Dorothy Garlock (16 page)

He rode into the clearing and his pulse quickened. There she stood waiting for him, as she had every evening for the past few months. Her thick, coal-black, waist-length hair hung free, just as he liked it. She wore the thin off-shoulder blouse and the full skirt, also just as he liked. He dismounted, threw the reins over a bush, and came toward her.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?” he asked in the voice he used only in speaking to her. It wasn’t the harsh voice he used when talking to other Mexicans, but it wasn’t soft. It was restrained, as though trying to be gentle.

“No, señor, I knew you would come.” Her voice had music in it, he thought, and any man who ever heard it would not forget it.

He lifted her full skirt and ran his rough hands up and over her soft hips. He had never felt anything as smooth as her flesh. Taking his hands from beneath her skirt, he pushed aside the soft blouse and wrapped his arms around her legs just under her hips and lifted her up until his face nuzzled against her soft breasts. He rubbed his face with its stubble against the smooth flesh, neither knowing nor caring about the pain he inflicted. He took one of her nipples between his lips and pulled on it hungrily, then grinned up at her.

“You’re some hot little pepper, Juanita,” he said huskily. Holding her with one hand, he pushed one of her legs up into his crotch and held it there between his thighs.

“Feel it,” he breathed. “I’m fair about to bust.”

He set her on her feet, and she walked away from him and lay down. His hands, clumsy with haste, worked with the lacings on his breeches, then pushed them down beneath his hips. He fell on her and without any preliminaries entered her and commenced to thrust furiously. She felt his jerking spasms, and he uttered soft animal sounds as his fluid gushed into her. He stayed inside her, embedded in her, his breath coming in gasps. Finally he lifted his head and whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“Jesus Christ! I done it again. Lay still—can’t be no worse if I do it some more.”

Juanita clenched her teeth and turned her face away so that she wouldn’t smell his breath.
Madre de Dios,
she prayed, help me. Help me!

Mack worked feverishly to satisfy himself. He placed his hands beneath her hips and thrust into her slender body. When it was over he rose immediately, pulled up his clothing, and strapped on his gunbelt. Juanita covered herself with her full skirt, then got up and walked to the stream. Mack reached out and pulled her to a stop by tugging on her hair.

“Take off your clothes, Juanita.” His narrowed eyes gleamed angrily, and fear quickened her heartbeat.

With her back to him she unfastened her skirt and let it drop, then pulled her blouse over her head and walked quickly into the water until it reached her thighs. She squatted down and let the cool water flow around her, washing the thick semen from her thighs.
He knows! He knows,
she thought, and her frightened heart pounded so loud it echoed in her ears. Dulce Madre de Dios,
let him kill me quickly. Please let it be quickly.

“Stand up and turn around!” It was the harshest tone he had ever used with her.

She got up slowly and turned to face him. She stood as tall as she could, her head held proudly, her eyes looking straight into his. He inspected her thoroughly and silently for a while, then his breath came out in a long, low whistle.

“I thought as much! I thought there was somethin’ different about them titties. You goddamn whorin’ bitch, you’re gonna whelp! I told you I ain’t havin’ no goddamn Mex bastard. Get outta that water!” he roared.

Juanita walked slowly out of the water. The air hitting her wet skin would have felt coolly pleasant had she been sensitive to any feeling. She stood on the bank, her long hair her only covering. Finally one of his big hands lashed out and he struck her. She went down on her knees, but got back to her feet and raised her head.

“It ain’t mine! You’ve been fuckin’ them goddamn Mexicans.” The words were bellowed so loudly that the echo resounded far down the valley. He took a handful of her hair and pulled her up close to him. “Ain’t you? You been a-spreadin’ your legs for
them
! You bitch! You
hija de puta
!”

“No, señor. I lie with no one but you.” Her voice was calm and steady and convinced him that she was lying.

Still holding her by the hair with one hand, he drew back the other and struck her with the back of it on one side of the face and with the palm on the other. Blood spurted from her nose and covered his hand; still he continued to hit her. Finally he pushed her from him, and she fell heavily on the stones by the stream.

“You lying, whorin’ bitch. If I ever see your face again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear? I’ll kill you!”

Juanita sat up slowly, her black eyes filled with pain and terror. Her face was cut and bruised and blood oozed from a hundred scratches on her knees, thighs, and hips. Slowly and painfully she crawled to the edge of the water and bathed her face. Tears she had not allowed to come in his presence now rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the blood on her face. She washed her body while the tears washed a small part of the misery from her soul. She dressed herself, then got painfully down on her knees.

“Our Father,” she prayed silently, “and our Holy Mother, who has compassion for sinners and those of us who are weak. Why have you put upon me, thy lowly one, the burden of the wee
niño
growing in my belly?
Madre mia,
why? Help me to face my uncle. Help me to face my friends, who will know I gave my body outside thy holy sanctions. Oh,
Madrecita mia,
have pity. Have pity upon me!”

Juanita rose and draped her rebozo over her head and wrapped it about her face and shoulders. With resignation she went up the dirt track to her uncle’s house.

*  *  *

Remembering was painful for Luis. Hatred and resentment burned anew in him as it did each time he thought of what his mother had endured to give him life. If not for Burr and Ben he would have killed that rotten old man years ago. Killing him, Ben had said, would be too easy an end for Mack Macklin. Long years of drawn-out pain and misery, and then to know he’d lost what he loved most, was what he deserved. Burr had agreed and so the years had rolled by.

Luis rode out of El Paso, headed north, then veered across the badlands toward the mountains. He was eager to get home to Macklin Valley to the lovely sad-eyed young woman who constantly occupied his thoughts. He had a purpose now. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

N
ine

J
acy waited at the door of their room while Johanna felt her way to the table and lit the candle.

“We should make a curtain for the window, Jacy.”

“Luis has been gone two weeks, Johanna.” Jacy was unable to hear anything but her own thoughts. “I thought he liked me!”

A pang of fear struck Johanna’s heart. She went to the wall peg to hang up her shawl. She had suspected that Jacy’s depression had something to do with Luis’s absence. Now her statement had confirmed it.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Jacy. Walking you back to the house didn’t mean he was courting you.”

Jacy sat on the edge of the bed. “It was the way he looked at me that made me think he liked me. And he talked about himself, as if he wanted me to know about him.” Sudden tears filled her eyes. “Do you think . . . he could want
me
?” She stumbled over the words as if afraid to utter them.

“Jacy Louise Doan!” Johanna was almost angry. “You’ve got a lot to offer a man. Why . . . you’re educated! Papa taught you and you’re as good a teacher as I am. Mama taught both of us how to make a house into a home. You’re sweet and you’re pretty, but most of all you have integrity. I won’t listen to you doubting yourself. We’re just as good as we think we are, and don’t you forget it.”

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Jacy continued as if she hadn’t heard. “He told me about his horses and the hacienda. He wants to breed a lighter, faster strain of horses. And, Johanna, he never once mentioned what . . . happened to me or about . . . what he did.” There was a kind of a desperate note in her voice when she added, “You like him, don’t you?”

Johanna looked into the anxious face of her sister, heard her disjointed statements, and was filled with uneasiness.
She’s already fallen in love with him,
she thought.
She’s afraid I’ll disapprove. Dear God in Heaven! What kind of man would pay obvious court to her, then go away without a word? Is he only playing with her?
Of the two brothers he seemed the kinder, the more understanding, and he had seen Jacy when she was mute. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, be so cruel to her, to give her hope merely to amuse himself. One more emotional upheaval in her life would be more than she could endure.

“Of course I like him,” she said, perhaps too emphatically.

“No, you don’t,” Jacy replied stubbornly and looked as if she was about to cry. “Is it because he’s a . . . bastard?”

“Jacy! You know better than that. Papa didn’t bring us up to be self-righteous snobs. He always said the best people can be found in the most unusual places. Luis can’t be blamed for something his father did.”

“I wish he would come back.” Jacy’s voice was wistful and her lips quivered as she tried to keep from crying.

“Ben expects him back soon. But, Jacy, please don’t read too much into the attention he gave you. You’ll be able to tell what his intentions are toward you when you see him again. This is a good place for us right now. We’ll stay until after the baby comes, then we’ll decide what to do.”

Resigned, Jacy got up and took off her dress.

Moonlight shone through the small window. Jacy lay awake, but motionless lest she disturb Johanna. Jacy wished she were more like her older sister. Stable, practical Johanna could always be depended on to put things in their proper perspective. It had been wildly impulsive of her to think that Luis was interested in her. The evening they’d spent together now seemed no more than a dream. It was like the story about the prince and the beggar maid. Luis was so handsome and gentle. She could see him now, tilting his head toward her and listening so intently to what she was saying, as if it were really important to him. He had watched her all evening and hadn’t looked away when their eyes met.
I was so sure he liked me,
she thought despairingly as tears rolled down her face.

*  *  *

Morning came suddenly. Jacy awakened to see sunshine streaming into the room. She heard activity down by the corrals and went to the window to peer out. Men were driving in a herd of horses, and her eyes searched for Luis’s slim figure. Disappointed not to see him, she forced herself away from the window and dressed.

Jacy always dreaded leaving the room. The house had an eerie, cold feeling that disturbed her. It was as though a heavy curtain of invisible mist cloaked her and moved with her about the house. She longed to leave it, to run down the path to Rosita’s cheerful home, but she couldn’t leave Johanna with the backbreaking work of cleaning this ghostly place by herself.

The sound of angry voices came from the front of the house as Jacy started down the stairs. Johanna came out of the kitchen.

“Jacy, go out to the back porch and I’ll bring your breakfast,” she said in a low, anxious tone.

Johanna followed her to the bench at the end of the porch, her face creased with a worried frown and her chin tilted just a trifle higher than usual. Johanna was angry. Jacy knew the signs.

“That old man is the most impossible creature I’ve ever met, bar none,” Johanna sputtered angrily. “He’s rude, demanding, and unreasonable. He’s been cursing and shouting all morning, and the language he uses is just awful. I don’t blame the people on this ranch for hating him. I’ll probably end up hating him myself.”

“This place makes me uneasy, Johanna. I can’t explain it, but I know this house has had unhappy times. It’s so dark and gloomy and sad. Sometimes I’m afraid.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of here, love. Nothing at all.” Johanna’s manner softened. “Red invited you to come and stay with him and Rosita. Would you rather go there?”

“No. I’ll not leave you here alone.”

Johanna hugged her briefly. “I’d miss you, love.” In a lighter tone she said, “There’s something you can do for me. I promised Bucko I’d teach him to play my guitar, but I can’t seem to find the time.”

“I can do that. I haven’t taught for such a long time, and I need something to take my mind off other . . . things. He’s such a sad little boy. I’d love to teach him.”

Jacy drank her coffee while sitting on the bench. Burr came around the side of the house, his steps a bit hesitant when he saw her sitting there. In one of his big hands he held Johanna’s straw hat, its pink satin rose crushed and hanging limply.

“This thing was blowing down by the corral and scaring the hell out of the horses,” he said gruffly, holding up the hat for her inspection.

Jacy giggled. She liked the big, gruff man even if Johanna didn’t. He and Luis had real affection for each other. It was obvious when she saw them together.

Burr pushed the hat down on a peg that stuck out high over the door. The peg came through the crown of the hat and the faded pink rose tilted down at an odd angle. He stepped back and cocked his head to one side, his eyes mischievous.

“I bet it looks better there than it did on her head,” he said confidentially.

Jacy’s eyes danced and she laughed behind her hand. “She’ll be fit to be tied when she sees it there!”

Burr lifted sun-bleached brows and looked at the hat again. “Yup, she will.”

Johanna came through the door carrying a plate of buttered biscuits. Burr stepped aside to let her pass, winked at Jacy behind Johanna’s back, and disappeared inside the house.

Johanna handed the plate to Jacy. “I can see that he has an entirely different effect on you than he does on me,” she said curtly.

“I like him.” Jacy bit into a biscuit.

“Well, I don’t!”

Johanna went back into the house, and Jacy’s puzzled eyes followed her.