“It was the shock to my system. I’m not used to being pregnant! But now I’ve had time to think and adjust myself, and I’m back to being the woman you fell in love with. Or was that a pretense on your part?”
“Don’t say that, Rowena! You know how I’ve always admired your strength of character.”
“Then you’ll take me as I am?”
He was looking at my body, his hands reaching out to touch me. “On any terms, my darling. Just as long as you’re all mine in our bedroom. Just as long as you remember you’re my wife, mine!”
There would be time later for self-hate. For disgust and revulsion at what I had submitted to. I think that only another woman would understand what I am speaking of. From the moment that Mark put his hands on me, drawing me before the mirror, I closed my mind to what was happening to me, seeing my body as someone else’s, willing myself not to feel, not to think. I almost wished I had had an excess of champagne again, to dull my senses. The French have a word for a man like my husband. Voyeur.
I heard him whisper, “When we build our own home, there will be mirrors everywhere in our bedroom to reflect the perfection of your body. Silk sheets on the bed. And rose-shaded lamps. You will learn—I will teach you to surrender yourself to the pure pleasure of sensuality…”
I learned instead to dissemble. Mark’s caresses did not arouse me, but I learned to accept them passively. Apparently satisfied with my complaisance, he grew more expansive regarding his plans—ours he called them—for the future.
I listened, frowning slightly. “But, Mark, why is the SD so important to you? I thought you missed your law practice in Boston, and civilization. You once talked of traveling in Europe.”
“We can go to Europe later. And as for Boston—what could I ever hope to be but a lawyer, just another one of many? To be appointed a judge, perhaps, when I am old, just as my father was? Rowena, this is where the future of this country lies, this is the time to start building. Nowhere else in the world is there so much opportunity—acres and acres of land to be had for almost nothing. The SD is only the beginning, our foothold here. The nucleus around which we can build an empire as vast as that of Charlemagne. Do you think that certain other far-sighted men have not already recognized this? The old world is growing cramped. Why do you think that men like the Marquis of Mora, John Tunstall, yes, even your own father, have torn up their roots to plant new ones here? We will be the new aristocracy: It’s time for men like my uncle who only know the use of fists and guns and think to keep what they have seized by brute force alone, to move aside.”
“And how will you contrive to make them do so except
by the use of guns and violence?” I retorted sharply. “You’ve often talked of respect for the law, Mark. How can you justify your own disregard for it?”
“My dearest, I do not disregard the law. I know the law. Believe me, everything we do will be perfectly legal! There will be no violence unless it is forced upon us—and in the end, we’ll bring law and order into the territory, preparing it for statehood.”
“And you, I suppose, will be our first senator.”
“With you beside me as my wife.” My sarcasm had no effect on Mark. He squeezed my hand lightly. “Trust me, Rowena.”
Suddenly, I was remembering something that Jesus Montoya had once said. Something about ambition and money and power. And being able to corrupt the incorruptible with enough money… Money! Mark intended to buy his dreams with money. The thought that frightened me was that he might succeed.
I had become too clever to let him see how completely I opposed him. I sat with the others every evening and listened, with growing amazement and disbelief, to their carefully laid plans. John and Monique Kingman were very much involved too; Monique even more enthusiastic than her husband. I began to think of a well-thought-out military campaign.
Get rid of the “robber barons” first. Men like Shannon, who would hold back progress. Organize vigilance committees to keep the lawless elements out of the territory.
I raised an eyebrow at that, and Monique shook her head at me playfully. “I know what you are thinking! But we will all be respectable, law-abiding citizens by then.”
“And until then?”
They expected me to ask questions. Mark was pleased that I had begun to take interest in his schemes. “A legal revolution,” he called it.
And for all their talk of getting rid of the lawless element, it was this same element they planned to use in order to achieve their ends.
“But only the elite—the very best,” Monique said, her eyes shining. “Professional gunmen who have been clever enough to stay on the right side of the law.”
“An army of mercenaries?”
“Under disciplined leadership, of course,” Mark put in. “And there are a few men we know of who already have their own, well-organized bands of men who will follow them and take orders—for a certain share of the profits, of course. We’re not concerned with the fools, the criminals who kill for the sake of killing, or in the heat of rage. We want men who are self-disciplined, and who look ahead into the future.”
Even John Kingman leaned forward in his chair to look at me, a slightly bitter note underlying his soft Texas drawl. “Every man dreams of being able to settle down some day. To have something of his own, to stop running. The constant taking of risks begins to pall, after a while.”
Monique broke in: “Surely you can see it, Rowena? We will be offering those who throw in their lot with us the chance to begin a new life. To become respectable, yet with enough money to lead a good life.”
“Rowena, you shall be our devil’s advocate,” Mark said teasingly. “What objections can you see now?”
“I seem to recall a Chinese proverb about riding a tiger,” I said slowly.
“Give such men weapons and the license to kill—how do you know that when it’s over they will stop, or that you will be able to continue to control them?”
It was Monique who shrugged airily.