Sycamore Hill (14 page)

When I got to the stable, Charles Studebaker informed me that
there were no buggies available, but that Jordan Bennett had donated the
gelding for my use. He assured me that the animal was gentle, and having little
choice in the matter, I mounted it with some trepidation.

An hour later I was still walking the horse northeast. Studebaker
had given me succinct directions. Six miles, stay on the road, turn on the left
fork when I came to the bridge.

While riding, I had plenty of time to think. The more I thought,
the angrier I became at James Olmstead and his demanding school board. They
thought nothing of hurting Diego by their unreasoning prejudice against his parents.
How could I lessen the blow to the boy? Were all people as cruel and deceitful
as the Haversalls? I had hoped things would be different out here.

For the first couple of miles I had to slap the horse’s rump over
and over to keep it going at a steady snail’s pace. It had obviously evaluated
my mettle as a rider at the onset and knew that it could do as he wished.
However, when I neared the fork, the horse grew more interested. It began to
walk at a quicker pace, and I felt only vague relief that I would reach the
ranch before the following year!

My relief was short-lived. Just past a dried creek bed, the
horse’s ears perked up and pointed forward. Then it broke into a trot. My head
bobbed up and down, and I learned quickly to clench my jaws so my teeth would
not crack together every time my rear made bruising contact with the saddle. I
could barely focus on the jouncing world passing me by. I kept all my
concentration on holding tight to the saddle horn and reins to prevent an
ungainly fall in the dirt.

“Whoa, horse,” I managed. “Slow down. Easy, boy. Whoa!” I tried
every command I could think of to persuade the beast to return to its
comfortable snail’s pace. It ignored me. My efforts to pull back on the reins
were ignored. It clamped its teeth on the bit and was not bothered by my
tugging. After a half-mile I started making ignominious offing sounds each time
I bounced up and came plopping down.

I saw an immense house set back against an oak-covered range of
hills. The details of the tranquil scene were lost on me as I continued beating
the horse’s rhythm on its back. Its trotting picked up speed, though the horse
did not break into a gallop.

My situation struck me as ludicrous. I started to laugh. The sound
was forced out of me with each jolt I made, and I laughed even harder. I prayed
no one was watching.

The horse trotted on beneath the arch, announcing that I had
reached my destination. I saw the hitching rail before the house with relief,
but apparently the horse had yet another destination in mind. He yanked hard on
the reins, burning my fingers as I tried to steer him to the left. Then he
turned right and headed straight for the bam. My laughter ceased.

To my horror and humiliation, I saw Jordan Bennett standing in the
yard, arms akimbo, watching me. The horse trotted right past him and into the
barn. I wanted to die when I heard Bennett laughing uproariously behind me as
the horse finally stopped to thrust his nose deep into a trough of oats.

Then the hilarity of the incident hit me, and I started to laugh
again. I laughed until tears were running down my cheeks.

“You nasty old beast.” I reprimanded the totally disinterested
horse on which I still sat. “How could you do this to me?” I wiped my face and
looked back over my shoulder at Jordan Bennett approaching. “You can’t know how
glad I am that animal has finally stopped,” I admitted, rubbing the small of my
back and wishing I were in private so that I could rub yet another part of my
anatomy. Jordan was still grinning when he reached the large stall.

“You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who could laugh at herself,”
he said, his eyes sparkling with friendliness.

“What else could I do?” I laughed again. “I’m certainly not the
picture of dignity and grace at the moment. Oh, my word, what a ride! I think
next time I shall walk.” I shook my head ruefully. “I never realized how many
muscles the human body possessed, but I’m sure every one is bruised!” I looked
around and then down at Jordan Bennett again.

“Now, Mr. Bennett, would you please tell me how to get down off
this animal with some semblance of propriety. I won’t tell you how I got
aboard.”

Jordan laughed again. “It’s simple,” he assured me and reached up
to take me by the waist. “Like this.” He lifted me down effortlessly.

I had difficulty slowing my breathing when he set me down. His
hands were still at my waist, and he had stopped laughing. I felt he was
entirely too close, but I couldn’t step away from him. When his head started to
descend, I did step back instinctively. I came into contact with the horse and
felt the heat of the animal against my back. It snorted and continued to gorge
itself.

Trying desperately to think of something to say, I flushed. Jordan
Bennett’s eyes had an unnerving intensity. Though he did not move and his hands
dropped from me, I felt we were still too close to one another. All the
laughter had gone out of both of us, and there was a pulsating awareness that
frightened me.

Say something, I told myself feeling a bubble of panic growing
inside me. But it was Jordan who broke the spell. “What brings you all this way
to Eden Rock, Miss McFarland?”

His sudden formality and seriousness was enough to bring me back
to my senses. The reason for my bruising ride descended on me like a leaden
weight. I stared up at him with such distress and embarrassment that he
frowned.

“I have to speak with you and Mrs. Gutierrez about Diego.” His
expression blackened with comprehension.

“About the fight in the schoolyard,” he added and made a sound
deep in his throat.

“Yes.”

The look he gave me was filled with hostility, and I drew into
myself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable where he was concerned. “I’ll explain
the situation to Diego, Miss McFarland,” he told me coldly. “It’ll hurt less
coming from me.”

“I would like to speak with him, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I mind all right! What is it? You want to give him the glad
tidings?” His mouth was hard and uncompromising.

“You don’t understand.”

“The hell I don’t. I understand only too well, Miss McFarland,
high-and-mighty schoolmarm,” he sneered. “Does it give you a feeling of power,
bringing this kind of news around?”

I stared in disbelief and then pushed past him in anger. He
stopped me at the barn door. “Okay, damn it. You can have the pleasure of
breaking the good news. But so help me, God,” he said through his teeth, “if
you make it more hurtful than necessary, I’ll personally beat you black and
blue. Have you got that in your head, Miss McFarland?”

“Indeed, I do,” I said stiffly, turning away quickly so he would
not see how much his accusation against me hurt. Someone called my name in an
excited voice.

“Miss McFarland! Miss McFarland! What’re you doing here?” Linda
called and came running down the steps of the ranch house. Diego followed
slowly. There was a look on his face that twisted my heart. Linda jumped around
me excitedly, chattering on about something that did not even register on my
mind. I tried to smile at her but could not take my eyes from the boy’s. Did he
know already?

“Hello, Diego.”

“Buenos días, Señorita McFarland,"
he
said, using Spanish with a challenging tilt of his head. That hurt even more,
because I realized suddenly that this unreasoning prejudice was no new thing to
him. What had Linda started to say that first day of school? Something about
Diego and school two years ago? Why hadn’t I insisted on hearing what had
happened? Perhaps I could have prevented this whole miserable situation.

“May I speak with you and your mother, please?”

Diego’s eyes showed a telltale moisture, but his full mouth
tightened. He breathed in deeply before he spoke and I heard Jordan Bennett
mumble something under his breath as he strode away.

“Follow me, please, Miss McFarland.”

I followed Diego, noticing how rigidly he held his shoulders. I
hardly glanced around the huge living room dominated by a stone fireplace as we
passed through. Diego ushered me to the kitchen at the back of the house.
Something was cooking, and the smell was tantalizing. I remembered that I had
not eaten since daybreak. But I felt slightly sick with a case of nerves.

A small, slim woman stood near the stove. Her black hair was
braided and pinned at the back of her neck. She moved with a lithe grace.

“Mama,” Diego announced our presence. Reva Gutierrez turned with a
smile for her son and then stopped as she saw me next to him. The smile dimmed.

“Miss McFarland has come to tell you that I am not to return to
school. Isn’t that so, Miss McFarland?” Diego asked. I looked down at him.

“Diego...”

“It isn’t the first time this has happened,” his mother said
before I could say more.

I looked between the two of them—the hurt boy standing with quiet
dignity, the angry mother. “Well, I do wish both of you would allow me to say
what I have to say before you so easily accept the situation.”

Reva Gutierrez frowned. “Then say what you wish, and leave us.”
Diego was silent, eyes averted, chin trembling.

“I’m afraid it is true that Diego’s being expelled. The decision
was unjust and prejudicial, and I apologize for it.”

“Did you make it, Miss McFarland?” Reva Gutierrez demanded
sharply.

“No, I had no part in it.”

“Then your apology is meaningless,” she snapped dismissively. She
turned back to her cooking. I knew there was great hurt beneath the anger. Her
shoulders were stiff, and her hands were clenching into fists.

“Mrs. Gutierrez—”

“Not ‘Mrs.”...
Señorita
Gutierrez. I am not married,” the
young woman corrected, turning around again. “You see, my son has two things
against him. He is Mexicano, and he is a bastard.”

Diego’s face twisted as he lost control. He turned and fled the
kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him.

“How could you do that to him?” I asked faintly, feeling close to
tears myself.

“It isn’t I who do the hurt to him,” Reva said, her accent
thickening as the tears started. “It is you! It is the people in the town!”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Being sorry does not help, Miss McFarland.” She dismissed my
words with a sharp jerk of her chin.

“I know. That’s why I would like to have you bring Diego to me
very early each morning so that I can teach him what he would have learned in
class,” I said in a rush before she could interrupt me yet again. Reva stared
at me.

“Bring him to school?...”

“If you do not wish to do that, I will come here to the ranch once
a week and bring him work and books,” I offered.

“You will teach him?” she breathed, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Diego has a right to his education just as any of the other
children, Miss Gutierrez. If you will allow me, I will be honored to teach him
all I know. He is a brilliant boy.”

Reva Gutierrez stared at me for another moment and then grabbed
her apron, putting it up to her face in an effort to hide her emotions. At the
same moment someone burst into the kitchen behind me.

“You’ve got five minutes to get off my ranch!” Jordan Bennett
ordered, his expression so fierce, it was terrifying.

“Didn’t you hear what I said,” he growled when I just stood there,
mouth gaping open in fright. He reached out, taking my arm and roughly pointing
me toward the door. I gasped in pain and fear.

“Get out!”

“Jordan!
Por Dios!”
Reva cried, the apron dropping from her
tear-streaked face. She grabbed at his arm and spoke to him in rapid Spanish.
He was not listening to her, his eye fixed on me in barely controlled violence.

“Your horse is out front waiting for you,” he raged at me,
heedless of Reva pulling frantically at his arm. “If you aren’t on it and off
my ranch in five minutes, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you. Now
get out!”

Shaking almost uncontrollably, I ran through the house and down
the front steps. I climbed on the gelding and urged it down the road toward the
arch under which I had passed so short a time ago. Watered and fed, the horse
responded to my urgency.

About a mile down the road I heard the thundering of a horse
behind me. Timing to look back over my shoulder, I saw a black stallion with
Jordan Bennett astride. Panic obliterated all reason, and I kicked hard at my
mount. I bolted forward, more in surprise by my sudden decisive action than in
agreement to follow my dictates. But the stallion stretched out and easily
caught up.

Jordan’s hand came into my peripheral vision, and instinctively I
flinched away, not realizing he was reaching for the reins and not me. The
stallion’s presence, my twisting motion and Jordan’s alarmed shout unnerved the
gelding, and it bucked to the side, sending me flying headlong through the air.
I felt the sleeves of my dress rip as dirt and rock tore into my hands and
forearms. The air was knocked out of me, and I lay motionless.