Authors: Nan Ryan
Amy forced herself to soften her expression. She smiled and said, “Magdelena, it’s been ten long years since Tona—since Luiz Quintano left the Orilla. No one need remind you of all that has happened since then.”
“No. Much has changed but”—Magdelena’s brown face broke into a wide smile—“I remember sweet young boy and girl who were together constantly that last summer. I not forget the times I packed lunches so you two could ride to river and spend the afternoon playing in the water. You remember, Amy?”
Amy drew a slow, deep breath. “Yes,” she said. “I remember.”
“Were you not the best of friends?”
The best of friends
?
My
,
God
,
Mag
,
didn’t you realize that we were lovers
?
That we spent every hot afternoon making love at the river
?
Didn’t you have any idea what was happening between us
?
Don’t you know what happened here last night
?
“We were the best of friends,” Amy said softly.
“Then what is wrong? Why you not wish to have lunch with Luiz? He will be disappointed.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“I think not. Bless his heart, he come to me late yesterday afternoon. He say he wish to spend entire evening with his old friend, Amy. Say he missed you. Say the two of you wanted to visit and laugh and catch up. Asked if Fernando and I mind sleeping in east wing so as not to be disturbed. I tell him we glad to do it.”
“How courteous of you,” Amy said sarcastically.
“Hmmmp! Time you show a little courtesy.” Magdelena reached out and touched Amy’s arm. A questioning look came into her large, dark eyes. “My children not enjoy themselves last night?”
Amy could feel herself flushing. “Well, yes, we … it was …” She cleared her throat. “We had a nice visit. But, let’s face it, one can only hash over old times just so long. I believe Luiz Quintano and I have said all we have to say to each other.”
Unconvinced, Magdelena said, “Ah, now that is very hard for me to believe.”
Flustered and on edge, Amy suddenly snapped, “Have you forgotten I am an engaged woman?”
Magdelena suddenly grinned impishly. “No. Have you?”
“I most certainly have not!” Amy answered too quickly, her voice an octave too high. “I—I have a headache, I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“What about your lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Amy have a terrible headache, Luiz,” Magdelena apologized when the tall, dark man took his place at the table shortly after noon. “She say I am to tell you she is very sorry. She had looked forward to having lunch with you.” Color suffused Magdelena’s dark face, and she hoped this imposing young man could not sense that she was fibbing.
Luiz was fully aware that the Mexican house woman was not telling the truth. But he said nothing. He was fond of Magdelena, had spent more than one happy hour in her kitchen when he was a boy, “licking the pan,” she had called it. And sampling huge wedges of freshly baked pies. Or tearing off chunks of tender, succulent roast beef straight from the oven. And learning dozens of Spanish love songs from the romantic woman whose voice was as warm and pleasant as her aromatic kitchen.
Hers was a good, pure heart. By lying to him now, Magdelena was trying to spare his tender feelings, thinking him to be the same shy, sensitive young boy who had left Orilla ten years ago.
Luiz said easily, “I’m sorry to hear Amy isn’t well. Convey my concern.”
“I will do that,” Magdelena said.
Looking at the strikingly handsome young officer seated at the table, she did not see a chilly, dangerous man, as Amy did. She still saw the innocent young boy who was dear to her heart.
Gazing fondly at him, Magdelena set a plate of sliced fruit and cold chicken before him, placed a basket of freshly baked bread nearby, and once again apologized. Her face wearing a worried expression, she said, “I wish I could feed you tender Orilla beef for lunch like in the old days.” Sadly she shook her head. “We have beef seldom now. The ranch … the cattle …” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Our river, the Puesta del Sol, dried up. Then the long drought come. Everything die. Times are hard, Luiz.” She stared to move away.
Luiz caught her arm and drew her back. He flashed Magdelena a brilliant, boyish smile that reminded her of happier days gone by.
“Don’t worry, Mag. Things change. You will see.”
Warmed by that dazzling smile and longing to believe things would change, she nodded happily. “Ah,
sí
,
sí
, my boy is back. Things will be better. Much better.” She turned to leave.
Luiz pushed back his chair and rose. “Don’t make me eat alone, Mag. Have lunch with me.”
She whirled around and stared at him. “Me? Why, I couldn’t … That would not be proper.”
Luiz, continuing to smile, put an arm around her thickening waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. He led her around the table and pulling out the chair, urged her down into it, then pushed it back up to the table while Magdelena continued to weakly protest. “I really shouldn’t. … ”
“Stay right where you are,” Luiz softly commanded as he backed away and moved to the swinging door connecting the kitchen with the dining room. After nudging it open with his shoulder, he disappeared inside. In minutes he was back, bearing a filled plate and a glass of wine, which he placed before Magdelena.
He reclaimed his chair, shook out his napkin, draped it across his trousered right knee, and said, “I appreciate this, Mag. I hate to eat alone.”
Charmed and flattered, Magdelena smiled broadly and whispered, “Luiz, Luiz! This is not done! What would people say?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he answered, and winked at her. Magdelena laughed and nodded her agreement. “Besides, I’m counting on you to tell me all that happened while I was away.”
Magdelena was not accustomed to drinking wine at any hour, much less at noontime. Nor was she used to having her favorite boy back home. The combination made her unusually lighthearted. And light-headed. And Luiz was able to draw her out, to get her to talk about things she’d not talked of for years.
The casual attitude of his relaxed lean body, his seeming placidity, belied the keen alertness with which he noted every word she spoke. Long after the meal was finished and coffee had cooled in their cups and Luiz had lighted his second cigar, the pair remained as they were, seated at the table, speaking of the past.
Or, rather, Magdelena spoke and Luiz listened. Most of what she told, he already knew. He knew that the ranch was almost worthless since the river had dried up. He knew that Lucas Sullivan had been killed in a Paso del Norte knife fight. He knew about Amy’s marriage to Tyler Parnell and Parnell’s subsequent death. He was even aware that Amy was to wed the widower Doug Crawford, a big, likable man he remembered as being happily married with a child.
But some things came as a surprise. Until now he hadn’t known that Amy had a daughter. He had not heard that the Apaches had killed Crawford’s wife and child. Nor did he know that Magdelena’s daughter, Rosa, had run away with Baron Sullivan and was now dead.
“And Baron?” he gently questioned, after expressing his sympathy.
Her dark eyes flashing with hatred, Magdelena said, “I am sure he is still alive. Evil lives forever!”
Luiz gave no reply. He guided Magdelena back to more pleasant topics, and soon she was laughing again and couldn’t believe it when he said, “Mag, my men will think I’ve deserted. It’s nearing three o’clock.”
Magdelena clasped her hands to her cheeks. “No! “Where did the time go?”
Luiz smiled, pushed back his chair, and rose. “I too enjoyed it. Very much. Now, if you will excuse me.”
She sighed and watched the tall, dark man walk away. Then, talking to herself in rapid Spanish, Magdelena began clearing away the dishes and planning what she would serve for dinner.
Amy had no idea that El Capitán was inside the hacienda. It was the middle of the afternoon and she assumed he was in the field with his men. When the tall cased clock struck three, she was in the dim
sala
, the shutters closed against the afternoon sun.
Her back to the room’s wide entrance, she stood at the cold marble fireplace, carefully dusting a porcelain figurine that rested on the mantel. Holding the valuable object in one hand, she meticulously flickered a feather duster back and forth over its shiny surface when suddenly she sensed a present just behind her.
She tensed and waited. And told herself she was being foolish. No one was there. She was alone. Her imagination was playing tricks on her.
She trembled when she felt his breath upon her ear.
“Mrs. Parnell,” he said, the timbre of his voice a strange mixture of warmth and coldness. “I missed you at lunch.”
Her fingers tightened on the porcelain figurine. She coldly replied, “And you will miss me at dinner, El Capitán.”
“No, my dear, I will not. I have invited my lieutenant, Pedrico Valdez, to join us for the evening meal. You will be there.”
Amy carefully replaced the figurine atop the mantel. She laid the feather duster alongside it. She turned to face him and immediately felt her bravado slipping away. He stood so close their bodies were almost touching and he refused to step back. Tall and menacing, he had Amy trapped.
Unnerved by his nearness, Amy found herself helplessly nodding when he said, “Think anything you please of me. It does not matter. But tonight, before Pedrico, you will behave like a lady.”
The irony struck her. This ruthless man was telling her how to act. It was too much.
Summoning up all her courage, Amy said, “I am neither the mistress of your house nor the hostess to your guests. You cannot make me obey you.”
A smile on his lips, a dim flame in his black eyes, Luiz lifted a hand to Amy’s face. He ran his finger along her pale cheek. She trembled. She attempted to stand still but could not. Luiz’s hand moved up to stroke her gleaming hair, then his fingers burrowed into the flowing tresses and he raised her face more fully to his. He let his black eyes drink from hers.
He said, “You are the hostess at my table. The mistress of my home.” His imprisoning fingers tightened their hold on her hair. “You
will
obey me. You will make yourself beautiful. You will wear your most luxurious gown, your finest jewels. Magdelena will help you dress. You will meet me downstairs at precisely eight-thirty. And you will be charming to our guest.”
Lowering her eyes to the level of his brown throat, she said, “I will have dinner with you and Pedrico this evening.”
Her mind already racing, she was thinking past the evening, past the dinner. With a dinner guest in the hacienda, she might well be able to escape to the safety of her room—bolt herself inside—while El Capitán graciously shared cigars and brandy with Pedrico after the meal. The prospect filled her with hope.
Lifting her eyes back to meet his, she said, almost warmly, “Yes. I’ll be more than happy to join you for dinner this evening.”
El Capitán kicked his chair back six inches from the Brazilian walnut table to make room for his long legs. He glanced at Amy, and the look was unbearably cold and detached.
It was dusk outside and dark in the hacienda. Flickering candles in the silver candelabra cast eerie light over the large, quiet dining room. Shadows danced on the high ceiling and on the harshly planed face of the dark, unsmiling man with whom Amy was reluctantly sharing the evening meal.
Her back stiff, she sat very still, very erect on the padded, tall-backed chair of elaborately carved walnut and worn wine velvet. Her freshly shampooed blond hair was parted in the middle with long curls falling over one bare shoulder in the latest fashion. A wide lavender band was arranged coronet style across the back of her head.
Her gown was a flattering vivid lavender hue, woefully out of style. Cut to a deep, low V at the bosom, the skirt was very full, measuring eight yards about the bottom edge. It was so long it swept the carpet when she walked. The lavender gown was intended to be worn over several crinolines and starched skirts, as had been the fashion of the late fifties. Rosettes and ruffles and velvet ribbon trim further dated the aging costume.
Amy felt both foolish and angry.
By dressing up and dining with the sinister El Capitán and her old servant, Pedrico Valdez, she was willingly participating in a ridiculous masquerade. She should never have agreed to this unpleasant travesty. Should have flatly refused, just as she had refused having lunch with him.
Stealing cautious glances at the intimidating officer whose honed muscles curved and pulled beneath the perfectly tailored uniform, Amy told herself the farce would be over in an hour and she could flee to the safety of her room. She didn’t care if an infuriated El Capitán pounded on her bedroom door all night, she would refuse to allow him inside.
Ignoring the chiseled-faced man across from her, Amy lifted her stemmed crystal wineglass, took another cooling swallow, and favored the one-eyed Pedrico with genuine smiles and pleasant conversation.
Amazingly, the meal passed quickly and Amy, seizing her opportunity, said, “I’m sure you gentlemen would like to go into the
sala
for brandy and coffee.”
“That sounds delightful, Miss Amy,” responded the smiling Pedrico. He looked at Luiz. “El Capitán?”
“Yes,” Luiz said, rising to circle the table and pull out Amy’s chair. “Mrs. Parnell can play the piano for us.”
Amy’s head snapped around and she was about to tell him she had no intention of playing any out-of-tune piano. But a warm, firm hand laid on her bare shoulder silenced her. Damn him to hell! He was taking full advantage of the fact that she, as well as he, had been reared to never raise a voice before either servants or guests. His infuriating smile told her she was correct.
In the living room she sat stiffly on the stool and let her fingers move unfamiliarly over the ivory keys she had not touched in years. She stopped in midchord when she realized the piece she had automatically begun to play had once been El Capitán’s favorite song when they were young.
If Luiz noticed, he did not show it. Amy chose a newer tune. Half an hour later she got up, walked to the two men, and when both rose, she smiled and said, “Pedrico, I hope you’ll excuse me. I enjoyed the evening. It is wonderful to see you again.”