Rosa's Land: Western Justice - book 1 (6 page)

Marlene said, “I’m sure you do, but you’ve never had a sweetheart.”

“No, I haven’t, but a man doesn’t have to sort through half a dozen women and go through all sorts of the games that couples play, does he?”

“That’s what most couples do, and they seem to enjoy it.”

“Well, I can’t do that, but I tell you right now I care for you.”

A thoughtful expression washed across Marlene’s face. She was silent and looked down at his hands for a long time. When she lifted her eyes and met his, there was compassion on her face, and she said quietly, “Here’s the truth, Faye, so listen carefully. I could have seduced you. It would have been easy. You’re so innocent any woman could have done it.”

Faye was shocked. “Why didn’t you?”

Marlene hesitated, then a serious look came into her expression. “I don’t know why. I’ve done it before, but I see something in you that I don’t want to spoil. I’m reminded of a section of forest I once saw in the Congo. It was beautiful … a rain forest. I came back later, and the timber people had cut it all down. Nothing but ugly stumps and branches. The beauty was all gone. It’s something like that that I feel for you. I don’t want to see you spoiled, Faye. I didn’t know I had any tender spots in me. I certainly haven’t proved it, but I seem to have one for you.”

Faye listened quietly and did not know how to reply. Finally he said, “All that may be true, but I still care for you, Marlene.”

She shook her head but said no more. When she got out of the carriage at her house, he stood beside her for a moment. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She then said, “Faye, you’re nothing but a baby in things like this. And the sad thing is, I’ve had too much experience. Try to forget about me. I wouldn’t be good for you at all. I’d spoil you as those timber men spoiled that forest.”

Faye watched as she turned quickly and entered the front door. He turned and got back into the carriage, feeling somehow saddened but convinced that he would not give up.
She can come to care for me
, he thought.
I can make her do that!

Nearly a week and a half had passed since Faye had told Marlene that he cared for her. They had gone out several times, but there had been no more moments like that one. She smiled and laughed a lot. They enjoyed being together.

It was a strange delight to him to see how her mind worked. So different from his own! She was bright, intelligent, certainly physically beautiful, and he had fallen in love with her.

That morning Marlene had said, “I want us to go riding out at Central Park. It’s new. We can rent some horses.”

Instantly Faye felt a sudden jolt. “I–I’m not too good with horses.”

“You don’t have to be good. We’re not going to be riding bucking horses. You know how you liked those pictures you showed me by those two men who painted pictures of the Wild West? How beautifully they brought that world to you?”

“Yes, Fredrick Remington and a man called Russell. That’s what they do. They show the West as it really is, I think.”

“Well, there was one with a bucking horse, and a man was on it. He was hanging on for dear life. The dust was in the air, and men were on a corral fence yelling at him and waving their hats.”

“I could never do a thing like that!”

Marlene laughed and said, “Well, we won’t be putting you on a wild horse. The horses they rent are fairly gentle, designed for folks who are not bareback riders in the circus.”

Against his will, Faye accompanied Marlene.

When they arrived at the stables, a tall man came and smiled at them, asking, “Could I be of help?”

Marlene spoke up, “We need two mounts, sir.”

“Of course. Any particular kind of animal you like?”

“Well, I like sort of a lively ride. As a matter of fact, neither of us wants to ride on horses that pull milk wagons.”

The tall man grinned. “I know. That isn’t much fun. Wait here. I’ll bring them out.”

When he had gone, Faye said, “I wish you hadn’t told him that, Marlene.”

“Told him what?”

“That we wanted lively horses. I’ve never told anybody this, but I’ve always been afraid of large animals.”

“You mean large dogs?”

“No, I mean larger animals like horses or bulls.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine.”

Marlene’s confidence in him did not rub off on Faye. He was feeling more and more nervous, and by the time two stable hands had brought out two saddled horses, he was ready to leave but knew that he couldn’t.

“This one’s for you, ma’am. A fine mare. A little bit hard to handle, but you can do it.”

He handed her up.

Marlene looked back to where Faye was staring at the horse.

“He’s so big.”

“Well, he’s a stallion,” the stable hand grinned. “One thing, sir. Don’t let him get the bit in his teeth.”

“What—what does that mean?”

The stable hand looked up and saw that Marlene was smiling, and he winked at her. “Well, sir, as long you keep the bit pulled back where he can’t get his teeth in it, he can’t pull the lines out of your hands. But if you ever let up and he grabs that bit, he’ll pull the lines right free and you’ll have no control. Just keep a tight rein.”

Faye started to get on, but the stable hand said quickly, “Not that side, sir. Mount from the left.”

“It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

“It does to the horse, sir. Here. I’ll hold his head.”

Faye put his left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the horn, and hauled himself awkwardly aboard. He looked down and thought that the ground seemed very far away.

“That’s fine, sir. Just remember to keep a tight line.”

Awkwardly Faye took the reins and held them tightly as the man had suggested.

“Come along. We’ll start out at a walk.” Marlene smiled. “These are really fine mounts. You’ll like that stallion.”

The two started out, and the stallion under Faye was placid enough. They kept at a walk until Marlene, always impatient, said, “Let’s try just a little faster. Not a dead run. Just sort of a trot.”

“If you say so.” Faye was keeping his mind on the admonition of the stable hand—keep the reins tight. The horse fell into a broken rhythm that jarred him up and down. He glanced over to see that Marlene was smiling and enjoying the faster pace.

Finally she said, “Well, a gallop is easier than a trot. Let’s go.” She kicked her horse with her heels, spoke to her, and the mare started out in an easy gallop.

Faye tried to imitate her but somehow got confused. He released the grip on the reins for a moment and immediately felt something different. The reins were suddenly yanked from his hands, and all he could do was hang on. The horse was running at full speed, and he heard Marlene calling, but he could not tell what she said. The stallion was a powerful animal and ran at breakneck speed. The fear that Faye had always had of horses now had come alive. He wanted to cry out, but all he could do was hang on.

Perhaps under other circumstances the stallion would have tired, but at one point in the bridle path a thick branch hung down rather low. Faye never saw it, but he struck his head against it. It knocked him backward, and fortunately his feet were free from the stirrups already. He hit the ground flat on his back with a force that knocked all of his breath out of him. He lay there trying to breathe and felt that his head was bleeding.

Suddenly Marlene was there. She sat down beside him, raised him up, and pulled his head against her breast. “I’m so sorry, Faye. That never should have happened. Are you all right?”

It took a few moments for Faye to get his breath. Finally he said, “I’m—okay.” He lay there pressed against the softness of the woman and said, “Marlene, I want to marry you.” It had not been the kind of proposal he had dreamed of, but it was a tender moment, and she was holding him so close that it just came out.

Marlene leaned down, kissed his forehead, and pulled a handkerchief out. “You’ve got a little cut here. Let me wipe the blood away.”

“Didn’t you hear me, Marlene? I want to marry you.”

She did not answer for a moment. Then she said, “I shouldn’t have let you into my life, Faye. I knew all the time we would never be able to have any kind of relationship. I’ve had men hurt me, and I’ve left my claw marks on a few, but as I said before, some woman may let you down and hurt you badly—but it won’t be me.”

He lifted his head.

She kissed him on the lips and said tenderly, “I want the memory of one good man who loved me that I didn’t hurt to hang on to.”

No more was said.

She got him to his feet, and they walked back to the stable. When they got into the carriage, she said nothing even though he tried to speak to her. When she got out, he started to get out of the carriage with her, but she said, “No, stay here.” She reached out and put her hand on his cheek, and he noticed a gentleness and softness in her eyes that he had never seen before. “I’d ruin you if we married as I’ve ruined other men. You don’t understand, Faye. I’m not a good woman. There’s evil in me, but I found that I have at least one tender spot, and that’s for you. But you must forget me. Good-bye, Faye.” She turned and hurried into her home.

Faye was despondent. All the way home he tried to think, but he could not. All his insecurities came flooding back.
Max could have won her, or Leo, but I didn’t have the guts. I never will have
. He slumped in his seat.

When he arrived home, he entered by the side entrance and went up to his room, shut the door, and sat there until the darkness fell. But the darkness was not only a lack of sunlight but a darkness in his own soul.

T
he sitting room of the Riordan mansion was a stately large room with three tall windows and a ceiling gracefully molded with garlands of flowers and flambeaux. The curtains were heavy plush, a hot crimson with thick gold fringes and ropes, which Caleb liked immensely and Eileen disliked with equal fervor. Every foot of space was crammed thick with furniture—tables incongruously jostling a mahogany chiffonier, heavy tables crowded with ornaments, Sheraton bureaus, Chinese vases, and alabaster lamps. In short it was a room filled with Victorian junk.

At least that was Eileen’s idea, but Caleb had enjoyed bringing home items that he thought might please her, and she felt it necessary to show some appreciation. It was a room without taste or moderation but a part of Eileen’s life with Caleb.

Caleb and Eileen had led the way to the sitting room with Max and Leo following. They all found seats in overstuffed furniture. Almost at once Caleb said, “I can’t understand Faye’s behavior.”

“I can’t either, Dad,” Max said. “It’s like he’s a walking dead man.”

Leo lit a cigar and sent purple clouds toward the ceiling. “It’s that woman. She done him in somehow or other.”

“I thought he was doing so well with his courtship.” Caleb sighed. “He just doesn’t have it in him to finish anything.”

Indeed, although Eileen did not join the conversation, she was more aware than her husband or her sons of how different Faye’s behavior had become since his separation from Marlene Jenson. She had noticed it almost at once, for the first sign of danger was that he, who had always been so eager, seemed to have lost his taste for painting. Whole days went by when he would not touch a brush, and when she had suggested he might try a new subject, he had merely shrugged and said, “Perhaps you’re right, Mother.”

He had not done so, however, and had spent his days in his room reading. He took his meals with the family, of course, but he had almost nothing to say. When his brothers or his father mentioned Marlene, he simply said, “That’s all over,” which closed the door finally and abruptly in a manner not often seen in Faye Riordan.

One day when Faye had been walking for long hours on the property, he got back to his room and found a periodical—and the picture on the front leaped out. It was Marlene with a famous stage actor. She was looking up at him with what appeared to be adoration. His arm was around her, and he was looking down. Even the coldness of print could not conceal the fiery ardor that the two seemed to feel.

From time to time throughout the day, Faye would decide to throw the article in the wastebasket, but each time he would go back and take it out. That night at supper he was almost mute, and he went up to his room as soon as the meal was over. He was aware that his family was puzzled by his behavior, and he himself could not explain it. When he got to his room, he began to read some of the books he had begun to collect. One writer that he had read almost ceaselessly was James Fenimore Cooper, whose books reflected the sort of vigorous heroism that Americans liked to read about. His heroes were physically strong, emotionally tough, and were willing to fight to the death to overcome all obstacles. The present book was a novel called
The Deerslayer
. Faye loved reading the adventures of Cooper’s famous hero, Natty Bumppo, and he also loved reading about his home state during the frontier days.