The Wildest Heart (27 page)

Every now and then I found myself forgetting that Julio was an Apache subchief, and the father of two young children. Like his brother, he was something of an enigma. But it was Lucas, in spite of everything I knew about him, who intrigued me most. A man like him—why would he want to be alone? I could better imagine him acting on sheer animal impulse. What had intrigued poor Flo so much that she would leave the security she had had to follow him? Above all, and the thought came to me like a blow, what was I doing here, in the midst of all this intrigue, playing the part of a helpless pawn?

We were descending, almost imperceptibly, into a part of the valley that was like a bowl, a green and brown depression within a depression. Even the climate seemed to have changed in some subtle way. There was no snow here, and the air seemed slightly warmer. The mountains that ringed us seemed to tower loftily and even more impenetrably. Craggy peaks brushed with snow, cloud-touched in some places.

Again I thought, what am I doing here? How did I come to be here? But strangely, the thought did not frighten me as it had done before. I could not help feeling exhilarated by the challenge that lay ahead of me, and the beauty of the land that lay around me. A tiny Eden. How long had this valley lain here, like a woman untouched, waiting to be taken? Even the thoughts that came into my mind were strange, not my usual,
practical
thoughts. I was here. The old shaman had talked of things that were meant to be; and I recalled now that I had heard so-called wise men in India speak of something they called
karma,
one's inescapable fate, shaped by all the events in the past. Strange, but ever since I had received that first communication from my father, I had been caught up in the past, moved and influenced by things that had taken place long before I was born. My being here too had something to do with the past, but I felt, quite suddenly, that for the first time since I had come to America I was completely on my own, with no one else to guide me, advise me. But I had my wits, my intelligence…

Julio, who had ridden ahead with Lucas for the last few minutes, now dropped back, bringing his mount beside mine. “You like what you have seen so far?”

“How can I help it?” My response was honest. “It's beautiful. But—” and I spoke aloud the question that had been puzzling me for some time, “Where are all the people? I've seen cattle, and horses; who looks after them?”

He made a sound that might have passed for laughter in another man.

“You have sharp eyes,
nidee.
Yes, we have people who tend to the animals here—not many, but a few trusted men my mother brought with her from Mexico. But no doubt they are at the house now, having their evening meal. It is getting late, and the sun drops from view early here. There's no need to watch for intruders in this place, for who could find it?”

“But surely your people know of this place?”

“A few do. But we respect the dwelling places of our friends and families. Sometimes if a winter has been very hard, we come here. There is always food and game to be found if we want it. My brothers who came with us will stay here for a while, until the hides we took have been cured, and the meat smoked and packed away. And then they will return.”

“Why don't they come with us?”

“The Apache does not like to live in a house. They will find their own place and the women will build a wickiup to shelter them.”

“You left the silver too,” I said a trifle sarcastically, but Julio was impervious to sarcasm.

“Who will touch it? Later, one of my mother's
vaqueros
will go and bring it back to the house.”

“The house,” I repeated slowly. “Won't you feel stifled within the walls and roof of a house?”

“I think that already you have come to understand my people,
nidee.
Yes, I do not like houses either. I will sleep outside, even though my mother will not like it.”

I wanted to ask him why he had come. His voice held no inflection of affection when he spoke of his mother, although perhaps that was because he was an Apache, and not accustomed to any outward show of emotion. I said impulsively, “I wish Little Bird had come with us!” and he gave me a guarded look that might have held some pleasure.

“Little Bird does not like my mother. My mother does not like her. My wife is happier with her people. But I am glad you are fond of her, as she is of you. In the short time you lived with us you learned our ways very quickly, little sister.”

I had the feeling that he might have said more if Lucas had not swung his horse around and ridden back to us.

As usual, I felt a surge of resentment at his flickering look that seemed to tell me how untidy and unkempt I must look, with strands of hair escaping from my braids.

“It ain't but a short distance now, but we'll stop for a while to rest the horses. You want to take a bath, change clothes, there's a small stream back there, behind those trees.”

Unconsciously, my hand went up to brush tendrils of hair from my face, and his mouth tilted at the corner.

“Give you ten minutes on your own, sister. And then I'm comin' in too. Need to wash off some of the trail dirt.”

Under his sardonic gaze I took the small pack containing my new clothes from the back of the horse I had chosen and walked, without a backward glance, in the direction at which he'd pointed. So I had to make myself more presentable before I met his mother, did I? I could almost have wished I had those ugly clothes I'd worn on my journey from Boston. Ramon would certainly not want to marry me if he had seen me then!

But in spite of the anger that Lucas could always arouse in me, the stream was cool and refreshing, and I
did
feel better for being clean again. Remembering my promise to the shaman, I put on the traditional Apache dress he had given me, and combed my wet hair so that it hung loosely down my back. Vanity, I chided myself, but I could not help staring at my reflection in the water and wondering what Elena Kordes would think when she saw me.

My first impression, as I saw Elena Kordes walk down the steps of the rambling Spanish-style adobe and wood house, was that she could not possibly be as young as she looked.

There was still light in the sky, but the lamps had been lit, and formed a background for the jewels that sparkled in the elaborate Spanish-style comb she wore in her high-piled black hair. They were rubies, like the stones she wore around her neck.

“My sons!”

Her voice was rich and musical, only slightly accented.

“
Si, madre
—your sons.”

Was it my imagination, or was there a faintly sardonic note in Julio's voice?

I had the feeling that I was watching something carefully staged as Julio went forward to accept his mother's embrace with a casual one of his own.

“Lucas!” He had been standing at the bottom of the steps, his head tilted slightly to watch her, but now as he caught her against him I felt strangely awkward, as if I was watching some private performance I had no right to witness.

“You're more beautiful than ever, Elena!”

She laughed like a young girl, her hands going up to touch his face as he released her. “And you, what is your excuse for staying away so long this time? I've missed you. We have all missed you.”

Again the words that my father had written flashed through my mind at that instant—“Lucas adores his mother…”

And certainly, as he looked down at her, his face looked suddenly young and unguarded. In the rapidly dimming light I could not decide what the expression he wore for just a moment could mean, and the next minute he was smiling at her teasingly.

“I think I stay away only to hear you say that when I return!” His tone was light, but it held an undercurrent of emotion I had never heard in his voice before. His hands touched her shoulders lightly, and close behind Julio said softly, “Is it not touching to see such devotion between mother and son?”

I thought he was jealous, and could not blame him. Those two…

And then, for the first time, Elena Kordes noticed me.

“But that is not Little Bird! Julio, have you taken another wife already?”

Lucas gave a smothered snort of laughter that made me throw my head back angrily. He had no right to place me in such an embarrassing position, and poor Julio as well.

But surprisingly Julio seemed equal to the occasion. “Not yet,
mamacita
, but it is not improbable that I may think about it soon.”

Lucas stopped smiling and started to frown. I saw his eyes narrow at Julio.

I stepped forward boldly and stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at this beautiful, proud-looking woman, who looked as young as I, and carried herself like a duchess.

“Since your sons have neglected to perform the common civilities, I suppose I must introduce myself,” I said, keeping my voice even. “My name is Rowena Dangerfield. You knew my father.”

If my rather blunt announcement had startled her, she hid it well. I noticed only the arching of her dark brows, and then, with a reproachful glance at Lucas, she hurried down to steps to me, both hands extended.

“
You
are Rowena? Guy's daughter? But how thoughtless of my sons not to have sent ahead to tell me—they are both barbarians, I am afraid.” She touched my hands, dropped them, and then, taking me by surprise, put one soft hand under my chin, tilting my face slightly to one side.

“Forgive me, but your eyes are so like your father's! Ah, yes—I should have noticed your eyes, in spite of the Apache ceremonial dress you wear.” She laughed softly. “It was my father's idea, I suppose. So like him. But it was good of you to indulge him, all the same.”

There was no trace in the woman who stood before me now of the half-wild Apache girl she had been. Except for her slight Spanish accent, Elena Kordes would have fit very well in any London drawing room.

“Your father was very kind to me. And the ceremonial dress of the Apache women is beautiful.”

I heard Julio's grunt of approval behind me. “My little sister has adapted herself well to our ways. And she
is
Apache, now that the shaman our grandfather has adopted her as his other daughter.”

I heard Elena's sharply drawn breath, and saw her turn her head to look at Lucas, who lounged negligently against one of the carved wooden posts that stood on either side of the stone steps.

His voice was noncommittal. “It is true. The shaman and Guy Dangerfield were blood brothers, remember? Seemed to take a liking to her.”

“I'm sorry that I cannot say the same thing with regard to my feelings toward
you,
Lucas Cord!” I snapped.

“She's got a nasty temper, and the tongue of a shrew,” he said to his mother over my head. “Still, perhaps Ramon can make something of her!”

I saw the bright glitter of Elena Kordes's eyes as her look went from one to the other of us.

When Julio, his voice heavy with significance, said suddenly, “You forget, brother, that I am also a Kordes by blood,” it was Elena's sudden frown that held Lucas silent.

“That's enough! You will not begin your visit by squabbling like children! Rowena, please… Come with me. You are here, and I am happy. As for my sons, it is sometimes best to ignore them!”

I had had a biting retort on the tip of my tongue when Lucas had spoken. Now I bit it back, and went with Elena. I was
here,
with the mountains that ringed us reminding me that this valley could be a prison as well as a refuge. For the moment, protest would not only be pointless but foolish as well. “Know thine enemy…”

It seemed as if I was to be given both the time and the opportunity to know mine!

No whit perturbed by my tight-lipped silence. Elena Kordes continued to speak as she led me through the large entrance hall and up the shallow staircase that connected it with a kind of gallery, running along three sides of the room.

“This house is simply built, as you see, but I chose the Spanish style, which is so much better suited to our climate here. You like the idea of a gallery? It makes for coolness in the summer, and for a feeling. I think of—what is the word I seek? Spaciousness, yes, that is it. The bedrooms open off the gallery too.” She moved her hand, and I saw the deep, rich gleam of an enormous pigeon's-blood ruby, embedded in an antique setting. “That wing is kept for my sons and their guests. On this side Luz and I have our rooms. You've heard of Luz?”

I shook my head, wondering why I felt that her expansive, friendly chattering was somehow at variance with the real nature of this woman. Was it only because my mind had already been prejudiced against her? She frowned slightly, pushing open a door that must surely lead into her own bedroom—large, and beautifully furnished, dominated by an enormous four-poster bed.

“They have neglected to tell you anything, I see! Luz is… the daughter of a very old friend. After her father died, Lucas brought her here, and she has lived here ever since. A sweet child, and I am glad of her companionship. When my son is ready to give up his wandering ways… well, I have always hoped they would marry some day. Luz imagines herself in love with him, I think.” Again, I had the strange impression that I was being tested in some way; that Elena watched for my reaction.

I shrugged, moving farther into the room. “If they are to marry, I suppose it would help if she imagined herself in love with him. But if I am to be frank, I can only say I feel sorry for the poor girl. Does she know about Flo Jeffords, and what happened to
her
?”

I think it was at that moment that the pretense dropped between us. We faced each other fully, her hand on the door of a heavily carved armoire that stood in one comer of the room.

“You don't like Lucas. That is strange, for most women do. Perhaps you're only angry because he brought you here. Or is it because you really imagined yourself in love with Todd Shannon?”

It had been said, at last. Todd's name fell between us like a stone, and although I think she hoped to disconcert me, I was relieved that I could be myself again. “I don't know if I love Todd Shannon or not. I am engaged to marry him. It seemed the most practical thing to do. Why should love enter into it? I am more practical than sentimental, I'm afraid.”

“And that is why you are here, is it not? Yes, you look like Guy, but you are not like him. Guy had too much sensibility, he felt too much.”

“Perhaps I am more like
you
,”
I said softly. “I can bend, if I have to, but I will not break.”

Amazingly, she clapped her hands together, the ruby ring sparkling in the lamplight. “I am almost sorry that you were not my daughter, now! I think you understand how much stronger than men a woman can be. I wondered, when I saw you in the Apache dress. Guy's daughter, I thought. Is she as meek as she looks? Will she be like Luz? And you are not. Luz is frightened of me. I think you have a mind of your own. There is a challenge here—for both of us. Will you marry one of my sons to please your dead father? Will you continue to be stubborn? In any case, I think your coming here will save me from boredom.” She smiled, opening the armoire to reveal rows of dresses. “I think you will feel more comfortable in one of my gowns. We are almost of the same height and build, I believe. Will you choose?”

At least I was on familiar ground again. I smiled at her, and moved forward to study the variety of clothing she had offered me.

“You are very kind. And I
do
have a mind of my own, as well as being practical. Are you sure you will not mind my wearing one of these dresses?”

She laughed delightedly. “And why should I? No, I want you to look beautiful for my sons. And for me too, perhaps. For I think we will arrive at an understanding of each other in the end. It has been a long time since I've felt challenged.”

“Or I…” I said softly, and we smiled at each other.

When we went down to dinner, we were almost allies. Beneath the surface we both knew the reasons for my being here, and my resentment of the fact. And yet, in some strange way, I think Elena enjoyed the thought that my presence might act as a catalyst. She helped me choose a gown of rich blue silk. Impatiently, seating me before her mirror, she helped me pin up my hair, so that it fell from a coiled knot at the back of my head to thick curls around my neck and shoulders.

“You have hair as black and as thick as mine… how is it that you did not take after your mother? She was an English blonde, Guy told me. You were not sorry to leave her?”

“My mother was not sorry to see me leave,” I said shortly. “We had nothing in common.”

“It's strange. I think that you and I have much in common after all,” Elena said, and laughed softly.

I said bluntly, “I can't imagine why you would want me to marry your son. Would
you
do the same thing in my place?”

“Perhaps, if I had no other choice! Your father wished it, you know. And I have three sons. You may choose.”

“And if I want none of them?” I had to ask it, but she only shook her head at me.

“I think, if you are sensible, and
practical,
as you say you are, you will choose one of them. It is the only way you will leave this valley. You see, I am not only practical, but determined as well. And after all, it is not such a hard choice, is it? My sons are young men. Todd Shannon is old—too old for you, I think. But we can talk about it later.”

I recognized a certain note of implacability in her voice and shrugged my shoulders. We would talk. I was sure of it. And in the meantime, I felt sure that the meal we were about to partake of would prove an interesting experience.

The great, polished table could have held at least thirty guests without crowding them, and yet there were only six places laid.

I saw Ramon Kordes again, and answered his awkward bow with a slight inclination of my head. Luz was an attractive dark-haired girl of about nineteen, wearing the full, brightly colored skirt and low-cut blouse of a Mexican woman, her loosely flowing hair falling below her waist. Her pretty face looked rather sullen, and from the glances she threw in my direction I did not think she liked my being here. Her attention seemed to be centered on Lucas, who treated her with a casual indifference that set my teeth on edge. I noted that he had not bothered to change clothes, although he had shaved off his half-grown beard. And even Julio had made some effort to observe the niceties, although it was clear he felt uncomfortable seated at a table.

In spite of the formality of the place settings and the room we dined in, with its low-beamed ceiling and dark, Spanish furniture, I learned that we would have to serve ourselves. The food was of the highly spiced variety that Marta excelled in cooking; and the old woman who brought it in and left the covered dishes at one end of the table looked to be at least seventy years old.

It was Ramon, surprisingly enough, who began the argument after I had come down with his mother, and we had seated ourselves.

I had noticed that Luz jumped to her feet and began to pass the steaming dishes of food around, beginning with the men. It reminded me of the Apache
ranchería,
where the women always waited until the men had eaten first; and almost automatically, I started to help her.

Julio took my impulsive movement for granted. Lucas raised one eyebrow and looked towards his younger brother.

“You see how well-trained she is already? She has even learned how to cook; isn't that right, Julio?”

Ramon pushed back his chair with a crash that surprised us all, even I, with a retort on the tip of my tongue.

“Even for
you,
this is going too far!” He looked angrily at Lucas. “Have you forgotten the debt you owe to Rowena's father? She is a gently brought up lady, and not just another captive you've picked up on your travels! You have no right…”