“Goodnight, Lauren,” Jared said nonchalantly as he studied a fingernail.
Gloria shot her brother-in-law a murderous look before she went with Lauren down the hall.
* * *
Lauren had been tossing on the wide bed for several hours. She had heard Rudy going into the room across the hall and Gloria’s welcoming murmur as he closed the door behind him. That had been a long while ago, and the house was silent. The moon was bright, illuminating the bedroom in an ethereal glow.
She started when she heard footsteps stealthily approaching the door to the room. She turned to the far side of the bed and feigned sleep as the door opened.
Her whole body tensed as Jared walked into the room. He picked up one of the bags left standing in the middle of the floor, for she heard the buckle on it jangle. There was a long pause, and then the bag was lowered again to the floor.
He moved on Indian-trained feet to the side of the bed. She could smell the faint aroma of tobacco and the musky scent of leather as he leaned over her. He stood there for torturous minutes, immobile and silent. Lauren was aware of each breath as he inhaled and exhaled rhythmically. She felt a butterfly touch made by strong, lean fingers against her cheekbone. Her throat constricted and her heart pounded as if it would burst. Finally he turned and went back to the bags, picked them up, and then carried them from the room, closing the door softly.
The scents remained to tease her senses.
* * *
“Gone?”
“Yes, Lauren. He left before dawn this morning.” Gloria looked piteously at her new sister-in-law. Her heart went out to the girl whose husband treated her so abominably. When Rudy had joined her in their room the night before, they had speculated on the strange relationship between Jared and his bride. It appeared to be a marriage of convenience, but Rudy couldn’t guess the reasons behind it. He only knew that they must be damned essential to Jared’s well-being to have forced him into any marriage.
“Wh-where did he go?” Lauren’s heart had plummeted when Gloria told her that Jared had ridden out with enough supplies in his saddlebags to last him several days.
“He went to check out some problems on the far western side of the ranch. There have been reports of marauding bobcats killing our cattle. Don’t worry about him, Lauren. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.” She didn’t tell her that any one of the vaqueros who worked at Keypoint could have handled this job.
“Yes, I’m sure he will,” Lauren mumbled. A few days ago, she had dreaded the sight of Jared. Now the prospect of not seeing him every few hours seemed dismal. What was the matter with her? She felt rejected, abandoned. This was supposed to be her honeymoon!
The liniment hadn’t worked out all the soreness in her legs and hips, but when Rudy asked her if she would like to ride with him that afternoon, she agreed. The ranch life was exhilarating. She wanted to absorb every aspect of it, savor its energy, its vigor. This was Ben’s land. Keypoint was his conception. And like him, it was vital and alive. At Keypoint Lauren felt even closer to the man who had brought her here wanting her to become a part of it.
As Jared’s absence lengthened, it became her habit to ride with Rudy or some of the vaqueros in the afternoons. In the mornings, she played with the Mendez children, who were teaching her Spanish. They would burst into peals of laughter when she got a word wrong or had trouble pronouncing it. Sometimes she read to them before bedtime. Lauren also loved being with Gloria, and the two women soon shared a deep friendship. Lauren had had so few women friends in her life that she treasured this new relationship.
She relished her visits with Maria Mendez, too. The older woman spent a great deal of time secluded in her room, as had been her inclination ever since Ben’s death. Even when she was with the rest of them, she seemed withdrawn, dreamlike, separated from reality. Lauren thought she looked at peace during these times, and rather imagined that she was communicating with Ben on a plane where no one else could intrude.
The first week passed quickly. Lauren’s heart raced each time she heard pounding hooves, but she continued to be disappointed. She kept searching the horizon for signs of the large palomino and his mount in the wide-brimmed black hat, but to no avail.
She acclimated to the ranch life so enthusiastically that Gloria and Rudy were amazed. The vaqueros would tip their hats to her with a humble, “Good morning, Mrs. Lockett,” to which she replied, calling them by name. They all respected and liked her.
One day she was timidly approached by a Mexican cowboy with dark, dancing eyes. “Señora Lockett, I am Carlos Rivas, Elena’s husband.” He smiled shyly and twisted his sombrero in his hands.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Carlos!” Lauren cried. “How is Elena?”
“She thinks the baby come soon.”
“Please let me know when it does. Tell her hello for me.”
“Sí, señora.”
She had also seen the enigmatic Comanche, Thorn. He had never spoken to her, but he tipped his hat whenever they met. His expression never changed, but Lauren felt that his eyes missed nothing. S
he hoped his assessment of her was favorable. His dark, austere face and long braids intimidated her, though she felt instinctively that he was a friend.
Ten days after his departure, Jared came home. He rode in one evening just before dinnertime, looking tired and dirty as he clumped through the large front door. From his boots to his hat, he was covered with a fine layer of trail dust.
“Well, look what just dragged in.” Rudy stood with his hands on his hips eyeing Jared as if he were something distasteful.
“Am I in time for dinner? I’ve ridden like hell for the past few hours. I’m sick of camp food,” he said sheepishly.
“We’ll wait for you, Jared. Just go wash up first and turn Charger over to someone in the stable.” Gloria spoke to him coolly, and he looked in turn at the faces staring at him reproachfully. Lauren didn’t look at him at all. Her dark head was bowed as she stared down into her plate. He felt like the outsider.