“Oh,” Leia said, “I would like Miss Jane to be my teacher.” She pointed to Matilda. “And you, if you can sit still long enough.”
Matilda smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Leia reached for Pilar’s hand. “Do you have Little People and Night Marchers in Texas?”
Pilar shrugged a shoulder. “No.”
Leia led Pilar away. “I can tell you about them. You need to know, to be safe.”
Just as Jane was about to ask, Rose sighed. “Children and their imaginations. Okay, you two, go on,” she said to Jane and Mak. “Matilda and I have fashion and travel to discuss.”
If she didn’t know better, and if they all didn’t know she was engaged to be married, Jane might think somebody was trying to set her up with Mak MacCauley.
Seventeen
“Mak,” Jane said as they walked across the velvety green lawn. “What, or who, are the Little People Leia mentioned?”
He looked down at her and exclaimed, “Amazing.” Then he laughed. “I mean your eyes. They’ve become as green as a Ti leaf.”
Her chin lifted. “You mean like cooked and stuffed with rice?”
“Hardly.”
She liked his laugh. She thought it was amazing how cordial he could be as long as she wasn’t asking to ride his horse. “My eyes do that,” she said. “They’ll turn dull again in another setting.”
He seemed about to say something but closed his mouth. He opened it again and said, “Mine are always a dull brown.”
She might have said she thought his eyes quite dark and mysterious and she’d like to know what he seemed to carefully conceal behind them, but he quickly said, “This way.”
They’d come to the lush foliage at the end of the lawn, and he led her down a shaded path bordered by Ti and other bushes and trees she didn’t know the names of.
“About the Little People,” he said. “I think most cultures have their fairy tales. Or tall tales. Like most legends, stories are based on fact. It’s believed the Menehunes were a race of people living here long ago. People of other places came in and conquered them. The conquered people were considered inferior, and the word Menehune came to mean commoner.”
“Like the Romans and Jews,” Jane said. “The conquerors always think the conquered are inferior.” At his quick glance, her thoughts came closer to the present. “Or like Indians, Mexicans and. . .slavery.” She drew in a breath. “Are the natural Hawaiians looked upon that way?”
“There’s a parallel,” he said. “As you mentioned, it’s in all cultures. Sometimes it’s called class distinction, society, caste system. But before we get too morbid, let me add that through the centuries, the Menehunes have become legend as Little People, no more than three feet high. They do good deeds. If sharks are about to attack you, the Little People can come in their little tiny canoes and beat them away with their paddles. You never see them. They do their good deeds at night and are responsible for many blessings.”
“I can see that children might enjoy the stories,” Jane said. “But Christians wouldn’t believe the stories, would they?”
“I don’t know,” he said as they walked from the foliage into what seemed to be an entirely different world. Stretched out before her was an elaborate stable bordered by a corral.
As they neared the stables, Jane stopped in her tracks, forgetting anything but what came into view ahead of her.
“How magnificent.” She hurried to the fence, heading for the huge black stallion glistening like velvet in the soft evening sun. A rider dismounted and held the reins.
“Careful,” Mak said. “That’s Panai, my racehorse.”
Jane saw the big black eyes sizing her up. He snorted, as if trying to scare her away. Jane laughed but kept her distance. “Why, you big pretender. You don’t scare me at all. You’re all huffs and snorts.”
Like your owner, crossed her mind.
“Don’t be too sure,” Mak said. “Miss Jane, meet my jockey, Chico Garcia.”
Chico was a small, middle-aged man who looked as dark as some of the Mexicans in Texas. His intelligent eyes were as black as Panai’s.
Chico held the reins. “Stay there,” Chico said to Panai and stood between Jane and the horse.
“Aloha, Miss,” Chico said. Creases formed in his weathered face when he smiled.
Jane kept pretending she was paying no attention to Panai, but she knew he was watching. A proud horse, waiting for her praise of him.
“This is Panai. Panai, Miss Jane.”
Jane started to take a step but Mak said, “No, don’t approach him. Chico, take him inside.”
“See you later, Panai,” Jane said.
She smelled the welcome aroma of horseflesh and hay. The horse had a large stall, more like an apartment.
In the stall, Panai turned and stood at the half door. Jane saw other horses with their heads sticking over their half-doors, turned their way. “I think the other horses are in awe of Panai,” she said, noting that Panai looked at her when she said his name.
“No,” Mak said. “They’ve seen him for many years. They must be in awe of you.”
“I—” She started to deny that but became still. Panai moved forward and stood as if not seeing her.
Jane stepped closer.
“Careful,” Mak warned. “He has teeth.”
Jane studied that huge, magnificent, black velvet head with the white mark of a champion blatantly displayed down the front of his face.
She brought her hand up to stroke his head. His big black eyes held what? Curiosity? She spoke softly to him and patted his neck. His head moved up and down.
“You have a way, Miss,” Chico said. “He never lets anybody do that but me and Mister Mak.”
“He knows I love him,” Jane said, “not just appreciate his beauty and strength. I love him because he’s. . .a horse. A wonderful animal.”
Chico stayed near and held the reins. “He tolerates males but shies away from females.”
“Well,” she said. “Maybe he’s decided it’s time for a little female companionship, a female friend.”
Jane dared not look at Mak. She sensed the silence. The horse and his owner were somewhat alike. No females—threatening ones, that is.
As if in answer, Mak said, “We don’t want him going soft. He has a goal. The three of us have a goal.”
Jane looked at him. “To stay away from females?”
Even Mak laughed good-naturedly along with Chico. “Seems I’ve been talked about behind my back. I mean, our goal is to win a race. And Chico needs to take care of the horse.”
Chico said, “He likes you.”
For a moment their eyes met. For an instant she thought, Who? Panai or Mak? Then Chico said, “Almost as much as he likes an apple or carrot treat.”
Well, that settled that—she hoped.
After a final pat to Panai’s neck, Jane walked down the passageways to the other stalls, adequate but smaller than Panai’s.
“These are for the carriages and daily riding,” Mak explained. She spoke to a couple of stable boys grooming the horses, probably having recently been brought in from the range. Each of the horses was eager for a pat or a rub.
“Which do you like best?” Mak asked.
“I like them all, but—”
“Other than Panai,” Mak said. “He’s not in the same category.”
Jane nodded. Panai was special, set apart. Like some people seemed to be born for a special purpose or with extraordinary abilities.
“Okay, let me see. Oh, this one I know. Hey, I think I’ve ridden on you.” She rubbed his face.
Mak patted his neck. “Big Brown,” he said.
“Sure is. What’s his name?”
“Big Brown.”
Jane laughed lightly. “Oh, he likes me very much. See, he’s trying to nuzzle me.”
Mak allowed it. “Something Panai would never do.”
Jane swept her gaze down to Panai, thinking, You heard that, didn’t you, Panai? But
we’ll see. We’ll see.
“These two,” Mak said, walking farther past the stalls, “are ready to be ridden by others. Which would you choose for yourself?”
Jane looked them over. One was solid brown and looked to have a good nature. The white one was a wee bit smaller but shook its head, and she suspected it had a frisky nature and thought they’d love to ride over the range together. They seemed equally receptive to her. She felt their necks, their shoulders, gently rubbed their faces.
“I can’t decide,” she said. “Which would you choose for me?”
“I’ll think on it,” he said.
They walked back up the passageway. Chico was brushing Panai’s hips.
“Nice meeting you, Chico. Panai.” She winked.
She could have sworn the horse winked back. At least she knew he blinked, which upon first encounter he had not done. A horse could learn very difficult tricks. Winking was probably the least difficult.
Upon entering the stables, she hadn’t noticed much of anything except the big horse as they turned left. Now, on the right, she saw the carriages, the surreys, a good supply of vehicles.
“These are mighty fine,” she said, touching first one, then another of the handsome vehicles, including a hansom, a landau, and a surrey, in which several people could ride in style.
“Now, what I wanted to ask you.”
Jane faced him with an expectant feeling. Since he considered her no personal threat, would he offer to let her ride with him over the range?
Eighteen
“I was wondering,” Mak said, “Do you think you and Matilda and Pilar would like a ride over the ranch?”
“Oh my, yes.”
“In this?” He tapped the wooden side of a wagon with his forefinger.
He watched her touch the wooden sides that were about two feet high, then look into the wagon in which eight people could be seated comfortably.
“Is this a farm wagon?”
“Yes.” He wondered what kind of vehicles seven people would take for an outing in Texas. Of course, that would depend upon how they were dressed. Jane and their other guests were dressed for a semiformal dinner. “Or we could take a couple of surreys.”
“No, the wagon’s perfect,” she said, and he believed she meant it, until she added, “If it’s not clean, we could sit on a bandana.” A trace of mischief was in her eyes.
At that, a stable boy appeared from the passageway. “I cleaned it, Mr. Mak.”
“I was kidding about the bandana,” she said. “Do I need to return it to you?”
He reared back and stuck out his hands. “Oh, please don’t. I never want to see that again.”
“I can hook up the fillies, Mr. Mak.”
Mak nodded, aware that the stable boy—and Chico, too—probably strained to hear every word they spoke. Other than his mother, Jane was the only woman who had been in this carriage house and stable since Maylea. But they would see her ring, or he could tell them before anyone started rumors about anything possibly being personal.
“I think they’d love riding in this and seeing the ranch. I know I will.”
“It’s not too. . .rustic?”
“It’s perfect.”
Mak smiled and nodded to the stable boy, who struck off down the passageway toward the horses.
Mak asked the reverend to sit up front with him and have the ladies ride in the seats behind them.
Listening to the women talk and his mother describe certain sections, Mak felt he was really seeing his own ranch for the first time in a long time.
He allowed the two dapple grays to trot-walk along acres and acres of green rolling fields, past grazing sheep and cattle. At one point, they stopped to watch a herd of wild mustangs disappear along the slope of a distant mountain.
He heard his mother explaining about the bunkhouses, the many corrals, the small houses where some of the paniolos lived.
Beyond that was endless acres of green merging with white wavy lines of tide rushing in and out from a royal blue sea that melted into a lighter blue sky dotted with a few wispy clouds.
“My property ends here,” Mak explained, pointing to a fence. “That’s the beginning of a sugar plantation. All that is sugar cane. Belongs to friends of mine, the Honeycutts.”
“Honeycutts?” Pilar said. “That must be where Susanne Honeycutt invited me to go on Sunday.”
“I’m going, too,” Leia said.
Mak heard his mother explain, “Leia’s grandparents on her mother’s side live at the plantation. But, Pilar, you must know Susanne from school.”
“Yes, we’re both seniors.”
“Well, Rose,” Matilda said. “Since our young girls will be away, why don’t you visit with me on Sunday?”
“That would be perfect,” Rose said. “I’ll be at church.”
They’d been gone for about thirty minutes. “I’ll take you back around a different way,” Mak told them.
“I could go on forever,” Jane said. “This is the most beautiful countryside I’ve ever seen.”
“We do still have a ride back to town, you know,” Russell reminded them.
“Okay,” Jane said. “But if we’re going to head back, there’s something I have to do.” Mak stopped the horses when she began climbing over the seats.
“Uncle Russell, change places with me, will you?”
They managed to make the exchange, but Mak wasn’t about to sit anywhere but right beside her. He should have expected it when she reached over and clutched the reins. “It’s either this, or you walk home.”
He handed over the reins.
After a while, he quit watching her every move and even enjoyed the ride when she had the horses canter. When she had them come close to a gallop, he murmured, “Ump uh,” and she slowed them.
He could not remember when someone else had given him a ride. He was always at the reins. All he needed to do was occasionally tell her the way to go until, in the far distance, his home rose like a man’s castle atop the gentle slope.
Seeing it as he thought his visitors would, he wondered how long it had been since he appreciated what he had.
When they returned to the house, Jane let her passengers out at the house. She drove him down to the stables. Chico smiled broadly, as did the stable boy, who came to take the wagon inside and unhitch the grays.
“Not bad,” Mak said, “for a lady.”
She gave him a reprimanding glance but again thanked him profusely.
She walked down to Panai, and again the horse let her touch him. Chico was right: She had a way with horses, Mak realized. They took to her, trusted her, and she wasn’t afraid. She’d handled the grays expertly. “You asked about rentals,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes on Panai, apparently sensing he was sizing her up, too. “I want to have my own transportation.”
There were rental places in town, but one couldn’t always be sure what one might get. He leaned against the stall, near Panai. “It looks like our families have plans for Sunday. If you’re available after church, I could bring a horse for you.”
Her eyes, now duller than vivid green or blue but filled with anticipation, stared into his own. “You’ve decided which one?”
He smiled. “I’ll surprise you.”
He’d already surprised her by being so cordial. Was it only because she was a guest at his home? Or because she wore an engagement ring? Maybe some woman should teach him a lesson, that he was just as susceptible to a woman’s charms as any other man.
Not more than ten minutes later, Jane thought she should be horsewhipped. The big question in her mind should not be what kind of man was Mak MacCauley, but what kind of woman was Jane Buckley.
Nineteen
Almost as soon as they were settled in the surrey, they waved good-bye again, and Uncle Russell drove them down the stone drive, Matilda spoke up in a concerned way. “What a bad time that child has had in such a short while. Losing her mother and having surgery on her leg.”
Pilar was sympathetic. “I asked Leia, and she said she doesn’t remember her leg getting hurt. She just knows she fell and twisted her knee and the doctors had to operate.”
“Rose told me,” Matilda said, “that Leia was on the horse with Maylea. As Maylea fell, she held onto Leia, protecting her the best she could, but Leia’s leg was twisted under her. Children’s bones are hard to break,” she said. “It’s the twisting that was harder to deal with than if there had been a clean break.”
Uncle Russell looked over his shoulder at them. “That was such a bad, bad time for Mak and Rose, but hardest for Mak. Rose had been through enough to know to turn to the Lord and others for comfort. Mak turned against God and became aloof from most others. For a while, they didn’t know if Leia’s leg would continue to grow the way it should.”
“Jane, did Mak talk to you about it?” Matilda said, her expression troubled.
“No,” Jane said.
“Like I said,” Russell tossed back, “he doesn’t open up to anyone about it.”
Jane felt like the dirt along the road they traveled and thought she deserved to be run over by the wheels of the surrey. She hadn’t had enough decency to remember to ask Mak about Leia’s leg.
She felt Matilda’s light pat on her hand, looked at it, and then smiled faintly at her aunt. Matilda must have thought the moisture in Jane’s eyes was about Leia’s plight. In a way, it was. But in another way, it was about her own plight. In the stables, she’d been thinking about horses and even entertained the idea of being able to appeal to Mak MacCauley.
What kind of hopeless creature was she?
Her other hand covered Matilda’s for a moment. Matilda loved her. But Matilda didn’t know how thoughtless she could be.
Did she?
If Uncle Russell preached about sins of omission, she’d probably shrivel up and sink into a hole somewhere.
❧
Sunday morning at church, Rose said Mak had taken Leia to her grandparents earlier. Pilar left with the Honeycutts. Rose, Matilda, and Uncle Russ rode into town to have lunch at a restaurant.
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