Circle Star Page 12

  They finished the meal in silence.

  ****

  After three days in town, Susanna sent a message to her husband that the dressmaker required her for fittings and she would remain in Cedar City longer than planned. Finding the hotel too restless, she rented a furnished room for two weeks with a respectable widow who provided meals for her guests.

  In the cool of the mornings, Susanna tended to her father’s grave. She had chosen black slate for the headstone. Stark and masculine, it reflected her father’s nature. Small rocks marked the outline of the gravel patch. Rough, yet matching in size and shape, they created a border inside which she planted desert flowers that would bloom in the spring.

  When Susanna asked the undertaker and the stonemason about the stone border, both shook their heads. Connor, she guessed. He must have done it. She imagined him scouring the ranch, pausing to pick up a suitable stone every time he spotted one. He’d brought a piece of Circle Star to her father—reunited the man with his land.

  Fine, she thought with a touch of bitterness.

  Stay stubborn, you husband of mine.

  Lavish your love on the dead.

  Ignore the living.

  Two days later, a letter arrived from Claire. It was addressed to Circle Star, but Susanna had asked the post office to hold her mail. The amusing anecdotes and snippets of Philadelphia gossip bolstered her spirits, but what filled her with joy was the confirmation that Claire would soon come for a visit.

  Susanna replied immediately, a long letter filled with hints about how difficult her life had become, how much she needed Claire’s support. She instructed her friend to telegraph when she had made the arrangements for the journey.

  On Saturday night, there was a dance at the church hall. Even though only limited crops grew in the arid Arizona soil, the tradition of a Harvest Festival had been kept up by migrants from more fertile lands.

  Susanna prepared with care. She had a reputation to uphold, particularly considering her bold habit of riding astride and wearing men’s clothing. She had ordered a new gown in watery green silk, cut a bit lower in the bodice than she was used to.

  Torches blazed in the clearing outside the church hall. Inside, flickering oil lamps reflected on the festive decorations and threw restless shadows over the crowd dressed in their Sunday best. Platters of food and pitchers of lemonade stood ranged on trestle tables along the far wall.

  Susanna mingled with the bank manager, and the store keepers, and the justice of the peace. She avoided the padre who had presided at her dismal wedding.

  Other ranch wives were eager to congratulate her on her marriage, but it was clear that her personal life had become a topic of gossip. She was forced to deal with probing questions about Connor and make excuses for his absence.

  “He’s too busy with work to leave Circle Star.” Susanna had lost count of how many times she had repeated the words.

  The ample bosom of the matron in front of her heaved. The double chin shuddered with glee. “He is not putting aside time to be with his new bride?”

  The thin thread of Susanna’s patience snapped. “I married him to safeguard the ranch, and it is his first priority to fulfill that purpose.” She turned her back on the woman and strode off. It seemed clear that everyone knew how things stood between her and Connor. It was less humiliating to face the facts than to pretend.

  “That’s right,” a quiet voice said behind her. “Stand up to them.”

  Susanna cast a grateful glance over her shoulder. Burt Hartman was approaching her. She halted, waited for him to catch up. She’d noticed him earlier, cutting a fine figure in the center of a group of influential men.

  Hartman took her elbow and escorted her toward the tables laden with food and drink. “I’m not going to offer my congratulations,” he told her smoothly. “The only reaction I had to your marriage was disappointment.”

  Susanna felt her cheeks flush. “That’s a gallant thing to say. I’m sure you are aware of the circumstances of my marriage.”

  Hartman nodded. “I am indeed. And I confess to hoping that in different circumstances you might have chosen a different husband.”

  Susanna offered him a hesitant smile. “Thank you. It hasn’t been easy. I didn’t expect to feel so much like an outsider in the community. I’m sure you as a newcomer to the area understand what I mean.”

  Hartman took her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it. “Anything I can do to make things easier, you only have to let me know.”

  “Thank you.” Susanna clasped his fingers a little. It felt good to have someone fussing over her, flattering her, even if the compliments sounded insincere. Not until now, when other men looked at her with admiration in their eyes, did she accept how much it humiliated her that Connor seemed to have no trouble resisting her charms.

  Night after night, he was able to sleep in the room down the hall from her, with full knowledge that he had the right to walk along the landing and do whatever he wished with her.

  Unlike most well bred young women, Susanna had a fair idea of what took place between a husband and wife in the privacy of the night. Growing up on a ranch, surrounded by rutting animals, gave that kind of knowledge. The only person Susanna had ever discussed the topic with was Claire, who had extracted the sketchy details from her with fascination that wavered between excitement and terror.

  When the dancing began, Hartman claimed her for a waltz. Susanna closed her eyes as they spun over the floor. For a bittersweet moment, she allowed herself to imagine it was Connor holding her in his arms. Instinctively, she moved closer to her partner.

  Hartman tightened his hold on her until their bodies brushed. Susanna’s eyes flew open. The magic was broken, and she could no longer make believe. She tried to pull away but stumbled. Hartman steadied her, whispering another compliment into her ear.

  Too upset to pay attention to his words, let alone come up with a polite reply, Susanna kept silent. All she wanted was for the dance to stop, so that she could go back to her rented room and cry herself to sleep over the disaster that her marriage had become.

  ****

  At Circle Star, Connor and Pete Jackson worked on the new yearlings, standing side by side in the corral, each holding a horse tethered to a long rope. Connor had noticed the foreman throwing angry glances at him, making it clear that something was troubling him. Connor ignored the looks. He knew Pete wouldn’t speak his mind until he had found the right words.

  “Ain’t you going to the dance in Cedar City?” Pete finally said.

  The direction of the attack took Connor by surprise, but he didn’t let his composure falter. “I have nothing to wear.”

  Pete snorted. “That’s a woman’s line.” He gave Connor a quick up-and-down. “The men don’t care what you wear, and with your looks the women don’t care neither. Just dress the way you always do, cotton shirt and denim pants, but pick a clean set.”

  “I’m not interested in going.”

  “Most of the men are going.” Pete slanted Connor a crafty glance. “It’s bad leadership not to be there. Your riders might get into a brawl.”

  Connor said nothing, but he had to admit Pete had scored a point.

  “Susanna will miss you if you don’t go,” the foreman continued.

  “She’ll miss me like she’ll miss a thunderstorm at a summer picnic.”

  Pete bristled, no longer able to hold his temper. “Are you blind, boy? Her heart is bleeding for you. She’s lost weight, and she was too thin to start with.”

  “Change is always unsettling,” Connor replied calmly.

  “Change, my ass. That girl’s pining because she loves you and you ignore her.”

  Connor kept his voice light, although he suspected Pete knew him well enough to hear the underlying tension. “What makes you think she has any affection for me?”

  “She said as much when the padre married you. Whispered it to you, quiet-like, thinking nobody else would hear.”

  The yearling at t
he end of Connor’s rope reared as he made a sudden motion. A smirk of satisfaction spread on Pete’s narrow features.

  Connor sighed. He knew the foreman was chipping away at the icy reserve he’d built around himself. However hard he tried, he’d never managed to make the barrier quite thick enough to resist an attack from someone he cared about.

  Pete pressed on. “Why do you think she’s never married nobody else?”

  Connor raised a wry eyebrow. “Because she’s a stubborn mule and no man dares to take her on?”

  Pete howled with laughter. “And the sun rises in the west.” He turned to Connor, appearing more confident now to speak his mind. “There’s been plenty that have asked, but she kept turning them down. Mr. Talbot told me. It was in her mother’s letters.”

  A tumult of emotions churned within Connor. Curiosity ruled the strongest, overcoming the fierce burn of jealousy and the glimmer of hope. “What makes you think her refusal to marry anyone else has anything to do with me?”

  Pete’s face furrowed as he appeared to wrestle with his conscience. “I can’t tell you that,” he said in the end. “She threatened to shoot me right between the eyes if I ever told.”

  Connor continued to soothe the restless yearling. He spoke quietly, knowing Pete had to strain his ears to hear. “When we were young, Susanna got used to batting her lashes at me and having me hand over my heart. She needs to learn it doesn’t work that way anymore.”

  “Is that what this is all about? Some kind of battle for supremacy, like the War Between the States?” Pete’s voice shook with anger. “Just remember, boy, when there’s a war, everybody loses in some way, even the winner.”

  Connor made no reply.

  Pete threw another glance at him. “Carmen has Mr. Talbot’s old suits put away. Although you carry less weight, you’re about the same height. She’s a dab hand with a needle, Carmen is—she can alter things to fit. You can tell her I said so.”

  Connor refused to meet Pete’s eyes. Instead, he stepped forward to stroke the yearling that had settled down again. “I’ll think about it,” he muttered, loud enough for the meddling foreman to hear and know he’d got his message across.

  “You do that, boy,” Pete said, and lapsed back into silence.

  ****

  Connor relaxed in the saddle and leaned into the wind. Daylight had almost gone, but Brutus was sure of foot and the desert trail stretched ahead straight and familiar. He’d hung back when the men set off for the dance, freshly bathed and shaven, whooping with anticipation. He hadn’t intended to follow, but the maddening restlessness inside him wouldn’t ease until he gave in and got himself ready.

  The cotton shirt and denim pants beneath his leather coat were worn but clean. Not dressing up for the occasion made it seem as though he were riding out to keep an eye on his ranch hands, rather than to attend a dance with his cultured wife.

  The torches outside the church hall had almost burned out, petering to an acrid black smoke. He tied Brutus to the hitching post at the back. “I know you like her,” he crooned, stroking the horse’s long nose. “But it’s not as simple for humans. She needs to be broken in a little. Learn who’s the boss. Just like you did when we first met.”

  Music streamed into the twilight, so he knew the speeches were over and the dancing had begun. As he walked through the open double doors into the crowd, Connor could feel the burn of a dozen pairs of eyes on his skin. He held his head high. Not looking left or right, he eased his way to the refreshments and collected a glass of the sweet smelling punch with floating pieces of fruit in it that was the only alcoholic drink on offer.

  He took a sip, grimaced, and carried the glass to the corner where he settled his shoulder against the wall. Couples whirled on the floor. It took him no time at all to pick out Susanna. She was taller and slimmer than most women. Her breasts shone pale in the low neckline of her dress. Connor recalled how those breasts had looked without any dress to cover them at all, in El Paso, when he’d demanded that she stand naked in front of him. His stomach tightened. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm.

  From the descriptions of his men, he recognized her dancing partner as Burt Hartman. So, this was the man who would have bought Circle Star in the auction, had Connor not obeyed Susanna’s command and agreed to a hasty marriage.

  He saw the man look at her with greedy eyes. There would have been another way for Susanna to keep her home, Connor realized, and wondered if Susanna had realized it, too. He saw her body arch toward Hartman, who instantly responded by pulling her against him. She stumbled, and Hartman clutched her tight, murmuring something into her ear.

  Connor had his answer.

  Susanna might have understood she had a choice, but by that time she had already married him, and now it was too late. He crossed back to the bar, propped the full glass on the table and walked out. After fetching Brutus from the hitching post at the back, he rode through the starlit desert back to Circle Star.

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  Chapter Ten

  Susanna took another sip of the fragrant tea and lowered the delicate china cup onto the table. “Thank you for inviting me. I have enjoyed seeing more of your lovely home.”

  Burt Hartman regarded her with a bold look. “Beautiful furnishings are wasted on a man. When I bought this ranch, I was hoping to find a wife to share my home.”

  “Why did you move to the Arizona Territory?” Susanna asked, her nervous fingers toying with the silver teaspoon.

  “The climate. I had some trouble with my lungs. The desert air has cured me, and I’m strong and healthy now.” He sent her a meaningful glance. “I have chosen to stay. I think this is a good place to bring up a family.”

  Susanna forced a smile. “There are many young ladies who would be flattered by that kind of attention from you.”

  “I’m a patient man. I’ll wait to see if the lady of my choice becomes free.”

  A blush heated her cheeks. “Mr. Hartman,” she said, and fell silent.

  “Yes?” Hartman prompted.

  “I am married, and I have no intention of changing that arrangement.”

  “Even though it is common knowledge that your husband leads a separate life?”

  Her mouth trembled, but she didn’t avert her eyes. “I haven’t given up hope that we will eventually reconcile our differences.”

  Hartman shook his head. “He is a lucky man, Miss Susanna. I’ve never envied a man as much as I envy him now.”

  “I thank you for the compliment.” She gathered the pile of books on the table in front of her. “I’m afraid I must leave now. I have chores to take care of at home.”

  Her host stood. “Please, come again.” He accompanied her outside and helped her into the waiting buggy, his actions those of a perfect gentleman.

  Susanna thanked the stooping old ranch hand who had seen to the buggy horse and set off at a slow walk. She was in no rush to get home. Moreover, the longer she lingered, the better were the chances that she might catch a glimpse of Rafael De Santis.

  It was the second time she’d come out to Deep Valley to look for her childhood neighbor, with the pretext of borrowing books from Hartman’s library. Her thoughts were increasingly confused. There had been no sign of Rafael, and by now Susanna almost believed she had imagined the earlier encounter. She had considered asking one of the Deep Valley riders about the halfbreed, but caution stopped her from mentioning his name.

  During her visits, Hartman had been pleasant and hospitable. Surely, the accusation that he had stolen the ranch from Rafael’s parents must have been a misunderstanding. Hartman was too wealthy to bother with swindles, and he seemed dedicated to the local community. Often he made references to charitable efforts he was funding in the area.

  There were times when Susanna almost felt that if she weren’t married to Connor, she might entertain the possibility of a courtship with Mr. Hartman. And then she would catch an unguarded glimpse of him, see a trace of evil in that bloodless
face of his, and with a shudder she would cast aside such foolish thoughts.

  After half a mile, Susanna snapped the reins and sent the buggy hurtling. Now that she was too far from Deep Valley to have any hope of seeing Rafael, there was no point in wasting time by traveling slowly.

  Her thoughts lingered on Burt Hartman a moment longer. It really was confusing. It seemed as if two different men occupied the same body, and she couldn’t tell which one of them was his true nature.

  With a weary sigh, Susanna leaned back in the padded seat of the buggy. Why was she thinking about Hartman at all? If only Connor stopped ignoring her, she wouldn’t have to bolster her self esteem by seeking admiration from other men.

  ****

  Connor sat on a knoll by the riverbank to snatch a moment’s solitude at the end of the day. He needed to clear his mind, figure out what to do next. The situation had escalated out of his control. In the beginning, he had put up a barrier between himself and Susanna, and he no longer knew how to knock it down.

  Susanna had returned from Cedar City, but she was haughty and distant. Twice she had visited Deep Valley, with the excuse of borrowing books from Hartman’s library. The rest of the time she went through the house, cleaning and polishing as if dust had suddenly become poisonous. When anyone wanted to know why, she replied with a secretive smile and an enigmatic you’ll find out soon.

  Connor had expected that once he was ready to give their marriage a chance, Susanna would welcome him with open arms. Now he believed she’d slam the door in his face. How had they managed to keep so far apart while living under the same roof? He longed to reach out to her, but he didn’t know how to go about it any better than he had known as a clumsy fifteen-year-old.

  With a muttered curse, Connor pushed up to his feet and called for Brutus, who stood grazing on clumps of grass by the water’s edge. He mounted and took the reins. The sun burned low over the horizon. In another hour it would be dark.

  He heard the whistling passage of a bullet and felt the sting in his shoulder in the same instant. Crouching low over the horse’s neck, he wheeled around, both Colts at the ready. He could see no rider, but a trail of dust rose across the river.