Hannah Howell (10 page)

“I only want to hold one lover at a time,” Antonie answered, recognizing the jealousy Patricia felt. “You will cease to tease him so,
chica."

“And just who are you to tell me that?"

“His friend and, I am hoping, yours. Oh, you look at Oro a lot, but you do not see very clearly. He is Mexican,
chica,
Mexican and Yaqui. Some Anglo, too, but not enough for anyone to see it. Even many Mexicans would shun him."

“No one shuns him here."

“No, because we all fight for the same thing. He is a comrade-in-arms, eh? They do not treat him too badly in town for he works for Royal Bancroft. They do not forget what he is, though, but I think you do. You close your eyes to it."

“It doesn't matter where he's from or what blood flows in his veins. Oro is a man first. People see that."

“If you think that, you are a fool. If someone said that to you, chances are that he is a liar. Fine sentiments, but few follow them, especially if that man looks at someone's sister or daughter. Then they see Mexican or Indian or, worse in some eyes, a half-breed. Then they don't care if they called him friend, drank with him, or even if they owe him their life. They see only a Mexican, daring to look at a white woman. So, they shoot him or hang him or, if he is lucky, they only beat him badly. This is what you want to happen?"

“No! It won't,” Patricia said but her denial lacked strength. “My brothers aren't like that."

“Have they ever been tested? Have you ever walked out with a Mexican or a half-breed before?"

“Well, no, but—well, Royal is your lover. There, that shows it."

“It shows nothing. I am not Mexican or Indian nor even a little of each. My blood is Anglo. German, to be exact. I am also only his lover. That is acceptable to people. In truth, I sometimes think they expect it, because of what I am and where I come from. I make no secret of where and with whom I was raised. Even the sheriff knows."

She laughed and shook her head. “I think sometimes that they do not always see me as a woman. I am one they cannot understand. I act like a man but look like a woman. This confuses them. I speak like a Mexican, but look like an Anglo. I do not fit any of their little niches, so I think they do not hold me to their rules. Since the women do not have anything to do with me and Royal keeps the men away, I am not a worry either.

“However, you and Oro?” Antonie shook her head. “No. That will not do. Even if you are willing, that is no matter. One like Oro is not to touch an Anglo. That is a rule, and one no one hereabouts will allow to be broken. If you keep after Oro and he weakens, he could well sign his own death warrant. You do not play at being his love but his executioner."

With a convulsive sob, Patricia dashed into the house. Antonie sighed, feeling the villain for a moment. She did not really want to hurt the girl, but she also preferred Oro in one piece.

“Do you think she understood?” a deep voice asked in Spanish.

Gasping in surprise, Antonie whirled to find Tomás behind her. “Just how much of it did you hear?"

Tomás shrugged. “Most of it. I saw how Oro ran off to town and thought to speak to her myself."

“You figured that it had to be Patricia who sent him scurrying away."

“Yes. It has been so for a while now. She presses and he runs. He goes to the saloon, but he is not having a good time."

“No. He is hiding. I do not know if she understood what I was saying or if she believes it. It is hard to say because I am not sure of what she is feeling. Is it infatuation, or is it more? Maybe she is just fascinated by Oro because he is different, perhaps even because she knows people will not approve. I wonder if she is more dangerous because she does not understand herself, what she is or is not feeling. Oro's words hurt her, but it could be just a surface wound, eh? A little scratch that will quickly heal."

“What she could cause Oro would be no scratch,
chica,
and I am afraid it would never heal."

“It is that bad?” she asked softly, knowing he did not refer to the bodily wounds the bigots could inflict.

“It is that bad. I suppose we cannot just leave this place and the trouble she could bring?"

Antonie sighed and shook her head. “I must stay. I promised Juan. You and Oro did not. You may leave."

“Not without you,
chica.
Could you speak to Royal?"

“Perhaps, but I think I will wait. He does not see it. His brothers do not either. To mention this now could start trouble that could well be avoided. This may be the end of it. Oro was cruel, I was harsh, and she has to know where he has gone."

“It may do it. I, too, would like to see trouble avoided. I also want to stay here, for I wish to see an end to Raoul."

Nodding, Antonie smiled crookedly and asked, “Is
Señorita
Collins gone yet?"

Tomás laughed. “The talk of trouble makes you think of her, does it? She left a few minutes ago."

“I think I should shoot that woman. It seems it will be the only way to make her go away and be quiet,” Antonie grumbled as she started toward the house. “Take care of Oro, Tomás. I think he is in a mood to get into trouble."

“I am headed after him now,” Tomás called as he strode toward the stables.

As she made her way up to her room, Antonie hoped that the uncomfortable confrontation with Patricia meant an end to the problem. If Patricia and Oro were meant to be together, she would like them to be, would like to help them instead of standing between them, but she could not ignore the ugly facts. While the Bancrofts did not seem to hold any prejudices, they had not been really tested. She did not want Oro to be the one to see just how far their tolerance would stretch.

Oro would be a good man for Patricia. He would work hard to give her a good and happy life. Although his father had been a
bandido,
Oro had not been dragged into that way of life. As Juan had, Manuel had recognized that the life of a
bandido
was not a good one and it was often very short. He had worked hard to convince his sons not to follow in his footsteps, but to try for something better. Oro could probably find that something better with Patricia.

But no one will let him, Antonie thought sadly. The moment Oro and Patricia became any more than the boss's sister and a temporary hand, prejudices would boil to the surface. The fact that Patricia was the only daughter of a prominent family would only exacerbate the problem. Antonie did not know if Patricia could understand that, for she doubted that the girl had ever really seen prejudice in all its murderous ugliness. Considering the fact that Oro could be in the middle of it all, it was a thing Antonie hoped the girl would remain blissfully ignorant of.

Pausing by Royal's door, Antonie smiled as she heard the sound of splashing water. Quietly she entered the room and her smile grew when she saw the look of annoyance on his face. Marilyn's visit had plainly not put him in the best of moods.

“You are not pleased to get the dust off,
querido?"
she asked softly as she went to sit on his bed.

Royal started slightly, then looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Although he understood Marilyn's game, knew she felt her position in his life was threatened, it annoyed him. He had never said anything to make Marilyn think she had any position in his life greater than that of friend or neighbor. He supposed he ought to worry that he was hurting her feelings or even take some vain satisfaction in the hint of jealousy she revealed, but he only wished she would stop pestering him.

He suspected he ought to review those feelings far more closely. It certainly seemed that he would make a drastic mistake in marrying Marilyn, in succumbing to subtle outside pressures and expectations to do so. Royal admitted that he often found himself wishing that Marilyn would see that and discreetly fade away.

“I see you've already washed yours off,” he grumbled as he searched for the soap.

“I was ready and the water was ready. I scrubbed my own back. What did Marilyn want?"

To interrupt things,
Royal groused but only in his mind. Aloud, he answered, “She was curious about the drive. I reckon her father is contemplating one. It's a long hard trek and some people still wonder if it's worth it. It's still too new."

“It will be many months, eh?"

“Depending on luck and how hard we can push the herd without killing them—up to three months, maybe more."

“Do you think it is wise to leave the ranch for so long?"

Shrugging, Royal replied, “We won't be here and I think we're the ones this person's after, the ones he wants to get rid of."

“And he will have many months on the trail to do that."

“ ‘Fraid so. I'm hoping that Raoul's men are all he was able to hire, and that they won't want to move so far away from the border."

“That is possible. Of course, the farther away from the border they get, the less they are known, eh?"

“You're supposed to ease my worries, not add to them."

“That is my job, is it,
querido?"
she asked with a little smile.

“Uh-huh. That and,” he looked at her, lifting his brows slightly as he held out the soap, “scrubbing my back."

She laughed and, rolling up her sleeves, moved to the side of the tub he was sprawled in. Even though his modesty was partly maintained by the soapy water, there was enough of his lean muscular body in sight to warm her blood. Antonie was more than willing to touch him. She liked his body and felt no need to hide that fact.

When playfulness grew into passion, Antonie did nothing to stop it, although she got very wet. He had touched off the wanting in her with his playful but sensual suggestion just before Marilyn had arrived, and she was more than ready to satisfy it. She also craved the forgetfulness passion created. They were surrounded by troubles, a threat or danger around every corner, and she wanted to ignore all that for a little while, to revel in the temporary euphoria of passion. It was a goal that Royal proved very willing to help her reach.

“It is my turn, Royal."

Cursing softly, Royal ran his hand through his hair and then looked at Antonie in pure exasperation. “I didn't know there were turns."

"Sí,
there are, and this one is mine. For my two compadres I want Tomás and Jed Thayer. We will hold the fort, Captain."

“Take Oro, too. I'd feel better if he's with you as well if you insist on staying here."

"Sí,
I insist, but you take Oro. One reason we came here was because we know Raoul. He is an old enemy. Oro knows what to watch for."

Nothing Royal said could change Antonie's mind about taking a turn at guarding the ranch. He was not so sure he liked her choice of the young, good-looking Jed Thayer either, but limited his jealous reaction to one long glare at his ranch hand. There was really no good reason he could give to stop her from taking her turn. He had hired her and the Degas twins together as extra guns. He had not expected her to take the job so seriously. Giving her a brief, slightly angry kiss, he decided to give up arguing and get to work.

“She's quite capable of doing the job and doing it well,” Cole said as he rode up beside Royal.

“I know that."

“Hell, she's safer at the ranch than out here with us."

“How do you figure that?"

“Lots more places to take cover if there's trouble."

“True.” Royal sighed and shook his head. “I just wish I could shake the feeling that there'll be trouble."

Antonie settled herself on the veranda rail, her back up against a post. So far, standing guard at the ranch had involved nothing more than being a chaperone for Patricia. This was the third beau to come calling on the girl and Antonie wondered a little crossly if Patricia had sent out some signal that drew all the aspirants to her hand like bees to clover.

Glancing at the young man seated at Patricia's side on the porch swing, Antonie inwardly grimaced. If that sweaty boy was the best the area had to offer, it was no surprise that Patricia was drawn to Oro. So far Antonie had not seen one of Patricia's beaus who was a quarter of the man that Oro was. Antonie feared that her hope that some young man from the area would deter Patricia from Oro was an empty one.

“Poor Hudson,” Patricia said gently as she watched the young man ride away, “will never find a wife."

Moving to stand next to Patricia, Antonie asked, “Why do you say that?"

“He's terrified of girls. He sweats and stutters when he just passes a moment's idle conversation with a girl. I think he'd just keel over in an incoherent puddle if he even thought of making a proposal.” She joined Antonie in laughing quietly.

It was after lunch that the fourth courting young man rode up to the ranch. As she watched the man's approach through the parlor window, Antonie sighed. She wondered if the young men in the area did any work. Antonie decided to return to her chaperoning when she had finished her coffee and not before. She moved away from the window.

"Señorita?
Another young man has come."

Smiling at Maria, Antonie nodded. “I saw him. I'll go out in a moment."

“Do not leave it too long, eh?"

“Is this one not a gentleman then?"

“I have never seen him misbehave but,” Maria shrugged, “I have this feeling about him, eh? I don't trust him."

“I'll get out there, Maria."

After the woman left, Antonie sighed and hurriedly finished her coffee. While Maria tended to worry too much about Patricia, Antonie did not want to ignore the woman's qualms. She did wish, however, that she had known how much of her time would be taken up with watching Patricia before she had insisted on taking her turn at standing guard at the ranch. The roundup was hot, exhausting, and dirty work, but it was not boring like this. Antonie was beginning to feel like a nursemaid.

She strode out onto the veranda and, after brief introductions were made, sat down on the top step. Sitting sideways, her back against the rail post, she was able to survey the horizon for danger as well as the young couple on the swing. Taking out a small pouch of tobacco and some papers, Antonie started to practice rolling a cigarette. She really had no inclination to smoke one but, after watching several hands roll one with apparent ease, she was curious as to how it was done.