The Mountains of Spring (5 page)

A long, low building with a pantiled roof and oddly tired-looking pink-washed walls, backed by a line of fir trees, and flanked by little groups of pink-washed outbuildings. Vines clambered over the outbuildings with riotous abandon, and a large crack showed in the facade of the house.

With a flourish, Carlos turned the car into the thick red dust of the corral, and pulled up before the front door.

‘
Here we are,
senorita.
The Casa la Golondrina!
’

Caroline swallowed, and glanced up at the Casa
’
s undeniably grubby windows with a sudden feeling of overwhelming apprehension. Peter must be doing very badly
...
would he be annoyed because she had come? He had always been sensitive and unpredictable, and he also had a great deal of pride. It wasn
’
t that she regretted having come, for at last she knew what was really happening, and she might be able to help Peter, to advise him—at least she would be someone for him to talk to.

But at the moment she felt tired and she had a headache, and, possibly as a result of the long and bumpy car journey, she felt a little sick.

Carlos opened her door for her, and steadied her as she stepped out, rather shakily, into the dust. Then he pulled the rusty chain of the door-bell.

For what seemed like an eternity nobody came, and he was just about to pull the bell a second time when they both caught the sound of unhurried footsteps, approaching the door on the other side.

‘
It is the old woman
,’
said Carlos.
‘
She is like a snail, but she comes at last. You will be all
r
ight now,
senorita
... I go, yes?
’

‘
Oh!
Yes, of course, you must get back.
’
Hastily, she fumbled in her handbag, and when she had presented him with what she was afraid was an absurdly generous tip he beamed at her with expansive gratitude, and accorded her a little bow.

‘
Muc
hi
simas gracias, senorita
!’

And then he was gone. The Mercedes
’
powerful engine purred into life again, and Caroline knew a moment of ridiculous uneasiness as her link with civilization sped away from her.

In the meantime, the person on the other side of the door was evidently having rather a struggle to get it open. There was a considerable amount of rattling and shaking going on, and Caroline was just beginning to wonder whether she ought to address the person concerned through the keyhole when a particularly violent jolt apparently obtained the desired result, and the door swung open, to reveal the figure of a plump, middle-aged Mexican woman.

‘
Buenos dias
.’
The woman was still panting from her exertions, and her greeting was distinctly surly. She regarded Caroline with disfavour, at the same
tim
e
taking in every detail of her appearance.

The English girl struggled to remember one or two items from a phrase-book she had been studying recently.
‘
Habla
u
sted inglis
?
’
she ventured hopefully.
‘
Can I—
can
I see the Senor? Is he in?
’

‘
El
Senor
...
si
.’
The woman appeared to understand, and she motioned to the visitor to enter.

The hall they moved into was dark and sparsely furnished, but considering the external appearance of the place it was surprisingly clean, and what furniture there was had even been kept
well-polished
. There were one or two rather nice rugs on the floor, and Caroline
’
s spirits actually lifted a little as she
f
ollowed the servant into what was evidently the principal
sala.
Perhaps Peter wasn
’
t really doing so badly after all?

On the threshold they paused, and the Mexican woman spoke.

‘
La
señorita
inglesa,
señor
.’

She spoke as if the guest were expected, and if Caroline had noticed the fact she would have felt surprised. But she didn
’
t notice it. She simply stepped forward impulsively into the room.

‘
Peter
...’
she began. And then the words she had been about to utter faded in her throat, and she stood still, staring. A man had risen from, a chair on the far side of the room, and he was advancing towards her, but it wasn
’
t Peter.

It was a man with night-dark hair, and depressingly cold black eyes. A man whom she had last seen only a few hours earlier, in Mexico City.

It was Diego Rivel.

For several seconds Caroline simply went on staring at the slim figure of the Mexican as if she half suspected him of being some sort of ghost. And then she looked rather wildly around the room.

‘
Why—why are you here?
’
she asked.
‘
Where is my brother?
’

There was a still, frightened note in her voice, and her throat felt dry. Ever since she left England she had known, in her heart, that things were not quite right where Peter was concerned. And now, standing in the shabby
sala
of Peter
’
s lonely ranch
-
house, looking into the eyes of Diego Rivel, she knew with absolute certainty that things were very far from right.

‘
I am here to take you back to civilization,
senorita
,
’
Diego informed her softly. He pushed a wicker-work armchair in her direction.
‘
But before we leave, I
think
that perhaps you should sit down.
’

‘
I don
’
t want to sit down.
’
Her voice was becoming faintly hysterical, and her eyes, which were almost exactly the same colour as her dress, were enormous, and definitely accusing.
‘
This is Peter
’
s house
...
isn
’
t it?
’

‘
It
was
his house, Miss Ashley. At one time. But it is not, however, his any longer.
’

‘
What do you mean?
’

‘
Simply that he has sold it. To
me.
’

‘
S-sold it?
’
Strands of her bright hair, damp with perspiration, had begun to cling to her forehead, and she pushed them back impatiently.
‘
Then he isn
’
t here? He isn
’
t here at all?
’

‘
No. He isn
’
t here at all.
’

‘
But
why...
why didn
’
t you tell me?
‘
Her eyes widened still further, as a thought struck her.
‘
He is all right, isn
’
t he? Nothing
...
nothing has happened?
’

‘
Miss
Ashley, your brother is safe and well—or he was when I last saw him, which is not very long ago—go it is quite unnecessary for you to distress yourself about him. And now, if you will sit down, I will explain the situation to you.
’

‘
But why did you let me come here?
’
Instead of sitting down, she backed away from him a little.
‘
You knew this wasn
’
t his house any more
...
why did you let me come?
’

With two swift strides he had covered the ground between them, and his firm fingers fastened themselves upon her wrist.

‘
If you are going to become hysterical,
senorita,
I shall have to call Antona. She is a capable woman, with a most excellent way of handling such situations. I have seen it at work upon her daughter. Well? Shall I call her, or will you control yourself?
’
Caroline was not quite certain whether he was being serious or not. But she wrested her hand away from him, and said stiffly:

‘
I
’
m not hysterical, Senor Rivel. I only want to know what has happened to my brother, and why you sent me here, if he doesn
’
t live here any longer.
’

‘
Then you must sit down for ten minutes.
’
She still hesitated, and he added drily:
‘
If you please,
senorita
.’

Reluctantly, she subsided into the wicker
arm
,
chair, and he bestowed one of his cold smiles upon her—the coldest smile, she thought, that she had ever seen in her life

‘
Shall I ask Antona to make you some coffee? Or perhaps, as you have had a shock, you would prefer something stronger?
’

‘
I
’
d rather not have anything, thank you.
’

‘
Very well.
’

He moved across to one of the windows, and as he stood silent for a moment, looking out, she noticed that although he must have driven very fast, through dusty count
r
yside, to get to the ranch ahead of her his appearance was still as immaculate as it had been when he was in Mexico City. His beautifully tailored grey suit was without a crease, and his white shirtcuffs were spotless. Somehow the very impeccability of everything about
him
infuriated her.

He tu
rn
ed away from the window, and resting one hand on the back of a chair, stood looking across at her.
‘
Senorita,
when your brother told you that he planned to buy a ranch here in Mexico, for the purpose of breeding horses, were you not surprised?
’

‘
Well
...
’
She hesitated.
‘
Well, yes, I suppose—
’

‘
It was a shock, perhaps?
’

She looked up at him, and then away again.
‘
Yes
...
yes, it was a shock.
’

‘
It must have been. Especially as his experience of horses was hardly adequate, and his knowledge of my country
...’
An expressive shrug.
‘
Tell me, did you expect him to be successful?
’

‘
Yes, I did.
’
Her eyes were defiant.
‘
Peter knows a great deal about horses. He has always loved riding.
’

‘
Unfortunately, however, a fondness for riding is not in itself a sufficient basis for the sort of project upon which he was embarking here.
’
The Mexican
’
s voice was subtly contemptuous.
‘
He deserved to fail, and ... he failed.
’

Some of the colour left Caroline
’
s face.
‘
What—what happened?
’
she asked.
‘
Why
didn
’
t he let me know?
’

‘
Undoubtedly because he did not wish you to know,
senorita.
His venture, you understand, did not last long—six months, I believe. He sold the horses first, and then the ranch.
’

Caroline stood up.
‘
And you bought everything!
’

‘
No, not everything. The ranch, yes. I had been anxious to obtain land in this area for some time, and the house too I thought could be useful to me. I shall place a manager here. But the horses
...’
Another shrug.
‘
I never buy bad horses. They are a poor investment.
’

Caroline felt slightly sick.
‘
Where is he now?
’
she demanded.

‘
Your brother?
’
There was a tiny pause, while Diego studied her thoughtfully.
‘
About twenty
kilometres
away,
’
he told her.
‘
On one of my ranches.
’

‘
One of
yo
ur
ranches?
’

‘
Yes. He is working for me. As a—groom, I think you would say.
’

‘
As
a
groom
?’
Her eyes sparkled furiously.
‘
Oh,
how could you? How could anyone?
’

‘
How could I do what,
senorita
!’

‘
You ruined him! You must have done. Somehow or other, you must have made it impossible for him to make a success of the ranch. It wasn
’
t like Peter to fail. You admit that you wanted the land, and now you
’
ve got it. And—and my brother is working for you ... as a groom!
’

The black eyes narrowed, and became absolutely inscrutable.
‘
You have a sharp tongue,
M
iss
Ashley,
’
he observed quietly.
‘
A
nd you are impertinent.
’

She coloured and bit her lip—partly because it had begun to tremble slightly.
‘
If you will tell me where Peter is—
’

‘
Certainly,
senorita
.’
Coldly courteous again, he glanced at his watch.
‘
I will drive you there. There is a small hotel near my ranch which you will probably find suitable.
’

‘
Thank you,
senor,
but you need not drive me.
I can call a taxi.
’

A fleeting glimmer of amusement appeared in his
eyes.
‘
I am sorry,
senorita,
but I am afraid you cannot call a taxi. For one thing, this house does not possess a telephone, and for another I doubt whether any
ta
xi
driver could be persuaded to come here. So, unpleasant though it may be for you, I think you will have to accept my assistance.
’

His car, a sleek white sports model which he evidently ran in addition to the Mercedes, was parked around the side of the house in the shadow of a line of trees, and as Caroline silently and reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat she noticed that the various outbuildings clustered behind the house were even more dilapidated in appearance than those in the front. It seemed obvious that the whole place had been in desperate need of expensive repairs for some considerable time. Poor Peter
!

Dusk was beginning to fall as they left the dusty yard behind them, and glancing back over her shoulder at the desolate bulk of the Casa la Golondrina Caroline saw a solitary light come on in the isolated house. She shivered a little at the sheer loneliness and bleakness of the place, and then, as she watched, the whole jumbled cluster of buildings disappeared behind the pine trees, and the white car lurched rather wildly as they sped around a bend in the track.

It seemed to her that her companion was driving a good deal too fast, considering the condition of the road, but
glancing
from time to time at his remarkably handsome profile she found it quite impossible to detect any sign whatsoever of annoyance or tension. On the contrary, he seemed extremely relaxed, and as time passed and he made no attempt to speak a word to her she even began to wonder whether he
had practically forgotten her presence in the car. And then they came out on to the main road, and in the gathering darkness he switched on the sports car
’
s headlamps and turned to look at her.

‘
I shall take you to the Hotel Vista de Oro,
’
he told her.
‘
It is respectable, but not expensive.
’

‘
Thank you,
’
she said stiffly. Moistening her lips, she added:
‘
I don
’
t expect Peter lives in a house of his own.
’

‘
No.
’
Once again the Mexican looked at her, and then he increased speed in order to overtake
and
pass a large and ponderous lorry.
‘
No, he lives in a kind of hostel—that is the English word, I believe—with all the other ranch workers.
’

‘
But that
’
s dreadful!
’
Her voice quivered with indignation.
‘
He
’
s not an ordinary ranch worker!
’