Sycamore Hill (15 page)

“Abby!”

Jordan Bennett swung down from his saddle in a fluid motion and
came at me. With an agility born of fear, I came to my feet, gasping for
breath. Upon seeing my face, he stopped, and something flickered in his
expression. I was too frightened to analyze it, and I took a step back.

“Abby,” Jordan said more calmly. I still backed away from him, not
trusting his anger and remembering the violence of his look only moments
before. My arms burned, and I pressed them against me in an effort to stop the
pain.

Jordan moved slowly toward me, looking down at his hands. “We’ll
have to wash—”

“Leave me alone!” I flinched back as he extended his hand toward
me.

He dropped his arm and looked at me, his expression strained.
“Reva told me about your offer.”

Tears of fright and temper burned behind my eyes. “You’re insane,
attacking me like that.”

“Look, damn it!” he exploded in frustration. “If you’d shut up
long enough to listen, you’d hear me apologize!”

“It’s all your fault!”

“What?” He looked blank.

“Everything! Everything!” I cried, thinking of James Olmstead and
what he had told me about Diego.

“What in hell are you talking about?”

“Diego!”

Some of the anger went out of him. “I thought you’d said something
to hurt him. I warned you. And I found him crying in the barn,” he said in
explanation for his earlier violent outburst.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. But you... you knew what
would happen, didn’t you? You knew James Olmstead and his bigoted school board
would find some flimsy excuse to expel him, didn’t you? And you talk about me
trying to hurt him. You’re despicable! You’re the most miserable human being
I’ve ever met, including the—”

“Be quiet!” Jordan ordered tersely. A muscle jerked in his jaw.

“No! Not before I tell you what I think of you!”

“You’ve said enough. And you don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“I thought James Olmstead and Reverend Hayes were bad enough. But
you’re worse,” I went on, too angry to think of caution anymore. “You knew what
they would do to Diego, and you let it happen.”

“Where Diego decides to go to school has nothing to do with me. He
made the decision to try Sycamore Hill again. Where else could he go, for God’s
sake?”

“You ask me that?” I gasped. “You could have sent him anywhere.
You have the money to see to his education.”

“He’s not my responsibility. And even if I did take it on, Reva is
too proud a woman to accept any charity.”

“Charity!” I stared at him, horrified. “You’re even worse than I
thought. I can’t imagine why Reva Gutierrez even remains in your employ. If it
were me, I’d hate you.”

“My God! I can’t make head nor tail out of what you’re saying!”
Jordan ejaculated in furious frustration. “Just tell me this. Are you going to
do what you said? Will you teach Diego here at the ranch?”

“I’m not going to deny Diego his rights because his father is an
insensitive, irresponsible brute!” I exclaimed. Jordan Bennett became very
still. His face hardened into a granite mask.

“Someone told you Diego is my son, is that it?”

“Apparently it’s common knowledge. You might as well do him the
justice of acknowledging him!” I retorted, suddenly hurting inside and wanting
to cry.

Jordan looked away from me and stared toward Sycamore Hill with an
inscrutable expression. Then he turned and strode toward his stallion.
Mounting, he looked down at me coldly. Something unfathomable passed across his
eyes. He gave a harsh, sardonic laugh.

“Wait until they get around to telling you how I murdered my
wife.”

I stared aghast as he whirled the stallion around and rode at a
hard gallop back to the ranch.

“Everyone believes that Jordan killed his wife,” Ellen Greer
answered my question with a disgusted snort. “People always want to believe the
worst of others. Don’t believe all that hogwash about the ‘milk of human
kindness.’ Most people don’t have a kind bone in their bodies, and if they did,
they would be ashamed to admit it.”

“Ellen,” I sighed.

“You got me on a sore subject, Abby. I love that boy.”

“He’s hardly a boy,” I said dryly. “Maybe he’s changed since you
had him as a student.”

“I haven’t lost touch with him. He wrote to me regularly when he
was studying in the East, and he still drops by on occasion, though not as
often as I’d like it.”

That was a side of Jordan Bennett I had never seen.

“I’m not blind to his faults, mind you. I know he has a foul,
violent temper when he’s aroused. It got him into trouble more than once in my
school. But that was when he was a boy. He’s got more control now.”

I remembered the expression on his face when he had burst into the
kitchen. How much in control had he been then?

“Even for a patient, placid man, Gwendolyn would have been a
trial.”

“That was her name... Gwendolyn?” I murmured.

“Gwendolyn Bracklin-Reed, to be precise,” Ellen said in a stilted,
mocking voice that clearly indicated her dislike for the dead woman. “One of
the true-blue bloods of Boston, and she didn’t want anyone to forget it.” That,
at least, explained Jordan Bennett’s prejudice against Bostonians, I thought.

“What did she look like?” I asked, wondering what kind of woman
would attract Jordan Bennett. Ellen gave me a sharp look.

“So you’re curious about Jordan’s wife, are you? Any special
reason?” Those shrewd eyes were alight with mischievous amusement and
speculation. I straightened indignantly at the implication and refused to admit
to the faint flush that stained my cheeks.

“We can change the subject any time you wish,” I managed.

Ellen waved her gnarled hand in reprimand. “Don’t be so sensitive,
girl, or I might just think you’re protesting too much. Besides, it wouldn’t do
you any good if you were interested in Jordan. He’s sworn off women, except for
the Friday- and Saturday-night five-dollar type at the hotel. After Gwendolyn,
who would blame him? She was enough to make any man wish he had been gelded.
And don’t give me that wide-eyed, shocked look of yours either, Abby. My frank
speaking doesn’t embarrass you in the least, and I know it. In fact, I think
you thrive on it.”

“I think you deliberately try to shock me sometimes,” I teased
her. “But how do you know so much about his private life?”

“I don’t. It’s pure speculation. But I know he goes to the hotel
on occasion, and I can put two and two together without getting zero.”

“Why does Reva Gutierrez stay with him under such circumstances?”

“Reva?” Ellen’s eyes opened wide in genuine surprise. “My heavens!
Our little town magpies have been busy filling your ears, haven’t they?” She
leaned forward on her cane, one hand on top of the other. “Does Diego look like
Jordan Bennett’s son to you, Abby?”

I colored hotly. “I didn’t mean to say he was!”

Ellen clucked impatiently. “But that’s what you were thinking. You
listen to me, Abby. The next time you see Diego, you take a good hard, long
look at him,” she instructed, her neck stretched out like a defensive old banty
hen. “Then decide whether what the gossip mongers in this town say is true.”

“He didn’t deny it,” I muttered unhappily, hoping Ellen was right
in her deductions. I did not know why, but it hurt me to believe that Jordan
Bennett had fathered Diego. My feelings over him did not bear mulling over. I
told myself that no matter how much I disliked the man, I did not like to think
him capable of such cruel indifference toward his own son.

Ellen looked astounded and leaned back in her chair. “You mean you
actually confronted him with that story? What in the world possessed you to do
such a stupid thing?”

I felt like a child caught in some malicious mischief. “I was
upset about Diego, and my temper got out of control.”

Ellen sniffed derisively. “People with tempers should fetter their
tongues. Maybe you and Jordan have more in common than I thought. But I’ll tell
you this about him. He wouldn’t admit or deny anything if his life depended on
it. I think he takes amusement in watching people make complete jackasses out
of themselves.”

“He’s done it often enough with me,” I admitted miserably. “From
the first moment we met.”

“You never have told me about that,” Ellen reminded me, obviously
hoping I would amend the oversight.

“And I don’t intend to,” I said emphatically, while softening my
words with a smile.

“Well, at least I got the story of the Haversalls out of you,” she
chuckled. “Maybe Jordan will tell me about the other.”

Ellen rocked her chair back and forth a few times watching the
emotions play across my face. “We were getting around to talking of Gwendolyn,
weren’t we?”

“We don’t have to,” I said a little too casually.

“Why don’t you be honest and admit you’re dying of curiosity about
her?” Ellen needled.

“I don’t think I want to hear anything about her,” I said
sincerely. The mere mention of her name caused an uncomfortable feeling in my
stomach.

“Well, I’m going to tell you all about her, whether you like it or
not... and in spite of your supposed lack of interest,” Ellen scoffed.

“Gwendolyn Bennett was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
The kind that makes a man fall head over heels in love and has the ability to
make him feel he’s the great protector,” she said demeaningly. “Men can be such
fools. And Jordan is no exception. He took one look at a pair of violet eyes,
and the sense he was born with seeped right out his ears.” She shook her head
in disappointment and disgust.

“I never thought he could be so bamboozled by a woman— or a man,
for that matter. But he was. If anything good comes out of that marriage, it
will be Linda. She inherited her mother’s looks, but pray to God she didn’t inherit
anything else of hers!”

“How did Mr. Bennett meet his wife?”

“At some big society dinner. He wanted her the first time he saw
her, and when Jordan wants something, he goes after it. He didn’t have to run
very hard to get Gwendolyn though. She heard that he had been offered a
position with one of Boston’s finest law firms, and she saw money. Their
marriage might have lasted if Jordan had stayed in Boston. But he didn’t like
the people or their rigid social codes. First chance he got, he packed her up and
came back to California, where he belongs. I don’t think she ever got over the
shock of that, and she set out to make his life miserable.”

Ellen looked out the back window, where she could see her niece
plucking bush beans. I waited, not wanting to admit even to myself that I
wanted to know all about Jordan Bennett. He was a frightful man, and I was much
too aware of him already. But it didn’t seem to matter.

“Gwendolyn had great plans for her life, and a ranch in California
had no part in it,” Ellen continued. “She didn’t want to live here, and she
made no bones about it. Jordan wasn’t about to let her tantrums drive him back
East again. So it was an ongoing war between them. She hated California. She
hated the ranch. She hated the people here, and after a while I think she even
grew to hate Jordan. She didn’t care who knew it.”

“But what about Linda?” I asked. Surely there had been something
between Jordan and Gwendolyn Bennett for them to have a baby. They must have
loved each other for a while after they arrived in California. What went so
wrong?

“Linda, I should think, was an unforeseen and unwelcome accident
shortly after they arrived in California. Apparently, Gwendolyn got pregnant
almost immediately after she and Jordan were married in Boston. She couldn’t
get rid of the baby fast enough once she was born. Reva took Linda to wet
nurse.”

“How did Mr. Bennett feel about that?”

Ellen made a grunt. “What do you think? He figured a surrogate
mother was preferable to Gwendolyn’s open hostility.”

“No wonder the little girl is so withdrawn,” I said almost to
myself. How could a mother reject such a sweet child?

“She may not come to school now that Diego has been expelled,”
Ellen warned grimly.

“But surely?...”

“She loves Diego. She’ll more than likely refuse to come to school
without him.”

“And what about her father’s opinion on that?” I asked.

“Jordan Bennett could teach Linda more than you and I put
together. And since you’ve already so magnanimously offered to take care of
Diego’s education....”

“But it isn’t just a question of learning from books, Ellen. Linda
needs to be with other children.”

“So does Diego. And Diego is like her flesh-and-blood brother.
She’ll be loyal to him. Do you see the position you’ve put yourself into, Abby?
If the school board ever finds out you’re giving Diego private instruction, you
are very liable to lose your position.”

“Are you trying to suggest I not tutor Diego?” I questioned.