Rio Read online

  Edwin Forester glared at the intruder down his fine, patrician nose. However, to Turquoise, he smiled and bowed. “Very well. For you, my lady …” He took her hand and led her back up on the veranda. “You just wait here, my dear, and I’ll see that he’s escorted out to the street and released.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed with relief and watched Edwin return to the three guards and the bloody vaquero. They all disappeared around the corner of the mansion.

  Edwin made sure they were out of the girl’s sight and then he said to the guards, “Toss this greasy bastard in jail for the night and don’t be gentle about it.”

  “But I thought you told the young lady …?” one of the guards protested.

  “You heard me!” the senator snapped and turned on his heel to return to the veranda.

  The stunning beauty still awaited him there. “He’ll be fine, but he won’t invade the governor’s grounds again.”

  She took one last look at the lawn, ashamed that she had gotten Rio in trouble. Then Edwin took her arm and led her back toward the ballroom. She glanced over her shoulder, worried about the man who had been dragged out to be tossed in the street. “Thank you, Senator, for not making an issue of this.”

  He patted her hand with his free one. “If it hadn’t been for your pity, I would have thrashed the young thug for being so familiar with an elegant lady.”

  “You are so gallant.” And yet, he sounded arrogant. Besides, she remembered that he hadn’t come running from the safety of the veranda until he was sure the three guards had subdued the trespasser. More than that, she had a feeling that if he had taken on Rio, the senator would have come out the worse for it.

  They reentered the ballroom. Uncle Trace strode toward them, his face dark as thunder. Obviously everyone knew about the trouble between the families, because heads were turning to see what would happen. Turquoise had never felt so humiliated.

  But there was no confrontation. Edwin abruptly excused himself and scurried away, leaving her to face her uncle alone.

  “I think it is time we were leavin’,” Trace snapped, his words bitten off.

  “Of course.” She ducked her head as he took her arm and led her out of the ballroom. She heard the buzz of conversation behind them.

  The night air seemed cool as they waited on the steps for their carriage. Uncle Trace said nothing as he helped her in, nor did he speak until they were in their suite at the hotel.

  “What a night!” He folded his arms behind his back and marched up and down the plush carpet. “The citizens of Austin will have something to talk about for months now.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sat down on the edge of a chair. “I didn’t know who he was and I don’t think he knew who I was either. I had to tell him.”

  Trace paused before her. “What did he say to that?”

  She bit her lip. “He seemed to shrug it off. Honestly, Uncle Trace, he came to my rescue. I didn’t know I had to have a society bachelor walk me off the stage and no girl offered a relative.”

  He ground his teeth. “That’s what you get for tryin’ to move into snooty society.” His tone was full of irony. “The gringos don’t want anyone with Mexican blood—”

  “But aren’t you half-Spanish?”

  He nodded. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, as you seem to be. Your father must be turnin’ over in his grave.”

  “That’s the problem—my white face and my Mexican name.” She’d never had the nerve to bring this up with any of the Durangos.

  “Oh, to hell with the old gossips.” Trace shrugged.

  “And the dress”—she looked down at the gaudy turquoise silk—“I had no idea I would look such a fool….”

  “We were both ambushed,” Uncle Trace snapped and ran his hand through his black hair. “That bitch who runs the La Mode Dress Shoppe must have recognized us as a pair of bumpkins who didn’t know anything. You want me to deal with her?”

  Turquoise shook her head. “I want to take care of that myself.”

  He flopped down on a chair and sighed. “I’m sick of this uppity town. Maybe we can go home early.”

  She flinched and walked to the window, looking out at the gas lights of the streets. She could still hear Edwin’s voice and feel his embrace. She wasn’t ready to go back to the ranch yet.

  Uncle Trace loosened his collar. “And of all people for you to hook up with, Edwin Forester.You know we are enemies of that family.”

  “Si, but I don’t know why, and he acts like he doesn’t either.”

  Trace merely snorted.

  She shook her head. “I know the two families are both rich and powerful and it’s an ancient feud.”

  Trace pulled out a cigarillo and tapped it against the arm of the chair. “It goes back to our grandfathers. The Duran-gos have business principles, but the Foresters are ruthless and cutthroat. Why, they’d steal the milk from a baby calf’s bucket.”

  She bit her lip, thinking maybe he exaggerated. “The senator didn’t seem so terrible.”

  “Neither do tarantulas,” Trace snapped, “but they sometimes bite. Remember the Foresters are notorious in that they are willin’ to do anything, and I do mean anything to get what they want. How do you think he became a senator? And what were you doin’ out on the veranda with him?”

  That made her think of Rio and the way he had been treated. “We—we went out for a breath of air and—”

  “Turquoise, I’m going to tell you something about the Forester men. They’ve always had a bad reputation when it comes to women.”

  She looked into Trace’s eyes. “You think because I am Mexican and obviously a simple country girl who showed up dressed inappropriately that he would try to take advantage of me?” She began to cry.

  “I didn’t say that.” Trace put the cigarillo back in its silver case and walked over to pat her shoulder. “Frankly, I don’t know what he is capable of and I don’t want to have to kill him. His father—”

  “Uncle Trace, times are changing. You can’t just go around getting in a gunfight with every man you don’t like.”

  “More’s the pity,” he snapped. “I just wish Cimarron were here. She’d know what to do.”

  “It’s all right. It’s over now.” She straightened her shoulders, feeling guilty about the handsome farrier who had come at her offhand invitation. She didn’t know what Uncle Trace would think about that.

  “Good. Now we’ll be here another day or two. I’ve got business, buyin’ a few blooded horses and cattle. Why don’t you forget about tonight and tomorrow, you go get Fern, and you two do some shoppin’? I have an account at all the stores. My wife has seen to that.”

  “That’s what I’ll do.” She paused to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Trace.”

  He mellowed. “Just forget about high society,” Trace grumbled. “You’ve got the wealth and the power of the Durangos behind you. That should be enough.”

  But it wasn’t enough, she thought. She wanted security—to be able to hold up her head in Texas society and never be laughed at or ridiculed again for her Anglo looks and her Mexican name.

  “Good night,” she whispered and went into her room and closed the door. Surely the Durangos and the Foresters could coexist in peace so she could realize her ambitions. It would be heady to be married to a man of power so that everyone, including those snooty gringa girls, would envy and look up to her with respect. Maybe tonight had been a disaster, but it hadn’t killed her dreams. She wanted security, a big house, and an important husband. If she had all that, no one would dare whisper about her questionable background.

  Edwin Forester. He could offer everything she hungered for and surely he couldn’t be as bad as Uncle Trace said. However, when she tried to think about the elegant gentleman, the face that kept coming back to her was Rio Kelly’s. She remembered the feel of his powerful arms around her, the virility of the man. But he was poor; poor and powerless. Yet she felt shame that she had caused him such humiliation.

 
As she drifted off to sleep, the lips that kissed hers were not the fine gentleman’s but the hot, passionate mouth of Rio Kelly.

  The next morning, she and Uncle Trace had breakfast together in the fancy dining room with all the silver, crystal, and snowy linen tablecloths. Today she wore a large white lace hat with aqua ribbons and an aqua, long-sleeved percale dress with a perky bustle. Last night seemed like a faraway dream. She looked around, smiling. “This is the way to live.”

  Trace shrugged. “Si. It’s all right, but I prefer the patio at the ranch.”

  That was because he could look out over several hundred thousand acres the Durangos owned, she thought.

  The waiter came to their table and she noticed how he snapped to attention, making sure the coffee, Spanish omelet, and sweet rolls were just to Senor Durango’s liking. Yes, this was the way she wanted to live permanently; waiters and salespeople hurrying to wait on her because she was also respectable and important.

  They finished with little conversation.

  Trace threw down his napkin and nodded to the waiter, who hovered in the background. “Excellent, as usual, Pierre. Charge it to my account.”

  The waiter rubbed his hands together. “Merci, sir.” He pulled back Turquoise’s chair as Trace got up and the pair walked outside into the cool spring morning.

  She immediately opened her white lace parasol against the bright sun.

  “Well, shall I call you a carriage?” Trace asked.

  “No, I think I saw some interesting shops down from the hotel,” she answered. “And I’ll send a messenger to Fern to join me for an outdoor luncheon at that new tea shop on Congress Avenue.”

  “Fine. I may not be back until the middle of the afternoon.” Trace nodded and looked toward the new horse-drawn streetcar moving down the street. “I think I’ll try riding that. Austin is certainly up to date.”

  He tipped his Stetson to her and turned to run after the slow-moving vehicle. She watched him get aboard, then returned to the hotel lobby and hailed a bellboy to take a note to Fern. Yes, an outdoor lunch would be fun. All the best ladies would probably go there. Fern would want to hear about last night. Maybe Turquoise would leave out the most humiliating parts. Should she tell anyone about how Rio had taken her in his arms and held her so close? No. She shook her head. That would be too scandalous.

  She turned and started down the sidewalk, twirling her parasol on her shoulder. There were at least two shops she’d like to see that were less than a block away, but first she decided to deal with Mrs. Whittle. She wasn’t good at confrontation, except where a principle was at stake. She’d taken on the drunken lout who was whipping a horse and she could take on Mrs. Whittle.

  She caught one of the slow-moving horsecars and rode to the La Mode Dress Shoppe. Turquoise marched inside, folding her parasol and laying it on the counter, behind which stood the arrogant Mrs. Whittle, studying her ledgers.

  The lady looked up. “How may I—Oh, it’s you.”

  “Did you not expect to see me again?”

  Mrs. Whittle gave her an arrogant smile. “So how did you enjoy the debutante ball?”

  “That was cruel ofyou”—Turquoise faced her—“knowing I did not know the proper thing to wear.”

  The lady sniffed. “Maude said you made a fool of yourself. That’s what a Mexican wench gets for trying to get into white society. I hope you learned your lesson.”

  “Now I’m going to give you a lesson. Do you remember an old Texas saying that what goes around comes around and your sins will find you out?”

  “Superstitious nonsense.” Mrs. Whittle shrugged.

  “Well, this isn’t!” Turquoise slapped the sneering face and then grabbed her parasol and strode out, holding her head high. She had learned her lesson all right; she could only wish she was a high-class gringa girl who could demand respect. She burst into tears as she walked down the brick sidewalk. She was hurting inside and couldn’t erase the humiliation she felt. Would she always be mistreated and scorned by white Texans for her Mexican name? She longed to have the money to buy that dress shop and fire the snooty owner.

  After a few minutes’ walk, she had calmed down and wiped her eyes. Of course it was childish to wish that. Mrs. Whittle wasn’t worth the misery Turquoise was feeling.

  After a block, a buggy pulled up next to her. It was the finest, with bright red wheels and pulled by a black horse of excellent quality in a new harness shining with silver. The driver took off his hat and bowed. “Miss Sanchez? I can’t believe I ran into you. Do let me give you a ride to wherever you’re going.”

  She blinked, looking at Edwin Forester’s clothes. He was dressed in the latest fashion, boutonniere and all, and smiling down at her.

  “I—I don’t think I’d better—”

  “Oh, nonsense! There’s no use in your walking when you can ride.”

  He stepped down from the seat and bowed again, then took her hand and kissed it. “I can’t forget what a wonderful time we had last night.”

  She knew she should protest, but she looked at that fine buggy and the elegant gentleman and let him help her up onto the seat. Uncle Trace would be so upset, but maybe he need never find out. She could only hope.

  Chapter 4

  Edwin Forester climbed up beside her and snapped his little whip. The fine black horse started off at a smart gait.

  “I’m just so pleased to run into you again. What were you doing in this area?” He gave her a dazzling smile.

  She took a deep breath. He smelled of fine aftershave and he seemed so genuinely glad to see her. “I was confronting Mrs. Whittle at the La Mode Dress Shoppe for deliberately putting me in an embarrassing situation with the wrong dress last night.”

  He gave her a reassuring nod. “You were beautiful in it.”

  “But the proper dress for a debutante, as I now know, is simple white with long white gloves. I must have looked like a fool.”

  “I don’t know what the others were wearing.You were so lovely, I never noticed them.”

  She chewed her lip. “That’s kind of you to say, Senator, but—”

  “Do call me Edwin.” He reached to pat her hand.

  “Well, Edwin, I really shouldn’t be here with you. Uncle Trace—”

  “Oh, yes.” He gave her a mock frown. “I had forgotten about that little problem. I should sit down and have a talk with Senor Durango. I feel we should let bygones be bygones. This whole thing is senseless, especially since we are the two most powerful families in Texas. If we could partner up, we could control all of the Lone Star State.”

  She couldn’t help but be dazzled by him. “But you’re already a state senator.”

  “Oh, yes, but I want more. I’ve been thinking about running for governor and then, who knows? Maybe the United States Senate. Have you ever been in Washington, D.C., my dear?”

  She shook her head, feeling like a yokel. She’d never been out of Texas and had only been to Austin a few times.

  “Oh, you’d love it.” He smiled down at her. “Fancy parties every night, balls at the White House.”

  “You’ve actually been to the White House?” Turquoise gasped.

  “Oh, yes, the president and I are good friends.You’d love the grounds, such beautiful flowers, and the shops are wonderful. And I must say, as beautiful as you are, Washington would love you. You’d be on everyone’s social list.”

  “Do you really think so?” He was so cosmopolitan and sophisticated.

  “Of course. Why, you’d be the most popular hostess in the city, all the important people vying for invitations to your parties and the ladies all copying your gowns.”

  They were driving down bustling Congress Avenue toward the capitol.

  “I’ll show you the sights of Austin,” he said grandly. “The capitol isn’t much right now, but there’s talk of a grand new building. Just imagine the parties I could have if I became governor.”

  She suddenly saw herself on his arm, leading the grand cotillion. She would be
dressed in the latest fashion and as the governor’s lady. No one would look down on her for her questionable background.

  Edwin drove her around to see the sights and she was aware of women stopping on the street and giving her envious stares.

  “I feel so conspicuous,” she murmured. “You must know everyone in town.”

  “Well, I know all the best people,” he said, “and I’m so happy that now I know you.”

  She felt herself flush and looked away. “I must have looked a fool in that bright, gaudy dress.”

  “That was not your fault.” His voice was stern and cold. “Let’s forget about that unfortunate incident, shall we? Just think, if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  “You’re being kind—too kind.”

  “No, I meant it.” He reached out and patted her hand. His hands were pink and manicured—a gentleman’s hands, not like Rio’s big, strong, calloused hands.

  “Let me show you the river,” he said and snapped his little whip at the fine black horse, “beautiful clear water and very old trees.”

  She started to protest that she really should get back, but he had turned down a country lane and they were soon driving along the river. “It is beautiful,” she admitted.

  “They say that under those big live oaks over there is where gentlemen occasionally duel.” He pointed to a shady dell as they passed.

  “Duel? I didn’t think men did that anymore.”

  He laughed. “Maybe in the rest of the country, but in Texas, it’s still a way for gentlemen to settle their differences. We wink at the law. In fact, I own a set of exquisite dueling pistols myself.”

  “Have you ever shot anyone?” she blurted.

  “Now that’s not something for elegant young ladies to question.” He smiled at her. “But I inherited the pistols. The Foresters go a long way back. Our family was part of Stephen Austin’s original Three Hundred, you know.”

  He seemed quite proud of that fact and rightly so, she thought. “My goodness.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “When David Austin brought the first Anglo settlers to Texas, there were only three hundred of them; the blue bloods of Texas aristocracy. It’s on both sides of my family.”