The Wildest Heart

“Ah yes, those rumors,” I murmured in the same coldly expressionless voice I had used before, and I thought Mark winced. “Rowena—”

“Tell me!” I said, strongly, and watched without pity as Mark stammered and stuttered over words.

“They started when a certain man—a comanchero, I believe—was arrested by the Rurales in Mexico. Trying to dispose of stolen silver, as I understand it. And the only reason they—there was a white woman with him, you see. Her name was Jewel Parrish, and she was quick to tell the Rurales that she was a captive, taken at the same time you had been captured. I went to Texas with my uncle, to the ranger headquarters in Austin, to hear her tell her story again.” Mark paused, and I had to prompt him.

“And?”

“Oh, God, why did I start to tell you all this? Understand me, she made no accusations. She was full of admiration for your fortitude and your courage. She told us what happened at the Apache camp, and she even seemed glad for you that—the man who bought you was someone you knew, and seemed glad to go away with…”

Thirty-Three

The rest of the “rumors” that I forced Mark to tell me were what

I might have expected. Hadn’t Montoya warned me? I felt myself growing numb and chilled, in spite of the intense heat, although my mind continued to function and to control the expression of the mixture of emotions that threatened to choke me.

I am sure that Mark attempted to spare me the worst. He still cared for me, in spite of everything, and he told me over and over that he believed in me, and that his uncle would too, once he had spoken with me.

“Who knows how this kind of talk gets started? A sly hint over a campfire. A stranger riding into town, frequenting the same bar as some of the SD cowboys. It was common knowledge that you had been taken captive by the Apaches, you were believed dead, at first. And then, when we suspected what might have happened and my uncle offered a reward for your safe return—don’t you see how it all could have started? And of course it would be just the kind of thing that a swine like Luke Cord, who hates my uncle, would be capable of. Even if it meant vilifying you. To say that you were his mistress, to boast of the fact that he’d force my uncle to pay in order to get you back…”

“A trifle used, but in good enough condition for him?” I quoted the words with such bitterness that Mark looked startled.

“Rowena! How can you think such a thing? I never meant…”

“But I did, Mark. Why attempt to gloss over unpleasant facts? You say that I haven’t changed—suppose I have? Suppose those rumors were true after all, would that make me a fallen woman in your uncle’s eyes? Perhaps he would have preferred to hear that I had killed myself from shame and humiliation. That would have resolved the problem of what to do with poor Rowena, as well as saving you all a great deal of trouble, I’m sure!”

I laughed angrily at Mark’s horrified expression.

“Poor Mark!” I said mockingly. “Now I’ve shocked even you.”

His fingers closed about my wrist as he brought his horse closer to mine.

“Good God!” he said, in a low, almost harsh voice. “Do you really think so little of me as to imagine this would make a difference to my feelings for you? You were a prisoner—a helpless captive, and that brute, that animal took advantage of it… oh, my poor, dearest girl, what you must have been through!”

I hadn’t expected such tender understanding, not even from Mark, and I was speechless. What a hypocrite you are, I thought bitterly. Why don’t you tell him the truth? Tell him, and watch his face change. Tell Todd; you owe it to him too. Shout it from the rooftops! But whether it was pride, or whether it was cowardice, I kept silent.

Mark was almost overly solicitous of me during the rest of our journey. When I appeared wrapped in my own thoughts he left me alone, although I saw him glance worriedly at me from time to time. I had become so used to riding for long periods of time that I hardly felt the time go by and felt no sense of tiredness until late in the evening, when we arrived in Deming, having crossed the border some hours before.

Mark had already explained, apologetically, that we would spend the night here and start out early the next morning, and here we were met by more SD men, most of them gun-hung Texans.

What had Flo called them once? “Pa’s own, unofficial army!” How well I remembered her sneering voice. I grimaced, and said to Mark, “I suppose I should be honored. Such a large escort!”

He gave me a quick look before he said noncommittally, “My uncle felt it was necessary. He didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Of having me carried off again after he paid such a large sum for my return? I wonder if he will think me worth the expense in the end.”

“Rowena, don’t! You’re so cynical.”

I could have told Mark that the cynicism he had accused me of was merely an armor against further disillusionment, but what would be the point? I merely shrugged instead and remarked that I was tired and wished to retire early. I had barely time to feel thankful that tonight I wouldn’t lie awake staring at the ceiling before I fell asleep.

We left Deming in the gray light of dawn, and arrived at Fort Cummings just before noon. I remembered having met the major who was in command before. He was an acquaintance of Todd’s, and all gallantry, although I could sense the curiosity he hid behind his smile and polite manners. I told myself that I must get used to this. By now there was not a person in the territory who did not know what had happened, or had not heard those rumors Mark had told me of. Mark and I dined in privacy with the major and his wife, and he offered us a small escort for the rest of our journey.

“Surely that’s not necessary?” I said, before Mark could speak.

The major’s wife, much younger than he, and less discreet, gave me a wide-eyed look. “Oh, but it is! I mean—it would be so much safer. You cannot imagine all the trouble we’ve had recently. Not only from the Indians, but from outlaws and renegades as well. I’ve not left the safety of the fort for weeks now, and Burton says…”

The major cleared his throat warningly.

“Ah—hrrm—yes. And I’m sure Mr. Shannon realizes this.” He gave me one of his charming smiles. “But I can assure you, Lady Rowena, that we are not taking any unusual precautions. Some of my men will be going out on their regular patrol and it would be no trouble at all if they were to ride along with your party for some miles.”