Midnight Rider
She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Her face went deathly white as she stared at him with eyes like saucers. “Would you, then?” she returned. “And who’d keep your books and balance your accounts, pay your bills and keep you to a budget so the ranch is financially sound?”
His fists clenched by his side. “I fought off Indians and Northerners and people who hated me because I was Irish when I worked on the railroads! And yet even all that was less trouble than you give me every day of me life! You took Eloise from me! Does bookkeeping make up for that?”
She sat down and stared at him, praying that her lungs wouldn’t go into spasm yet again. You could never show weakness in front of the enemy!
Colston let out the breath that was choking him. Only then did he seem to realize what he’d said to her. He moved to the window and looked out, his back ramrod stiff. “That was a bit harsh,” he bit off. “I wouldn’t really throw you out. You’re me only daughter, in spite of everything. But don’t go against me, girl,” he cautioned. “I mean to have respectability, and there’s nothing I won’t do to get it. You’ll marry!”
“A man I don’t even know.” She was fighting tears of rage and impotence. “A stranger who’ll take me to some cold foreign country to die.”
He whirled. “Sure and you won’t die, you little fool!” he exclaimed. “You’ll have maids and other servants to look after you. Someone to cook and clean for you. You’ll be treated like a queen!”
“I’ll be an interloper,” she returned. “Unwanted and hated because I’ve been married for your money!”
He threw up his hands. “I offer you the world, and you want to put labels on everything!”
She was dying inside. He was going to sell her, and she’d never see Eduardo again. Never, never...
“There is an alternative,” he said after a minute.
She looked up.
He studied his boots, caked with mud. “You might consider marrying Eduardo.”
Her heart went right up into her throat. She put a hand to it, to keep it from jumping out onto the floor. “Wh-what?”
“Eduardo!” He stared at her, planted with feet wide and both hands behind his back. “He’s a widower, and what polite society would call a half-breed, but he does have a title. His family is connected to European royalty.”
She laughed, almost choking in the process. “Eduardo wouldn’t want me,” she said bitterly. “He hates me.”
“He might be willing to marry you,” he continued, careful not to mention the conversation he’d had with the man. “Especially if you tried to improve yourself a little, if you dressed up and smiled at him once in a while. He’ll have competition at the ball. Two other men, both titled. It might make him sit up.” He looked away, so that she couldn’t see the unholy glee in his eyes. He’d frightened her enough that Eduardo now looked like salvation itself. He congratulated himself silently on his shrewdness. So much for her stubborn refusal to consider a match of his choosing. She could be won over, with the right words and strategies.
“He’s said that he doesn’t want to remarry,” she continued.
“He’s also said that he doesn’t want to lose his inheritance,” he reminded her. “If his past wasn’t so unpleasant, his old grandmother could help him make another match in Spain, as she did with his late wife. But his wife died under mysterious circumstances and his mother has become embroiled in some new scandal back East. She isn’t Spanish at all—his mother is a Texas heiress who comes from German and good Irish stock.”
“I know that. She lives in New York with her second husband. Eduardo hates her.”
He didn’t know how she knew that, but he didn’t push his luck. He folded his arms over his chest. “It’s because of what his mother’s done that his grandmother is determined to leave her wealth to his second cousin. Not only is he completely Spanish, but he has no scandal about him.”
“Eduardo told you that?”
He nodded. “Some time ago, of course,” he added evasively. “They say the old lady’s coming here to stay with him for the summer.”
“He’ll be glad, I imagine. He loves his grandmother.”
“Pity it isn’t mutual.” His small eyes riveted themselves to her face. “Well, what do you think of marrying Eduardo?”
She swallowed. “I would...be willing, I suppose,” she said with just the right touch of reluctance, “if it would save me from having to live in some foreign place.”
He felt like dancing a jig, but he didn’t dare let his stubborn daughter know how much her acceptance pleased him. Sometimes he even liked her for her spirit—so long as he didn’t remember what she’d cost him with her birth. Honest to God, she was almost a mirror image of him in temper. “Then suppose you go into town as I suggested and find a nice gown to wear to the ball?”
She drew in a long breath. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Go to Meriwether’s, where I have an account. Buy whatever you need.”
She stood up. “Eduardo’s title is only good in Europe,” she began.
He held up a hand. “It’s good anywhere,” he said stiffly. “Even in Texas. He’s only half Spanish, but most people will overlook that because of his European relations.” He gave her a long, unpleasant look. “Considering your lack of beauty and the state of your health, I really think it would be overly optimistic to think that a European would want you. We’ll be lucky indeed if Eduardo is willing to take you on.”
“I’m not so much a burden as you like to think, Father. I do earn my keep. I’m quite good with figures and budgets. Eduardo might even find me an asset, given his present circumstances.”
He shrugged. “You’re useful enough when you’re well. But you’re quite often sick, Bernadette.” He turned away heavily. “It’s the memories you bring back,” he said in a rare moment’s honesty. “I see her face as she died, hear her scream, feel my heart break and break inside my body.” He put a hand absently to his chest. “I loved her so!”
Bernadette actually felt the words. But before she could speak, he turned and went out the door, his footsteps loud and angry, as they always were when he had to confront something unpleasant or irritating.
She stared after him in misery. If he’d turned to her instead of away from her, how different her life might have been. He blamed her for his wife’s death, would always blame her. She could never hope for a close relationship with him, because he didn’t want one. All he wanted from his daughter was an advantageous marriage and her complete absence from his life. He didn’t say that, but he meant it.
She felt very old as she went to get her hat and gloves. She had few choices left now, but she was going to get out of her father’s life. She couldn’t bring herself to marry a European. She would love to marry Eduardo. But that, despite her father’s curious interest in the subject, was unlikely. Eduardo’s aversion to a second marriage was well-known to everyone. Her father would never persuade him to go through with such a venture, and certainly she wasn’t going to be able to seduce their neighbor into marriage with her pitiful assets.
Still, letting her father think it could happen might keep him from pressuring her about his other candidates.
For an instant, she let herself dream about how it would be to marry Eduardo and openly show her love for him, to be loved by him in return. She felt a powerful physical attraction to him that was profoundly augmented by the deep love she felt for him. He had no such interest in her, although he seemed to find her physically attractive.
She wondered if she could really heighten that interest. She knew very little of men, but she was a great reader of forbidden books, and she did know how to dress and behave in public. Some of the girls at her exclusive finishing school in New York had talked quite candidly about their relationships with men. But Bernadette, while spirited, was a novice. Eduardo could do anything to her, and she dared not lure him into a position where she might fall from grace.
But the mere thought that he might be willing to marry her was so intriguing a proposition that her heart was skipping beats. It was the first time she’d been able to see marriage as a real possibility in her life. Despite her father’s manipulations, she might permit herself to be convinced. If Eduardo was interested in marrying her at all, she might be the very person who could help him reorganize his ranch and make it show a profit. Her father didn’t like being reminded that she’d saved him from a drastic financial loss once, several years before when she first took over the enormous task of overseeing the accounts after the resignation of their bookkeeper. Her father had liked the idea of not paying an outsider, or allowing a stranger to see his assets. But whether Eduardo would want to marry her, even for her father’s money, remained to be seen. It also gave her hope that, if she had courage, her wildest dreams might come true.
CHAPTER THREE
BERNADETTE FOUND HERSELF IN the exclusive Meriwether’s Dry Goods Store with no clear idea of what she was going to buy.
The brother of the owner, Mr. Clem Meriwether, who’d been the head clerk for as long as Bernadette could remember, met her at the door with a wide smile.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Barron,” he said formally. “What can I help you with today?”
“My father sent me for a ball gown, Mr. Meriwether,” she said. “I don’t quite know—”
“But I have just the thing!” He chuckled as he led her inside. “And what a coincidence that it should arrive today. It’s from Paris, an original design which was intended for one of the Carson girls in Fort Worth, but she declined to accept it, and it was sent to us on consignment. I had no idea that anyone here would want it. We’re so distant from real society...” He turned and his ears seemed to go red. “Begging your pardon, miss, I never meant that your father wasn’t social or anything!”
“Think nothing of it, Mr. Meriwether,” she said with a gentle smile. “I didn’t take offense.” She didn’t think it prudent to add that her father would have gone right through the roof and canceled his account if he’d heard what the nice man had said.
“We heard about this ball he’s giving next month. Is it true that the Culhanes are coming all the way from El Paso?”
“Well, the parents, anyway,” she amended. “We understand that two of the three sons are vacationing together on a cruise, leaving one behind to watch the ranch property.”
“Still, it’s something of an honor for any of the Culhanes to travel so far for a party, yes?”
“Yes, it is,” she had to concede. “They’re staying at the ranch for a week, of course, along with the other guests.”
“Any other Texans on the guest list?” he probed gently as he took an elegantly trimmed box from a shelf.
“I’m not really sure,” she replied. “Father’s kept very quiet about his guest list. I think he wants to surprise me,” she added with just the right touch of mischief.
“That’s understandable. Is it your birthday?”
She shook her head. “It’s no real occasion,” she lied, not wanting to admit that her father was holding the ball primarily to auction off his daughter to the man with the most impressive title. “Just Father’s idea of a summer diversion, although he is saying that it’s a celebration of his new railroad acquisition.”
“So much the better.” He put the box down on the counter, opened it with a flourish and drew out the most exquisite gown Bernadette had ever seen in her life. She stopped breathing at the sight of it.
He chuckled. “No need to ask if you like it. If you’ll wait a moment, Miss Barron, I’ll get my wife to come and help you try it on.”
He stepped to the back of the store and called for Maribeth, a small, cheerful woman who came right along, drying her hands on a cloth.
“I’ve been putting up bread-and-butter pickles, Miss Barron. I’ll save you two or three jars for when you come next time.”
“Why, thank you!” Bernadette said, surprised by the offer.
“It’s nothing at all. Now, let me help you with this dress. Isn’t it lovely? And Clem never thought anyone around here would need such a grand gown! It’s actually from Paris, France, you know!”
The little woman babbled on as she led Bernadette back to the makeshift fitting room and helped her into the gown. It took a while, because there seemed to be a hundred tiny buttons to fasten. But once the gown was on, Bernadette knew that she’d have sold anything she owned to get enough money to buy it.
It was white, a delicious concoction of soft material that fell to her ankles in layers of lace and georgette, festooned by pink silk flowers and tiny blue bows. The bodice was draped with the same soft georgette and tiny puffed sleeves echoed the motif. Her shoulders were left bare and the tops of her pretty breasts were just visible. It was a seductive dress without being vulgar. Bernadette looked at herself in the mirror with pure awe.
“Is that me?” she asked, her heart pounding with excitement.
“Oh, my, yes,” Mrs. Meriwether said with a sigh. “What a delightful fit, and how it suits you! You must leave your hair down and tie it in back with a pink silk ribbon, my dear. I’ll show you how.”
“I’ve never worn my hair down,” she said doubtfully.
“It will be perfect with this gown. Here. Let me show you.”
She took down Bernadette’s elaborate coiffure and replaced it with a simpler one, offset by the pink satin ribbon she made from a length of the silky material. “There,” she said when she finished. “Do you see what I mean? It’s perfect with the dress.”
“Indeed it is,” Bernadette had to admit. She looked young and elegant and somehow vulnerable. She almost looked pretty. She smiled at herself and was surprised by the change it made in her rather ordinary features.
“And a fan to go with it,” the little woman was mumbling. “Where did I put that silk one...aha!”
She produced a fan so pretty that Bernadette fell in love with it at once. It was made of pale pink silk with elegant patterns of flowers, outlined in ivory lace. It was the most beautiful fan she’d ever seen.
“And these gloves, and that little purse. You’ll need shoes. Let’s see what we have....”
It was the most exciting hour of Bernadette’s life. By the time she had her purchases wrapped up and was ready to leave, she felt as if she’d been let out of prison. The ball would be the crowning glory of her life, despite her father’s matchmaking. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Eduardo’s face when he saw her!
* * *
HER FATHER DIDN’T TRUST Bernadette to make the arrangements for his ball, so he’d assigned them to Mrs. Maude Carlisle, a former social secretary to one of the Astors in New York, and the wife of a prominent retired army officer in San Antonio. Mrs. Carlisle was staying with friends in Valladolid for several weeks and she was overjoyed to help Mr. Barron plan his grand fete.
She knew exactly how to go about organizing things on a monumental scale, and she set to work at once. Two weeks later, she’d alienated half the staff on the Barron ranch. This didn’t bother Colston one bit. But Bernadette was overwhelmed with complaints. Everyone including Maria cried on her shoulder while the painstaking arrangements were made. There was a bakery to cater the confections, a local cook to cater the finger foods for the hors d’oeuvre table and flowers purchased from a greenhouse. No detail was overlooked or left undone. Bernadette did her best to stay out of the way of the ongoing madness.
She put on her riding skirt and had the stable boy saddle her pretty bay mare for her. She’d just mounted when her father came into the barn.
“And where are you going?” he demanded. “Mrs. Carlisle needs you to talk to Maria about the dinnerware.”
“Why?” she asked with some surprise.
“Maria’s suddenly forgotten how to speak English, that’s why!”
Silently, Bernadette applauded her friend’s initiative. That was one way to get around Mrs. Carlisle. “You know I don’t speak Spanish,” she lied without meeting his eyes. Actually, she’d kept her knowledge of that tongue a secret from her father as well as Eduardo, because it gave her a definite advantage when dealing with her father. She could talk to the staff in their own language whenever she liked. He couldn’t. He spoke only Gaelic and English.
“You could convince Maria at least to talk to the poor woman!”
“I’m going riding, Father,” she said. “I must get some fresh air in my lungs.”
He glared at her with suspicion. “You’re running away. It won’t do any good. Klaus Branner and Carlo Maretti are due here tomorrow on the train from Houston.”
Her heart jumped and she felt suddenly sick. “I’ve told you how I feel about this,” she said stiffly.
“And I’ve told you how I feel,” he said narrowly. “Eduardo hasn’t been near the place in two weeks,” he added, and refused to let her know how that worried him. He didn’t think much of her abilities to attract Europeans, but Eduardo had this way of looking at her just recently. He liked Eduardo, too, and respected him. It would have been the ideal match. He wondered why Eduardo had apparently changed his mind after their discussion. “It seems that he’s no longer in the running, my girl, so it’s my two candidates or else.”
What he said was true. Eduardo hadn’t come to call, which was very unusual for him, and Bernadette had worried herself sick about the reasons. It was impossible to invite herself to his ranch, so she waited in vain for him and watched her dreams disintegrate. She knew that without the hope of Eduardo as a suitor, her father would turn quickly to his other two candidates. As he had.
Bernadette stared down at him with a drawn face. “Maybe they won’t want me,” she said daringly.
“They’ll want you,” he replied tersely. “Because they want my money!”
She made one last attempt to reason with him. “Don’t you care if I’m happy or not, Father?” she asked miserably. “Don’t you care at all?”
His face closed up, went tight and hard. “I’m not happy,” he pointed out. “I’ve been alone and miserable for twenty years because of you!”
Her features contorted. “You aren’t blameless!”
He looked as if he might explode. “How dare you speak to me in such a way!” he blustered. “How dare you!”
Her lower lip trembled. She gripped her riding crop more firmly, until her knuckles went white. “I hope I never live long enough to treat a child of mine the way you’ve treated me,” she said huskily. “And I hope you live long enough to be sorry for it.”
He pulled himself up to his full height and glared at her. “That day will never come.”
She turned her horse and rode away, leaving him standing alone.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so low and desperate. Eduardo was out of her reach, and her father’s candidates were to arrive the following day. She wondered if she could run away without being caught. It was a poor way to cope, but she knew that other young women in similar predicaments had done such things. If all else failed, it was one workable solution, even if her precarious state of health made it impractical.
* * *
SHE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT, without any real idea of where she was going. This area of south Texas was mostly scrub brush and cacti, sand and dust and heat, even in the spring. But she loved the sense of freedom it gave her with all that long empty horizon in front of her. It was like looking at the stars at night; it made her little problems seem very insignificant. Right now, she needed that most of all. The imminent arrival of two titled Europeans made her sick to her stomach. Perhaps they wouldn’t like her. But if they needed money badly enough, they’d probably be willing to marry a scarecrow, a cow, anyone. Even her.
She guided the little mare toward the stream that crossed her father’s land. There were a few willow trees there, along with mesquite and some poplars. The leaves were the soft, pale green of new growth, and there was a breeze. It wasn’t as smoldering hot as it usually was, either. She dismounted under a big mesquite tree and tossed her flat-brimmed hat to one side as she bent to wet her handkerchief in the stream.
Birds called overhead and she wondered at their sudden burst of noise just as she heard hoofbeats approaching.
She turned, moving closer to her mount. It was a lonely place, and there were often bandits about. But as the rider approached, she recognized him at once and sighed with relief. As usual, a thrill of sheer joy went stabbing through her at the sight of him. He sat a horse like a soldier, very straight and proud, and she loved just looking at him.
“What are you doing out here alone?” Eduardo called curtly as he drew close.
His words breaking the spell she seemed to be under, she smiled ruefully. “I’m escaping Mrs. Carlisle.”
His eyebrows arched under the wide brim of his hat and he smiled. “Mrs. Carlisle?”
“She’s organizing the grand ball,” she informed him. “I’m trying to stay out of her way. So is everybody else. The whole staff may resign any minute now.”
“Shouldn’t your out-of-town guests be arriving soon?”
“My father’s handpicked matrimonial candidates arrive tomorrow,” she said with undisguised revulsion. “One’s German, the other’s Italian.”
“He invited them, then,” he murmured under his breath. This was a surprise. Colston Barron hadn’t seemed interested in other candidates for Bernadette’s dowry the last time he’d spoken with the man. Of course, he’d avoided the place like the plague since then. Guilt had kept him away; it disturbed him to think of using Bernadette for his own ends. He was ashamed of himself, of his less than noble motive, wooing a woman he didn’t love for the sake of financial gain. It was dishonest at best, and he was too honorable not to be suffering from a bad conscience.
“Of course he invited them,” Bernadette replied. She glanced at him sadly, with faint accusation. “You’re not one of his prospective hopefuls, by the way, in case you were wondering. That should be of some comfort to you.”
He pulled a cigar case from his shirt pocket and extracted one of the Cuban cigars he favored. He produced a small box of matches and lit it before he spoke. “I see.”
She wondered why he should suddenly look so thoughtful, so tense. He turned away and she studied his profile. Could he be upset because he wasn’t a candidate for her hand? She didn’t dare hope so. But what if he was?
He felt her avid gaze and turned to meet it. She colored prettily. “How are you going to feel about living abroad?” he asked.
“It’s that or find some way to support myself,” she said wearily. “My father says either I get married or I get out.”
“Surely not!” he exclaimed angrily.
“Well, he threatened to do it,” she replied. She rubbed the mare’s soft muzzle absently. “He’s determined to have his way in this.”
“And will you do what you’re told, Bernadette?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him, red-cheeked. “No, I will not! Not if I have to take a job as a shop girl somewhere or work in a factory!”
“Your lungs would never survive a job in a cotton mill,” he said softly.
“The alternative is to be someone’s servant,” she replied miserably. “I couldn’t hold up to do that, either. Not for long.” She leaned her cheek against the horse’s long nose with a sigh. “Why can’t time stand still or go backward?” she asked in a haunted tone. “Why couldn’t I be whole instead of sickly?”
“I can’t believe that any father would cast off his daughter just because she refused to marry a candidate of his own choosing,” he said irritably.
“Isn’t it done in Spanish families all the time?”
He dismounted, cigar in hand, and moved to stand beside her. He was so much taller that she had to toss her head back to see his lean, dark face when he was this close.
“Yes, it is,” he replied. “In fact, my marriage was the result of such an arrangement. But American families usually don’t make those kinds of choices.”
“That’s what you think,” she replied. “It’s done all the time in the wealthier families. I knew a girl at finishing school who was forced to marry some rich French vintner, and she hated him on sight. She ran away, but they brought her back and made her go through with the ceremony.”