Dust Devil (33 page)

At last when she lay quivering like a spent bowstring beneath his knowing fingers, he slid up and over her. Her eyes closed, her tangled lashes lying over her high cheekbones. Her body arched against his, seeking once again the love he was giving her, the love he had hidden for so many years.

Their passion mounted with the tempo of their lovemaking so that they both gasped as one at the incredible pleasure that exploded between them. "Look at me,”
he demanded during the brief, sustained moment of ecstasy. "I love you, Stephanie Rhodes. I’ve loved you for a long, long time.”

CHAPTER 36

The attraction that crackled between Stephanie and Cody like summer lightning was obvious, though none of the cowhands dared mention the fact — not only out of respect for Stephanie but also from a healthy fear of Cody’s reaction.

And in concern for Stephanie’s reputation Cody was careful that the two of them were never again alone, usually sending Jack or
Charley, two of the old-timers, out with Stephanie on the line ride. Obviously, Cody knew her mercurial nature and waited with watchful patience to see if her attraction for him was a thing of the moment, a substitute for Wayne, or if it held a deeper significance.

She wasn’t sure herself.  This was all so new to her.  Each, a first experience, and she was feeling her way.

The waning days of winter, marked by warm days and frosty nights, meant that soon the line riding would be over and it would be time to return to prepare for spring roundup. Spurred by this knowledge and driven by the more primitive instinct of mating that came with spring’s approach, she trailed him to an outlying water tank. He never looked up from where he knelt at the bank washing the grime from his face, but as he wrung the water from his bandana, he said, "You’re about as quiet as a riled buffalo, kid.”

S
he watched the way his thick, leather-brown hair curled at the nape of his neck and knew the wild desire to run her fingers through it again, to kiss the tanned, corded neck once more. Just watching Cody’s movements made her weak with a passion that continued to amaze her. She wondered if she was like one of the wanton women that the cowhands often joked about, the kind of women who lived in the barrio districts of Las Vegas and Santa Fe.

How could she want one man so much and continue to love another, one who obviously cared nothing for her? She knew she was a fool
. . . and knew there was nothing she could do about it. Since her childhood Wayne had been a fever in her blood as much as gold fevered a prospector.

"Why don’t you ever take me seriously, Cody?” she asked as she dismounted and looped her piebald’s reins about the wooden rungs of the dilapidated windmill. "Cody!” she said desperately when he did not answer her. "I don’t want to go back!”

Cody rose and knotted the damp bandana about his neck.

"You can’t hide out forever, Stephanie. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to face what you’re running from.”

She wrinkled her nose in frustration and began to fan herself with her hat. "If I go back, papa — Stephen — will start in again about me marrying Hubbard. And I won’t do it!” She sounded convincing, but both knew that she was evading the issue.

Still
he said nothing. He swung up into the saddle. "I promised your mother I’d bring you back when spring roundup began. By that time hopefully your Englishman will have lost interest. Besides,” he said, looking down into the inky depths of her eyes, "I’m leaving soon — after the branding is over.”

S
he clutched his bridle. "What do you mean you’re leaving?”

"I’ve been running, too, kid. For too long. It’s time I started making my own life again.”

She stuttered, not knowing what to say. "But you’ve always been — I thought you were happy here.”

He
eyed her, his lids narrowing to slits. "Happiness isn’t guaranteed,” he began and was saved an explanation by an inborn sixth sense that responded to a presence before she ever heard the tell-tale movement of other horses through the tall grass.

"What is it?”
she asked as he rapidly drew the Spencer carbine from the saddle scabbard and shouldered it. Her untrained ear still heard nothing. But within seconds three horsemen appeared on the next rise. Stephanie gasped. "Satana!”

"I’ve been waiting for the coyote to show his face!”

"You knew he was around?”

"I
never thought he’d go for the story about your death,” he replied as he watched the three horsemen slowly approach. "Came back to see for himself, I guess.”

Satana raised his hand, halting his party within yards of
her and Cody. His lank hair hung about his shoulders. His buckskins were black with grease. Only the charcoal-black eyes seemed alive in the cruel face that was the color of dead leaves. Stephanie repressed a shudder as her mind tried to recall something from the past.

"Your spirit I see has not left the earth,” he told her with a smirk.

Cody matched his smile. "She didn’t wish to marry one who runs with the dogs, Satana.”

Satana’s hand slid to the knife at his waist. The other two went for their outdated flintlock rifles, and Cody said, "It would give me great pleasure to kill you.”

"
Paren
!” Satana said, nodding to the two warriors to halt. He looked back to her. Lust gleamed in his eyes. Lust for the unobtainable. The white woman. But surely he could not miss the loathing in her eyes.  “I remember you as a child,” he addressed her.  “A child with hair the color of the sacred fire.  I remembered how your mother had jerked you from me, as if I were something unclean.” He did not take his eyes from Stephanie, though his next words were obviously directly toward Cody. "I will come for her, white man. And when I do, I will take your hair with me for her to mourn over.”

He dug into his pony’s flanks and wheeled about, and Cody said, "You’re going back home, kid.”

* * * * *

Rosemary fingered the embossed invitation before passing it to Stephanie. "We do not have to go. We can take that trip to Ireland you’ve been putting off. Steph
en would never dare deny you the trip, not with your great-uncle ill as he is.” With the arrival of her aunt’s letter informing her of Lord Gallagher’s stroke, all hope that he might be able to call in Stephen’s notes was temporarily suspended. And if he died, what then? Rosemary wondered as the seeds of panic sprang to life within her. All hold over Stephen would be gone.

"
Gracias,
" she told Consuela, taking the cup of hot chocolate the woman handed her. She took a sip and looked at her daughter over the cup’s rim. "Well, shall we go to Ireland?”

Stephanie returned the invitation and sauntered over to the sink. Her back was to her mother as she rolled up her blouse’s sleeves and began pumping water. "And have everyone think me a coward, mama?” she answered flippantly while she washed her hands. "No, I’m going to the wedding.
  I will see Wayne again, if only for a moment. I will not give up. I will wait until that last moment when the
padre
encircles the couple with the bridal rope and blesses them as man and wife.”

* * * * *

The Rhodes family left for Las Vegas the first day of June, five days before the wedding, which was to be held in the stately flagstone Church of Our Lady of Sorrows. While Stephen negotiated with a Charles Blanchard to introduce the first telephones in New Mexico, Stephanie and Rosemary shopped among the boutiques hidden in small alcoves off the plaza. At last Stephanie found the dress she wanted, and it needed only a few alterations.

She knew it was daring to consider wearing the dress to Inez’s wedding
— white eyelet cotton over batiste, but it was too beautiful to pass up. As she dressed for the wedding she realized she had forgotten the pleasure of a woman’s beguiling finery. Beneath her lace-ruffled underskirts and wire darb, suspendered garters held up fine silk-embroidered hose. Her wide- brim leghorn hat, abounding in magnolia blossoms of silk and organdy, was tilted at just the right angle over her face. Long white-laced gloves set off the picturesque summery dress.

When Rosemary entered Stephanie’s room, she carefully shut the door behind her, leaning against it, and took in her daughter’s dazzling beauty. There was sadness in her face, and Stephanie asked, "What is it, mama? Don’t I look pretty?” She twirled so that her voluminous skirts flew out. "Well?”

"You know you do. And you also know that these days white is reserved for the bride. I should never have let you purchase the dress.”

Stephanie’s lower lip thrust out in a pout. "It’s time someone broke the tradition. What’s so wrong with wearing white? Cody would chuckle if he could see me now.” She suddenly wished she could have persuaded him to come with them to Las Vegas. She needed his company, his open admiration now more than ever. Facing Inez and Wayne alone would be difficult.

"Cody’s always admired your daring,” her mother said carefully. "But Inez has been your friend since childhood. This would hurt her.”

Stephen knocked and entered the room. "It’s gorgeous you look, Stephanie!” He crossed to her and caught her chin between thumb and forefinger. "You shall make a lovely bride, me dearest.”

Stephanie smelled the liquor that seemed to perpetually scent his breath those days. "Getting married today was not what I had in mind,” she said and twisted her chin free of his grasp.

Stephen flicked a glance to
her mother who sat on the bed watching him with a dispassion that had to be a continual source of irritation to him. "You’ve your mother’s beauty,” he said, never taking his red-rimmed eyes from Rosemary, "but not her guile. Why not admit it, Stephanie — you’re hankering after Wayne Raffin.”

She cast
her mother a worried glance. "No,” she began.

"Don’t be trying to pull the wool over me eyes. Go ahead and hanker after Wayne. Nothing wrong with it. Just don’t get caught. And especially by Hubbard. ’Cause you are going to marry him.” He grinned and pinched Stephanie’s pale cheek. "As soon as he returns from his Colorado mining exploration. I’ll not let you postpone the marriage any longer.”

After Stephen and her mother left the room, Stephanie clenched and unclenched her hands, letting the circulation flow back in painful pricks. She had been aware of her mother’s warning look that she must not betray their hope for Lord Gallagher’s intervention. But it made no difference. She would never marry Burton Hubbard.

She poured herself a glass of wine that had been left in the room, compliments of
The Exchange Hotel management. With a vow she would make Wayne want her, she drank the glass dry. Did she not know the ways of a man now? Wayne could never want Inez after having her. They could run away together and laugh at everyone who stood waiting at the cathedral for what would never happen.

There were still two hours left before the wedding.
She filled the glass and drained it once more before she left her room and headed down the hall to the room Wayne occupied. Only then did it occur to her that his father or mother might be inside with him, but it was too late to change her mind, for Wayne opened the door at her first hesitant knock.

His starched, ruffled white shirt lay open, his golden locks tousled. "Wayne,” she breathed, the pain at seeing him again hurting like a blow to her stomach. She threw her arms about his neck. "I can’t stand it, Wayne. Don’t do it. You don’t love her! I know you don’t!”

Wayne tried to disengage her hands. "Stephanie, it won’t work. Not even with you. There’s no hope!”

S
he pulled his face down to meet hers, her lips offering him her love. "My God,” he groaned, pulling away. "You don’t understand. I — ”

A polite "ahmmm,” interrupted them.

Stephanie whirled to see a small-boned, urbane man watching from the overstuffed chair in the far corner. He was only half dressed and looked as rumpled as Wayne.  "A touching scene,” he lisped.

Stephanie’s glance flew back to lock with Wayne’s. "My best man, Stephanie,” he said, his voice tight and hard. "Jo
hn Duncan, my roommate at Richmond University.”

S
he spun away and ran blindly down the dimly lit hall. She wanted to hide, to cry. Now it’d be out all over the Territory about how Stephanie Rhodes had thrown herself at Wayne Raffin. Her hands groped for her own doorknob. She let herself in and collapsed across the bed. Her shoulders heaved with tears she would not let herself shed. She wanted more than ever the safety and security of Cambria. But she would not run away. She would go to the wedding. And dare anyone to say anything.

CHAPTER 37

Instantly Cody came awake. His hand slid under the pillow to grasp the Peacemaker. Slowly, quietly, his thumb cocked the hammer. In the cabin’s darkness his eyes perceived the slightest light of moonlight seep through the door’s aperture. A shadow interposed itself, moving closer to him. With cool deliberation born of years of daily facing danger, he raised the pistol.

"Cody,” Stephanie whispered.

"Kid! What the hell are you doing here?”