A Veiled Reflection (25 page)

Colin Danvers shook his head. “This is ridiculous. You leave home for three months, and already you sound like your sister.”

“Good!” Jillian replied. “I love Judith, and since we're twins, we should share similar views.”

“Well, I don't think much of it!” declared her father. “I raised you to be respectful and honorable. You should care what I think of your young man, because maybe, just maybe, I'm a better judge of character than you are. Did that ever cross your mind?”

Jillian shook her head. “I don't suppose I worried much about what judgments you wished to pass on him, Father. I love him. That should be enough.” She immediately regretted her confession.

“That's exactly what I'm talking about,” her father countered. “You women and your idealistic romantic notions. Love won't see you through when the bank forecloses on your property. Love won't mean much at all when you have no food in the cupboards or on the table.” His voice took the bitter tone of one who knew these things first hand. “Love doesn't keep people alive. No, your feelings of love mean very little in this, Jillian. I will be the judge of whether or not your doctor is worthy of marriage to my daughter. Until then, you do not have my permission to marry.”

Jillian balled her hands into fists and held them tightly to her sides. “I didn't ask you here, nor did I ask for your permission.” She stalked from the room, feeling an overwhelming urge to hit something. At the top of the stairs, she punched her fist at the banister, instantly feeling the pain of her folly. Rubbing her sore knuckles, Jillian shook her head and made her way down the stairs. The only thing left to do was hope and pray that her father would tire of this game and go home.

“Or I could just pray that Mac might want to elope for real,” she murmured. Either one would be perfectly acceptable to her way of thinking.

SEVENTEEN

MAC FORCED HIMSELF TO FOCUS on the work at hand, but the medical journal he normally devoured each month held no interest for him now. Putting it aside for the tenth time, he got to his feet and began to pace the room, feeling like a man possessed. Her image was all he saw. When he closed his eyes, he could see her face—read the fear and anticipation of what was to come.

Since becoming engaged to Jillian Danvers, Mac had barely known a restful moment. It seemed someone constantly needed his medical skills or he was being called upon to participate in something regarding the town. The Indian situation was still unresolved and would no doubt remain that way for some time to come. But regardless of where Mac took himself or what his activity, it was Jillian who haunted his every thought.

Why would she have thrown herself into my arms if she found the idea of
being with me repulsive? She must enjoy my company. She said I meant a great
deal to her
. He reasoned all his feelings and thoughts. What could he say to her to make her understand how much he loved her? How could he get her to agree that this engagement should become a marriage?

But even as he questioned this, he wondered at his own madness. He knew the pain of a love gone bad. The past rose up as an ugly reminder of all that could go wrong. Did he really want to risk his heart—again?

Continuing to pace, he glanced at his watch and nearly fell over his chair. It was time to go to the Harvey House for dinner. He and Jillian had agreed that this would be the best place for their first meeting with her parents. He longed to know how she would respond to him in front of them. He had advised her to appear loving and devoted, but would it put too much pressure on her? Could she pretend to feel something more for him than she felt?

But she trembled in my arms,
he reasoned, then just as quickly pushed the thoughts aside. “She was afraid because her parents were coming,” he announced aloud. “That's all it was.”

He grabbed up his hat and walked to the door. Whispering a prayer for strength, he walked out the door just as Zack Matthews stalked by.

“Evenin', Mac.”

“How are your prisoners doing?” Mac questioned as Zack paused, pushing up the brim of his hat.

“They're keeping well enough. That Bear doesn't say a word. He just stares at me like he wishes he could drop me dead in my tracks. If looks could do the job, you'd be burying me now.”

Mac nodded. “Mary says his rage runs deep. But who can blame him? He's buried a sister and other members of his family—most of whom have perished at the hands of the white man, in one way or another. He's not old enough to remember the Long Walk, but he knows those who are and he remembers the stories. They moved the entire Navajo nation from their homeland. Many of them died . . . even more wished they could.”

“Glad I wasn't around for that. My own pa's told me stories of Indian wars and the bad times that followed. I can't imagine them moving an entire group of people off their land and marching them off to resettle elsewhere. I just don't see how we have the right to be interferin', so long as the Indians don't expect to be runnin' our lives.”

“I'm not sure what the answer is, to tell you the truth. Mary talks about their need to fit in with the scheme of the future, yet she respects the need to hold on to tradition and culture. A person's family and ancestors should have a place of importance, but sometimes I don't see it making it through to the twentieth century.”

Zack nodded. “There's a lot of hate out there, Mac. A lot of hate.”

“On both sides.”

Again, Zack nodded. “That's for sure. Well, guess I'd better go round up their meals. The Harvey House has been furnishing the grub, and for that, I'm grateful.”

“Are the Navajo eating it?” Mac questioned.

“For the most part. It's that or go hungry. Frankly, I think they may be plannin' an escape or hoping for some sort of intercession on the part of the government. Mary promised to telegraph the authorities and see what could be done.”

“No doubt she's kept to her word, but I wouldn't bet on the authorities caring much one way or the other.”

Zack shrugged and made his way to the back door of the Harvey House, while Mac followed behind and passed him by to head around front.

“Wish me luck,” he said to Zack.

“You meetin' Jillian's parents?”

Mac nodded. “I feel like a lamb led to the slaughter.”

Zack laughed. “I'll have to sketch that out. A lamb with your face, and the executioner can be Mr. Danvers.”

“Don't laugh. It's not that far from the truth.”

Zack was still chuckling as Mac rounded the corner of the building and headed to the front door. He scrutinized the dust on his black shoes and wondered if he should pause long enough to wipe them off with his handkerchief. Surely the Danverses wouldn't be that particular. Inside, the pacing was much slower than when the train passengers were being served. Ten to twelve people, including some railroad workers, sat at the formal-looking tables.

“Jillian's in the front parlor with her folks,” Gwen said, coming alongside of Mac. “She thought perhaps you'd rather meet up with them there.”

Mac nodded and asked, “What did you think of them?”

Gwen met Mac's gaze. “Her father is overbearing, bossy, and opinionated. Her mother is docile in comparison but gets her thoughts in nevertheless.”

Mac had hoped she'd say something to relieve his nervousness, but her words didn't help. “I suppose there's no putting this off.”

“I don't suppose so,” Gwen said sympathetically. “After all, you wouldn't want to be late.”

Mac shook his head. “No, that would no doubt be a poor omen of things to come.”

He quickly made his way out of the dining room and back down the hall to the front parlor. Immediately he spied Jillian. Radiant and lovely in a gown of lavender muslin, she met his entrance with warmth and enthusiasm.

“Here he is now!” she announced, getting to her feet. She rushed to Mac's side and held her hand out to him. “This is Dr. Terrance MacCallister.” She paused and met Mac's eyes. “My fiance
.”

Mac held her gaze for a moment. He knew he didn't have to pretend to give her a loving look, for the great love he felt for her was no doubt evident in his expression. He looped her arm around his own before proceeding to meet her parents.

“This is my father, Mr. Colin Danvers of Kansas City,” Jillian announced very formally.

“Mr. Danvers,” Mac said in greeting.

“Dr. MacCallister,” Danvers replied. “I had begun to think you were a figment of my daughter's imagination.”

“No, indeed,” Mac said with a smile. “And you must be Mrs. Danvers.” He turned to Jillian's mother, who extended her hand. Mac took hold of her gloved fingers and expertly lifted them to his lips. Not quite touching his mouth to her hand, he bowed. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

The expression on Gretchen Danvers' face registered pure surprise and delight. He had presented himself as a gentleman of refinement, something she had evidently not expected.
Good,
Mac thought.
Let me keep them guessing
.

“Our daughter has written much about you,” Gretchen said as Mac released her hand. “I am happy to see that she did not exaggerate. You appear to be everything she said you were.”

“Oh?” Mac turned to Jillian and grinned as she blushed a brilliant red. “We shall have to find a moment to discuss what she put to paper.”

“I don't think that would be necessary, dear,” Jillian said, emphasizing her endearment. “You wouldn't want my parents to think you a prideful man.”

Colin Danvers continued to watch him wearily, so Mac did nothing more than nod. “But of course, you're right.”

“What kind of name is Terrance?” Jillian's father asked suddenly. All heads turned to the older man as if he'd lost his senses.

“Father, does it need an explanation? Apparently it's the name his parents gave him,” Jillian replied.

Mac patted her arm soothingly. “It's actually a name I cannot abide, so most folks call me Mac. We're rather informal around these parts, and titles and other formalities soon go by the wayside.”

“I would have figured as much,” Danvers replied.

Jillian tensed on his arm. “Shall we go ahead to dinner? The food is quite good and the dining room is not so crowded that it shall exclude serious conversation.” Her voice came in a tight, controlled manner.

When no one replied, Jillian simply turned for the door. “Come, then. Mac and I shall lead the way.”

They moved quietly into the dining room, allowing Gwen to show them to the special table she'd prepared for them. Kate and Louisa both were on hand to wait on them, and after ordering more food than any four people could consume, Mac decided to jump right in and lead the conversation.

“Did you have a pleasant trip?”

Danvers grunted. “As pleasant as you can have riding into the middle of nowhere. What brought you to these parts anyway?”

Mac showed no surprise at the man's boldness in skipping the formalities. “I heard there was a great shortage of doctors in the West. I grew up and took my training in Philadelphia. My married sisters live there still.”

“Oh, so you know about society,” Gretchen interjected. “Good breeding is so important. Do your parents live there also?”

“My parents have passed on to their reward,” Mac replied.

“I see,” Gretchen said, looking quite disappointed.

“What did your father do for a living?” Colin Danvers asked as Kate served them their first course.

Bluepoints on the half shell, stuffed mangoes, and currant soup decorated the table in an inviting manner, and Mac allowed Kate time to serve each of the Danverses before he replied.

“My father started out as a minister, and then my parents took up a job of missions work. They spent a good deal of my childhood in South America. This made it necessary for my grandfather, a man of some varied industrial interests, to raise me.”

Danvers eyed him quite seriously for a moment, his thick face seeming to turn to iron. “Your people were religious?”

Mac thought he denoted disapproval in Danvers' voice. “They were,” he replied, deciding that a simple answer was better than a lengthy explanation.

Jillian remain focused on her dinner, while Mac felt his level of nervousness mount. It hadn't dawned on him until just that moment that Danvers might ask some very personal questions about the past. About . . .
her
. Mac looked to Jillian, wondering what she would think about the truth—about his life and his past.

As if realizing he contemplated her reaction, Jillian glanced up and smiled reassuringly. Mac felt torn between grabbing her up, running from the room, and blurting out his feelings of love. Colin Danvers, however, took the matter from his hands.

“So you grew up in Philadelphia and attended school there. You became a doctor and moved to Arizona. Is that the sum total of your life?”