Dust Devil (26 page)

But Stephanie noted the envelope bore Grant Raffin’s return address.

CHAPTER
28

The Montezuma, set before the Gallinas River with the pine-shrubbed Sangre de Cristo foothills as a backdrop, was a red-stone hotel with casino, stables, and even a hospital — and, of course, the famed bathhouses that could accommodate three hundred persons a day. The hotel’s name derived from the legend that Montezuma and the Aztecs of old Mexico made journeys there.

Built in the Queen Anne style with towers and gables and stained-glass windows, the hotel had all the conveniences found in the East, contrasting with the rustic scenery of the mountains and canyons of the West. And it was this contrast that attracted the leisure section of
nouveau riche
growing in America — and which attracted Stephanie. "Oh, mama, it’s magical!” she said, when they stopped at the reservation desk that evening. "It’s the best of two worlds!”

"I thought you would be liking it, pet,” Rosemary said and took the room key from the desk clerk.

The next day went quickly for Stephanie as the four women covered the hotel grounds — touring the conservatory reached by an arcade, the gardens of blooming rare flowers and splashing tile fountains, and finally the baths themselves.

They bypassed the mud bathhouse, which was nothing more than a long, low wooden shed, in favor of the mineral waters bath which was housed in a sandstone building of Neoclassic style. There in the large steamy portion reserved for females, the four women lounged about in discreet alpaca bathing suits with attached bloomers and detachable skirts that fell below the knees. Stephanie seriously considered discarding the cumbersome skirt but knew she would probably shock the other bathers. What would the dowagers think, she wondered with delight, if they knew she went swimming in a stock tank every summer in the nude?

Rita related the most recent gossip, keeping the other three laughing at her hyperbolic descriptions. "And Libby, she has put on so much weight! Grant must think it is a grizzly he kisses each morning, if he does kiss her. Do you know that her corset popped during a dinner and knocked the wine-glass out of her hand —
si, por la Virgin Santa
, it is the truth!”

Stephanie happened to glance at her mother and caught in her expression, rather than the silent humor which usually curved her lips, a fleeting trace of melancholy. Rita went on, saying, "You must make your mother leave Cambria more often,
chiquita
. I will not stay at our
hacienda
so long a time now. Santa Fe is the place to be. It’s more alive. Something happens every night!
Ejoli
! Last week I gambled away three of my best fringed shawls, did I not, Inez? No, I will not let Jiraldo hide me away at the
hacienda
!” She snapped her fingers. "He goes — I go!”

The following afternoon, as the women prepared to go to the depot to meet Jamie and Wayne, Stephanie had a sudden surge of a nervous headache. She could not believe it
—  that she, the tomboy, would have weak knees and sweaty palms. "I’ll wait here, mama, if you don’t mind.” Her mother’s thoughtful gaze searched her face, and she added, "I guess I’m still worn out from the trip.”

Rosemary brushed aside a wisp of hair that had escaped
from the cluster of curls behind each of her daughter’s ears. "You haven’t started having your dream again, have you?”

Stephanie had to smile. "That was
kid stuff. I’m a grown lady now, remember?” But she was half afraid the dream would resume, as it always had before, whenever she returned home. It was a silly dream, she thought, for it was only a face that wove in and out of her sleep . . . but it was the cruelty that glazed the oblique eyes, the mouth that was almost lipless and grimaced like a gargoyle that had caused her to wake up screaming as a child and later, as she grew older, to wake with terrible headaches.

"I remember, far too easily, that ’tis a grown lady you are now,” her mother said, smiling. "But perhaps it’s resting you should be. Then you’ll be fresh when Jamie arrives.”

And Wayne, Stephanie thought. However, she could not lie down. Excitement drove her every few minutes to the window that overlooked the curved drive. Would Wayne notice she had grown into a lady in the intervening years?

At last she spotted a tilbury rolling up the drive past the summer cottages that had sprung up with the construction of the hotel. Its occupants descended from the carriage, and Stephanie’s hungry gaze sought out the taller, more slender, of the two men. He removed the straw planter’s hat, and she saw Wayne’s silver-blond hair and the mustache that matured his raffishly handsome face. He also had grown up in the intervening years.

She hurried to the mirror and fluffed the curls behind her ears, wishing she had sugar and water to give more spring to her hair, which Rita claimed was as straight as an Indian’s. She tilted the brim of the feathered hat low over one eye and pulled on her gloves. As she smoothed the wrinkles from her shamrock green organdy dress her mother entered.

"Stephanie, ’tis beautiful enough you are,” she said, the amusement enriching her lilting Irish voice. "Come along, everyone is in the dining room, waiting. Jamie’s asking about you.”

Stephanie stretched out a hand to her mother’s elbow. "Mama, I — I’m a bit nervous. I’ll be down in just a few moments.”

Rosemary searched her daughter’s face that mirrored so much of her own unique beauty. "’Tis Wayne, isn’t it?” she asked slowly.

Stephanie nodded. "I think I’ve been in love with him since that first day at Fort Sumner, when we stayed at the Raffin quarters,” she said in a soft voice.  “What was I — four, five? But I can still remember the way his blue eyes glared at me. And I hated him then. Now, mama . . . now I want to marry him.”

Rosemary bit her lip. "Stephanie, you don’t know anything about him. If he snores, or drinks himself to sleep, or
—or whatever.!”

Stephanie laughed, relieved now that she had unburdened herself of her secret. "Oh, mama! You crossed an ocean and half a continent to wed papa. And what did you know about him? Less than I do about Wayne. You’d never even seen papa. And I dare say you’re as happy as most couples.”

* * * * *

Rosemary turned her face from her daughter, pretending to look out the window at the park below which, besides its free-form bluegrass lawns and graveled walks, even had a section for croquet and lawn tennis. But Rosemary’s mind was not on the two men engaged in the tennis game but on the letter she had received earlier that week.

She hesitated, wondering if she should tell her daughter of the letter’s contents. It was not the fact she would be betraying Grant’s confidential request that held her tongue — nor the bitter knowledge that she, of all people, should be the last to give advice on choosing a husband. What cautioned her was the fear of opening avenues of questions to Stephanie, possibly revealing her long-kept secret . . . or worse, endangering a life. Was he still alive? He had to be, she would know if it were otherwise.

With the fervent hope that Stephanie would come to change her mind by summer’s end, Rosemary made an attempt at smiling. "If your regard for Wayne is your only problem, then I shan’t be too worried.”

* * * * *

The dining room, with its painted ceiling showing the faces of the four directions and its magnificent iron chandelier, was filled to capacity
— soldiers returning to Fort Union, politicians on their way to Santa Fe, and the sickly who intended to settle in the mild, dry climate. In one comer was a Russian samovar for making tea. In another corner an old man with an ivory-white goatee and long hair played at an elegant Knabe piano.

All of this Stephanie perceived indirectly. Her senses were attuned to only one person in the room. And though the dining room echoed with the noise of muted conversation and soft music, for her there existed only the sight of Wayne. He was dashingly dressed in gambler’s striped pants and a fawn-colored frockcoat. She moved toward him in a dreamlike state, oblivious of the greetings once she reached the table.

She heard only his voice, deep with laughter, as he took her hand, saying, "Since last I’ve seen you, Stephanie Rhodes, your hair has gone up and your dress has gone down.” The smile beneath the clipped mustache was gently mocking, even if it never reached the opaque eyes. "The little fighter has grown into a beautiful young lady.”

Stephanie heard her own voice and was surprised at its light, bantering tone. "You’ve never forgiven me for biting you, have you!”

Everyone laughed, and Wayne said, "I deserved it. Stephanie wanted to ride my pony,” he explained to the others, "and when I wouldn’t let her, she took a hunk out of my arm.” He fixed his disconcerting gaze on her. His voice held a note of self-derision. "As it turned out, you were a better rider than I.”

Quickly Stephanie turned to Jamie and hugged him. In the arms of her brother she regained her old self-possession. "You’re taller, James Gallagher!” She saw the warmth shining in his hazel eyes, and her hand affectionately slipped up to cup his cheek. "And still as handsome.”

And indeed he was, she thought, especially dressed as he was in the fashionably cut blue-serge suit. Though he had not the saturnine good looks and irresistible charm that Wayne possessed, a charm that made every female in the room yearn to be the object of his attention, there was about Jamie a boyish handsomeness, a gentleness and sensitivity.

The six settled down to their dinner of roasted duck and creamed spinach with wine, and the talk turned to school with Jamie declaring the next year would be his last. "We should be admitted to the bar by then, shouldn’t we, Wayne?”

Wayne glanced at Rosemary. "Hopefully.” He turned to Stephanie. "Your mother and I’ve been talking about the need for an extra hand at Cambria this summer. Myself, if Cody’ll hire me.”

Stephanie cast her mother a glance of appreciation, but Rosemary’s countenance was noncommittal.

Jamie gave Stephanie a knowing smile and said, "I’ve been trying the entire year to get Wayne to come home with us this summer, but he kept putting me off.”

Stephanie met Wayne’s all-consuming gaze that was like a physical assault, and her composure splintered inside her like shattered crystal. "Your mother’s persuasiveness
— and other things — changed my mind,” he said.

Rita winked at Rosemary, then said, "Why don’t you two young ladies show Jamie and Wayne the hotel’s grounds? And I shall show Rosita how to play
chuska
at the casino tables. It is time she enjoyed some wicked games, no?”

The octagonal gazebo seemed the natural place to end the
tour. The stars were barely visible in the still-light sky; however, there was enough light for the four of them to sit on the stone benches and talk of their childhood days. But Stephanie found herself tongue-tied. Just knowing that Wayne’s arm rested behind her on the bench excited her. There were probably at least fifty young women competing for his attention at Richmond University and in Santa Fe, she thought miserably, and she could think of nothing to say.

She cast a glance at Jamie and Inez who talked eagerly. Inez’s long, dark lashes swept down modestly at something Jamie said, and suddenly it came to Stephanie that the two were in love. She wondered that she had not noticed it before. Had she been blind to everything but her hopeless love for Wayne?

"So, you’ve noticed it also?” Wayne whispered at her ear, nodding at her brother and Inez. "When Jamie would talk about Inez at school, I often wondered if I could ever come to care for a woman like that.”

"Did you?” Stephanie asked in a small voice.

"I never met a woman I thought I could love. But always at the back of my mind was a little hoyden — a childhood friend. Does she still exist?”

Stephanie bit her bottom lip. What Wayne offered was better than nothing. And she had almost the entire summer to make him see her as something besides a childhood friend. "Did I ever teach you how to play
chuska
,” she asked, managing to smile.

Wayne shook his head, laughing, and Stephanie stood up. "Then come on,” she said and tugged at his hand, "we’ve some wagers to make at the casino.”

His hand held her back.  “I’ve a wager to make,” he said, his eyes laughing down at hers.

Either her stays were too tight, or her lungs not big enough.  “And that would be?” she asked in a small breathless voice.

His grin was wicked.  “I wager that I’ll win more than you, and if I do, I get to bite your arm this time.”

CHAPTER 29

"Wayne was marvelous, father,” Jamie said. "The way he summed up the case for the professors left everyone in the classroom stunned. It’s no wonder he’s already caught up with me. He’s a great orator, and I’m sure the Territorial District Attorney will want to recruit him as soon as he’s admitted to the Bar.”

Stephen flicked the reins, keeping his eye on the potted road that ran between Las Vegas and Cambria. "Don’t be
getting ideas in your head about working for the government, son. I want you to make the government work for you. It’s why I sent you to school instead of putting you to work to learn the land — so that when land grabbers start snapping at your heels, we won’t have to be doing what Chisum’s doing — hiring a pipsqueak killer like Billy Bonney. Your knowledge of the law will be Cambria’s guns. Cambria’s more important than wealth, honor, lo—” he broke off. "It’s in the blood, son. Cambria will be here a hundred years from now for our sons to enjoy when everything else is gone.”