The Wildest Heart

I moved my things into the big house, although my father’s house would always remain my own special home to which I could escape whenever I pleased. Jules and Marta would manage very well, as they had done before I came. I had to explain to them, though, how practical this new arrangement was. I must learn as much as I could about running a big ranch, and the palacio was the hub of all the routine and activity. If I displayed any weakness, it was in not telling Marta the whole truth about the events in Silver City. Sooner or later she would learn that her “señor Lucas” was a hunted outlaw again, the price on his head endorsed by the Territorial Governor himself.

Todd knew, of course. We could hardly have hidden it from him. Mark never told him that I had known Lucas Cord would be in Silver City. The story we told was that Flo had caught a glimpse of him and recognized him, but too late to result in his capture.

And as for Flo herself, although she had returned with us, traveling in unusual silence, she took pains to avoid me, just as I did to avoid remaining too long in the same room with her.

I moved into the largest of the guest bedrooms and spent the first few weeks in learning all I could. I visited every line-shack, inspected every boundary fence. And in the evenings I studied the books that Todd had so painstakingly kept.

The pattern of my days assumed some kind of routine. I rose early, had breakfast with Mark, and then rode out. Either Mark or the taciturn Chuck Daly went with me. I felt that the men were beginning to accept me, especially when they found that I never complained of tiredness or the heat and was genuinely interested in the tasks each one of them performed. Even the hard-bitten Texans had stopped giving me slow, insolent glances when they encountered me.

How quickly one routine can replace another! The only breaks from the sameness of my days occurred when I went back “home” to read occasional entries in my father’s journals. But I went seldom—perhaps once or twice a week; and then only to stay for a short time. On those visits I sensed a kind of withdrawal in the way that Marta and Jules greeted me, and one day decided to question her about it.

“Something is the matter, and you might as well stop shaking your head at me in that stubborn fashion. Won’t you tell me what’s troubling you? I’m still the same person, you know, even though I’m living at the palacio.”

She began to talk to me in her quick, colloquial Spanish, as she used to do.

“The patrona has changed! The patrona does not feel compassion, as she did before. Si, I will say this, even though the patrona has the power to cast me out.”

“I wish you would stop calling me ‘the patrona’!” I protested. “Really, Marta, I’m only doing what my father wished me to do. I’m learning to be a rancher. I ask you, would he have approved of my lying in the sun and doing nothing?”

Her face took on a rather stubborn look. “Your padre would have understood. He wanted only that you should be happy.”

“And do I look as if I am unhappy? I tell you, Marta, I’m happier this way, when I’m doing something, learning something. I could not shut myself away from life forever. Surely you understand that?”

“I understand that the patrona is young. And soon the patrona will be married. What will happen then?”

I frowned. “What do you mean by that? My marriage will not change things. I have a feeling my father would have approved.”

“It is not for me to say. The patrona must do as she wishes, of course.”

Gentle reasoning was useless against the wall of Marta’s peasant stubbornness. I gave up, in the end, and went back to my large, impersonal bedroom in the palacio.

The bolt still held the trapdoor closed fast in my old room. I would have no unexpected, unwelcome callers here. But why had he come? What had he tried to tell me? Lucas Cord was Flo’s lover. Ramon Kordes had looked deeply into my eyes and hinted of some mystery. What kind of men were these seemingly opposite brothers? Ramon had been quiet and soft-spoken. Lucas was brash and rough. A murderer, blinded by his need for revenge. But why had he tried to kill Elmer Bragg?

I asked myself questions that had no answers, and was stern with myself when I was alone. Soon Todd would be well enough to come back, and then I would find the responsibilities I had assumed taken out of my hands. Did I want it that way?

Flo surprised me as I came out of my bedroom one day. Her manner was sullen, as it had been ever since we had left Silver City, missing the grand ball she had looked forward to.

“I guess Pa’ll be well enough to come home soon, and you two won’t want me around!”

I had had a tiring day, and I said wearily, “Oh, really Flo, are we back to that again?”

“You even sound like a stepmother already! My God! And don’t give me that look. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll swear if I want to!”

“Please feel free to do so then,” I said politely, turning aside to pass her, but she stood in my way, her eyes glittering.

“I haven’t said what I have to say yet.”

“Very well. And that is?”

“I’m going back. To New York. To Derek. Even he looks better after these weeks of living like a prisoner! I tell you, I’m bored, and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of Mark’s sanctimonious sermons, and I’m sick of looking at your face. You’re even getting to talk like Pa, you know that? And I don’t want to hear him shouting and lecturing at me either. So there you are!”

I returned her defiant look. “So I see! Have you spoken to Mark about your plans yet?”

“Why should I? You’re the patrona, aren’t you? You’re the real boss around here ever since Pa said so, and even Mark realizes that. So why should I tell him anything? You can’t stop me, anyhow. I’m over twenty-one; I’m a married woman, and Pa would be the first to say my place is back with my husband!”

I nodded coolly. “You’re right, of course. Well, let me know when you’re ready to leave, won’t you. I’ll arrange for some of the men to go with you as far as Santa Rita.”

“I was planning to go on from El Paso. I have friends there—the Bartletts—Mark knows them, in case you don’t want to believe me! I hate New Mexico. At least Texas is a state and the stages run regularly.”