When they rode out of the valley early the next morning, Ginny looked back only once, a faint sense of regret filling her that they were leaving behind what had come to represent to her a romantic interlude in their lives.
Paco rejoined them in Chihuahua, finding them in the sala of a small posada in Santa Rosalia near the mineral springs where people went to bathe in the medicinal waters.
“Those Rurales gave me a hard time,” he grumbled when Steve asked what had taken him so long. “Díaz may be getting rid of the bandit problem, but he’ll end up having a bigger problem on his hands unless he keeps a tight grip on his police force. They have too much power, and since most of them are former bandits themselves, they have no scruples.”
“Creating a climate of confidence is el presidente’s way of coaxing in more foreign investment. He hopes to lure European as well as American investors.”
“Hearst is buying up a lot of cattle country. And we know who has invested heavily in mining interests.”
“Yes.” Steve nodded thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowed and hard as he met Paco’s troubled gaze. “I heard rumors that American Smelting and Refining Company will set up ore smelters as soon as the plans are approved. The Galena Mine has laid more track and feeder lines from the mine to the smelters, with plans to join a major railroad.”
“And we know who is behind that, amigo.” Paco sat back in his chair. “Brandon switched loyalties before Lerdo could even reach the Rio Grande. He’s become quite friendly with Díaz now, as well as Hearst. Díaz’s policy of paying foreign employees more than Mexicans for the same work will start trouble before long. And Bishop informed me that el presidente is playing one side against the other by encouraging British and European capital to counterbalance the U.S. investments.”
“I wonder how Brandon is dealing with the possible loss of his profits to British investments?” Steve said dryly. “He intends to dominate the silver market, and he’s close enough to the border to get his ore to the smelters quickly, then get it on the market. He’s managed to do it without a lot of interference by the Mexican government, but I have a feeling that’s about to change.”
Paco laughed softly. “Sí, amigo, I think perhaps his luck is about to run out.”
William Brandon was beginning to think the same thing, and frustration battled with anger as he realized that his son-in-law was behind this most recent turn of fortune. He crumpled the telegram in one fist, eyes smoldering as he regarded the messenger.
“No, there is no reply.”
Damn Steve Morgan! Swiveling around in the leather chair, he leaned back to stare out the window of the office that looked over the San Antonio River. Cottonwood trees thrust bare branches over the slow winding curve of the river. A willow swayed in the wind. It would be spring before long, and he had to get the ore out of Mexico before the rains started in May.
Now, it seemed the new president had been informed of the Galena’s profits and had politely and firmly reminded him he was a guest in the country. A Mexican envoy would be made available immediately to survey the mine and offer any government assistance.
How much did Díaz know? Was he aware that only three months ago Steve Morgan had been a prisoner in the Galena Mine? And that he had killed four guards before their brief rebellion was over? It was not something he wanted known, especially in the United States. If the newspapers got wind of it, they would have a field day with that bit of knowledge. He could see the headlines now if they learned that a United States senator was involved in the operation of a Mexican mine that had imprisoned his own son-in-law. Thanks to influential friends, nothing had yet been leaked, but should a journalist get wind of it…
And now this! It was easy enough to recognize the fine hand of Steve Morgan behind Hill’s withdrawal from the plan to expand a railroad through Mexico. Suddenly, the rights to prime land through one of Hearst’s ranches had been yanked away, access denied. It meant excruciating delay and much higher costs. The country was too rugged in places, the land brutal and almost impossible to lay tracks through. Now he learned that the railroad rights he had thought finalized ran through the ranch that Morgan had purchased from Hearst. To go around could take months, time he didn’t have.
How long before Díaz increased his discreet taxation on the silver production? Already, the governor of Chihuahua had been ousted, Terrazas having supported the erstwhile president instead of the victor.
Disgruntled, Brandon heaved himself up from his chair. Perhaps it was time to compose a telegram. Jay Gould and Dr. Thomas Durant were both influential men who knew how to get things done. And they weren’t squeamish about crushing their opponents when necessary.
Steve Morgan would soon realize he had gotten in over his head. He may be ruthless, but he was a mercenary more than a businessman. He would never be able to withstand the combined forces of three of the most powerful men in all of America.
It had taken over a month for production to improve at the mine after Steve’s interference. But Luna was responsible for that fiasco! It had nearly caused an international incident with Spain, but Luna’s untimely—or timely, if one chose to see it that way—death in a mysterious fire had put a swift end to the problem.
Odd affair, that, Brandon mused; a fire in some remote village in the mountains killing the man so conveniently. It was almost too convenient. Why was it that Morgan seemed to attract coincidences far too often?
It couldn’t be just coincidence that he and Virginia had disappeared right after Luna’s death, nor that railroad rights had abruptly been blocked immediately after Steve escaped from incarceration in the Galena.
Damn Luna…he’d warned him to be careful even while approving of his plan to get Steve out of the way, but he had never thought the Spaniard fool enough to imprison him in the Galena! No doubt Luna had planned all along for the blame to fall elsewhere should the authorities or influential friends come to Morgan’s rescue. God, he’d been a dupe, a convenient scapegoat for Luna’s own schemes of vengeance.
After sending a telegram, William Brandon went to the Vance House Hotel and took his usual seat at the table by the window. The river wound in a distant, placid curve through the town. When the rains came, it could turn from tranquil to turbulent in a matter of moments, boiling over riverbanks to sweep along everything in its path.
But now it was calm enough, winding through stands of cottonwood trees and scrub willows, with new construction springing up precariously close to the banks as the town limits spread. San Antonio had been settled since the early 1700s and gone through as many changes as the landscape.
A rough town still, it boasted burgeoning commerce and a reputation as a place where one could buy almost anything, legal or illegal. Since the arrival of the new railroad in February, San Antonio had become a boom town. New industry was pouring in every day. Cattle lots sprang up, and even more saloons, hotels and mercantile stores were being built to handle the influx of cowmen.
He made an appointment to meet with Thomas Pierce of the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Railway. Pierce and his associates had organized a new company, but Pierce had since bought them out and the Pierce Line was operating under the nickname of the Sunset Route. Pierce, Brandon had observed, was eager for expansion, a man with vision—a man willing to take chances in business.
A man who might be willing to take the Sunset Route across the Rio Grande…
It would be perfect. He had already managed to lay tracks almost to the border, feeder lines that would get his ore to market more quickly and safely. Bandits had taken a toll at times, stopping silver convoys to steal the ore. Another expense had been incurred to hire guards to get it out safely.
Satisfaction replaced Brandon’s earlier pique, so by the time he finished his steak and had a brandy in front of him, he was in a much better frame of mind. Leaning back, he only smiled when he recognized the man coming through the door.
Shanghai Pierce, an obstreperous Texan and owner of some of the richest land in the state, strode into the dining room as if he owned it.
With a sigh, Brandon braced himself with distaste for Pierce’s imminent companionship.
“I heard you were in San Antone,” Pierce said as he plopped down in the chair opposite Brandon. “You oughta come down my way. I know how to treat a guest, by God! So what’s this I hear about your new venture, heh? Still plannin’ on runnin’ a railroad into Mexico?”
The temptation to excuse himself was great, but the senator merely smiled politely, his tone low in the hope that Pierce would lower his own voice.
“I’m always interested in new commerce, of course. I like to diversify.”
Pierce cackled, slamming his open palm on the table with a loud smack. “Hell, don’t we all! Damn, but it ain’t no coincidence that I done bought me some more land in Wharton County. Gonna see about puttin’ up some sites on it to load and unload cattle. Got the Texas and Mexican Railway in mind to run a line across it, name me a town, maybe. Pierce’s Station sounds damn good to me.”
Nodding, the senator debated involving Pierce, but it seemed a better bet at the moment to court Thomas Pierce. He’d never really liked the brash Texan across the table. Nor did it endear the man to him when Pierce grinned slyly and brought up Steve.
“Where’s that son-in-law of yours these days? He still running from the law? Damn, but he’s the fastest gunslinger I’ve ever seen work! Took ole Jed Langley without a blink, by God, and Jed’s the fastest around. Or was. Got hisself killed a while back, plugged in the back by some cowpuncher he pushed just a bit too hard. Had a temper, Langley did. I always knew he’d end up dead instead of making old bones.”
Irritated, the senator managed to say coolly, “I have no idea where Morgan is at this moment. We don’t keep in touch.”
“No? Well, he gets around, that’s for sure. Thought you might be meeting him here, since your daughter’s arrived. Wheeoo! I don’t mind sayin’, Morgan has good taste when it comes to women! Damn, I thought that Italian gal was a looker until I saw your daughter. She’s a beauty!”
Brandon felt his face freeze into a polite smile that he hoped masked his surprise at finding out Virginia was in San Antonio.
“So you’ve run into Virginia?”
“Senator, I had to stop myself falling off the sidewalk tryin’ to get close to her! Lord, those green eyes and that red hair—like a cloud, by God!” He chortled. “That’s about as fanciful as I get, though I wouldn’t mind giving Morgan a run for his money for that one!”
A trickle of sweat dribbled down under his high collar, and he fought the urge to swear. If Virginia was here, then Steve was no doubt close by. It could be very awkward!
While Shanghai Pierce talked about Virginia, Brandon busily constructed a plausible reason for being in San Antonio. It would never do to allow Steve Morgan to know too much about his plans. He knew too much as it was. Damn him! Why was he here?
It wouldn’t have made Brandon feel much better to know that Steve was wondering the same thing.
Just his luck, Steve thought, to ride into trouble again. He should have sent Ginny on to his grandfather’s despite her objections. Now there were bound to be problems he hadn’t anticipated.
Most of all, with Ginny.
“Did you know she was going to be here?” Ginny eyed him skeptically. “Is that why you wanted me to go elsewhere?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Ginny. I had no idea that Francesca would be here. San Antonio is not exactly the kind of place she likes to visit.”
“Ah, I’d forgotten. The great Signorina di Paoli seems to prefer singing in London or Paris…yet here she is. What a wretched coincidence!”
“Believe it or not, it is a coincidence. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been out of touch lately.”
“Oh, Steve, I know that. It just…surprised me that she is here, that’s all.” Ginny smiled but she sounded uncertain as she moved to the window of their hotel room. Across the street, the marquee of the Majestic Theater advertised the world-famous opera singer, Princess Francesca di Paoli, in San Antonio to celebrate the grand arrival of the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Railway.
It didn’t make things any better that Shanghai Pierce was in town as well. The man was unscrupulous. A perfect match for Brandon, but even the senator had enough scruples not to get too involved with him.
Ginny turned away from the window. With the light behind her forming a hazy halo, she looked to Steve like a seductive angel.
“You needn’t look so wary, Steve,” she said. “I don’t intend to make any kind of a scene.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
She smiled slightly, and moved to the wardrobe where her new clothes had been delivered earlier. “These will do,” she said now as if there were nothing more important, “until I can have some made. I suppose I should be accustomed to having garments strewn all over Mexico, but somehow, I never quite adapt to misplacing my beautiful gowns. Such a waste, when all of them were sewn especially for me.”
She turned suddenly, eyes wide and innocent. “But then, you probably left them in New Orleans anyway when you packed contraband instead.”
Amused, he said as he buckled on his gun belt, “You have no faith in me, Ginny love. I sent them to my grandfather’s, but maybe not as we had planned.”
“So I found out. Honestly, Steve, I constantly surprise myself with how much of your plans I can guess. You forget, I’ve worked for Bishop, too, and can always discern his fine hand mixed up in your plans.” Her loose hair brushed against her waist, and she pulled it over one shoulder, combing her fingers through it. “Should I ask where you’re going?”
“You can if you like. Paco is waiting on me. You’re getting skinny, my love. You need some meat on your bones. Have a good meal tonight, and don’t wait up for me.”
Before she could do more than splutter a protest, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her, his mouth effectively cutting off any more questions.
“Behave yourself,” he said when he lifted his head, “or you’ll upset Missie.”
Some of the anger leached from her stormy face. “Missie and Renaldo are here?”
“In the restaurant we passed—and so was your father. It looks like a reunion in town. Just what I need. Since I’ll be busy for a while, do you think you can stay out of trouble?”
“Steve! My father is here, too…I wonder what he’s doing here still? I mean, he was here before Christmas, but I assumed he’d rejoined Sonya in Louisiana by now. Oh, I must go and visit him, then. I have some things I want to discuss.”
“You’ll have to wait your turn. I have business with him first. Besides, you’ll want to see Missie. You’ll be traveling back to my grandfather’s with them when they leave.”
As he expected, her eyes narrowed at him. Before she could reply, he added, “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“You’re not leaving me now! We just got to town. You haven’t been here an hour yet, Steve Morgan!”
“Ginny, the sooner I take care of what I have to do, the sooner we can send for the children. Keep that in mind while you’re badgering me.”
Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks, but she said with prim resignation, “I have no intention of badgering you, Steve, so you needn’t look so expectant. I know you have to finish whatever it is Jim Bishop has sent you to do, and I know you have no intention of taking me with you. It should make you happy to know that I’m quite content to stay here. I’m just rather surprised to discover that Renaldo and Missie are here, as well as my father. Quite a crowd. Are you sure you didn’t send for all of them, just to keep me busy?”
He grinned. “Maybe I did mention to my cousin in a telegram that we would be visiting San Antonio and suggested it was a good idea for him to get Missie away for a while. You like Missie well enough, don’t you?”
“You know I do. And I see through your plan. You’re quite obvious, you know. I’ll go back with them, don’t worry about that. And I will wait for you, Steve Morgan, but I won’t wait forever! Don’t forget where you left me, because I may not be there if you take too long to come back!”
Even though she had said it with a faint smile, he thought about that, and of all the times he’d left her before as he stepped out of the hotel into the street.
The wheel always seemed to swing back around, bringing everything full circle. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d run into Francesca in Dallas, too, but then Toni Lassiter had been there. Vicious, depraved Toni—the beautiful blond bitch who had tried to destroy him.
If not for Francesca’s help then, Toni may very well have succeeded. And then Ginny had been there, come to find out what she could about him. After everything, he had gone to her rescue, taking her from Toni and Matt Cooper before they could hurt her.
Ginny, above everyone else, still had the power to seduce him into forgiving her transgressions, however unwillingly. He hoped that, this time, she did what he told her and went home with Renaldo and Missie.
The back of the Majestic smelled like new paint and grease, with stale odors he’d just as soon not identify. Steve slipped inside, finding the dressing rooms by instinct more than memory.
He heard her before he reached the closed door, and grinned to himself. The long-suffering Costanza was the recipient of one of Francesca’s famous tirades, her Italian temper flaring into heated invectives, the gutter speech of her youth more familiar despite her outward elegance.
He opened the door slightly, leaned his shoulder against the frame and waited.
“Am I to wear a gown without a sleeve?” Francesca was demanding shrilly. “It is too much, this! I am not some simple actress who does not care how she looks. Bah! I do not know why I bother! This town has never appreciated my talent, and is full of crude men who leer at me as if they have never seen a woman before!”
“They have never seen a woman like you, carissima.” Costanza’s answer was mechanical and dutiful as she bent to pick up the sleeve her precious bambina had carelessly discarded on the floor. “I will sew it back on. Take off the gown now, before you rip the other sleeve.”
“Oh, it is not the sleeve! It is this town! I do not think I can bear it here.” Pacing, her dark hair loose and held from her face by a glittering diamond comb, she swept regally across the carpet, angrily snatching up a glass of champagne and downing it in a single gulp.
“It is not the town you hate,” Costanza observed with a sniff. “It is a man.”
“No! I never think of him anymore. I am happy with Lord Lindhaven, you know I am.”
“So? You do not seem to miss him when we are away.” Costanza’s sturdy body quivered with indignation, and when she looked up, her dark eyes widened with incredulity and then dismay. “Ah, it is the banditti!”
“I told you no,” Francesca said irritably, flouncing around to glare at her companion, but as she caught sight of him in the doorway, the words died in her throat and the empty champagne glass dropped to the floor with a tinkling crash.
“Stefano! Oh, it is you!”
“Still making poor Costanza’s life miserable, I see. Don’t you ever get tired of being angry?”
His lazy stance in the doorway, and the slow drift of his gaze over her, made her laugh throatily, her dark head tilting back so that her long dark hair swung seductively.
“I never tire of being angry at you, my banditti. What are you doing here, in this hellish town?”
“I could ask you that.”
“Yes.” Her glossy lips curved into a smile, and she moved to him to press them against his mouth in a lingering kiss that made Costanza mutter under her breath. “Leave us,” Francesca commanded, ignoring her protests. The older woman stalked from the dressing room, banging the door loudly behind her.
“She still hates me, I see,” Steve said, his arm having gone automatically around Francesca’s waist. “I feel quite at home again.”
“Do you? I think not.” She drew back a bit, eyeing him with a critical frown. “You look—dangerous. Is that a new scar I see on your so beautiful face?”
He caught the hand she put against his jaw, turned it over to kiss the palm, then held it. “I just came by for old times’ sake, ’Cesca. I can’t stay.”
A note of sadness crept into her tone. “It is your wife, caro? She is with you?”
“Yes, but that’s not the reason. Ginny will be staying in town. I’d like it if you avoided her. She doesn’t need any reminders of recent problems right now.”
A dark brow arched. “And how would seeing me remind her of recent problems? Oh, have you two been quarreling about me? How provincial, caro!”
“Nothing so mundane, ’Cesca. Do you recall a persistent admirer of yours by the name of Rafael Luna?”
Francesca waved a dismissive hand. “So many men follow me persistently. I cannot remember them all, Stefano!”
“But perhaps you recall the man who accosted you in Florence. I had to throw him bodily out of your dressing room after he saw us together.”
“Perhaps I recall him. Has he followed me here? How intriguing. Should I see him, do you think?”
“That would be rather difficult. I had to kill him.”
Francesca laughed. “Such a vicious banditti! Did you kill him for me?”
“No. He abducted Ginny to get to me. She went through hell because of him—and because of you and me.”
“I had nothing to do with this Luna!”
“No, but he blamed me for keeping him from you. And Ginny suffered for it.”
“So you want me to avoid her.” Francesca stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I shall not seek her out, if that concerns you. But should she confront me, I will not play the role of a coward. I warn you now.”
“I don’t think Ginny will be confronting you, ’Cesca. I hate leaving her behind, especially now, but I must.”
“So you try to wrap her in cotton wool so she does not see anything unpleasant? I see. Do you recall that I once told you to go back to your wife, that you must love her? I was more right than even I knew.”
Sighing, Francesca stepped back; her luscious figure was flattered by the gown that hugged her curves, and she looked every inch the princess she claimed to be.
“I knew the day would come, Stefano. I felt it. You were never really mine. But then, I was never really yours. It was always a fleeting thing between us. I do not have time for a man in my life.”
“Not even Lindhaven?” Steve’s mocking reminder of her most faithful protector made her shrug.
“He accepts me as I am, and makes no demands upon me. I am free with him.”
“He’s the kind of man you need in your life.”
“Yes.” She gazed at him with a faint smile. “You and I, we learned not to give too much of ourselves. Lindhaven is willing to settle for little. But I think perhaps you have given all this time. There is a difference in you, Stefano. Is it because you are a father now?”
“Partially.” He released her hand, and she put it behind her, leaning back against the dressing table scattered with bottles of perfume and face powder, waiting. “Mostly because of Ginny. She’s gone through a lot. Some of it is my fault, some of it’s hers, but we’ve both realized that we need each other. Hell, we love each other.”
“So, it is true. She is a lucky woman to have you.”
He walked to the back door with her on his arm, and stood just inside. “Your performance begins soon. Go back inside, ’Cesca.”
Genuine tears sparkled in her eyes, and she kissed him, a long, passionate farewell kiss.
“Ciao, mi amore.”
He had gone only a few steps when he heard her behind him again. She flung her arms around him, heedless of her costume. “I will never forget you, my banditti!”
Steve kissed her again. “Try not to make Lindhaven’s life miserable, cara.”
Half laughing, half sobbing, she took a step back. “And for you, Stefano, I wish much happiness.”
Ginny tied the sash of her dressing gown around her waist. Still damp from a long, soothing bath, she looked into the long mirror tilted on a stand by the tub. No sign of the bruises remained on her body. All traces of her recent ordeal were gone, except that Steve was right—she was too thin. Now her eyes looked too large for her face, and there were hollows beneath her high cheekbones.
The silk dressing gown she had purchased in a dress shop upon their arrival in San Antonio clung to her damp curves, drifted around her legs as she walked to the window to pull down the shade. Sunlight poured into the room in broad swathes that made her eyes narrow against it as she fumbled with the shade. To her irritation, it snapped loose from her hands, spinning up around the wooden roller with a brisk hum. She reached for the cord to pull it down again, but paused suddenly as a glitter caught her eye.
Across the street, just visible from her third-floor window, was the alley that ran beside the Majestic Theater. Sunlight reflected from a huge diamond comb tucked into the dark hair of Francesca di Paoli. Ginny would recognize her anywhere. And the man with her was Steve, of course, his lean frame far too familiar to her. His back was to the street, and the opera singer was glued to his front, her arms flung about his neck in a passionate embrace.
Suddenly cold inside, Ginny stepped away from the window.
I should have known…should have remembered that he can never resist a beautiful woman!
But it didn’t mean that he’d been unfaithful, she told herself. I have to trust him! Oh God, I cannot let the doubts destroy us again….