Half-Breed's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  "Yes." He realized then that Maria had given Glynna his room to sleep in.

  "It's wonderful. You did a fine job. I did several Indian paintings after I visited Colorado, and everyone in New York loved them. I was hoping I could visit a Comanche village while I'm here."

  "You don't want to find yourself in a Comanche village."

  "Why not?" She was puzzled.

  "My mother's people are all on the reservation now. The only Comanche running free are the renegades, and you don't want to be anywhere near them."

  "Paul mentioned that the other night. Are they really that dangerous?" She looked at both men.

  "They're deadly," Paul put in. "They have raided in the area, and they've spared the lives of none of their victims. It's been tragic."

  "Why do they leave the reservation?" Glynna asked in all innocence. "From what I'd read back home, I thought the government was providing them with all they needed. They have land and clothes and food. Why are some of them off the reservation raiding?" For a moment, she thought Hunt looked almost sad, but whatever the expression had been, it was quickly masked.

  "The Comanche have roamed this land for hundreds of years, living off the buffalo. Then the whites came, and all that changed. The whites settled on the land and slaughtered the herds. They forced my mother's people onto the reservation. The officials promised them that they would supply them with what they needed, but what they really need is their freedom."

  "It must be terrible for them, knowing their old way of life is over," Mimi observed.

  "Their spirits are broken. It's a sad time, and that's what makes the renegades all that much more dangerous. They're men who believe they have nothing left to lose."

  Silence fell over the table at his last statement. Maria came bustling in with food right then. They were glad to be distracted from their somber thoughts of the dangers of such desperate men.

  Paul said grace, and the meal was delightful. Conversation turned to general topics and then back to Glynna's work and their plans for the next day.

  "Diego will be ready whenever you are," Tom told them. "Do you have any idea what time you'd like to start out in the morning?"

  "Early is good. In fact, if it's not a problem, I'd love to be out in the countryside by dawn."

  "I'll tell Maria to be sure that he's got the horses saddled about half an hour before daybreak."

  "We'll be ready," Glynna promised.

  "I think I'd better call it a night. I need to check on the stock one more time," Hunt said, pushing his chair back from the table to stand up.

  "Hunt," Mimi ventured, "would you mind if I went out to the stables with you? I'd love to get a close-up look at Warrior."

  "Not at all."

  "Glynna, are you coming with us?" Mimi asked.

  Not ready yet to go up to bed, she quickly agreed.

  "I think I'll join you," Tom said.

  The four of them left the house, leaving Paul behind to settle into the makeshift bedroom Maria had created for him in the parlor.

  Their conversation was mostly about horses as they visited the stables. Glynna remained quiet, just listening to her aunt and Hunt discuss his work with Warrior.

  "Well, I'm getting tired, so I think I'd better call it a night. Good night, Hunt," Mimi said, having enjoyed their discussion.

  "Good night, Mrs. Randall."

  "Please call me Mimi; everybody does," she invited with real warmth. She found she liked this quiet, serious young man.

  "Night, son," Tom said, leaving the stable with her.

  "Glynna, are you coming?" Mimi asked.

  "I'll be right along. I just want to talk to Hunt for a minute."

  "All right, dear."

  Mimi and Tom went on.

  Hunt could have sworn under his breath. He'd been tense enough when she'd accompanied them to the stable, but at least his father and Mimi had been there, too. He started to brush down Warrior, just so he'd have something to do with his hands.

  "Hunt," she said, then waited until he looked up at her. She sensed he was aggravated about something, but she wasn't sure what.

  "What?"

  "I realized over dinner that I never really thanked you for all you did for me that day at the stage. That was very brave of you, and I appreciated it, even though I acted ungrateful at the time." Glynna moved closer to him.

  Hunt stiffened at her nearness.

  Glynna stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Hunt."

  With that, she smiled gently at him and left him to his work.

  Hunt stared after her, the heady, sweet scent of her perfume still filling his senses. A deep yearning stirred within him. He fought it down. He took to brushing the stallion again. But even as he worked at the horse's coat, his thoughts were on Glynna and the knowledge that she would be sleeping in his bed that night.

  Paul had remained behind at the house to unpack what he'd need for the next day. He was planning to ride out with the women and Diego and help keep watch over them. He did not know why he was going along. He certainly could have ridden out to several of the neighboring ranches, but he found he didn't want to be away from Mary Catherine. She was back in his life for at least a little while, and he didn't want to waste a minute of the time they had together.

  Paul tried to tell himself that he had ended their relationship years ago, but the shock of seeing her again had brought back all the feelings he'd had for her. He wondered how he'd ever left her, and, once he'd gone, how he'd ever managed to stay away. She had meant everything to him and that was why he'd deserted her.

  Paul felt restless and decided to go outside. He stood on the porch for a while, just enjoying the cool quiet of the evening, and then he walked off into the night, seeking peace. He'd been having trouble finding any since seeing Mary Catherine sitting in his church pew on Sunday. It seemed even his most fervent prayers were going unanswered.

  Mimi and Tom had almost reached the porch when Mimi noticed Paul coming out of the shadows.

  "It's a beautiful night," Paul said.

  "That it is," Tom agreed. "But this old soul needs to get some rest. I'll see you two in the morning."

  "You're going to get up and see us off?" Mimi was surprised. He seemed so tired and weak that she knew it would be a great effort for him to rise that early.

  "I'm up before daylight every day. There's too much to do on a ranch to lie abed. Good night."

  Mimi started to follow him inside, but the sound of Paul's soft call stopped her.

  "Mary Catherine." Paul said her name in low tones, not wanting her to go indoors just yet. He was frustrated that he'd been with her and Glynna for several days now, and he still hadn't managed to have a moment of privacy with her. This was his chance.

  Mimi glanced back at him.

  "Will you walk with me? We haven't had much of a chance to talk since you've been here."

  She hesitated, her emotions in turmoil. This was Paul, and he wanted to be alone with her to talk with her. When she'd originally thought of traveling to Dry Creek, she'd hoped this moment would come, but now that it was here, she wasn't sure she really wanted to be alone with him. The truth was, she still harbored such anger at him that she was almost tempted to hit him. She wouldn't. She was a lady, first and foremost. She wouldn't use violence on a man of God, though heaven knew she was tempted. She only hoped that maybe he would explain to her tonight why he'd left her so abruptly and so coldly after a night of sweet loving all those years ago. She needed and deserved an answer.

  Mimi turned away from the house and walked back to Paul's side.

  "I thought I would never see you again," Paul told Mimi quietly as she came to him. He thought about holding out his hand to her, but hesitated.

  "I wasn't sure I wanted to see you," she answered honestly, and together they began to walk a little farther from the house so they could have more privacy to talk.

  The darkness of the night surrounded them, and Paul stopped and turned to gaze down at
her. In the pale moonlight, she looked exactly as she had in their youth.

  "I've missed you, Mary Catherine." His voice was strangled.

  The words touched her, but Mimi hardened her heart against them. She looked up at Paul to find a strangely tormented look on his face. She wondered why he was agonizing, when he had been the one who'd deserted her. She had been the one left alone. His abandoning of her had changed her life forever. She didn't understand why he had gone. She had never understood it.

  "Why did you go, Paul?" she said, finally asking the question that had haunted her.

  "I had to," he said. Then he added, "I'm sorry."

  He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms. He wanted to somehow find a way to erase the pain he saw mirrored in her eyes. It seemed he had done nothing but hurt her.

  "It's too late for apologies, Paul."

  "Then why did you come? Why are you here?"

  "For Glynna. She wanted to come to Texas to paint, and once we'd made our plans, I remembered that your sister had told me you'd built a church in Dry Creek."

  "Glynna's a lovely girl," he told her. He realized then that he'd been harboring a faint hope that Mimi had come to Dry Creek because she'd cared enough to seek him out. Obviously it had been a foolish, ridiculous hope. He forced the thought away, forced himself to deal with reality. "Charles and his wife have done a wonderful job with her."

  "I guess you didn't know that Victoria died years ago. Charles raised Glynna by himself."

  "I'm sorry about Victoria."

  "We all were."

  "Charles has obviously been a very good father."

  "He did do a fine job. It's just a shame that he's pressuring her to marry Edmund Moore."

  "Who is he?"

  "A very nice, very rich young man. Charles wants to groom him to take over the business, since he doesn't have a son of his own to inherit"

  "This Edmund sounds eminently suitable."

  "Oh, he is. Glynna seems to think that she loves him, but I'm not so sure of that. She's still so young, and she has so much living yet to do."

  "She sounds very much like you at that age." He smiled, remembering.

  "You have no idea," she replied.

  Paul looked at her again. This was Mary Catherine, the woman who had tormented him for years haunting his empty days and long, lonely nights. He had missed her, worried about her, longed to hold her again, and now she was here, with him.

  "You never married again?" he asked, directing their conversation back to more personal matters. He wondered why she hadn't started a new life for herself.

  "No."

  Mimi looked up at Paul. After his betrayal, she had never seriously considered the question of marrying again. There had been many men ready and willing to take her to the altar, but her trust in men had been destroyed. Her brother Charles had been the only man she'd ever relied on after Paul.

  She'd had no need for a husband. She'd had her freedom, and money enough to allow her to enjoy that freedom. She'd seen absolutely no need for a man to complicate her existence.

  There had been a time in the days after Paul had gone when she would have given anything to have him back, loving her. She had lost James to an untimely death. She had thought she'd found happiness a second time with Paul, only to lose him, too. Those had been terrible, pain-filled years for her, yet she'd managed to survive and had become stronger because of her ordeal. Mimi lifted her chin in an unconscious gesture of pride in her own survival.

  Paul saw her look and couldn't stop himself from reaching for her to take her in his arms. It seemed that all he had ever wanted to do was protect her, and in protecting her, he had hurt her more than he'd ever known. Paul wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't sure if she would come to him willingly or reject him. He knew he deserved the latter, but he prayed it wouldn't happen.

  Though Mimi would not admit that she'd deliberately sought Paul out, the truth was that she had. She had wanted and needed to see him one more time.

  With infinite care, Paul drew her to him. He lowered his head to capture her lips in a kiss. The feel of her in his arms, at long last, sent a powerful emotion pounding through him. Paul shuddered and deepened the embrace, parting her lips to taste her sweetness.

  Mimi had held herself aloof from involvements with men since their parting. She had allowed herself to enjoy male companionship, but she'd never given in to the need for a sensual relationship. Paul's kiss, however, even after all this time, had the power to sweep her away to make her forget herself and lose herself in the absolute wonder of his love.

  Love.

  It was that word that tore Mimi from his arms.

  Love!

  He didn't know the meaning of the word. She had loved him, and he had walked away without a backward look, without a care for her or her well-being. He'd disappeared in the middle of the night, and he'd never tried to contact her again.

  She'd been a fool to seek him out here. She'd been a fool to think that the pain was completely gone. She'd been a fool to think that seeing him again wouldn't matter. Anger drove all desire from her.

  "Mary Catherine?" Paul was confused by her sudden withdrawal. He'd wanted her, needed her and then...

  "Good night, Paul," she said, in a voice devoid of any emotion. She disappeared into the house.

  Heavy sadness filled Paul as he watched her go. In all the time they'd been apart, he'd never stopped loving her, but he had hurt her too badly, caused her too much pain. He had seen it in her eyes again tonight, and the thought was a knife in his heart.

  Paul suddenly needed a drink. It was these feelings that had driven him to whiskey and gambling in the first place after James's death. Whiskey had helped him forget the reason for his pain. If only for a little while, he knew he could find forgetfulness in the depths of the bottle.

  But Paul knew losing himself in drunkenness was no cure. The only thing that had saved him the only thing that had given him the strength to go on living had been his faith. It had been God's forgiveness that had pulled him from the depths of despair, and he grasped for that saving grace now. He needed strength far superior to his own mortal weakness to help him through these difficult times.

  Paul wandered farther from the house. He needed privacy to pray for that strength. He had to face his own failings.

  The memories came to him in a rushing torrent as he gazed up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, clear and star-studded, but he saw no beauty. In Paul's mind's eye, he was reliving the day nearly twentyfive years before when he'd been at a picnic at a friend's country house in New York.

  All his friends had been there, including the recently married Mary Catherine and James. No one had known that he'd loved Mary Catherine. He had been too shy then to approach her or tell her of his feelings. He had worshiped her from afar. When she'd fallen in love and married James, it had been too late to win her for his own, and he'd been devastated. He'd borne the loss in silence, no one ever suspecting his true feelings for her.

  At the picnic, he had challenged James to a horse race. He'd wanted to prove, at least in the race, that he was the better man. He'd known his horse was faster and more surefooted, but James had always liked to brag that he was the best. Paul had been determined to prove to Mary Catherine in a roundabout way that she'd married the wrong man.

  It had been childish of him to goad James into the race. He knew that now, but somehow he'd been driven to do it. He realized later that Mary Catherine hadn't been aware of any of his feelings for her. He had been furious that she'd married another man, and yet he'd had no one to blame but himself, for he'd never told her that he loved her, had never shown her that he cared.

  That afternoon, he and James had raced. As he'd known he would, Paul had quickly established a good lead and was certain to win. James, a man who took everything in life as a challenge and never took any defeat lightly, wasn't about to give up. He'd taken a shortcut over rough terrain, and just as they'd been racing for the finish line, James's horse lo
st its footing and fell.

  James had been killed instantly, right before his wife's eyes.

  Paul had won the race, and, in winning, he had lost his soul.

  To this day, Paul had never forgotten the look on Mary Catherine's face when she'd run to her husband and dropped to her knees beside him. She had been crying uncontrollably and begging him to get up. Paul had reined in and rushed to help, as had their other friends, but it had been too late. James had broken his neck in the fall.

  The memory of that terrible day was with Paul always. No one had heard him taunting James and challenging him to the race. Only he knew what had been said between them. Only he knew the guilt he felt for pushing his friend to race to his death.

  Paul had been there for Mary Catherine. He loved her and wanted to ease her pain. But the knowledge that he'd been the cause of her pain never left him. He'd helped her all he could, but the look on her face when she'd finally realized that James was dead was burned into his consciousness.

  Paul had taken to drinking heavily that very day. After the funeral, he could bear it no longer. He'd left New York for the West and had taken up gambling and drinking.

  Looking back, Paul realized he'd had a death wish. He hadn't cared if he'd lived or died. He traveled aimlessly for some time before settling in San Francisco. He had engaged in a decadent lifestyle there, trying every vice.

  And then Mary Catherine had come to him.

  It had been his dream to have her, to love her, to make her his own. But he had forfeited that dream the day James died.

  When she had sought Paul out on one of the "grand tours" she'd taken after emerging from her year of mourning, their time together had been heaven and hell.

  He still loved her. There had never been any doubt about that. She meant everything to him, and the thought that she had come to him had been pure ecstasy. But he could not hide from the guilt that plagued him. He could not hide from the darkness that tormented his soul.

  Mary Catherine had told him she loved him while they were together, yet he still had not told her of his true feelings or proposed to her once she'd come to his bed. He'd felt he was betraying James.