The Wildest Heart (17 page)

“You call
this
nothing?” Mark's voice was oddly quiet as his hand reached out to touch my shoulder gently. “Rowena, when I think of the narrow escape you had, of what
might
have happened, I—dear Lord, the thought is enough to drive me insane! Lucas Cord is a wild animal. Oh, I'm not saying that my uncle's thirst for vengeance didn't have something to do with turning him into one, but the fact remains that he is dangerous. And whatever you may say, I believe he is completely unscrupulous as well! Look at the way he treated Flo and the way he managed to arrange a meeting with her again. Can't you see it's revenge he's after? And you—”

“But my father was fond of him! I've been reading his journals and he thought that Lucas had been unfairly treated, that there was some good in him!”

“Your father saw good in everyone. He was that kind of man! But
you
must not let pity blind you to facts.”

Mark ran his fingers distractedly through his smooth, fair hair and began to pace about the room, setting my nerves on edge. Now he had begun to sound like a logical, pitiless lawyer. And the worst part of it was that I recognized the cold truth of everything he said.

Lucas Cord was an outlaw. It was a profession, if one could call it that, which he had chosen. Mark was right. He
was
unscrupulous, even though he might hold sufficient respect and affection for my father so that he had not actually harmed me.

“But what about the next time?” Mark demanded reasonably. “Obviously, his visit to you was designed to find out how much you knew of his assignation with Flo. Perhaps he wanted to know just how naive you were.”

I protested, “But Mark!” and he waved me into silence.

“Of course he knew you must have read your father's journals! He hoped to make an ally of you, so he pretended to act the gentleman, until fear for his own life made him show his true colors! He knew he had excited your curiosity, and he deliberately encouraged it. Be practical, Rowena! You're a very rich young woman, and heir to half of the ranch. Don't you see what an excellent pawn you'd make in his hands? Didn't he hint that
you
were the key to ending the feud, and that your father had said so? Doesn't that show you how diabolically cunning he is? What a perfect way to get his revenge—the ultimate revenge he has wanted all his life—through
you
.”

I could not keep silent any longer. “Mark, I think you're wrong. Oh, I'll admit that most of what you've said makes sense, and could very well be true, but he seemed genuinely anxious to explain something to me! And he was so bitter about what had been done to his mother and about the way your uncle had hounded the whole family. Killing his father, sending
him
to jail, and then putting a bounty on his head as if he was some hunted animal! It must be terrible to live like that!”

Why was I suddenly defending Lucas Cord? I could see that even Mark wondered at it, for he gave me a sharp look. “He's not worth your pity, Rowena, although I admire you more for possessing a sense of justice. No, believe me, I know something of Luke Cord! Even I felt sorry for him at one time, but his actions have hardly been that of an innocent, put-upon man! Will you get it through your head, once and for all, that he is dangerous? A renegade cutthroat! How much have you heard about the band of men who call themselves
comanchero
.
Let me tell you something about them.”

He went on and on, and I was forced to listen, feeling physically sick at the bald account of some of the atrocities these
comancheros
had committed. They traded in death and dishonor. Selling guns and liquor to the marauding Indians and sometimes disguising themselves as Indians in order to raid homesteads and small settlements; kidnapping white women to be sold as slaves across the border. It seemed there was no end to their evil.

I saw Lucas Cord as one of
them,
and I could not help shuddering. To think that he had been in my own bedroom! To think that he had touched me, that his body had lain so intimately close to mine!

Mark told me that Elena Kordes, for all her youth, had been a cold and calculating creature who had deliberately thrown herself at her cousin's husband while poor Alma was sick. I had blamed Todd Shannon completely, but now I heard another side of the story.

“He's a
man
!
Must I elaborate on it? He had a man's virile appetites, and with his wife sick, well, Elena was always
there,
flaunting herself. Don't you see it? He told me that she threatened to tell Alma everything. She taunted him with the fact that Alma was sickly and she was strong and that she could give him many sons. And when he refused to be blackmailed and sent her away, she threatened him. She said she would get her revenge, that some day he would turn to her. Do you think he fastened the blame for that terrible massacre on her with no facts to go on? Why, even afterwards, when he was so stricken with terrible grief and she came back, it was to taunt him again, to tell him that it was she, now, who could give him the heir he so passionately wanted. My God—he's only human! And you must remember he was half-grazed by grief and rage at the time. He turned on her…”

“But my father! Are you trying to tell me he was such a poor judge of human nature—of people—that he…”

“Your father was in love with her! How could he see her for what she was? Oh, she was clever, all right! She paid
him
just enough attention to make him fall in love with her so that she would have someone to fall back on. She wanted power and to be accepted as someone in the white man's world. And she was the only available woman for miles around—quite lovely, in addition. In a way, she ruined your father's life too. And then, when she saw she could have neither of them, she married Alejandro Kordes, hoping that he would regain his inheritance. Lucas Cord is her son, Rowena! He's had hatred and revenge instilled in
him
with his mother's milk, until it became a way of life with him. For God's sake, try to understand that it's too late to change him. He's the son of both his parents and he's chosen their way.”

By now I was so shaken, so uncertain of what I should believe, that I felt I had hardly the strength left to go on standing. I sank into a chair, still staring at Mark, and his face changed, becoming softer.

“If I could have spared you all this sordidness, Rowena, I would have. But you had to be warned, and I won't allow you to be hurt!” He gave me a quizzical, slightly sad look. “And now I've made you almost pity my Uncle Todd, haven't I; I can see it in your eyes. Perhaps you won't hate him so much now; perhaps I've ruined my own chances with you! You see, I know that you could not help feeling attracted to him. He has that effect on women. And yet I love you enough to want your happiness above all else.”

“Oh, Mark,” I said wearily, resting my chin on my clasped hands, “I don't know what to think any longer! What should I do?” Remembering something, my voice became stronger. I felt almost relieved. “But there's Mr. Bragg! Elmer Bragg. Lucas Cord said Mr. Bragg had sent him to me! Why would he do such a thing if…”

Mark said grimly, “Don't you think it at all strange that Mr. Bragg has not shown up himself? Ask yourself. Is he the kind of man who would send a complete stranger, an outlaw, to see you without any warning at all?”

We looked at each other, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. It was at that moment, I think, that I became completely convinced of the truth of everything Mark had told me.

Mark had promised me he would say nothing to his uncle, or to Flo either, but his face had become very serious when he warned me to have Jules fix a bolt on the trapdoor. I thought Jules looked at me strangely when I gave the order, but he asked no questions, and I was relieved.

After Mark left, though, I was still restless. I was tired, but I could not indulge in a siesta today. I was more confused and upset than I had ever been in my life before. At least a half dozen times I went to the locked drawer that held my father's journals and just as many times I turned away. I could not read them now. Was my father really a weak man, deluded by his obsessive love for Elena Kordes? Was it that obsession that had driven my mother to seek love elsewhere? And above all, had Lucas Cord murdered Elmer Bragg? I could not think of Mr. Bragg dead! In spite of his age, with his twinkling eyes and dry sense of humor; he had seemed so alive, so sure of himself and his ability to seek out the truth. What kind of truth had he found? He had tried to be fair when he'd told me of the past and yet, hadn't he been uncertain about Lucas? Hadn't he cut himself off in mid-sentence when I had begun questioning him too closely?

“Don't press me too hard, Lady Rowena. I'm the kind of man who likes to produce facts, not assumptions or hearsay. Ain't been able to keep too many tabs on Luke Cord. Ain't had reason to. Been retired, see? An' he's been movin' around a lot. Has he been keeping on the right side of the law? I can't be certain. There have been rumors, but rumors ain't facts. However, now that you've hired my services, young lady, I'm going to search you out some facts.”

Had he? Or had death found him instead?

Facts, as Mr. Bragg would have said, were facts. I could not escape from them. Why, then, couldn't I escape from the memory of Lucas Cord's words?

“You're like the prosecutor at my trial,” he had said. “Already found me guilty and hung before I got tried.”

But I had been trained to have a logical mind. Evidence and logic had to set me squarely against Lucas Cord.

The only question was, what would Mark Shannon and I do about it? We hadn't reached any conclusions. “I doubt if he'll dare to show his face in Silver City,” Mark had said comfortingly. “Not with half the bigwigs in the territory there, including my uncle. I think he threw that hint out to disturb you. No, I'll watch Flo, and you watch yourself. And I'll ask Uncle Todd if you can have one of Frisky's pups. They're German shepherds—not a usual breed out here, but they're fierce—good watchdogs.”

Todd Shannon, riding in a buckboard, brought the dog over to me the next afternoon. I had been sitting in the patio until Malta's urgent words alerted me to his arrival. “Señorita! It is the patron himself! And he does not look in a very good humor!”

I met him outside, my manner deliberately light. “My goodness, what a surprise! Or should I say an honor! I didn't think you'd be speaking to me.”

“You don't deserve to be spoken to, an' well you know it, miss! But Mark told me you had your heart set on havin' a pet, and I happened to be passin' this way.”

As usual, our eyes met and clashed. But I could not help feeling differently towards him today. Did I dare pity him?

I put on a demure look. “You're very kind. Would you care to step down for a moment?”

I saw him lift a shaggy eyebrow. “You sure you ain't sufferin' from a touch of the sun? Or is it some kind of game you're playin'?” I knew he was not as indifferent as he seemed because his Irish brogue became more pronounced.

“Please,” I said, and his eyebrow shot higher.

“Well! You sure seem all soft an' kittenish today! But I've no doubt you've got your claws hidden away to use when you're good an' ready!” As usual, he seemed to know exactly the right way to make me angry.

“Suit yourself, then!” I said sharply, and saw him grin.

“That sounds more like you. Yeah—I'd be glad to get down and set a spell.”

I had been prepared to like him, but his manners were as brash as ever, setting my nerves on edge.

“Well!” I saw him glance around the living room. “You ain't changed much, have you? Expected you to have everything moved around and new furniture and all.”

“Why should you have expected any such thing?”

He decided to change the subject abruptly. “Why did you run away? Didn't expect you to act the coward. Run like a scared rabbit, didn't you? Without the guts to face me.”

“You mistake your effect on me!” I was stung into retorting. “I didn't run, as I attempted to explain in the note I sent you. I merely wanted to come home. I dislike being given orders!”

“You sure that was all? I'd asked you to marry me, remember? Maybe you didn't think I was serious. Or did you want me to come chasin' you to prove I meant it?”

“As usual, Mr. Shannon, you think far too much of your influence upon me!”

“Thought you just might be woman enough to admit the way things are between us.”

“Oh!” He had made me so tense and angry that I walked around the room. “Why can't you accept me the way I am? I can't be bullied, or ordered about or taken for granted! I'm not ready to be married off yet!”

“Well, then,” his look was wicked, “maybe you ought to start thinking of some other alternative. Look, girl, you get all bristly when I try to assert myself. But what about you? Ain't you tryin' to make a puppet of me too? You talk about bein' fair. I think you ought to start bein' honest with both of us. I won't give in, an' you won't give in. But you know damn well how things stand with us. How long you going to keep hidin' from the truth?”

But he took me in his arms just then, and whatever I had been going to say escaped me when he kissed me.

“You're damn well goin' to marry me!” he said forcefully after it was over, and I was breathless.

“You're not being fair!” I wailed, resorting to femininity. “I think I hate you. And I'll never give in to you! What's more, I refuse to—to live with a ghost!”

“What in hell are you talkin' about?” But his tone was almost tender. “Listen, you stubborn, bad-natured female! When are you going to realize I want you? That I've been waitin' God knows how many years for someone like you? You can have all the time you want, just so you wake up to the fact you're mine. And Goddammit, I mean to have you!”

He caught me in his arms again, hardly allowing me to think.

“You little tease! I know that forward nephew of mine asked you to go to the festivities at Silver City. But I already told him you're goin' with me. Hell, he and Flo can come along too, I don't care! But we'll make the announcement then.”

“Wait! For goodness' sake, I haven't said anything yet! You haven't allowed me to! Todd Shannon, you are the most exasperating man I have ever had the bad fortune to encounter! You twist my words around and you
announce
what we will do. And all this time, ever since I've known you, in fact, I've been trying, yes trying, to convince you that I will not be
pushed
into anything! Is that perfectly clear?”

Infuriatingly, he smiled at me, pushing his hat back on his head as he let his fingers trail across my mouth and down my neck. “You've convinced me, sweetheart. Now look, I've got things to do. Only meant to stop by for a minute. But I'll be comin' by again soon. An' you just start planning what you're goin' to wear to the ball in Silver City. Want you to knock their eyes out!”

The ball at Silver City.

Even after Todd had left, the thought was sufficient to depress me. What a strange, peculiar situation I found myself in! Todd was so sure of himself, so confident. But what would I do about Mark? And suppose in spite of all the risks he'd be taking, Lucas Cord showed up. Then what? I could only tell myself firmly that I wouldn't think about it; but my dreams turned into nightmares, as they had done the night before, and I tossed and turned uneasily. Mr. Bragg, my father, Lucas Cord with a hangman's noose around his neck, his mouth lifting in the bitter, half-mocking smile I remembered so well. They peopled my dreams like ghosts, and the dark rings under my eyes were enough to make Marta exclaim disapprovingly.

“You have not slept well since that night you went to the
palacio.
And when the patron visits, he always brings trouble!” Her lips pursed themselves sourly. I had already gathered that neither Marta nor her husband had any great love for Todd Shannon.

The question was, what did
I
feel about him? The story that Mark had told me had subtly altered my reaction to his arrogance and bluster. I began to see him as a lonely man who had deliberately isolated himself, covering his grief and loneliness with a hard veneer. He had loved his first wife. Perhaps he had not loved his second wife, as Flo had stated bitterly. Still, she had been dead a long time, and I was sure he had had the opportunity to marry again if he had wanted to. Why, so suddenly, had he chosen me? And what was I going to say to him?

“So it's come to that,” Mark said quietly. “I suppose I have known it from the beginning, but I had hoped—” he gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Well, I suppose Uncle Todd has always had a kind of charisma! He has a way of bending people to his will. Even I have to admit it. I can only hope that you will think very carefully first. Be sure it is really what
you
want, Rowena.”

“For heaven's sake, Mark!” I know I sounded irritable, I could not help it. “All I said was that your uncle seems determined to force my hand. I won't be pushed into marriage, and I told him so.”

“But you have been thinking about it a great deal, haven't you? You don't have to answer me. I can tell. Perhaps it is because I love you that I seem to have developed a sensitivity for your moods, the expressions on your face. And I know that he keeps finding all kinds of excuses to keep
me
busy while he rides over here to visit you.”

“I didn't know that.” I looked at him seriously, at his dear, kind face, and wished that it could have been Mark whose kisses were capable of making me feel weak and helpless. If I married anyone, it should be Mark, who understood me, and loved me enough to be my friend.

“Oh, Mark! I'm sorry. I—I've never met anyone quite like him before, you know! I keep telling myself that he's old enough to be my father, that he wants to marry me only in order to possess the whole of the SD. I keep telling him that too, but he only laughs and won't listen. All the same, I won't marry him. I won't!”

“But does
he
know that?”

Our eyes met, and I shrugged helplessly. We were out riding, and to take our minds off Todd Shannon, I said quickly, “How is Flo these days? I haven't seen her since she came over last week—and
that,
I'm sure, was only for the purpose of telling me that a woman in my position should be careful of gossip! ‘Everyone knows, after all, that both Mark and my father come here far too often for their visits to be perfectly innocent,' was exactly the way she put it!”

“Flo is a little cat!” Mark's face had darkened. “The trouble with her is that she's been spoiled rotten, and allowed to have far too much of her own way. It's what started all the trouble in the first place. And even now—well, you know what she's like! A child-woman. She thinks that all she needs to know is how to bat her eyes at some man and he'll give her everything.”

“Has she…” I didn't know why I had to ask the question, but suddenly it had become a compulsion that I must know. And Mark, bless him, understood immediately what I meant, for his tone became serious.

“It's been worrying me too, because, you see, I just don't know! I told you my uncle has deliberately kept me very busy of late. Ever since that fence was cut we've posted extra guards at all the boundary fences, and I'm supposed to ride out early each morning to inspect them as well, so I'm afraid I have not been able to keep as close an eye on Flo as I promised you I would.”

I frowned, wondering why the thought made me angry. “She could still be meeting him, then. And if she is, it means that he…”

“Might well be hiding out somewhere around here.” Mark finished my sentence for me. “I've worried about that too. You're sure that trapdoor is kept bolted? And the dog is kept loose on the patio?”

I grimaced. “Devil is still a puppy, you know! But he does have a loud bark, and I daresay he'd warn me if he scented any intruders.”

“Still, you promise you'll always be careful? Don't ride anywhere by yourself, please.”

I promised him I would not. But Mark's concern meant, of course, that he thought Lucas Cord was a danger to me. Especially if he continued to meet Flo, for she would certainly have told him of her stepfather's frequent calls on me. Where would it all end? Or how?

We were to leave for Silver City a week early, and rooms had already been reserved for us all at the same hotel where Governor Wallace and the other dignitaries would be staying.

In spite of myself, I began to get caught up in the preparations for leaving, and even Marta, who had seemed exceptionally quiet of late, began to smile and chatter as she helped me pick out the gowns I would take with me, folding each one very carefully with layers of tissue paper between each fold as I had showed her.

I would be away for ten days. I told myself that I would not think beyond the actual preparations for my journey. It was unlike me. I could feel myself changing, growing less sure of myself; I hated the change in myself.

“If Mr. Bragg should arrive, will you tell him where I've gone?” I said to Marta. “Tell him it is most urgent that I should meet and talk to him.” But even while I was giving her these instructions I felt in my heart of hearts that Mr. Bragg would not turn up. He was lying somewhere, in a nameless grave, murdered because he had tried to help me. Whenever I thought about him I felt a return of the sick, frightened feeling I had had when Mark said to me, “Don't you think it strange that Mr. Bragg has not shown up himself?”