Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (27 page)

Everyone at that end of the table snickered again and Bandit reddened, sank back in his chair. At the opposite end of the table, Monique seemed to be managing fine, and Amethyst was glad her papa, seated down there in the host’s chair, couldn’t hear what was going on down at her end of the table.

The butler served the main course, a festive turkey
mole
in pepper sauce, with the slightest of rolls. French pastry and bread had caught on while Maximillian and Carlotta had been emperor and empress, before the Mexicans had deposed them.

Amethyst kept up a mindless chatter with both Mrs. Webster and Bandit. On occasion, she glanced over at Mrs. Wentworth who ate with great concentration, the two hairs in the mole on her nose wriggling as she chewed.

Sweat beaded Bandit’s forehead and he actually looked afraid. Amethyst had never seen him show fear before. He seemed to be watching her every move, waiting for her to choose a piece of silver before he picked his up. Obviously, faced with all that formal, ornate tableware, he hadn’t the least idea what to do. He was being humiliated, shamed. His expression looked pained.

Amethyst had to stifle an urge to jump to her feet, scold them all. You rude, social-climbing snobs, she thought, how dare you mistreat him, embarrass him.

But reminding herself that this was what she had intended, she said loudly to him. “You need to improve your manners, Tony. Yours seem to be lacking.”

He gave her a long look. “I thought well-mannered people proved it by making strangers feel at home?”

Touché! She felt her face flame, looked away. If Papa knew how rude and arrogant she had just been, he would have scolded her for her own lack of manners.

Señor Muñoz, the shopkeeper from Remolino, sat next to Mrs. Webster. He leaned across toward Bandit and said, “So you’ve been in Texas,
señor?
Those Texans are arrogant, don’t you agree?”

Bandit grinned. “I’ll admit no one ever accused Texans of being humble. They figure they got a lot to be arrogant about.”

“I fail to see what it is.” Señor Muñoz evidently saw nothing good about Texans. The pouches under his eyes deepened as he scowled. “All those cutthroats drifting across the border! Why, my innocent niece was rudely approached only a couple of days ago at the stage relay station.”

Amethyst recalled the place, looked into Bandit’s eyes, knew he remembered, too. She had a sudden vision of herself on the grass, locked in his arms; could taste his lips. She thought of the sultry girl at the cantina, wondered if she were Señor Muñoz’ “innocent” niece? “What happened,
señor?
” she asked politely.

“A trio of bandits passing through,” he grumbled, with a shake of his head. “Of course, she let them know she was not that kind of girl and sent them on their way. She said they asked all sorts of nosy questions.”

Bandit seemed to stiffen. “A trio?
Tres?”

Amethyst looked at him curiously, wondering about the change of expression on his face, then turned her attention back to the Mexican. “Were they gringos?”

The man nodded.
“Sí.
She said there was a big one in part of a Union uniform, a short one in Confederate gray, and a gunfighter type riding a gray horse.”

Bandit choked on his wine, put his napkin over his mouth as he coughed.

Santa María,
what was this all about? Maybe some of his old outlaw buddies?

Bandit wiped his mouth. “Tell me, señor, where did your lovely niece say the outlaws were going?”

The man shrugged. “She didn’t tell me, just said that they asked questions and headed on south.”

Amethyst looked at Bandit curiously. He appeared very tense, disturbed.

Mrs. Webster pursed her thin lips. “It’s getting so a decent woman is hardly safe anymore, what with all the saddle trash running loose. Why, I do worry about Clarissa.”

As well you might, Amethyst thought, sipping burgundy as she finished her rare roast beef. That young lady is liable to rape some man.

“I do declare, señorita Durango,” the lady drawled, “I’ve been thinking of sending my dear Clarissa to that lovely convent school where your daddy sent you.”

Amethyst smiled in spite of herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clarissa leaning over and trying to catch Bandit’s eye from the other end of the table. “I think the Convent of the Cloistered Sisters would be a perfect place for Clarissa,” she said emphatically.

Señor Muñoz leaned forward. “Speaking of the convent, did you hear they’ve taken the Mother Superior to an asylum and brought in a new one?”

That’s the right place for her, Amethyst reflected silently.

Mrs. Wentworth paused in shoveling food into her mouth, looked wistful. “Just from what I saw of the place, I envied the Cloistered Sisters. It was so quiet, so peaceful.”

Bandit raised one eyebrow and smirked at Amethyst. “
Señorita
, I’ll bet it wasn’t peaceful while you were there.”

The rascal!
“I wouldn’t know,” she answered a little too sweetly. “I spent every waking moment in contemplation and prayer.”

Mrs. Webster felt called upon to quote some old poem about solitude while her daughter rolled her eyes and watched Bandit.

Amethyst was bored and ashamed. She avoided Bandit’s eyes as the course was cleared. Dessert was finally served, a rich flan with thick caramel sauce. But she was too miserable to enjoy the delicate vanilla flavor, the smooth texture. Would this evening ever end? She looked down at Papa whose three chins moved as he chewed, but he gave her a disapproving look. Monique looked at her, too, ill at ease and speculative.

Now, as the meal ended, the servants set finger bowls of the finest gold-rimmed china on the service plate before each guest. Amethyst could hardly wait for the evening to be over. She sighed with relief, reached out to dip her fingers into the water as the others were doing.

But Bandit looked down at his finger bowl, and grinned. “About time!” he said. “I was gettin’ mighty dry!”

While everyone watched in horror and amusement, he picked up his finger bowl, drank it to the last drop.

Amethyst stared in shock as the Texan put the finger bowl down, wiped his mouth. Then he seemed to notice the silence, the faces all turning to stare at him.

Someone down the table tittered with laughter, and Amethyst flinched as Bandit looked into her eyes. She had never seen such panic on a man’s face. For a split second, he looked as if he might get up and bolt away from the table. Her victory was complete. She had humiliated him.

Is this what you wanted? his eyes silently asked. To make a fool of me?

Hadn’t that been her intention? To show him he could never belong here? To humiliate him and his mistress so they’d leave the Durango ranch and never return.

But suddenly she realized she could not bear to see him embarrassed before all these people. Amethyst took a deep breath, reached for her finger bowl. “I’m mighty thirsty myself!” she announced loudly, breaking silence. And taking a deep breath, she drank the water in her finger bowl.

Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at Bandit. He gave her an admiring gaze and winked at her.

The guests looked at her, then at each other, in confusion. Amethyst watched them with amusement. Certainly no one would dare laugh at the table manners of one of the richest, most noble girls in all Mexico.

Papa, seeming to realize for the first time that she was protecting Bandit, gave her an approving nod and drank from his finger bowl, too. Monique picked hers up, looking as if she were not quite sure what she was supposed to do with it, and drank the contents down.

All up and down the table, people looked at each, guiltily took their hands out of the bowls, picked them up, and drank from them.

It was all Amethyst could do to keep from breaking into laughter as Mrs. Webster picked hers up, looked around uncertainly, then drank from it.

This arrogant crowd of snobs had felt compelled to follow their hostess and one and all had gradually picked up their finger bowls and drunk from them.

Amethyst silently chided herself. You softhearted idiot. This was the perfect opportunity to make a fool of him. Isn’t that the reason you set up this whole thing? But somehow, she didn’t care. The gentle smile Bandit gave her made her heart leap, made it all worthwhile.

As they made ready to leave the table, he pulled her chair back for her, murmured, “
Gracias, Aimée
. This bunch was fixin’ to laugh me right outa here!”

He’s right, she thought, with an annoyed flounce of her bustle. She’d set this trap, then ruined her own plan. She must be loco!

The crowd left the dining room, the ladies to retire to the drawing room to gossip, the men to enjoy brandy and cigars in the library. Later they all gathered in the music room for entertainment.

Everyone sat and yawned while young Clarissa played Mozart very badly, her bony mother beaming with pride.

Amethyst clapped politely, though she believed she could have played the piece better with her elbows. Certainly Clarissa’s playing would have improved if she’d watched the keyboard instead of Bandit.

Monique was called upon to sing “The Last Rose of Summer,” the song that had been so popular in America during the Civil War. She sang pretty well, Amethyst had to admit, and she got louder applause. Papa stuck his thumbs in his vest and smiled expansively.

Then he said, “And of course we must have Amethyst play.”

Amethyst looked around, noticed some of the men were dozing and some of the ladies were yawning behind their hands. Sometimes the entertainment did get a little dull. She wondered what people would do for entertainment a hundred years from now?

“Well, Papa, if you insist.” She played Beethoven. Although she played well, the slowness of the piece seemed to cause more and more people to fall asleep in their chairs. Even Bandit yawned noticeably. She felt stung and, without thinking, acted on impulse. “Perhaps Señor Falcon plays?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, reddened. “A little, but not them kinda songs.”

She smiled a little too sweetly, and couldn’t resist the temptation to chide him before the sleepy crowd. “Oh, do come and play, Tony! I know we’d all be interested in hearing the kind of music you prefer.”

He grinned at her crookedly. “Reckon we might play a duet together?”

“Well, I don’t think . . .”

But around her, people were sitting up in their seats, showing interest and urging him to join his fiancee at the piano.

Even Papa made a motion with his hands.
“Sí,
daughter, I think that would be nice!”

Why not? she thought. She played very well, and figured here was a chance to show the smart aleck up. “Of course, Tony!”

Bandit swaggered to the piano and sat down on the bench, giving her a decided push that almost sent her off the other end.

The nerve of this pistolero
. She smiled. “Why don’t I just watch a moment, Tony? You play and I’ll try to pick up the melody later.” She certainly didn’t want to cover up his awkward playing. Surely no Texas cowboy could do her grand piano justice.

Monique leaned a little closer. The lusty Clarissa changed seats so she could sit next to the piano.

Amethyst smiled sweetly up at him to hide her annoyance. “Tony? What did you have in mind? Mozart? Beethoven?”

He grinned as he spread his big hands over the keyboard. “Stephen Foster,” he said. -

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that composer.”

He just grinned and winked. “I’ll sing the first verse in English,” he instructed the group, “and when you think you’ve got the words, then jump in any place!”

Clarissa leaned over so she could almost touch Bandit. “Oh, this is such a treat!” she gushed, and she wasn’t looking at the piano. As her gaze went over Bandit’s form she looked like a puppy licking up spilled cream.

Then Bandit began to play in a loud, saloon-type style, the likes of which had never before been heard in this elegant circle of Mexican society:

“The Camptown ladies sing this song, doo-dah! Doo-dah’!” he sang. “‘Camptown race track, five miles long. Oh, doo-dah day! Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I bet my money on de bobtail nag—Somebody bet on de bay’!”

He played with such skill, Amethyst was stunned. She stared at his flying fingers, not sure she could keep up. The audience started to awaken; toes began tapping.

He looked over to her in amusement, that old arrogant gleam back in his eyes. “Jump right on in, Aimée, anytime; that is, if you think you can play well enough to keep up!” Now he lifted a hand to lead the singing crowd:

“‘The Camptown ladies sing this song . . .

He’s in control of the situation, Amethyst thought, looking around at the smiling, admiring faces as people sat up, began to sing. He played fast and rhythmically, almost pounding the keys.

Amethyst’s fingers had to fly to keep up with his as she took up the chorus, playing along with him: “‘Doo-dah! Doo-dah’! ”

Her papa nodded and smiled, tapping his foot. Everyone smiled, tried to sing the
americano
song:

“‘I came down dar wid my hat caved in. Doo-dah! Doo-dah! I go back home wid a pocket full of tin. Oh! Doo-dah day!’”

What applause! Certainly no one had ever applauded her like that, she thought with a frown. When he tried to leave the piano, the crowd begged for more. The Texan was clearly the hit of the evening.

He waved for silence and gave young Clarissa a heartfelt look. “I dedicate this next one to the Southern belles in our audience!”

Amethyst, still sitting next to him on the piano bench, gritted her teeth. That, of course, meant Miss Clarissa and her mother. “I probably won’t know it,” she said, smiling thinly.

“That’s okay.” Bandit grinned. “I’ll do just fine alone.”

And he began to play: “‘Oh, I wish I was in de land of cotton, old times dere are not forgotten . . .’”

Mrs. Webster stood, put her hand on her heart. Young Clarissa wept and moved even closer to the piano.

Amethyst thought if the girl leaned much lower, her full breasts would be right on the keyboard.

When he finished “Dixie,” Clarissa caught his arm. “Oh, you were wonderful!” she gushed. “Just wonderfull”

It was all Amethyst could do to keep from picking the vase of flowers off the top of the piano and pouring it down the organza bodice of that Southern belle’s yellow dress. As it was, she caught Bandit’s other arm possessively. “Yes, wasn’t he, though?”

It was late, time for the party to break up. Amethyst and Papa stood by the door, shaking hands, accepting compliments. Monique and Bandit stood with them.

“Such a wonderful evening!” Señor Muñoz said, pumping Papa’s hand.

“True! True!” Mrs. Webster gushed, taking both Amethyst’s hands in hers. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such fun! And that delightful bit of nonsense at the table, how humorous!”

Amethyst and Bandit looked at each other blankly.

“You know,” the bony widow said, “when you two both drank out of your finger bowls! You must have planned that together! Such a great practical joke! No one was prepared for that!”

Amethyst recovered first. “Oh, it took a lot of planning, all right.”

Bandit nudged her in the ribs. “
Sí
, we’re both such funny people.”

Clarissa took both Bandit’s hands in hers. “Oh, Tony, you were just wonderful,” she said, and looked jealously at Amethyst. “And you, too, of course, señorita.”

Bandit raised one eyebrow. “Well, señorita Durango hasn’t had as fine a teacher as I have, but I hope to improve her playing.”

Amethyst had had the best teacher in all Mexico, a little gentleman who’d come all the way from Mexico City, at great expense, for all the years of her childhood. She felt an annoyed flush move up her neck to her cheeks. How dare he!

The pouting girl clung to Bandit’s hand. “Perhaps, Tony, you could give me lessons.”

“But you were so good, I’m sure, Miss Webster,
you
could give
me
lessons.” He bowed low and kissed her hand.

In what? Amethyst thought, but she said, “If Miss Webster desires music lessons, I’ll gladly give her the name of my teacher.”

“I do declare, Tony, I just wept when I heard that song, just wept!” Mrs. Webster spoke with feeling.

Bandit bent over her hand, graciously receiving her compliments.

Finally, all the guests were gone except Bandit, leaving the four of them and the dour governess standing in the entry hall.

Papa rubbed his plump hands together with gusto. “It was a great party, daughter! I’ll confess I thought you’d lost your mind inviting all those bores, but it was a big success! And they all had such a wonderful time!”

“Yes, Papa.” She glanced at the Texan.

He gave just the slightest nod of his head toward the outside, then said, “Well, I reckon I’ll be leavin’. Much obliged for an interesting evening.” He bent over each lady’s hand, then went out the door.

Papa yawned. “It’s been a long night. Let’s all go up to bed.”

Monique had obviously seen the look that had passed between Amethyst and Bandit, and wanted a chance to visit with the Texan outside herself. She played with the braid on her green brocade dress. “I’m not very tired. I think I’ll sit awhile in the library and read.”

Amethyst smiled very sweetly at her. “Oh, but don’t you remember? There’s a whole shelf of books in your room.”

“She’s right, my dear.” Durango yawned again, and all three of his chins waggled. “So now let us all retire for the night.”

Amethyst saw the frustration in the redhead’s eyes. But there was nothing Monique could do without creating a scene or arousing suspicion. Gomez Durango took her arm and propelled her up the stairs, with Amethyst following along behind, Mrs. Wentworth bringing up the rear.

Amethyst went to her room, closed the door, and waited for the house to settle down. In a few minutes, when she cautiously opened her door, she heard the chaperone’s and Papa’s snores reverberating down the hall.

She sneaked down the stairs, out the door.

Sure enough, Bandit was still there, waiting in the shadows of a native
ahuehuete
tree.

Why on earth was she doing this? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop herself from coming out to meet him.

He leaned against the tree trunk. “I just wanted to thank you for savin’ me embarrassment at the table, with those little bowls of water not big enough to give a Chihuahua pup a drink.”

“Bandit. . .” She didn’t know what to say next.

“I know I made a fool of myself. Reckon I should have known I could never fit into fancy, rich society.”

He sounded discouraged, defeated. Wasn’t that what she had planned for? Wasn’t that what she wanted?

Instead she found herself shrugging it off. “I could teach you a few table manners, improve your grammar in only a little time. You completely captivated that snobby crowd.”

He reached for a thin cigarillo. In the silence, the sound of him striking a match on his boot sole sounded loud. “I’m not such a lout that I don’t realize you did that apurpose.”

“What?”

“It’s a thing Texans say. I have to ask myself, ‘Did she
go
to do it? Did she do it apurpose?’ Meaning, was it planned?”

Of course it was. Yet now she felt ashamed, ridden with guilt. “I owe you an apology for that, Texas. It was a low-down, no-account thing to do.”

He grinned. “Now you’re beginning to sound like a Texan.”

She took a deep breath of the pleasant scent of smoke, watched the tip of his cigarillo glow in the darkness.

As Bandit exhaled, Amethyst watched smoke drift in the moonlight. She had a feeling that he wanted to reach out and stroke her hair, but he turned the cigarillo over and over in his fingers, looking at it. “Tonight brought back some memories I thought I’d forgotten. I reckon no one ever forgets a time he was humiliated, hurt. It reminded me about the Christmas tree.”

He was talking in circles. He didn’t look arrogant or cocky anymore. He looked like a hurt little boy.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is,” she confessed with a shrug. “Here in Mexico, at Christmas we have a
piñata
.”