed. His white mustache twitched. "I remember everything. You were my little girl."

  Tears struck the back of her eyelids again. He'd never before waxed so sentimental in her presence. "I never thought you cared."

  He sighed, looked uncomfortable. "I guess I tried to shut myself off from caring when Dahlia died."

  "But I was your child."

  "And you were her miniature," he told her, his expression sad. "Every time I looked at you, I thought about what I had lost. Still, it wasn't fair of me to distance myself from you, I know. I regret that I was not a more demonstrative man, Iphigenia. Dahlia was the only person who ever brought out my softer side. Losing her nearly killed me. And once she was gone, I could not bear to wear my heart on my sleeve again ...not even for you, my dear."

  Silence but for the baby's gurgling grew between them. Iphigenia wasn't certain which was worse -- knowing her father was cold and distant, or knowing he had pretended to be for his own protection.

  For some reason, she felt doubly cheated.

  "So why did you search for me when I left New York?" she asked, thinking he should have been glad to get rid of his greatest reminder of the woman he'd lost.

  "I was sick inside worrying," he admitted. "Worrying that I had brought you to some terrible fate. I thought I could correct things."

  Her spine stiffened at that. "Like trying to buy off my husband?"

  "You don't belong here."

  "I don't belong in New York with all its airs and strict society rules," she argued, only the baby in her arms keeping her from raising her voice. "I like the West. I have never before felt so alive."

  "Then you're staying?"

  Iphigenia hadn't considered what she would do now that she didn't have to be on the run with little Hope.

  Would Monte want her to stay?

  He'd married her so that she could collect her trust fund and therefore ransom her daughter. But her father had corrected the situation for her. And she had no idea of how Monte viewed their new circumstances. He'd been offended a
t the suggestion that he take Wentworth money, yet he hadn't said anything about her being his wife, or about loving her being enough for him. Perhaps he would be relieved to be rid of her sharp tongue and stubborn streak.

  Uncertain of her and Hope's future, Iphigenia was certain of one thing. "I shall not return to New York with you, Father," she said, smiling when Hope grabbed onto her gown's bodice as if in agreement.

  Iphigenia had no desire to go back to her old life. She felt as if she'd already made a new one in West Texas with Monte and his children, and could only hope he felt the same. If he didn't love her, he at least desired her, and his children did need a mother even as Hope needed a father. She would find a way to make Monte see the logic of their staying together, she decided, and perhaps in time he would come to love her as much as she did him.

  "But I forgive you for the past," she went on, "and I thank you with all my heart for the return of my daughter."

  As Iphigenia met her father's gaze, she swore that Horace Wentworth's eyes swam with unshed tears.

  He cleared his throat. "As you reminded me, little Hope is my flesh and blood."

  Thinking of her child, of the necessity of being able to support Hope if she did have to leave the R&Y despite her resolve, Iphigenia took advantage of his weak moment. "And I have faith that you will be reasonable and see fit to release my trust fund. Mother wanted me to have money of my own when I married."

  Her father peered at her intently. "Do you really love this Monte Ryerson?"

  Once again, he surprised her. He seemed ...almost accepting.

  "More than I can ever tell you." Or Monte himself, Iphigenia thought, a lump sticking in her throat.

  "Then the trust fund is yours," he said gruffly. "I'll make the arrangements upon my arrival in New York. Where shall I have my banker send the money?"

  Relieved, Iphigenia took a big breath and hugged Hope closer. "The First Bank of Fort Davis will do."

  "No need to do any such thing," Monte countered.

  Iphigenia looked toward the doorway he nearly filled. She hadn't heard him return and wondered how long he had been standing there. Long enough to hear her admit her love for him? Well, if he thought she no longer had a mind of her own, he had another think coming.