She put the brush down slowly and felt her body grow cold. She really must speak to Quinn when he came home again, she decided. Surely he would come back by the time her father’s hunting trip was over.
She felt her arms break out in goose bumps. Silly, she thought, to worry so. She was a God-fearing woman. She had to believe that she had the hope of a settled, less terrifying life than she had enjoyed so far. She was no coward, even if she had been forced to act like one in her father’s best interests.
Her hand lifted the brush, and she forced it through her long, soft hair once more. You must have courage, she told her reflection. You will be free one day, and Papa will be, too, from the pain that makes a savage of him. If only he would see a doctor. But he would not even admit the need.
Meanwhile, she thought ruefully, she had a more immediate problem. Marie was leaving. Now Amelia would have only Enid’s company for protection against the thorn in her flesh. How would she cope with King without the buffer of other people? It seemed she was trading one rough man for another.
But Enid would be her buffer, she told herself. It would be all right.
Finally, she put down the brush and climbed in between the thick white sheets and covering quilt. It was late March, but the nights were cool here on the fringe of the desert. The cover felt nice.
She closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.
* * *
King was already gone when she went to see Marie and the girls off the next morning. She had said more good-byes in two days than in the past two years, she thought as she waved them off at the train station in El Paso.
It was, she thought, a good thing that Enid had asked old Mr. Singleton down the road for a lift to town that morning and a ride back as well. There had been no explanation or apology for King’s absence, and Amelia reasoned that there might be something about it that Enid didn’t feel comfortable telling her.
Mr. Singleton took her arm and Enid’s, shaking his head. “Those trains,” he complained. “They lay more track and more track. The blessed things set fires, don’t you know?”
“Progress, Mr. Singleton, is to everyone’s advantage,” Enid chided the old man.
“Not so, madam,” he lamented. “Ah, for the days when the ranges were still wide and a man could be himself without censure.”
“Mr. Singleton saw a gunfight once,” Enid whispered to Amelia. “He actually saw John Wesley Hardin shot down by John Selman!”
“Here in El Paso?” she exclaimed.
“Indeed,” came the reply. “And not so long ago, either. Only a few years back.”
“Oh, I’ve seen more than that little scrape in my time,” the old man recalled, his blue eyes misting with memory. “I’ve seen buffalo cover the plains and wild Indians riding on the warpath to glory. I’ve seen covered wagons rush the horizon and the first telegraph wires strung.” He glanced down at Amelia. “Just about your age, I were, when I came here and settled with my brothers. My, my, Amelia, them was hard days. Real hard days. Comanche wars hadn’t ended then. There were a man burned alive on this very ranch….”
“Mr. Singleton!” Enid hissed.
He stopped, remembered himself, and cleared his throat as he saw Amelia’s wide, shocked eyes. “I do beg your pardon, Amelia. I forget sometimes.”
“Oh, that’s … that’s quite all right,” she faltered.
“Come along, Amelia, we’ll let Mr. Singleton buy us a nice ice cream soda, and we’ll talk about some pleasant things!” she added with a meaningful glance at their companion.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently.
On the way to the soda parlor, they passed the city’s famous alligator pit, and Amelia had to stop and watch the creatures as food was tossed down to them by various passersby.
“Dangerous varmints,” Mr. Singleton muttered with evident disapproval. “Ate Don Harris’s foot off, they did, and the city fathers had the gall to say he asked for it!”
“He certainly did,” Enid said with a jerk of her head.
“He took off his shoe and sock and stuck his foot in there, didn’t he?”
“Weren’t no call for that gator to bite it off,” Mr. Singleton argued.
“Perhaps it hadn’t been fed,” Amelia ventured, watching the strange dead eyes of an alligator that seemed to be looking back at her.
“Ate two chickens that very morning,” the old man argued. “Wish they’d close that thing down.”
“Just make sure you don’t wander too close to it,” Enid cautioned Amelia. “Now, let’s get some ice cream. It’s very warm out here today!”
* * *
They were late getting back, because Enid had wanted some new patterns and cloth. There was a fiesta coming up at the end of the week, she told Amelia, and they’d have just enough time to sew new dresses for it.
Enid had insisted that Amelia choose a bolt of fabric for herself, and when the younger woman leaned toward pearl gray, Enid had immediately insisted on a gay lavender.
“But this is more than I can afford,” Amelia had protested.
Enid had gently but firmly had her way. The cloth was cut and wrapped, matched with thread, and taken out of the shop.
“You’ll look lovely in it,” Enid chided. “It’s little enough recompense for all your help with Marie’s children this week. You’ve been constantly watching them.”
“I’ve enjoyed it, and Marie hasn’t felt well at all.”
“She’s been frail since she lost her husband,” Enid replied. “We all thought this would be a good holiday for her, and it has been. You’ve brought her out of her depression. I’m very grateful. Marie has been like a daughter to me.”
“She’s very sweet.”
“Will you mind if I tell you that you’re very sweet, too, my dear?” Enid asked gently. “I’m enjoying your company.”
“And I yours,” Amelia replied. She gnawed on her lower lip. “This fiesta, is it going to be here?”
“Why, no. It will be at the Valverdes,” Enid said. “But we’re all invited. We don’t stand on ceremony when there’s a party. Everyone comes.”
Amelia hesitated. She didn’t like the Valverde heiress, and the woman certainly didn’t like her.
“Don’t worry so. You’ll have a good time. Hurry, now, and change for dinner. Rosa made her famous fried chicken. Can’t you smell it? It’s my favorite!”
Amelia didn’t argue. She went to dress, already dreading the party she could see she wouldn’t be able to avoid attending. It would be torment to watch King dancing with the other woman, rubbing his distaste for her in her face.
Chapter Three
AT DINNER KING SAT AT THE HEAD OF THE TABLE LOOKING unapproachable. Enid did her best to keep the conversation going, but her son made no remark unless prompted. He ate his food and drank his coffee and then retired to the study to smoke without asking anyone’s permission.
“Something’s happened,” Enid muttered, watching as the door closed behind him. “He’s always like that when he’s upset. He never rages, as Brant does. He simply goes quiet and closes up.”
Amelia helped her clear away, wondering what could have upset