Emmy's Equal (18 page)

His speech beginning to slur, he picked up her hands. “I’m sorry, Emmy. I should’ve checked on you myself. I knew Rosita was angry, but I never expected her to go this far.” He squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry. I intend to speak to her.”

Emmy squeezed back. “Please don’t. We’ve had enough trouble in your house. Besides”—she made a face—“Rosita might poison my frijoles.”

Laughing too loudly, he swayed toward her. “You’re awfully cute. Did you know that?” He seemed to grow ten more hands, all busy grasping her arms, shoulders, and neck while he pulled himself closer. “Just plain cute,” he drawled. “That’s what you are.”

“Stop it, now.” Emmy strained to pull away. “You’re too rough. Let me go, please.”

“Sweet, too, ain’t you? As sweet as a newborn calf.”

The incredible strength in his hands shot fear to Emmy’s heart and swelled her throat. “No, Cuddy. Please, don’t!”

As he pressed her to the ground, his greedy mouth sought hers. “Sweetest little thing I ever—”

A sharp intake of air and a howl finished his sentence. With a roar, Diego ripped Cuddy’s body free of Emmy, one hand buried in his hair, the other clutching the nape of his neck. Tossing him aside like a straw-filled scarecrow, Diego stood over him with balled fists, his chest heaving.

Obviously dazed, and frightened out of his wits, Cuddy cowered with his fingers splayed over his face. “What did you do that for?”

Diego started for him again and Cuddy crawled backward over the rocky ground like a crawfish. “Wait!” he cried. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was just fooling around. I swear.”

Still panting wildly, Diego stalked to Emmy and jerked her up by the arm. Before she could protest, he herded her to his horse and urged her into the saddle then climbed in behind her.

As they passed Cuddy, still on the ground, Diego stopped and spoke for the first time. “What’s happened to you? I didn’t think you capable of something like this. Don’t you think it’s time to lay off the booze?”

Eyes blazing, Cuddy leaped to his feet. “Blast you, Diego. You don’t know a thing about me, including my intentions. What are you doing here anyway? Do you spy on me all the time now?”

“I have more important things to occupy my time. Little Pete saw the two of you ride out of the barn. He knew you’d been drinking.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, brother?” He nodded at Emmy. “Though my guess is that’s exactly what you think you’re doing.”

Cuddy grabbed hold of the reins and peered up at her. “Forgive me, Emily. I swear I meant you no harm. I only wanted to kiss you.”

Before she could answer, Diego spurred the horse and bolted away.

The trip home was as frantic and fast as her last ride. The difference was in how it made her feel. Instead of fearful and desperately clinging, she rode cradled by Diego’s body, his arms around her waist, the warmth of his chest at her back, his breath in her hair.

The madness and the sweetness of the moment made her cry, the tears barely touching her cheeks before the wind whisked them away. Her heart swelled in gratitude to Diego, her champion, her hero.

They ducked into the barn where Little Pete waited, his dark eyes pools of concern. Rushing to them, he held the horse while Diego helped her down. “You all right, miss?”

Embarrassed, she ducked her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“That’s all, Pete,” Diego barked.

Pete nodded and hustled out the door.

Her emotions swelling in rolling waves of joy, Emmy turned and lifted grateful eyes. “Diego, I—”

His hand shot up. “Save your explanation for someone who cares. Close your mouth and get inside the house.”

Father Darius pulled out chairs for Bertha and Magda in the little boxed-in room that served as his office. Willem stood against the wall. Bertha sat at the edge of her seat, and Darius knelt before her, holding her hands. She gazed at him in wonder, disbelief and joy taking turns as well.

“It’s really you? The same Darius Thedford that gave Thad the deed to our land so many years ago?”

He nodded. “None other.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve been looking for you for over a year now. Sent word across the country, but no news ever came back. It seemed like you fell off the face of the earth.”

Darius smiled, his gesture taking in his shabby surroundings. “I guess you could say in a way I did.”

“I wouldn’t say it,” Magda said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re doing a wonderful service to the Lord in this place.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dane.” His attention returned to Bertha. “You say you’ve been looking for me, dear?”

“Yes,” she whispered softly. “I have something I need to give you.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I didn’t understand the urge to see it done until now. At first, I thought I was meant to do it for my Thad.”

Darius’s eyes lit up. “How is young Thad?” Drawing back, he laughed at himself. “Oh, my, I suppose he’s hardly the impetuous lad I met on his way to college.” Amazement clouding his eyes, he gazed at Bertha, making the connection. “Thad must be pushing fifty years old by now.”

Magda slipped her arm around Bertha’s trembling shoulders. “Father, Thad’s been gone for more than six years. Bertha’s a widow now.”

“Oh no,” he said, the word so filled with sorrow it came out a moan. “Bertha, I’m real sorry to hear that.”

Her gaze losing focus, Bertha gripped Magda’s hand. “Six years. It don’t seem possible, does it?”

Darius patted her hand. “He was such a fine lad, too. How did it happen?”

Wrenching herself from the past, Bertha lifted tearful eyes. “River swallowed him. The water came up so fast it swept him away in plain sight of several witnesses. Thad was a right good swimmer, but he never stood a chance against a flash flood on the San Jacinto.”

Darius cleared his throat. “The ways of our God are a source of unfathomable mystery, Bertha. My life took a new direction after I met your husband, and he was the reason. I was nothing more than a drifter, making a living by fleecing innocent victims. Then Thad came along, and I caught a glimpse of genuine goodness. Of course, he took none of the credit. Gave it all to God, and didn’t mind telling me so. I decided then and there I needed the God I saw reflected in that boy’s eyes.”

Bertha clasped her hands and wiggled on the seat. “You got Him, too. I see Him right there in your eyes.”

Darius swallowed hard and ducked his head. “I often lamented the fact that I lost contact with Thad and planned many times to travel to Humble and find him, to tell him what he’d done for me. Somehow that trip never took place, and now I’ve lost the chance forever.”

A look of sweet peace softened Bertha’s features. “Not forever, Father. My Thad awaits us both in heaven. Then you’ll have forever to say what you need to say. I’m sure he’ll have a thing or two to tell you as well. He was always mighty beholden to you for giving him that deed.”

She paused, smiling a little. “There is one thing Thad always wondered. If you don’t mind, can you clear it up for me now? I reckon he’s on pins and needles up in heaven, waiting for me to ask you.”

Father Darius grinned. “Ask me anything.”

“Well”—she wiggled on the seat—“Thad always figured you won that deed in a poker game. Is that how you came to have it?”

He scratched his head, amusement tugging at his lips. “I suppose the boy would think that, considering we met over a hand of cards.” He lifted his chin. “You know, I kind of like the idea that he saw it that way and never learned the truth. A poker game sounds far more interesting than the truth.”

She scooted forward. “What is the truth?”

“Actually, an uncle up north willed it to his sister’s son. Before my uncle’s death, this same boy got on his bad side, so he blotted out his name and left it to me instead. I was on my way to see it when I ran into Thad.”

“You never once saw Humble, Texas?”

He grunted and shook his head. “Never did. I gave that property to Thad before I ever set eyes on it.” He looked up and smiled. “But you know something, Mrs. Bloom? Somehow I knew I was supposed to do it, and I never had a single moment’s regret.”

Bertha clutched both of his arms and gave him a shake. “Just like I’ll never have a single moment’s regret for what I’m about to do.” She blinked away tears. “Especially now that I see the reason for God insisting that I find you.”

She reached inside her blouse and then paused. “Turn your head, Father, if you don’t mind. Willem, that goes for you, too.” Winking at Magda, she reached deep inside the bodice of her dress. “You can look now. And stick out your hand.”

Darius did as he was told, and she placed a folded document in his outstretched palm. “My dear, what’s this?”

Satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest. “Just the rights to half the profits from one of the largest producing oil wells in the state of Texas.”

Emmy’s jaw fell open and she stared at Diego with rounded eyes. “What did you say?” Her words came out low and breathless, intended to warn him he’d best not have said what she thought.

Unflinching, Diego folded his arms across his chest and met her glare. “I said close your mouth and get inside. I mean it, Emmy. Go to the house right now, and whatever you do, don’t let those good people catch you sneaking back in from your sordid rendezvous.”

Her head reeled. The warmth of gratitude turned to flames of fury. She stomped her foot. “How dare you!”

Diego took a step closer. “Let me tell you how I dare.” One by one, he held up fingers, counting off his reasons. “I’ve broken my mother’s heart. The only father I’ve ever known has lost faith in me. Half the time Cuddy acts like he hates me, and Greta, who’s been like a sister to me, is locked in her room, refusing to see me.” He leaned threateningly, his eyes menacing in a stormy face. “So I’m asking ... haven’t you done enough damage?”

Incredulous, Emmy gaped at him. “And you think even one of those things is my fault?” She held up a few fingers of her own. “First off, I have nothing to do with your mother. How could I? She won’t spare a civil word in my direction. Second, for all I know, Cuddy may have a reason to hate you.” She wound up for the kicker. “As for John Rawson, didn’t he lose faith in you about the time you were sneaking behind the bunkhouse to kiss your
little sister?
”

She spun on her heels and left him floundering.

He caught up with her outside the barn, his fingers rough on her arm. “Your last point is more your fault than mine,” he panted. “Because I wasn’t kissing Greta.” His eyes still blazed but not with anger. Longing, desperation, and shame all vied for fury’s place. “I may have held Greta, Emmy, but I was kissing you.”

Her heart breaking, Emmy wrapped him in her arms. He jerked her close and tangled his hands in her hair. Guiding her face beneath his, his lips hovered inches from hers ... until he roughly pushed her aside.

Hugging his head, he whirled away from her. “What am I doing?” Fuming again, he latched onto her shoulders. “For that matter, what are you doing?” He pointed behind him. “Not ten minutes ago, you were wallowing on the ground with Cuddy. For all I know, you’d rather I hadn’t showed up.” He shoved past her. “Do us both a favor, Emmy. Stay out of my way.”

Too crushed to cry out to him, too angry to deny his accusation, Emmy stared after him until he disappeared in the darkness.

She’d been accused of many hurtful deeds in her life, most of them quite justified. Never in her twenty-one years had a person accused her so unjustly, and it stung. Despite one reckless dalliance with her best friend’s fiancé, no one had ever questioned Emmy’s virtue except that black-hearted rascal. She found it hard to accept that a person she held in the highest regard had done the same.

Her spirits as flat as a fritter, she started for the house, ready to leave South Texas for good.

As she neared the back entrance, Cuddy rode into the yard. Ducking behind the patio wall, she watched his horse trot into the barn. He was the last person she wanted to see, especially tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to decide how to deal with Cuddy Rawson.

A couple of things were certain after the wild night she’d had. One, she wouldn’t be accepting any more invitations from Cuddy, and two, the time had come to quit sneaking out of the house. The imprudent practice had never brought her anything but trouble.

Praying no one had slipped down and locked her out of the house, Emmy tried the knob, sighing with relief when it turned and the door opened. Knowing the spiteful Rosita would delight in telling on her, Emmy kept her eyes on the kitchen as she tiptoed to the stairs.

When she shut the door of her room, she closed her eyes and leaned against it.

“Who were you with, Emily?”

Emmy’s eyes flew open. Her hand jerked to her hammering heart and her knees gave out. Sliding to the floor, she stared at the hollow-eyed girl sitting on her bed in a dingy cotton nightgown, her hair a matted, stringy mess. “Greta!”

Greta lifted her hand toward Emmy. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell. Are you all right?”

Her chest heaving, Emmy took inventory before she answered. “I believe so. Give me a minute and I’ll tell you for sure.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle? I think my heart may burst.”

Greta pushed off the bed and scurried to sit on the floor beside her. “Forgive me, but I must have an answer. Were you with Cuddy or Diego?”

Emmy stared at the pale, drawn face and cringed. How could she tell the poor girl the truth—that she’d been with both? She opted for half of the truth. “Cuddy asked me to go for a ride.”

The lines eased from Greta’s forehead and a bit of color returned to her cheeks. “Cuddy?” She released a long breath. “I heard Diego’s voice near the barn, so I thought...” She looked up and shrugged. “Never mind what I thought.”

Picking at the sleeve of her gown, she squirmed until she mustered her courage. “May I ask another question?”

The memory of heartrending sobs echoing through the floorboards touched a tender spot in Emmy’s heart. “Of course, Greta. Anything.”

Her icy blue eyes lifted to Emmy’s, sending a chill down her back. “Do you know...” She faltered. “I mean, did you hear...”

The only thing to do was tell the truth. Emmy nodded grimly then watched Greta try to accept it.

“Did Cuddy hear, too?”

“No.” She hated to crush the flicker of hope. “But he knows. Diego told him.”

She moaned. “Why does Diego tell him everything?”

Emmy picked up her hands. “So it’s only you, me, Diego, Cuddy, and your mother. Five people. No one else need ever know.”

Her chin shot up, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Who told Mother?”

“Well, sweetie, I assumed you had.”

“No! I’d never tell her. She’d only run to Father, and then he’d make Diego leave.” A wistful sigh escaped her lips. “I don’t want that.” She squeezed Emmy’s fingers. “Not ever.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Leave Cuddy to me. I can handle him. As for Mother, I told her I threw myself at Diego, and he let me down easy. She thinks I’m upset because I humiliated myself.”

Emmy tried to make sense of it all. “Then why does she think I’ve hidden away in my room?”

“She’s convinced you’re pouting because your parents left you behind. I’ve told her no different.” Her eyes darkened. “In fact, that’s why I’m here, Emily. If my father asks Diego what happened to make me cry, Diego will tell him the truth. I know he will.” Her fingers dug painfully into Emmy’s hands. “We have to keep that from happening. Please say you’ll help.”

“But what can I do?”

The girl scooted until their knees bumped. “Talk to Diego. Tell him I’ll never tell anyone what happened. We can go on like we were before. I just don’t want him to leave.”

Newfound respect for Greta swelled Emmy’s chest, along with fresh hurt for the heartbroken girl and herself. There was no way to tell her that Diego had just ordered Emmy to stay out of his path. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Emmy knew as soon as she’d uttered the words.

Her eyes losing focus, Greta retreated into the memory that had brought her such pain. “He’ll listen to you,” she whispered. “I could tell by the passion in his kiss.”