Trilby (23 page)

Her eyes became dull and she looked everywhere except at him. “I see,” she whispered. “I’ll give them your best, then.”

Her calm manner infuriated him. “You’re so damned proper, Trilby!” he said through his teeth. “Just once, I’d love to see you snarling and spitting.”

“I was raised to behave properly,” she said defensively.

“Yes, like that anemic city boy you love,” he replied coldly. “God knows what you saw in each other. You’re both so proper that you probably couldn’t even manage to make love. You’d be fumbling to get the lights out and undress in the dark, so that you wouldn’t embarrass each other.”

“At least he isn’t a savage!” she cried.

His face hardened at the charge. “There are times when you don’t mind that. In fact,” he said harshly, “there are times when you love it!”

She picked up the music box and hurled it at him in a humiliated rage. It hit the wall and split open, falling noisily to the floor.

Her wide, tragic eyes stared at him out of a white face. “How dare you treat me like this?” she said, choking. “Like a common woman of the night!”

“God, how I wish you were,” he spat out. “A lady of the evening has the advantage of being honest about what she feels and thinks and does. You’re so starchy that no real man could get near you. Richard Bates was
just your style, Trilby. I’m damned sorry that I lost my head and forced us into this marriage. I regret it more than you’ll ever know.”

He looked at the music box, lying there shattered. He’d shopped for it himself, tried to find something that Trilby would like, something that belonged to her world, her kind of life. And this was how she felt about a present he’d given her. It was trash to her. Nothing but trash.

With a violent kick, he sent it back into the wall, totally destroying it. He glanced at her with rage in his whole posture before he went out the door and slammed it behind him.

Trilby picked up the broken music box with cold, trembling hands and began to cry. It had been so beautiful, the kind of gift she’d never imagined a rough man like Thorn would ever give her. It had been a sensitive, thoughtful present, and she’d broken it beyond repair.

Until she saw it on the floor, she hadn’t realized the care Thorn had taken with her present. Now she did, and she bitterly regretted the argument that had widened the distance between them. It looked as if there would never be a way to breach it.

Her parents and Teddy came over the next day, and she enjoyed their visit. But Thorn had left before dawn that morning, without a single word to her. Despite her pleasure in her family, she missed Thorn and it showed.

“He’ll be back soon, darling,” Mary Lang told her, smiling, unaware of her daughter’s plight. “Are you happy?”

“Of course,” Trilby said, smiling back. “Come on. Do let’s have some coffee and I’ll read you Sissy’s last letter.”

T
HORN CAME BACK
even more taciturn than when he’d left. Trilby apologized for the music box, but he hardly seemed to hear her, and after that he openly avoided her.

Trilby mourned what might have been. She often tried to gather enough courage to go to him and explain all that had happened, but she never could gather enough nerve. New Year’s passed and winter came suddenly, blowing snow and freezing cold.

The fighting in Mexico was still fierce and more troops had been slung along the border. Two days before Christmas, insurgents had captured a train near Juárez, and the passengers had been marooned along the tracks. Bridges had been blown up and tracks dynamited, and rebels were preventing repairs. An engine and a car had been stolen at Guzman.
Insurrecto
chieftain Pascual Orozco had just seized a train in Chihuahua and noted that a hundred and fifty
insurrectos
had been killed.

With the beginning of February, a small detachment of soldiers was sent to San Bernardino to guard the border, and rumors were flying that Orozco was going to attack Juárez. There were three rebel leaders now, all becoming quite well known to people around Douglas. There were Bracamento and Cabral, and best known locally one Arturo “Red” López, who spoke perfect En
glish and often acted as interpreter. Col. José Blanco was right-hand man for the revolutionary forces in Chihuahua. He had had a rift with Orozco and was now the most talked-about overall leader in the rebel camps. It was rumored that several Americans were fighting with the rebels under López, and Thorn was certain that one of the men was Naki, who had vanished abruptly from the ranch after Sissy’s departure. Trilby hoped he was wrong. It would kill Sissy if Naki were hurt.

They kept close to home, because incidents near the border became frightening now that twenty thousand U.S. troops had been ordered to patrol the entire border of Mexico from Texas to Arizona and the oceans at either end. It was the most extensive movement of troops and vessels of war ever assembled in time of peace in the United States. Rumors of war with Mexico were flying wildly, although President Taft had assured ailing President Díaz that the rumors were groundless. Nevertheless, despite the public announcement that the U.S. troops were performing “maneuvers” along the border, ranchers and townspeople alike were keeping loaded guns near to hand and saying their prayers. Church membership rose.

March brought more news of conflict. Trilby and Samantha busied themselves with sewing and cleaning, while Thorn worried over raids on his cattle, accounts and bookkeeping, and helped his men repair outbuildings in preparation for the coming spring planting and calving.

He’d already sold his Mexican land. But the situation in Agua Prieta suddenly exploded with the advent of an
insurrecto
force led by “Red” López at the gates of Agua Prieta, which was just over the border from
Douglas. However, the rebels backed off and, almost simultaneously, there were reports that Madero was wounded in a fight in Chihuahua. Díaz invoked the death penalty against the lawless in Mexico in a last-ditch effort to suppress the rebellion.

Fifteen Americans had been captured at Casas Grandes, the newspaper announced, and they were feared shot following Díaz’s threat to put all
insurrectos
to death. Thorn had cursed when he read the news and gone immediately to telephone as many prestigious people as he knew in Washington—and there were a few—to make inquiries. President Taft had asked Madero to inquire about the fate of the captives, but there was still no word about their identities.

McCollum had telephoned Thorn after the abortive Agua Prieta threat, and Thorn had persuaded him not to come until April, when the visit might be safer. Trilby was vaguely disappointed, because she’d hoped that Sissy might come with the group and the visit might make her life a little easier. Thorn was alternately hostile and sarcastic. They barely spoke at all, and never touched.

Trilby fell into a sad, silent routine and the happy sparkle left her eyes. She’d long since discovered that she wasn’t pregnant. She was disappointed, but she knew it was for the best. Considering her relationship with Thorn, a child would have a difficult time of it. Thorn hadn’t said a word when she told him. His face had been without expression at all, and if she was hoping for a reaction, she was disappointed. He hardly spoke to her after that, unless he had to.

Meanwhile she was gaining ground with Samantha. The child had a quick mind and she enjoyed her stud
ies. Now that the weather was warmer, they sat on the porch swing on days when the wind was low and went over lessons.

In a way, it was one of the happiest times of Trilby’s life. She was in control of the house and she had Samantha for company. There were times when she could forget for an hour that she’d once lain in Thorn’s strong arms and thrilled to his kisses and his touch. These days, he never looked at her. He sometimes ate and slept in the bunkhouse during particularly bad times when the cattle had to be rounded up and branded and closely watched against rustlers.

During the winter, there had been fewer raids. But once spring began to lighten the paloverde trees and the grass, and the weather became hot, raids increased.

Certainly the army units stationed at Douglas had stepped up their patrols all along the border, and incidents of violence increased. Col. David Morris had kept a careful eye on the situation and was ready to back up the Douglas troops again if necessary.

L
ISA
M
ORRIS HAD
obtained her divorce, and Dr. Powell now called on her regularly. There was no hint of impropriety. She never saw him alone. But Lisa knew very well how the doctor felt about her, and her delight in his company was obvious to Mrs. Moye.

“My divorce is final, you know,” Lisa told Dr. Powell. She was oddly stiff with him these days. Strange, when she’d been more intimate with him in some ways than she’d ever been with her husband.

“Yes, I know.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at her bluntly. “Your husband apparently has plans to
marry his woman in Douglas. At least, that’s the talk around the post.”

“I hope he will be happy with her,” she said quietly.

“Has he been in touch with you?”

“Through his attorney,” she replied. “Just to make it clear that he is willing to pay the fees, also. I thought that was kind.”

“Considering the pain he’s caused you, it was his due.”

She noticed the anger in his deep voice and it made her feel warm inside. He hadn’t mentioned the future, not once. She wondered if he might be having second thoughts; he was still very reticent, even after she’d deliberately and brazenly emphasized her newly single state.

“You know that I was married,” he said. “That my wife and son were killed by Apaches.”

“Yes.”

He averted his eyes and ran his hat through his big, lean hands. “I have been dead inside for some time. I have not wanted…involvement.”

She clasped her folded hands tightly. Her heart sank. She must have misread his intentions completely. “Of course,” she said in a dull, softly wounded tone.

His shaggy head lifted, and the blue eyes that met hers were like lightning striking. “But I want it now,” he said levelly. “I want it damned bad, madam!”

She flushed from the force of feeling that was in his voice. Her wide eyes searched his in the static silence that followed the blunt declaration.

He got to his feet a little clumsily. “That could have been better said. I have no manners. I beg your pardon.”

She stood up, too. “There is no need for that,” she
said, lifting her bright, happy eyes to his. “I am…delighted…that you—that you…”

He moved a little closer, wary of the open door and Mrs. Moye somewhere beyond it. The proprieties were always observed here.

“Oh, Lisa!” he said huskily, his fierce eyes worshiping her. “I want so much more than words. So much more!”

Her breath caught. She looked at him with trembling need, her eyes and face radiant with it, her legs trembling.

His hand crushed the brim of his khaki hat and he muttered something under his breath as he fought valiantly against the need to drag her into his arms and kiss her mouth until it was red and swollen. “I must go!” he said roughly. “I have to join the detachment in Douglas. You know there’s been some trouble down there. We are wary of relaxing our guard.”

She felt the hunger he couldn’t hide, and she shifted her eyes to the wall. “Yes, I know. Oh, Todd, you will be careful?” she whispered worriedly, her eyes wide and troubled as they met his.

The soft query made him stiffen with pleasure. He looked suddenly wild. His face was livid with repressed desire. His blue eyes fastened on her bodice for so long that she felt her breasts swell. He saw the peaks forming and he groaned.

She quickly folded her arms over them, apprehensive.

He caught her hand in his and lifted it hungrily to his mouth. “Yes. I will be careful. It is good of you to…concern yourself on my account. Good day…Mrs. Mor
ris,” he said in an unnaturally choked tone. None of this was what he wanted to say. Damn convention!

She was thinking the same thing. The half-open door inhibited her, too. She grimaced. “Good day, Captain Powell,” she whispered miserably.

He gave her one long, last look and forced himself to leave her. The widow Moye didn’t say a word, but the smile she gave a shaken Lisa was expressive.

A
PRIL CAME
. A
WARRANT
had been issued for “Red” López for an alleged killing in Fronteras, after charges had been made against him for disorderly conduct in Douglas by the Mexican Consul. But the local law-enforcement officers denied that López was drunk or disorderly and did not arrest him. Teddy read that and grinned. López was something of a hero to his young mind, and he eagerly read every word about the rebel captain that he could find, saving it up to tell Trilby whenever he saw her. It was Teddy who imparted the news that López was now known as “El Capitán,” and was becoming a local legend. Thorn had met the man, but he rarely spoke of anything regarding the revolution. It made Trilby uneasy that he was so quiet on the subject, and she wondered just how much he knew that he hadn’t told her. If only they could talk!

The archaeology students arrived the first week of April. They were a bright, happy bunch of young men. Trilby had hoped up until the last minute that Sissy would be coming with them, but McCollum and several young men got off the train by themselves in Douglas.

“I tried to get Miss Bates to come along,” McCollum said in his jovial, gruff manner. “But the matter of a chaperon had to be addressed, and her mother felt
that to have her travel in the company of so many single young men was improper. She did not protest the decision,” he added, in case Trilby hadn’t already gotten the idea.

So Sissy hadn’t wanted to come. Presumably she knew that Naki wasn’t going to back down an inch and she was doing what she thought was best for both of them. Trilby was sad just the same. She’d have loved spending some time with her friend. It would have been wonderful to have someone to talk to, now that she and Thorn had such a distance between them. Sissy didn’t know about Naki’s absence, or what they were beginning to suspect as the cause of it. There was no confirmation that he was down in Mexico, of course, but there was suspicion.

“I do have letters from Miss Bates and her brother for you,” McCollum said, producing them with a smile. “She sends her love.”

“How are they all?” Trilby asked, without being specific. She was all too aware of a terse, solemn Thorn standing just behind Craig McCollum.

“I believe that young Ben is thinking of coming back out here to seek his fortune as a cowboy.” He laughed. “And Richard…” He hesitated, with a glance at Thorn.

“Go ahead. Tell her,” Thorn invited grimly.

“He…uh…sent Trilby a letter.”

“I’ll see it, if you don’t mind,” Thorn replied.

“I mind,” Trilby interjected, glaring at him. “It’s my letter!”

“You’re my wife,” Thorn told her, his black eyes glittering. “And I draw the line at love letters from other men!”

McCollum looked, and felt, uncomfortable. Bates
had forced the letter onto him and he hadn’t wanted to interfere. He had some inkling of how jealous Thorn was of his young wife. “I’ll have to find it,” he told Thorn. “It’s packed.”

“When we get to the house, then,” Thorn said. He fought for composure, through the outrage he felt. Damn Richard!

Trilby was uncertain as to why Richard should be writing personal letters to her when he knew she was married. It disturbed her almost as much as Thorn’s unreasonable anger. It wasn’t as if she’d solicited the letter!

M
C
C
OLLUM SMILED
apologetically at Trilby. “I’m an archaeologist, not a diplomat,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caused you any problems.” He had dark eyes, with very long lashes, and a lean, rugged face. He was tall, like Thorn, but huskier.

“No, of course not,” she said, dismissing her worries. “You study old things, don’t you?” Trilby asked. “Like the skeletons of dinosaurs?”

McCollum groaned. “That’s paleontology, not archaeology.”

“He’ll pitch you headfirst down a kiva if you say things like that to him,” one of his bespectacled students interrupted, faintly amused. “He’s very volatile for an educated man. Aren’t you, Dr. McCollum,
sir?
”

“If you want to pass my course, Haskins, you’d better treat me with the proper respect,” McCollum said jokingly. “Down on your knees, man, and beg forgiveness!”

Trilby began looking around rather pointedly, her hand shading her eyes.

“What are you looking for?” McCollum asked.

“Men with nets.”

McCollum laughed. He had a deep, rich voice and it thundered around them pleasantly. “Touché. You have a sense of humor, Mrs. Vance. You need it, no doubt, to live with Thorn.”

Thorn glared at him. “I have an even disposition.”

McCollum nodded. “Like a rattlesnake planted headfirst in a tar pit.”