The Rawhide Man. Diana Palmer
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to stomp off into his study. He slammed the door with hurricane force behind him.
Aggie flinched. “Someday he will break all the windows,” she said, sighing. “Ay, ay, life is so exciting since I came to work here.” She eyed Bess. “It is none of my affair, you understand, but you are not the picture of a happy bride.”
“I don’t want to be a bride,” she muttered. “He’s trying to make me.”
“As I thought,” Aggie said. She shook her head. “I will not ask why you do not refuse him. Six months I have worked for Mr. Langston. In that time, I have never known him not to get his own way. Have you known him long, señorita?”
“I’ve known him most of my life,” Bess grumbled as she followed the older woman up the staircase.
“Then I do not need to tell you anything about him,” Aggie said quietly. She glanced at Bess as she stopped in front of the room where Bess always stayed when she visited the ranch. “He said that you have lost your mother. I am very sorry.”
Tears welled up in Bess’s eyes and her lower lip trembled precariously. “Yes.”
Impulsively, Aggie put an arm around her. “Señorita, grief passes. I, too, lost my mother many years ago. I do not forget the hurt, but time is kind.”
Bess nodded jerkily and tried to smile.
“Here, now. Katy insisted on redecorating the room when she heard you were coming.” Aggie led Bess into the spacious room, which boasted a new bedspread and matching curtains of cream with beige and blue flowers, a deep blue carpet and elegant wallpaper. There were fresh flowers, mums, in a vase on the chest of drawers.
“It’s beautiful!” Bess burst out.
“Oh, I hoped you’d like it!” came a joyous voice from the connecting door across the room.
Bess’s eyes lit up. “Katy!” she exclaimed, and held out her arms.
Katy ran into them, laughing. She was the image of her father—pale green eyes framed by black hair and a stubborn square jaw. She was going to be tall, too. She already came up almost to Bess’s shoulders.
“You smell nice,” Katy remarked as she drew back to look at the older woman. “Like flowers. You always smell so good, Bess!”
“I’m glad you think so,” Bess said with a grin.
“How’s school?”
Katy made a face. “I hate math and English grammar. But band is great. I play the flute! And I like chorus pretty well, and art class is neat.”
“I’d love to hear you play,” Bess said. She ruffled the short dark hair. “You’re the nicest welcome I’ve had so far.”
“Been at it with Dad again, huh?” Katy murmured with a wicked smile. “I heard,” she confessed.
Bess colored delicately. “We, uh, had a slight disagreement.”
“They have slight disagreements over the color of the sky,” Katy told Aggie without blinking an eye, and she laughed. “Dad likes to give orders and Bess doesn’t like to take them.”
“Now, Katy…” Bess began.
“I know. ‘Now, Katy, mind your own business.’“ Katy sighed. She arched her eyebrows. “But you’re going to be my mom, so it is kind of my business, isn’t it?”
At the sound of the word, Bess’s eyes glittered again with unshed tears. She was going to have to stop this!
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Katy said quickly, after a speaking glare from Aggie. “I’m very sorry, I forgot!”
“It’s all right,” Bess said, brushing away the tears. “It’s just so fresh, you know. I loved her very much.”
“I never knew my mother,” Katy said, “but Dad said she was a first-class bit—”
“No!” Aggie burst out, horrified. “You must not say such things!”
Katy’s lips pouted. “Dad does.”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t speak that way of your mother,” Bess said gently. “Besides, ladies don’t use language like that.”
Katy just stared at her blankly. “Huh?”
“You’ll have to show me around the ranch tomorrow,” Bess said quickly, deciding to let it drop for the time being. “It’s more than a year since I visited. I’m sure there are a lot of changes.”
That brought the smile back to Katy’s young face. “You bet! Unless…you wouldn’t rather Dad showed you around?” she asked with a calculating look, and Bess knew she was thinking about that dreadful lie Jude had told her.
“He can show me around later,” Bess promised the young girl. “Now, how about bed? I’m so sleepy I can hardly stand up.”
“Where are your things, señorita, and I will unpack,” Aggie volunteered.
“I’m wearing them,” Bess said gaily, opening her coat to disclose the dress underneath. “Jude decided that I could do without clothes, makeup and all those other frivolous things.”
Aggie scowled. “I will lend you one of my gowns,” she said. “Men, they never think about these things,” she muttered as she went out the door.
Katy was watching her closely. “Why didn’t you pack a suitcase?” she asked slowly.
“Because your father picked me up in what I have on and carried me bodily out the door, that’s why,” she said.
Katy tried to stifle a laugh, but it burst out anyway. “Good night, Bess!” she said, and beat a hasty retreat back to her own room, closing the door quickly. Behind it, there was hysterical laughter.
* * *
Bess had forgotten just how big Big Mesquite really was until she walked around the grounds with Katy the next day. The house, which she’d always loved, was very old and very Victorian, with a turret and exquisite gingerbread woodwork. Jude had obviously had it painted not too many months ago, because it was blistering white.
“I remember summers long ago when I used to swing in that front porch swing,” Bess recalled dreamily, hanging on to a small mimosa tree in the front yard as she stared toward the house. “And your grandmother would make iced tea and big, thick tomato sandwiches and I’d swing and munch.”
“Did you and Dad used to play together?” Katy asked, all eyes.
“No, darling,” Bess said, laughing. “Your father was already a grown man when I was barely in my teens. I hardly ever saw him in those days. He was away at college, and then in Vietnam.”
“Oh, yes, I know all about the war,” Katy said seriously. “Dad’s got an awful—”
“Katy!” Aggie called out the door. “Deanne wants to talk to you on the telephone!”
“Okay, Aggie!” Katy moved away from the tree. “Deanne’s my best friend,” she explained. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” Bess told her. “I’ll just ramble around and look at the stock.”
“Don’t go close to the corral. Dad’s got Blanket in there,” the young girl cautioned.
“What a name. Does it belong to a bull?”
“No, a horse.” Katy laughed. “They call her that because she likes to fall on people—like a blanket.”
“I’ll watch my step,” Bess promised.
Katy ran into the house and Bess wandered quietly around the yard in the same jersey dress she’d worn the day before. She had one of Jude’s Windbreakers wrapped around herself to keep out the cold, and she hated