Eleven
Mark had promised me he would say nothing to his uncle, or to Flo either, but his face had become very serious when he warned me to have Jules fix a bolt on the trapdoor. I thought Jules looked at me strangely when I gave the order, but he asked no questions, and I was relieved.
After Mark left, though, I was still restless. I was tired, but I could not indulge in a siesta today. I was more confused and upset than I had ever been in my life before. At least a half dozen times I went to the locked drawer that held my father’s journals and just as many times I turned away. I could not read them now. Was my father really a weak man, deluded by his obsessive love for Elena Kordes? Was it that obsession that had driven my mother to seek love elsewhere? And above all, had Lucas Cord murdered Elmer Bragg? I could not think of Mr. Bragg dead! In spite of his age, with his twinkling eyes and dry sense of humor; he had seemed so alive, so sure of himself and his ability to seek out the truth. What kind of truth had he found? He had tried to be fair when he’d told me of the past and yet, hadn’t he been uncertain about Lucas? Hadn’t he cut himself off in mid-sentence when I had begun questioning him too closely?
“Don’t press me too hard, Lady Rowena. I’m the kind of man who likes to produce facts, not assumptions or hearsay. Ain’t been able to keep too many tabs on Luke Cord. Ain’t had reason to. Been retired, see? An’ he’s been movin’ around a lot. Has he been keeping on the right side of the law? I can’t be certain. There have been rumors, but rumors ain’t facts. However, now that you’ve hired my services, young lady, I’m going to search you out some facts.”
Had he? Or had death found him instead?
Facts, as Mr. Bragg would have said, were facts. I could not escape from them. Why, then, couldn’t I escape from the memory of Lucas Cord’s words?
“You’re like the prosecutor at my trial,” he had said. “Already found me guilty and hung before I got tried.”
But I had been trained to have a logical mind. Evidence and logic had to set me squarely against Lucas Cord.
The only question was, what would Mark Shannon and I do about it? We hadn’t reached any conclusions. “I doubt if he’ll dare
to show his face in Silver City,” Mark had said comfortingly. “Not with half the bigwigs in the territory there, including my uncle. I think he threw that hint out to disturb you. No, I’ll watch Flo, and you watch yourself. And I’ll ask Uncle Todd if you can have one of Frisky’s pups. They’re German shepherds—not a usual breed out here, but they’re fierce—good watchdogs.”
Todd Shannon, riding in a buckboard, brought the dog over to me the next afternoon. I had been sitting in the patio until Malta’s urgent words alerted me to his arrival. “Señorita! It is the patron himself! And he does not look in a very good humor!”
I met him outside, my manner deliberately light. “My goodness, what a surprise! Or should I say an honor! I didn’t think you’d be speaking to me.”
“You don’t deserve to be spoken to, an’ well you know it, miss! But Mark told me you had your heart set on havin’ a pet, and I happened to be passin’ this way.”
As usual, our eyes met and clashed. But I could not help feeling differently towards him today. Did I dare pity him?
I put on a demure look. “You’re very kind. Would you care to step down for a moment?”
I saw him lift a shaggy eyebrow. “You sure you ain’t sufferin’ from a touch of the sun? Or is it some kind of game you’re playin’?” I knew he was not as indifferent as he seemed because his Irish brogue became more pronounced.
“Please,” I said, and his eyebrow shot higher.
“Well! You sure seem all soft an’ kittenish today! But I’ve no doubt you’ve got your claws hidden away to use when you’re good an’ ready!” As usual, he seemed to know exactly the right way to make me angry.
“Suit yourself, then!” I said sharply, and saw him grin.
“That sounds more like you. Yeah—I’d be glad to get down and set a spell.”
I had been prepared to like him, but his manners were as brash as ever, setting my nerves on edge.
“Well!” I saw him glance around the living room. “You ain’t changed much, have you? Expected you to have everything moved around and new furniture and all.”
“Why should you have expected any such thing?”
He decided to change the subject abruptly. “Why did you run away? Didn’t expect you to act the coward. Run like a scared rabbit, didn’t you? Without the guts to face me.”
“You mistake your effect on me!” I was stung into retorting. “I didn’t run, as I attempted to explain in the note I sent you. I merely wanted to come home. I dislike being given orders!”
“You sure that was all? I’d asked you to marry me, remember? Maybe you didn’t think I was serious. Or did you want me to come chasin’ you to prove I meant it?”
“As usual, Mr. Shannon, you think far too much of your influence upon me!”
“Thought you just might be woman enough to admit the way things are between us.”
“Oh!” He had made me so tense and angry that I walked around the room. “Why can’t you accept me the way I am? I can’t be bullied, or ordered about or taken for granted! I’m not ready to be married off yet!”
“Well, then,” his look was wicked, “maybe you ought to start thinking of some other alternative. Look, girl, you get all bristly when I try to assert myself. But what about you? Ain’t you tryin’ to make a puppet of me too? You talk about bein’ fair. I think you ought to start bein’ honest with both of us. I won’t give in, an’ you won’t give in. But you know damn well how things stand with us. How long you going to keep hidin’ from the truth?”