Hannah Howell (12 page)

"Sí.
Enough. More than enough. I was afraid that that was just what I was going to find. I was afraid for you."

“That is nice,” she said slowly.

“Yes. Nice. But? I can hear the but, Antonie."

“I can take care of myself."

“I know. I came tearing in here, afraid for you, and you have handled it all unafraid."

“No. Not unafraid. I was afraid and I do not like the killing. I feel sick and I sweat."

“It doesn't show."

“No. Juan taught me to put it all inside until the danger is past, until the battle is over. He told me I can cry later, be sick later, grieve later, shake later. It will all be there, he said, and it is. He taught me to hold it back. It is the only way to survive. Some fear is okay, eh? It keeps you from being reckless. Too much fear and you panic, you make a mistake that gets you killed."

“That's what our officers always said. Only a fool is unafraid but a wise man controls his fear. Juan would have made a great general, I think."

"Sí.
He was, in a way."

“So, you're saying I shouldn't be afraid for you.” Struggling to keep her mind on the conversation as he began to seductively move his hands over her skin, she clarified, “I was saying you do not need to be afraid, but I think I like it that you can be.
Sí,
it is very nice."

Unbuttoning the shirt she wore as a nightgown, Royal decided he was tired of thinking of and discussing his many troubles. “I think I can manage one or two other nice things."

Craving the escape from the world that his lovemaking offered, Antonie slid her arms around his neck and urged his lips toward hers. “Ah,
querido,
I think maybe you can, too."

Even as he greeted the newest arrivals to his fiesta, Royal wondered where Antonie was. It was not like her to be late. Neither did she seem prone to all the primping that had nearly made Patricia too late to help him greet their guests. Nonetheless, with most everyone having arrived, Antonie was still nowhere in sight.

As he went to get a drink, he wondered if she was purposely avoiding the festivities. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen her in a dress. It was quite possible that she did not own one. He was just cursing himself for not asking her if she needed a dress, when he caught sight of her standing near where the hands were gathered.

She wore the dress of a Mexican peasant, although Royal could see that the material was of the best quality. The crisp white, lace-trimmed blouse, the black cinch belt, and the red skirt was simplicity itself, but she looked beautiful in it. Her lovely thick hair was loose, hanging in lush waves just past her slim hips, the front sections gently pulled back and braided. Royal felt desire tauten his body as he watched her lithe figure move in a subtle rhythmic response to the music.

Just as he started to move toward her, Marilyn arrived at his side. Royal struggled to banish the thought that her hand on his arm felt like a manacle. Before all their mutual friends and neighbors he had to be pleasant to her. He simply hoped he could detach himself before too long and seek out Antonie, for he discovered that he heartily disliked leaving her with his hands and those from other ranches. Too many of those hands were young and single.

Antonie watched Marilyn tow Royal away and sighed. She had hoped that the woman would miss the fiesta for some reason, preferably a serious disease. Antonie knew she felt pure, fierce jealousy, but she could not seem to subdue it. She also knew that Marilyn was of Royal's world, a far too constant visual reminder of just how different that world was from the one Antonie had known. The sensible part of her saw that as a blessing, for it could be used to still her fruitless dreams. But Antonie found that she was getting less sensible with each night she spent in Royal's arms. Fruitless dreams and foolish hopes were getting more and more plentiful.

It made her angry with herself. She had thought she possessed the strength and good sense to find pleasure and avoid pain. Instead, she seemed to be doing everything that would insure that she ended up being hurt badly. She would not be able to walk away from Royal without scars. Since she doubted he would suffer any, it seemed most unfair.

“Such a long face for a fiesta,
chica."

Looking closely at Oro, Antonie said carefully, “Your mouth is smiling,
amigo,
but in your eyes I see a face as long as mine."

Draping an arm around her shoulders, Oro briefly kissed her. “It shows, eh?"

“I am thinking it is not an easy thing to hide.” She spoke in Spanish to ensure privacy.

“No. It cuts too deep. It is too much a part of you, I think, touching you from head to toe as if it flows in the blood."

"Sí, sí,
that is it. She has not stopped coming after you? I had thought she had."

Oro laughed softly, a sadness in his mirth. “She speaks to me only when she must and yet it seems there are more ‘musts’ than there is a need to be. She watches me, little one. I see it and I feel it and I ache to answer it. I want to shoot the sweaty Anglos who sit on that porch swing with her."

He looked at Antonie, his eyes narrowing. “Her anger with me is easing. She softens again. This night she has approached me twice, and there was no must about it. The nearer she comes, the harder it is to stay away."

“You are looking at me as if you have an idea."

“Yes, I have one, but it could cause you some trouble."

“More trouble than we would face if you do as you so ache to do?"

“No."

“I am not afraid of a little trouble, Oro."

“Maybe she will pull away, very far away, if she thinks that there is one between her and me."

It only took Antonie a moment to understand what he meant. In less than that time she was able to clearly see what sort of trouble his plan could bring her. Nonetheless, she recognized the merit of his suggestion and the trouble it could bring her was certainly far less than what could descend upon them if Oro answered the invitation Patricia could not seem to stop sending him.

“Yes, she will,” Antonie finally agreed. “She has the Bancroft pride. She is also young and innocent, would not know how to fight the other woman."

“Darling, it will cause you trouble. You must see that."

“Oh, I see it, Oro, but it is not the sort of trouble that will get me hanged or shot or beaten."

“But it could bring you pain and I do not wish to see you hurt."

“It is not a pain that will kill me. I believe it is not a pain I can avoid anyway.” She looked at Royal, who was dancing with Marilyn. “There is the proof that I am but a passing moment. There is his world and I am no part of that."

“You think he will still marry that woman?"

“Perhaps not her, but one much like her. An Anglo raised in the Anglo world. I am a Neumann by blood, but Juan raised me and I am his child in all other ways. Royal cannot forget that, I think, not even when he holds me in the night."

“He is good to you."

“Oh, yes. He is. He is kind, gentle, a good lover, and, I think, a friend. He does not hide what we share, or try to tuck it into the background as if he is ashamed of me or of wanting one like me. Perhaps he even trusts me enough so that, even though I cannot tell him the whole truth, he will believe me when I tell him you and I are not lovers, that all is not as it looks."

She wished she could feel as confident of that possibility as she tried to sound. Antonie strongly suspected that Royal was the possessive sort. It was not a character trait she was fond of, but she had even recognized it in herself. His eyes would be telling him that he was sharing her with someone else. She would be asking him to ignore what he saw and, without any explanation, accept her simple statement that she had no lover but him. She was not sure she would be able to believe it if the situations were reversed.

For a brief moment, Antonie allowed herself the luxury of being furious with Patricia. If the girl had just left well enough alone, there would be no need for the subterfuge or the risk of pain. It was inconceivable that the girl could not know the sort of trouble she was courting, what risks she was trying to tempt Oro into taking, especially after Antonie had explained it all to her.

With a sigh, Antonie shook her anger away. Patricia was no practiced seducer, no experienced woman who just sought a unique lover with no regard to his feelings or the danger her lust might inspire. As far as Antonie could tell, the girl really did care for Oro, but was too innocent, too ignorant of the world to understand what Antonie had warned her of, that such a pairing could not be, that no one would let it happen. Even if, by some miracle, Oro and Patricia were allowed to follow their hearts, Antonie doubted that Patricia had any idea of what her life would be like, how hard it would be. Prejudice had to be suffered, tasted by its victim, before it could really be understood, and Patricia had clearly never experienced its poison.

When Jed Thayer asked her to dance, Antonie eagerly accepted. She was tired of her dark thoughts. With a festiveness that was tinted by desperation, Antonie set out to fully enjoy all the entertainment the fiesta had to offer. There was no escaping her worries or troubles, but she was determined to firmly push them aside, if only for a little while.

“Where is Antonie?” Cole asked Royal as he strolled up to stand by his brother and Marilyn, who still clung firmly to Royal's arm.

“With the hands."

“What's she doing there?"

“Why shouldn't she be?” Marilyn demanded. “She and the two half-breeds are hired hands, aren't they?"

“I am paying them, yes,” Royal said in a tight voice, “but they never asked to be paid. They came here, unasked, to warn me and to help me."

“That was very good of them, I'm sure. However, they didn't turn down your offer of pay, did they."

Royal decided there was no point in telling Marilyn about how hard he had had to work to get Antonie and the Degas twins to accept pay. Neither did he think he could get her to understand his feeling that he was getting them very cheaply. They worked as hard as the hands, acted as extra guns and guards and freely offered their experience with and knowledge of the type of men who kept harassing him, all on a hand's pay. Filled with intractable prejudices learned at her father's knee, Marilyn would undoubtedly belittle that and Royal did not want to risk losing his temper.

“Antonie looks pretty good in a dress,” Cole observed. “Want me to go get her and bring her over here?"

“Oh, I don't think you should, Cole,” Marilyn answered.

“Why not, Marilyn?” he demanded.

“Well, I'm sure she would be most uncomfortable. She's with her own kind, where she wants to be."

“Fine, then I'll go join her."

It was hard for Royal not to follow Cole as he strode away. Unfortunately, he had a lot of guests and it was his duty to circulate, to play the charming host. That also meant that he would continue to be stuck with Marilyn's company.

He realized that he had lost all liking for Marilyn. The prejudices that he had more or less ignored now infuriated him. Her attitudes were no longer an aberration to be tolerated as something she could not really help, but something he actively loathed. What made it a lot worse was that he could do nothing about it.

Marriage to Marilyn was certainly out of the question. Somehow he was going to have to get that message across to her as gently as possible. Apparently, taking a lover beneath her very nose was not enough to deter the woman. She probably saw it as some final bachelor frolic that had little or nothing to do with their relationship. He knew that a number of women felt that they should stoically tolerate a man's indiscretions. Marilyn was evidently one of those, but Royal suddenly found that attitude distasteful, even insulting. It implied that he lacked the strength of character to be faithful. It also meant that he might have to get very blunt, even nasty, to shake the woman.

As the night dragged on, Royal found his mood growing darker and darker. It was hard to stand idly by while Antonie laughed and danced with the hands. As far as he could see, the men were enjoying her company far too much. What really troubled him, however, was what appeared to be going on between Oro and Antonie.

Since Antonie had come to his bed, Royal had disregarded Oro. He had accepted that the twins were her family. Now he recalled all too clearly the kiss he had seen Antonie and Oro share. Their actions at the moment appeared far from familial. There was an air of romance between them, of intimacy. Royal found himself wondering what game was being played, but had no opportunity to investigate it. The demands of being the host tied his hands and he began to heartily curse the fiesta.

Still laughing and trying to catch her breath after a lively dance, Antonie gladly accepted the cool drink Cole handed her. It took a moment to realize that Cole was looking rather stern. She suddenly had the sinking feeling that the performance she and Oro were putting on for Patricia had already been taken in by someone else. Patricia had already noticed, so Antonie decided it had been a little foolish to think or hope that no one else would.

“Why are you not with the guests?” she asked Cole.

“Why aren't you, Toni?"

“Ah, they are not for me. A fiesta is to enjoy. With them I would only end up being angry."

“Probably.” Cole looked away for a moment, sighed, then fixed her with a stern gaze. “What game are you playing?"

“Game,
señor?"

“Don't do that Toni. Don't play dumb. I may not be firmly decided on a lot of things about you, but one thing I do know for sure, and that's that you ain't stupid, honey."

“Thank you."

“Antonie,” he said with a growing anger.

“Maybe I am just not sure what you mean, eh?"

“I'll clarify it for you. You belong to Royal."

“I belong to no man.” Despite her annoyance, Antonie almost smiled at Cole's look of male exasperation. “I belong to Antonie Neumann Ramirez, and only to her. Maybe I give myself for a while, but I am never owned."