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A gangly young man who eyed us both curiously was holding the horses when Flo and I emerged from the house. She gave him a dazzling smile, which immediately made him blush and shuffle his feet.
“Ben, you are the nicest, kindest man! Remind me to tell you so again when we get back, hear?”
He stuttered, “Er—Miz Jeffords—you all ain’t goin’ to ride too far, are you? Mr. Shannon wouldn’t like it if he thought—I mean—”
He was helping Flo to mount her mare, while I mounted my horse unaided, and I saw her pat his shoulder gently, an action which seemed to render him speechless.
“Now, Ben! You know I’ve lived here long enough to be careful. And this lady is Mr. Dangerfield’s daughter. She hasn’t had a chance to see our part of the range yet. Isn’t that right, Rowena?”
I felt sorry for poor, adoring Ben, but I had my own fish to fry, so I smiled at him just as guilefully as Flo had done and said we only meant to have a nice, healthful ride early in the morning, before the sun became too hot.
She began to laugh after we had cantered out of sight.
“Poor Ben! Did you see the calf eyes he made at me? He’d do anything I asked him to!”
I suddenly thought of Luke Cord, the young man who, they said, had almost raped Flo. Had he too been as enamored of her as Ben obviously was? And did she know that he had been seen in these parts? I was suddenly very curious about Flo Jeffords. She was a woman th
at most men would find attractive, and she was sure of her charms and power over men. What had she been like when she was only fifteen, and the belle of the countryside?
Flo was a good rider, and after a sidewise glance to make sure I was capable of keeping up with her, she urged her little mare to the gallop. I followed, easily enough. The horse that had been provided for me was of Arab extraction, though a trifle smaller and sturdier. It was a gelding, about four years old, and inclined to be a trifle frisky until he realized I would stand for no nonsense.
After a while I caught up with Flo, and we rode side by side, following a trail of faint depressions left by wagons and buckboards.
“No use winding our horses—it’s quite a way yet,” Flo said and I nodded, leaving the conversation, if we had any, up to her.
She didn’t remain silent for too long. Pretty soon I saw her look towards me, her eyes shining. “Well? What do you think of the SD? Of the palacìo my father has built? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to live there, after all? Your little house is hardly what you’re used to, I expect!” She gave a mocking little laugh. “It’s really odd that you’ve stayed so long. We expected you to go back to Boston within a week, at the most. Pa can’t abide plain women around him, you know, and the way you looked when you first arrived here! Then, when my aunt’s letter arrived, he was furious because he thought you were up to some kind of trickery. He wasn’t even sure that you were Uncle Guy’s daughter!”
“I expect he’s convinced of that fact by now,” I responded levelly. “Do you make a habit of being deliberately rude to other women? Or it is only because you don’t like me?”
She was taken aback for a moment, and then her eyes began to sparkle maliciously. “Oh, my! So you can be rude, too, when it suits you. But in this case, you ought to thank me for being so direct. He’s a difficult man to live with. He can be very hard. And sooner or later, he would get to you.” She looked at me from under her lashes, as if gauging my reactions. “I don’t think he’s capable of really loving another woman, you know. Not since his first wife, Alma, died. But I expect you heard all about it when you were in Boston. Corinne Davidson is such a nasty little gossip!”
I didn’t let her see that her slighting reference to Corinne had angered me. Instead I said coolly, “But he married your mother, did he not? And adopted you? He must have cared for her.”
Flo’s pretty face hardened.
“He only married her to get a housekeeper, and a hostess for all his guests. And to have sons, of course. My mother had been ill, but he didn’t care! He only came to her bed when he was drunk. He spends most of his time in Alma’s room!”
“But she’s dead!” I burst out, startled in spite of myself.
“Not to him! She’ll never be dead, as far as he’s concerned. I guess they didn’t live together long enough for him to tire of her. He had a room especially furnished with all the furniture they planned to buy together, when he made his money. And he had her portrait painted from an old photograph. I used to imagine, when I was younger, that I could hear him talking to her. I could almost imagine she answered him! Don’t you see? The real reason my mother died was because she couldn’t bear to live with the ghost of a dead woman any longer! She loved him, but he made her unhappy with his indifference and his moods. I think, at the end, when she lost the baby, she was afraid to live, and to face him with the knowledge that she had failed him. And that is what you would have to live with too, if you were fool enough to marry him!”
There was a note of haunted desperation in Flo’s voice that moved me. She was a spoiled, vain creature, but she could not have been happy.
“He’s kind to you, isn’t he?” I said quietly.
“He adopted me as his daughter, which only makes me one of his possessions. Of course he gives me everything I want. Everything that his money can buy, that is!”
“Why did you come back here then, if you’re unhappy here?”
“Because I couldn’t stand to live with Derek any longer, that’s why! You wouldn’t understand. I married him to escape from that horrible school Pa put me into. It was worse than prison! And Aunt Katherine, and Mark, and that mealymouthed Corinne—all patronizing me, talking in whispers behind my back, looking at me as if I was a kind of leper! Derek had money, he said he loved me, he’d give me anything I wanted. But it wasn’t enough! He’s an old, flabby man with foul breath. Ugh! I thought I’d be sick every time I had to lie next to him in bed, every time he put his clammy hands on me! But you wouldn’t know how that is, would you? I don’t think there’s any passion or feeling in you. You’re always so calm, so controlled. ‘A puritanical spinster’ Pa called you after the first time we met. What would you know of anything but your safe, quiet little world?”
“It might benefit you to exercise some self-control occasionally,” I said sharply, for her eyes had filled with tears of rage and frustration. “And to try to understand that other people, too, might have their share of unhappiness and bitter memories locked inside them, even though they may not wear their emotions on their sleeve!”
Flo bit her lip, tossing her head disdainfully. “Are you trying to tell me that you have had an unhappy love affair? Is that why you decided to leave the fleshpots of London?”
I could almost laugh at her sudden change of mood.
“I’ve never had a love affair, fortunately for me, I’m sure. Have you? Is that why you ran away from your husband?”
