AllFreeNovel
Share Us
and forgotten as easily as that. Had I ever thought it could be? We heard news of Flo. She had been seen in San Antonio with Lucas Cord. Someone thought he recognized the two of them in Amarillo. Perhaps Lucas realized her presence only brought the bounty hunters snapping too closely at his heels, for he apparently abandoned her in one of the wild Kansas cow towns.
It was Mark who told me the story, hoping to forearm me before I heard it from Todd, who was almost beside himself with rage.
“It’s an ugly business, Rowena! God knows why he encouraged her to run to him, unless he wanted to make a public spectacle of Todd Shannon’s stepdaughter.”
“You think it was only for revenge? All of this?”
“What else could it be? He used her and then discarded her as publicly as he could. I’m sorry, Rowena. It seems as if I am always the one to give you unpleasant news. He put her up for auction in a cheap saloon and lost her in a poker game to a professional gambler.”
I could hardly believe such callousness, but the report had come from a detective of the Pinkerton Agency. And having got rid of Flo, who must have become an encumbrance, Lucas Cord vanished again.
“Couldn’t the detective have done something?”
“He heard the whole story from a man who was present.” Mark shook his head glumly. “By the time he started making a closer investigation, no one could tell him where she’d gone. They said she left town with the gambler.”
Fifteen
During the weeks that followed the news of Flo’s sordid escapade Todd became like a man obsessed. Mark confided that he felt he had to walk around his uncle on tiptoe; I avoided visiting the palacio as much as possible.
I saw more of Mark than I did of Todd, and when I did see Todd he seemed preoccupied. In his present mood it was easy to avoid setting a date for our wedding. “After the matter has been settled… after the trail drive…”
“I’m gonna bring you back the finest wedding dress you ever did see,” Todd said in one of his better moods. “An’ diamonds for your ring and your hair.”
“Oh, no,” I protested involuntarily, “not diamonds!” Seeing his chagrined look, I added quickly, “I never have liked diamonds very much. But I do like sapphires, or emeralds.”
“You’ll have whatever you want, little girl. Just so you’ll keep right on puttin’ up with me.”
I was swept into his arms, and talking stopped. It was always that way. And yet there were times, when I was alone, that I couldn’t quite believe that I was actually to be married. “I won’t be any man’s slave!” I used to say bravely to myself. Was it possible that I had given in so meekly?
I saw less and less of Todd once the spring roundup had begun, although I did, on occasion, ride out before the sun came up to see what went on. It seemed hard, back-breaking work, this task of hunting out the cattle, branding calves, and sorting out what the men called “the gather.” It seemed that preparations for the long trail drive to the nearest railhead could take months, depending on how far the cattle had strayed.
As a member of the newly formed Cattlemen’s Association, Todd would not be making the drive alone. Because of constant problems with Indians and renegade rustlers, the cattlemen in the area would be making an enormous combined drive this year.
“Meant to have Mark go along with us,” Todd said gruffly. “But I guess he’d be more useful stayin’ here keepin’ an eye on things.”
I knew he was thinking of that time, long ago, when he had ridden out with my father to find silver, and had come back to find he had lost everything he had worked for and loved. But I could not help feeling sorry for Mark, who was, after all, a lawyer, not a rancher.
When I mentioned this to Todd, he merely snorted. “Mark knows where his bread’s buttered! He’s my heir and it’s high time he learned the cattle business.” And then he gave me an exaggerated wink. “That is, unless you change things, sweetheart. Give me a son, and Mark can go back to Boston and his law books.”
“Todd Shannon, I am not a brood mare!”
“You’re too pretty for that. An’ you better stop botherin’ about Mark or I’m liable to get jealous!”
“It’s a trifle late for that, isn’t it?” I responded pertly, but as usual he laughed, with the assurance of a man who had no doubts of his hold over me. Yes, Todd was sure of me now, but was I sure of myself? Of my own feelings? I had come here to find myself and to accept a challenge, but found no peace, only violence and confusion. Several times I reminded myself that I was a rich woman. Giving up the SD would mean nothing. I would still be rich enough to travel where I pleased, do as I pleased. But how could I leave now? There was Todd, whose strong, physical attraction for me I could not deny. It was an attraction of the senses alone, but did that matter? Was this what people called “love”?
And then there was the thought of my father, who had made everything possible, who had loved and trusted me without even knowing me. He had been a man who saw good in everybody and everyone had respected him, or so it seemed. What had he wanted of me? Why had he made the stipulation that I lived in New Mexico for a year at least?
I tried not to think about the mysterious hints that Ramon Kordes had thrown out. Most of all, I tried not to think about his brother. But then the news came from New Orleans, bringing all the unpleasantness back to the surface again.
Flo was dead. Killed by a flying bullet in some barroom brawl. Poor Flo. So bored, so anxious to live!
“He killed her! Just as surely as if he’d put the bullet in her personally. Everything, everyone that belongs to me they’ve destroyed. But I swear to God that this time I’m goin’ to wipe out that whole brood of rattlers!”
I had learned that it was useless trying to talk reason to Todd when he was in such a mood, so I went back home; to be haunted, in my dreams that night, by visions of Flo as I remembered her. Poor, silly Flo.
I went back to reading my father’s journals, obediently starting with those that told of his early life. It was difficult at first to imagine him as a young man, filled with rebellion, ambition, hopes and dreams. How had he turned into a lonely old man who sought oblivion in a bottle of brandy? When had he stopped hoping? Too late… too late… that was what everyone said, looking at me. I had arrived too late, but was it my fault? What was expected of me?
Nothing, Mark said. My father would have been the last man to demand any sacrifices of me. “All he wanted was your happiness, and if you have found it Rowena, hang onto it. Stop torturing yourself with supposition! that you are failing him in some way.”
