‘Out here on the ranch we like our coffee strong and our men stronger, darlin’. You’ll get used to it.’
That wasn’t likely, I thought. I picked up the mug and went outside, thinking I would dispose of the coffee under a bush. But I tried another sip and decided I could get used to it. I was in Texas now and needed to adapt to their ways.
I breathed in the fresh air. I had learned by now that early Texas summer mornings were the most pleasant time of the day. I inhaled the sweet smells of hay and dry grass, and again I thought of home. But instead of making me homesick, I found comfort in the smells. I watched the ranch hands mount their horses, their boots and spurs thrust into the stirrups and their large hats, which I had learned were called ‘cowboy’ hats, pulled down low, shading their faces.
When they rode out of sight, again I was aware of the wide-open space that was Texas, where the land stretched all the way to the horizon as if it were the end of the earth. How different this place was from Ireland! Here there was room to breathe. For people here, their lives were not confined by hundreds of years of tradition, by the fear of Hell instilled by powerful priests, by the ridicule of neighbours, nor by rigid rules of morality. This place was big enough to welcome risk-takers and rule breakers, dreamers and sinners, and independent souls with their own moral code. Like the immigrants on the Titanic, people came to Texas looking for a better life – for freedom, adventure, wealth, peace and happiness – and unlike those wretched souls drowned on the Titanic, most appeared to have found it.
I sighed. I didn’t know how long I would stay at the ranch. Mayflower had said I could stay for as long as I wished. But how could I stay here? Aidan would not want me anywhere remotely close to Lily. I tried not to think too much about Aidan. I didn’t even know if I would ever see him again. My heart sank at the thought.
I began to spend as much time outdoors as I could, sometimes walking, other times leaning on the fence watching the ranch hands do their work, or ‘chores’ as work was called here. I especially liked to watch them wash down the horses after a day’s work. I’d always loved horses. Back in Donegal some of them ran wild while others were kept on farms. There was a special, ancient bond between the Irish and their horses. I’d always been sad that the only horse we had on our farm was our sweet pony whose job was to pull our old wooden cart. I would have loved to ride a horse the way many of the heroines of my books had done.
Mayflower came up behind me one day. ‘You sure seem fond of the horses, darlin’.’
I smiled. ‘I am. And I’ve always wanted to learn to ride.’
She said nothing at the time but, two days later, she pre sented me with a pair of trousers, boots, a blue cotton shirt and a cowboy hat.
‘Got these from the dry goods store in Dallas. I figured if you were fixin’ to learn to ride a horse, you’d better be dressed for it. The trousers are for boys but I’m sure Maria will be able to fit them for you, she’s handy with a needle.’
I looked down at the clothes and began to laugh at the thought of Ma’s face if she ever spied me in a pair of trousers.
‘Now all we have to do is find someone to teach you!’ said Mayflower.
A week later I was riding a small, solid, brown quarter horse around the paddock alongside a young man on what he called a ‘paint horse’, so called because of its coat of brown and white patches. I’d never seen a horse like it and was fascinated. The young man’s name was Jeb, and he was the son of the ranch manager. He was very shy and blushed every time I spoke to him. But he was a good teacher and I was quickly getting the hang of Western riding: leaning back in the saddle and holding the reins loosely in one hand. Every time I dismounted, I felt more and more like a real Texan.
During the days at the ranch I was able to keep thoughts of Lily at bay, deliberately concentrating on other things. But at night, with no other distractions, images of her filled my mind and my regret at what I had done roared up as if to suffocate me. I also wondered how Aidan was – did he think of me at all, and if he did, had his anger and disappointment with me softened?
Every day I peppered Mayflower with questions about Lily. Had she seen her? How was she doing? She answered that she hadn’t seen her at all. She had heard that Aidan had brought her back to Dallas and was considering putting her in school in the fall. I winced. If she went to school, she would no longer need a governess. My final hope of one day going back to her would be shattered.
‘I saw Aidan today,’ Mayflower announced one day. ‘He was looking darned puny. Worried sick about Lily – says she’s not been eating, and she’s stopped talking again.’ She paused and gave me a knowing look. ‘I know you’ve been wanting to ask about him as well as Lily, but you haven’t had the gumption.’
I said nothing.
‘Anyway, you can see him for yourself,’ she continued. ‘He’s coming here for our annual Fourth of July barbecue this Sat-urday. And, he’s bringing Lily.’
Later, in my room, I lay down on the bed, not even bothering to undress. News that Aidan was coming to the ranch should have put me over the moon, but instead I was miserable. How was I ever to face him? How was I going to look into his eyes and see the reproach there? I couldn’t. I would have to find a way to avoid him, even if I had to leave the ranch.
But there was no time to come up with a plan before Saturday arrived. I wasn’t ready to face Aidan, so I pretended I was sick. Mayflower saw right through me and ordered me to get up. Reluctantly, I rose and dressed in my riding clothes – Mayflower had said we’d be riding over to the barbecue. When I came down to the parlour, Mayflower was wearing a long silk dress with lace edging and a matching hat.
‘B-But I thought we were riding,’ I said, looking down at myself.
Mayflower waved her hand. ‘Pay it no mind, Delia – some ranchers like to dress up for barbecues – it’s often the only time we see each other during the year, and the young’uns like to impress each other. And it’s expected that the hostess should gussy herself up as well.’ She smoothed out her dress. ‘I’d much rather be dressed like you are, but it wouldn’t be considered proper and I’d be gossiped about for a year.’
‘You look lovely, my dear,’ said Hans, and Mayflower beamed.
We set out on our horses, riding east from the ranch house. I thought Mayflower would ride side-saddle, but to my amusement she gathered up her dress, threw one leg over her horse’s back and grinned at me. Hans, small, compact and smart in his shiny black boots and white cowboy hat, rode straight-backed, leading the way. I was shocked that the barbecue was being held so far away.
‘Gotta put some distance on it,’ Mayflower remarked, ‘else it might burn the house down.’
I wondered how big this barbecue was going to be. I began to imagine a burning woodpile as high as the house itself. As we rode along the dirt road, several motor cars passed us, their drivers honking their horns and shouting greetings. Some of my anxiety receded as my anticipation grew. I’d gathered that a barbecue was like an elaborate picnic, but I knew it would not be like any picnic I’d ever witnessed, nor indeed read about.
After almost an hour of riding I couldn’t believe we were still on the ranch. I hadn’t realized just how vast it was. In the distance I saw plumes of smoke and knew we were drawing close. Soon after, I heard the noise of a crowd as they came into sight. My heart began to thud. I prayed Aidan had not yet arrived. We dismounted and tied our horses to a fence rail and walked towards the crowd.
People parted to let us through to a clearing where three wood fires burned, one in a large pit dug in the ground, and two above ground under tripods holding huge iron pots. An image of Ma on her knees tending iron pots that hung over the turf fire flashed in my mind. A stew of rice and beans in a tomato sauce bubbled in one of the pots, and the other contained strong black coffee. Round discs of crispy bread lay cooling on a table nearby. Slowly, I approached the pit where two men were basting what looked like an entire cow with sauces and molasses. The aroma was intoxicating, an
d I swallowed the saliva that filled my mouth.
I melted back into the crowd, hoping to become invisible in case Aidan was there. Women, young and old, wore fine dresses and hats. Their fancy shoes were quite unsuitable for the prairie dust and gravel. I was curious why none of the women’s faces were tanned. I concluded that they considered it unseemly, just like the Anglo-Irish aristocratic women did. I put my hand up to my face, which had been bronzed by the sun. I was aware of the women, particularly the younger ones, staring at my face and my trousers and whispering to one another. My fair hair, bleached the colour of straw by the same Texas sun, fell in a braid down my back, unlike their elaborate styles tucked up under their hats. I turned to walk away and noticed that the women and men had split into two camps.
I didn’t know which way to go, so I made my way to the outskirts of the crowd where musicians in tight black suits studded with silver buttons and huge round straw hats were playing guitars. The music was enchanting. They sang in Spanish, their voices soft and melodious. They must be Mexicans, I thought.
Mayflower came up behind me. ‘Aren’t they wonderful? They’re called mariachis, and they’re from Mexico. Where we’re standing used to be part of Mexico. They’ve influenced many of our ways, including our music and our food.’
‘So that’s why there are so many of them around here,’ I said. ‘But I noticed that most are working as servants or ranch hands.’
Mayflower pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Some things are slow to change, darlin’.’
I began to feel sick to my stomach. The heat and the smells were closing in on me, and I was afraid I might faint and make a show of myself. I walked over to a nearby water barrel and ladled some water into my mouth. It was warm, but more refreshing than hot coffee would have been. I straightened up and turned around. Aidan O’Hanlon stood at the edge of the crowd watching me. I took in a deep breath as panic gripped me. Francine, wearing a gaudy, low-cut dress and a feathered hat, hung onto Aidan’s arm. Lily was beside them, crouched down with some other children examining what looked like an armadillo. My face flushed and sweat dripped down the back of my neck. I looked down at my riding clothes, feeling ugly and plain in comparison with Francine.
I was rescued by the unexpected appearance beside me of Shane Kearney. He was impeccably dressed in khaki trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a white cowboy hat which he doffed at me. I turned away from Aidan’s stare which I felt burning through me.
I managed a smile. ‘Hello, Mr Kearney.’
He gave a slight bow. ‘Good afternoon, Miss er...’
‘Sweeney,’ I said. ‘Delia Sweeney. We met before at your hotel the day Lily was lost.’ I reached out my hand to shake his.
Instead he bent and kissed my hand, his fingers adorned with silver and gold rings. He asked me how I liked the ranch and suddenly words started flowing out of me unbidden
‘I like the ranch well enough,’ I said, ‘but I can’t live on Mayflower’s kindness forever. It’s time I found some way to make a living . . .’ I let the words trail off.
Mr Kearney looked me up and down as if mulling something in his mind. ‘I know it’s no place for a lady like yourself, but I may be able to find you a position at my hotel in Shotgun City. Why don’t you come and see me there? I’m sure I could find room for you as a clerk, or a saleswoman.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Or you could be a dancer like Miss Francine over there.’
I reddened.
‘She’s from Louisiana and her people were French. That’s how come she has that accent that men just love. She’s what we call Cajun.’ He paused and looked over at her. ‘And as long as we’re speaking of Francine,’ he went on, his voice lowered, ‘I see she’s draped over Aidan like an old coat. They go back a long time, even before he married his first wife. I expect our Francine is planning to move into dear Mary’s place. She’s an ambitious hussy, bless her heart.’
I could stand being there no longer. ‘I’m sorry, I have to leave now, Mr Kearney. Thank you for your kind offer, but I do not plan to return to Shotgun City.’
With that I turned and ran away from the crowd, to where my horse was tethered. I fumbled with the reins and, when they were untangled, I mounted him and dug my heels into his flanks, as Jeb had taught me. Then I rode away without looking back.
I must have dug my heels in more forcefully than I intended because my horse took off at a gallop. At first, I was glad – the faster and farther I got away from the barbecue the better. Eventually, though, I was ready to slow him down. I tugged on the reins, but he didn’t respond. My anxiety began to mount. I had never ridden this fast before – the fastest I had ridden with Jeb was a slow canter. I tried yelling for the horse to stop even though I knew it was useless. I dug my heels into his flanks again but that only succeeded in making him run faster. I was in a full-blown panic now. All I could do was hang on as best I could and hope that I was riding in the direction of the ranch house.
A sudden wind came up and blew dirt and gravel like sharp needles into my face. Grit struck my eyes and I blinked them open and shut. I wore no bandana, as the ranch hands did to cover their faces, and I didn’t dare let loose of the reins to wipe the gravel and dirt away. As I rode on, the sky turned dark, signalling a rainstorm. Lightning would no doubt come next, and then thunder. Terror replaced panic and I began to pray aloud.
Thunder struck behind me, loud as galloping hooves. It was gaining on me, drawing closer. I prayed louder, shouting the words into the wind. I heard someone calling my name. Maybe it’s God, I thought, letting me know it’s my time to die. But it wasn’t God. It was Aidan. He drew alongside me, shouting, but I couldn’t make out his words. He rose up in the stirrups and leaned over to seize the reins from me. Just as he did, my horse jumped over a narrow creek which had suddenly appeared in front of him. I screamed and let go of the reins. A sharp pain tore through me as I hit the ground. Then the world turned black.
I heard distant voices, and I opened my eyes. Blurred faces hovered above me. Someone was wiping my forehead with a damp cloth. A vicious pain shot through my left leg and shoulder and a sticky substance flowed down my cheek. I closed my eyes again.
A gentle voice at my side called my name.
‘Delia? Oh, Delia, what on earth made you do this? You gave us all such a scare. Why did you run away from us – from me – that way?’
The voice sounded like Aidan’s – not the recent angry voice, but the gentle, loving voice I remembered from before. I’m dreaming, I thought. They must have given me some medicine. It’s made me hallucinate. I must sleep.
‘Nothing broken, the doc says.’ Mayflower sat beside my bed. ‘Do you realize what a lucky girl you are? I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d have said you were trying to kill yourself.’
Maybe I was, I thought.
Hans stood behind his wife. ‘Leave the girl alone, May.’
‘I’m so sorry I scared you. I-I felt sick all of a sudden and needed to get away before I made a show of myself.’
‘You scared more than Hans and me,’ Mayflower said. ‘Jeb was scared to death. He shouted that you were riding too fast. He was fixin’ to go after you, but Aidan beat him to it. He pushed that Francine out of the way and jumped on his horse to follow you. You were well out of sight by then. I’m amazed that he caught up with you. I would say he saved your life.’
‘That’s enough, May,’ Hans said. He turned to me. ‘Rest now, fräulein.’
When they had gone, I lay staring at the ceiling. Suddenly Father McGinty’s face appeared. ‘’Tis lying again, you are!’ he shouted, wagging his finger at me. ‘You weren’t sick at all. ’Twas jealousy made you run. The commandments say: “Thy shall not covet thy neighbour’s wife”. You wanted Aidan for yourself and that’s the truth.’
He disappeared. He was right, of course. Even though Francine wasn’t Aidan’s wife, she was his companion, and I had let jealousy consume me. Why hadn’t I stood my ground?
On doctor’s orders I was confined to bed fo
r the next week. I drifted in and out of sleep, dazed from the medicine he had given me. The pain eased when I lay still but came roaring back when I tried to move. Mayflower came to my room several times a day. She brought gossip about the barbecue and the women who’d been there.
‘You should have seen ’em scatter when the rain came down,’ she laughed, ‘clucking away like angry hens. Some of them have been over here visiting since you’ve been laid up, pretending they’re concerned about you when all they want is gossip. Clara Bines was here with her daughters – plain as pots them two – seeing what she could find out, and that bible-thumping ole heifer, Beula Hicks, showed up wanting to pray for your soul. I chased all of ’em out.’
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, even though it made my shoulder pain worse. Mayflower had a grand way of telling stories. She’d have fitted in well in Donegal.
Her tone suddenly changed. ‘Aidan sat here through the night after he brought you back to the house, and he’s been asking about you every day since.’ She paused. ‘I told Hans, for a man who ordered you out of his sight, Aidan sure is paying you a whole lot of attention.’
I blushed. ‘I’m sure he would show the same concern for anyone.’
Mayflower raised an eyebrow but said nothing
Eventually I was able to get up and move around. I spent most of the time rocking in a chair out on the veranda. In the evenings I watched the sun set in a blaze of red and gold. The sky looked as if it were on fire, and the sinking ball of sun looked close enough to touch. Of all the new sights I’d seen in Texas, the sunsets were the most beautiful.
Mayflower was spending a lot of time in Dallas, so it was Hans who kept me company when he was home. I liked the small, dignified man with his merry blue eyes. His self-containment gave him a calming presence. We talked about many things. He turned out to be well-read and well-travelled. He had studied Engineering in Germany and worked for an oil company in Pennsylvania. He’d met Aidan in New York, he said, and was persuaded to travel with him to Texas.
The Titanic Sisters Page 23
