Rio (7 page)

They started down the hall.

“So who’s joining us for dinner? Some dull old rancher who’ll want to talk about shipping cows to market?”

“Don’t laugh, young lady. That’s what puts money in the bank to pay for those fine dresses you always want.”

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” she said quickly and gave him her most fetching smile.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re glad to have you on the Triple D. What would we do without you to teach all our vaqueros’ children?”

“It’s little enough for everything you’ve done for me,” she said as they went out on the street and Trace hailed a carriage.

“Delmonico’s,” Trace said to the driver as he helped them in.

“Delmonico’s?” Turquoise almost squealed with delight. “Isn’t that supposed to be the finest supper club in Austin?”

Trace grinned. “I figured you’d like it. Probably horribly dull with a bunch of stuffed shirts having dinner, but I hear the food is good.”

She leaned back in the seat, happy now. She’d always dreamed of eating at Austin’s best restaurant. According to Fern’s gossip, it was the place to be seen.

It was dark when the cab drew up in front of a bustling establishment with many fine carriages out front. Her heart was beating with excitement as her guardian escorted her inside. It was spacious with fine carpets and many candelabra lighting the walls with a soft glow.

A snooty head waiter came up to them. “You have reservations?”

“I am Trace Durango and yes, there’s a gentleman waitin’ for us.”

Turquoise looked around. In the candlelit room, there were crowds of expensively dressed people. She glanced about as the head waiter led them across the fine carpet toward the back. At the same time, she saw two men sitting at separate tables alone. One of them was Edwin Forester and the other was Rio Kelly.

Turquoise hoped beyond hope they were walking toward Edwin’s table, but of course they walked right past it to another where Rio Kelly sat. He stood up awkwardly, wearing a rather frayed Spanish short jacket with silver conchos. “
Buenas noches,
senorita, senor.”

Trace waved him back down. “Don’t be so nervous, Rio. We’re just havin’ dinner, after all. I think you two have met because of Silver Slippers.”

“Hello, senorita.”

She nodded to the vaquero and felt a bit sorry for him. There was sweat on his dark face and he looked as awkward and out of place as she had felt last night. He was cleaned up and she had to admit he was handsome, but his suit was out of fashion and frayed on the lapels. Trace pulled out a chair for her and, forcing herself to smile, she sat down in such a way that she could see Edwin. “Good evening, Senor Kelly.”

She stole a glance at Edwin. He was dressed in a fine suit with a red boutonniere. Could he possibly have known she would be here? Just as she wondered that, a gorgeous blond girl and two older women joined him for dinner. The
elegant blonde seemed familiar somehow. His whole party looked much at ease in the elegant café.

Rio cleared his throat. “You look very beautiful tonight, senorita.”

“Oh, please.” Trace snorted. “Stop fillin’ her head with compliments. She’s difficult enough to live with.”

She felt herself flush and was so angry at her guardian, she gritted her teeth. “Thank you for the compliment, senor.”

She picked up her menu and ground her teeth at the thought of the aristocratic blonde at Edwin’s table. Now she remembered why the girl looked familiar. The beauty had been one of the debutantes.

Trace turned to see what Turquoise was staring at and frowned. “Oh, Edwin Forester and his mother, the Iron Lady.”

The older woman did look imposing with her stern face, dove-gray, severe dress, and gray braids piled across her head.

“Who are the others?” Turquoise tried to sound offhanded.

“Hmm.” Trace shrugged. “I believe that’s banker Turner’s wife and his daughter. Now, what about drinks before dinner?” Trace returned to his menu.

“I—I’ll have some sherry and chicken Kiev,” Turquoise said. She wasn’t a bit hungry and kept stealing looks at Edwin. She wasn’t sure if he had noticed her or not.

Rio seemed to be struggling with the menu as the waiter came to their table.

“
Mezcal
or
cerveza?
” Trace asked and the other man nodded.

Mezcal.
That was a drink for the lowest class of Mexicans. Turquoise pretended not to hear, but her face burned with humiliation.

Rio looked at the fancy menu, then at Trace and shrugged, evidently bewildered.

“Never mind, senor.” Trace grinned. “What about a big steak and some potatoes and hot rolls?”

“That sounds
muy bueno,
” the other man said and handed his menu to the waiter, evidently relieved.

“How do you like your steak, Rio?” Trace asked.

“Rare.”

“I’ll have mine well done, and the lady will have chicken Kiev, whatever the hell that is,” Trace grumbled.

“Very well, sir.” The waiter took the menus and left.

“Uncle Trace, don’t be so unsophisticated,” Turquoise scolded.

“I’m just a Texas cattleman,” Trace said, “and I like my food plain and hot.”

At Edwin’s table, she could hear him ordering from the wine list in French while the waiter scribbled on his pad and said, “Yes, monsieur. Yes, we have some rare wines in our cellars. I’ll send our wine steward over to you.”

In the meantime, the
mezcal
and the sherry were delivered to the Durango table.

“You’re quiet as a tree stump tonight, Turquoise,” Trace complained. “Usually, you’re as talky as a magpie.”

She sipped her sherry, miserable to be there. “I just don’t have much to say.” She looked down at her plate.

Rio fiddled with his napkin. “I’m afraid the young lady finds the company dull.”

Trace frowned at her. “I’m sure that’s not it.” He nudged her hard under the table.

“Hmm? Oh, no.” She wasn’t even sure what was being discussed.

“She’s usually bright and entertainin’,” Trace said and he looked annoyed. Then he began a discussion about hay and whether Rio thought alfalfa was better for horses than prairie hay.

At Edwin’s table, they were discussing Carolyn Turner’s grand tour of Europe and what she thought of the art galleries of Italy with Edwin telling witty tales of his year at Oxford.

Turquoise ducked her head and looked at her plate, listening to the laughter at the other table. Next to Miss Turner, she felt stupid and homely; a country bumpkin who had never been out of Texas. Of course, if she could wed into the Forester family, she would have the chance to travel and learn sophistication.

Their food came and it was hot and delicious. Miserable at watching Edwin dining with the beautiful Carolyn, Turquoise ordered another sherry.

Trace frowned at her. “This isn’t like you, and you’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and sipped her drink, barely touching her chicken while Trace and Rio made short work of the steak and potatoes.

The waiter returned to the table. “Dessert, senor?”

Trace nodded and wiped his mouth. “I’ll have apple pie with vanilla ice cream if you’ve got it. What about you, Rio? Turquoise?”

She shook her head and sipped her sherry. “Nothing more for me, thanks.”

“Rio?”

“Do you suppose they have flan?” Rio asked.

Turquoise frowned. “This is a fancy place. I doubt they serve Mexican stuff.”

Trace glared at her. “I’ll ask. If not, what do you want?”

“Chocolate cake and coffee.”

Trace grinned. “Sounds good. You have flan?” he asked the waiter.

The waiter’s lip curled ever so slightly. “No, sir, but we do have the cake.”

“Good, and coffee.” Trace nodded.

Turquoise looked over at the Forester table. A waiter carried some flaming dessert in a silver dish to Edwin’s table, causing admiring looks from the other diners.

Turquoise fiddled with her sherry and sulked. What was the point in begging off with a headache if she was just going to be stuck in the hotel while Edwin dined with the beautiful blond daughter of a rich banker?

She watched the two men at her table enjoy their desserts and wished she’d ordered something. Then the men pushed back their dessert plates and sipped their coffee.

“Well,” Trace said, “it looks like the orchestra is about to start. Rio, I’m sure my ward would love to dance.”

The orchestra began a waltz.

Rio asked, “Miss Turquoise, would you care to—”

“I don’t think so,” Turquoise said and then saw Edwin leading the gorgeous blonde out on the dance floor. “No, wait, I’ve changed my mind.”

Rio pulled out her chair and took her hand, leading her onto the dance floor. Once again she was enveloped in his big arms and she remembered how strong and masculine he was. His coat might be old and frayed, but he waltzed beautifully. She could feel his warm breath against her hair and tried to put more distance between them. “You waltz well, senor.”

“
Gracias.
Some of the cantina girls taught me.” He grinned down at her.

She felt herself flush. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to pry.”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked.” He grinned. “You think I do not notice you watching the senator dance with the banker’s daughter?”

Was it so obvious?

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she murmured.

“You have been nothing but arrogant and rude to me since the first time we met.” He whirled her around the floor and held her closer. She seemed to fit right into
the embrace of his muscular arms. “Senorita, if I had any pride, I’d abandon you on the dance floor and walk out.”

She looked up at him. “And make a laughing fool out of me? You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t tempt me, Turquoise,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve already taken more off you than any woman I ever met.”

“If you’re afraid of what my uncle might—”

“I am afraid only of God and the devil. Now be quiet and pretend you are enjoying dancing with me.”

She saw Edwin whirl by and saw he was trying to catch her attention, but there was nothing she could do about meeting him, so she ignored it. The blonde must have recognized her, though, because the girl said something loudly about a “gaudy turquoise dress” and laughed cruelly.

Turquoise’s face burned but she stuck her nose in the air and pretended she had not heard. She’d looked like a fool, she knew, at the debutante ball and now here she was dancing with this vaquero in his frayed jacket. Then she realized women were giving Rio admiring glances and trying to catch his eye, but Rio seemed to ignore them all.

It was a long evening. Uncle Trace danced with her once, then complained he was tired and retreated to the bar. Rio danced with her over and over. Once Edwin passed their table and paused. “Would you save me a dance, Miss Sanchez?”

Before she could answer, Rio snapped, “The lady is with me, senor.” His tone left no room for argument.

Edwin scowled and walked away.

Turquoise seethed. “You might have let me decide that.”

“Your guardian left you with me for safekeeping and he would not be happy to return and find you in the arms of that shady skunk.”

“Edwin Forester is very high class,” Turquoise said, miffed.

“And white?” Rio suggested.

She felt tears come to her eyes. “Can’t you understand what it’s like to have a Mexican name, but look white? People whisper behind my back about who fathered me.”

“People whisper about my father, too,” Rio said softly and took her hand.

“But it’s worse for women, and the senator treated me with great respect.”

“Maybe so, but I hear he dallies with all the pretty servants at his mansion.”

“I’m sure that’s just idle gossip,” she said, defending him.

At the senator’s table, the group was getting up to leave, Edwin being very solicitous of the three ladies.

Turquoise watched them go.

Rio said, “Forget him, Turquoise. He’ll marry some society gringa of his mother’s choosing. Besides, he must be almost twice your age.”

“Oh, shut up. He’s worldly, handsome, and sophisticated.”

“All the things I’m not.”

“You said it, not me. You know,” Turquoise said, “I think I’m getting a headache. Why don’t you join Uncle Trace in the bar and I’ll get a carriage home?”

He smiled at her. “Senorita, a real man would never allow a lady to go home alone after dark in a big city such as this.”

She heaved a sigh. “I am well able to take care of myself. Like any ranch girl, I can handle a rifle.”

“Ah,” he smiled,” and do you have one with you?”

She flushed with annoyance. “I—well, no, I don’t.”

“Then your uncle and I will escort you home. Now if you really have a headache, perhaps the waiter can bring you some bitters—”

“I’m feeling much better,” she snarled.

“Good. Then shall we dance again?”

“I don’t think—”

But he was already pulling her to her feet and holding her close, much too close, as they waltzed. She tried to pull back but he held her tightly, his breath warm against her hair, her breasts pressing into his chest. She had to look up to see his face and she didn’t like that, nor did she like the way her small hand fitted into his big, calloused one. She remembered Edwin’s hands, so soft and manicured; a gentleman’s hands. Rio smelled like a man, a little cigarillo smoke, a touch of liquor, the male, salty, sunburned scent of a cowboy. His eyes were dark brown where Edwin’s were pale. Edwin had a soft, pink face and graying light hair. He also wore expensive cologne and the finest of fashions.

She tried not to, but she enjoyed the dance. And now the orchestra struck up “Good Night, Ladies” as they danced, and she saw Uncle Trace come out of the bar.

“Oh,” she said, “it’s time to go.”

“Let me get your wrap,” Rio said.

“I can do that myself.”

He ignored her protest and led her back to the table and put the soft cashmere shawl around her shoulders, his hands lingering just a moment longer than needed. She could feel his breath next to her ear and for a moment, she thought he would kiss her ear. Did she want him to? No, of course not, she scolded herself. She had never been kissed before and when she allowed some man to be the first, she wanted it to be a man she wanted to marry, not a Mexican cowboy.

Uncle Trace joined them just then. “Well, it looks like you two have had a good time.”

“I did,” Rio answered. “I’m not sure about the young lady.”

“It was very nice, Senor Kelly,” she said in a cold, polite tone.

“Good.” Uncle Trace grinned. “Otherwise it would be a long train ride home.”

“What?” Turquoise blinked.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Trace said as they started to leave the restaurant. “I need a bunch of horses shod. Rio is goin’ back to the ranch with us.”

Oh hell. She didn’t know whether to be angry or just annoyed. She wouldn’t be returning to Austin for months. That would probably mean the end to any possible romance with Edwin Forester. By then, he’d probably be engaged to some snooty rich girl like Carolyn Turner.

The next evening, her friend Fern came to see her off.

“My word,” she said with a giggle, her freckled nose wrinkling, “I see you have a handsome man accompanying you home.”

Turquoise turned and looked toward Rio standing and talking to her guardian on the platform. “Oh, that’s just the farrier. Uncle Trace hired him to come shoe a bunch of horses.”

“He’s mighty handsome anyway,” Fern said. “Any girl would enjoy a trip with him.”

“I don’t think so,” Turquoise answered and looked around, hoping against hope that Edwin Forester might come to the train to see her off. But of course he didn’t know she was leaving today and wouldn’t want to face Uncle Trace anyway.

The train whistle tooted a warning and the conductor yelled, “All aboard!”

Fern and Turquoise hugged each other.

“Now remember,” Turquoise said, “you promised to take good care of Silver Slippers. I need a horse to ride when I come back to town and I hope that’s soon.”