Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance) (7 page)

"That is part of being a doctor," he told her.

Victoria could see that there was no sense in arguing with him, so she decided to ask him if he knew her grandmother. "Doctor, are you acquainted with Alice Anderson?" she asked.

"Well, yes, I am," he said. "I know her very well.
Why do you ask?"

"She is my grandmother," Victoria told him. She watched as the doctor's eyes widened.

"How can that be?" he said. "I did not know that she had a granddaughter."

Victoria studied the doctor. He was not a tall man,
but was nice looking with brown hair and soft hazel eyes. She had been struck by his kindness and had liked him at once.

"My name is Victoria Lee Farraday, and the man in the other room is not my father, as you supposed,
but is almost like a father to me. We have come from
Georgia to find my grandmother. Would it be possible for you to get word to her that I am here?" she asked, smiling.

"Of course," he told her. "I will tell her myself. She is a good friend of mine. In fact, I call her Mammaw."

Victoria smiled. "Bodine told me that many people refer to her as Mammaw."

"He was right," the doctor said. "Your grandmother is well-thought-of around here.   Is she
expecting you?" he asked.

"No, it will be a complete surprise to her," Victoria told him.

"A welcome one, I can assure you," he said. "Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Farraday, I will be on my way."

"Senor
Doctor," Consuelo spoke up. "Can I not offer you a bite to eat?"

"Some other time, Mrs. Delgado. I must get back to town now." He smiled at Victoria. "I will get word to your grandmother, and do not worry about Mr. Bodine; he will be fine. Do not disturb him tonight; just let him rest."

He left as quickly as he had come. As he rode back to town, he pondered what Miss Farraday had told him. She had sure been a homely little thing; but nice enough, he thought.

Manuel insisted that Victoria eat something and this time she agreed.
"Senorita
Farraday," Manuel told her as she ate, "your horse would not let me remove his saddle."

"I had forgotten Rebel," Victoria said. "He will not allow many people near him. I will have to unsaddle him myself."

"I will carry the lantern for you," Manuel said. "I am afraid it is still raining." Manuel insisted that Victoria wear his mackintosh. When they returned from the barn, she found that Consuelo had cleared the dishes and made pallets on the floor. Consuelo pulled back a curtained section of the room to reveal a sleeping child, lying on a crude wooden bed.

"Roberto," she told Victoria softly.

Victoria smiled at the sleeping child.
“
He is beautiful," she said gently.

"Thank you,
Senorita,”
Consuelo told her proudly.

Victoria noticed that the small cabin only had two rooms, and Bodine occupied the only bedroom. "I am so sorry to put you out of your bed," Victoria said to Consuelo.

"You are not to worry,
Senorita.
See, I made your pallet in the corner. Manuel will hang up a curtain so you will have privacy. We will not mind sleeping on the floor. I have slept in far worse," Consuelo said.

Victoria was overcome by the kindness shown to her by the two Delgados. She could tell by her surroundings that they were very poor, yet they gladly shared all they had with her. She lay down on the pallet, her weary body aching for sleep. She would pay them back for their kindness, she vowed.

These Texans had opened their home to her and Bodine, and had gone out of their way to help them. Victoria hoped that her grandmother would come for her tomorrow. She fell asleep wondering what their meeting would be like.

5

Dr. Dan Owens drove his buggy through the big gates of Rio del Lobo. The gates were made of heavy wrought iron in which the design of a wolf, the symbol of the Hanover empire, was woven in intricate detail. He rode up the driveway and stopped before the huge Spanish ranch house, which stood on two acres of manicured lawn. Dan always wondered how they kept it so green in the years when there was a drought. It took four gardeners to keep it up. The house itself was beautiful, a huge two-story, white Spanish hacienda, with a bright-red tile roof. Dan walked up to the massive front door, and lifted the heavy knocker which was in the shape of a wolf.

He and Edward Hanover had been friends since boyhood. Dan was the son of the local doctor, who, more often than not, had been paid for his services in eggs or livestock rather than money. The fact that Dan was poor and Edward was extremely wealthy had no effect on their friendship, however. In fact, Edward's father had paid for Dan to study medicine at an eastern university. He had asked only that Dan practice medicine in Cedarville. That had been no hardship to Dan, since he loved his hometown and
the people in it.

The door was opened by Juanita, Edward's plump Mexican housekeeper. Her black hair was braided and wound around her head neatly. Her plump face was drawn up in a worried frown.
"Senor
Doctor, come in," she greeted Dan in a voice full of concern.

"What kind of a welcome is that, Juanita? You look as if you just lost your best friend."

She shook her head and clicked her tongue.
"Senor
Eduardo is in a very bad mood. He came home in a rage and has shut himself in his study."

Dan smiled at her. "I have weathered these storms before, Juanita."

She nodded her head in agreement.
"Si, Senor
Doctor. You and no one else."

"You go on with whatever you were doing, Juanita. I will announce myself."

Dan rapped on the study door, opened it, and entered. Edward was sitting at his desk and looked at him with a scowl on his handsome face. "Oh, it's you," he said sourly.

"Shall I go out and come in again?" Dan teased. "What has got your back up?"

"Damned incompetence," Edward answered, rising to his feet. "I am surrounded by incompetence."

Dan seated himself in a leather chair and studied his friend. His actual name was Eduardo Antonio Hanover. Edward was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that rippled with muscles, and tapered to a trim waist. His long lean legs were firm from many hours in the saddle. His ebony-colored hair was swept carelessly across his forehead. Edward's eyes were deep brown, fringed with long black lashes. His chin was stubborn, with a slight cleft in it. Black sideburns framed his face, tan from the hours he spent in the sun. He had gotten his dark good looks from his Spanish mother, and his height and broad shoulders from his English father.

When Edward had been sixteen, his father had insisted on sending him to England to complete his education. He had been a wild and untamed youth, but when he returned from England, he was polished and sophisticated.

Edward chose to wear English-styled clothing, as his father had, instead of dressing as his fellow Texans did. He wore a white silk shirt, and tight-fitting pants hugged his long legs. The pant legs were tucked inside highly polished, black English boots.

There was a magnetism about Edward which seemed to draw the ladies, both young and old. Men respected him and gave him a wide berth when the occasion called for it. He had been spoiled; as an only child, his father and mother had given him whatever he wanted. He was used to getting his own way. Yet, he was a friend who could be depended upon, and Dan loved him like a brother.

"You should see yourself." Dan laughed. "You have got poor Juanita frightened to death."

Edward waved this aside. "Do you know what has happened?"

"No, suppose you tell me."

"No one will admit it, but someone left the gate open and Rafael's pinto got into the corral with my champion mare. I do not have to tell you
the consequences."

Dan threw back his head and laughed. "All this commotion because some stud got to your prize mare."

Edward glared at him. "I have been waiting to breed her with just the right stud. Now her foal will be worthless. What do you think a foal sired by a common cow pony will produce?"

"A superior cow pony, I suppose." Dan laughed.

"Why don't you just stick to your doctoring? It is for sure you don't know anything about horses."

"I bow to your superior knowledge, Edward. All I know about horses is which end to feed, and which end to shovel."

Edward's stormy features softened. He even managed to smile. "Dan, I do not know how we have managed to stay friends over the years."

"It is because you cannot bully me with your bad temper as you do everyone else."

"Perhaps," Edward said, as he poured a brandy for Dan and one for himself. Dan took the glass Edward offered, took a drink, and placed the glass on the desk. He sat, thoughtful for a moment, and then asked: "Do you apply the same principle to yourself as you do to your thoroughbred stock?"

"In what way?"

"When you marry, will your wife have to come from superior stock to mingle with your own?"

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

Edward thought for a moment. "I suppose someday I will have to marry. One needs sons to carry on after one is gone, but the thought of being
tied to one woman is very distasteful to me. The woman I marry," he continued, "would have to have a certain elegance and breeding, be of tolerable good looks, and not interfere in my life style."

"What you mean, Edward, is she would have to stay at home and mind the kids and not object too much if you come home late some nights?"

"Well, I would not have put it quite so crudely, Dan, but yes. Though I would really rather not marry at all."

"You have any number of females to choose from," Dan teased him.

"I am weary of women throwing themselves at me, and of their ambitious mothers trying to snare me in their traps."

Dan laughed. "I would think you were being egotistical, if I had not witnessed it with my own eyes. A lot of the young men in the country, including myself, would like to see you safely married so you would not whisk all the better looking females away from under our noses." As an afterthought he added, "I pity your wife when you do get married."

Edward looked at him, his dark eyebrows raised. "Whatever for?"

"Because it has never occurred to you to marry for love. What has happened to cause you to be so cynical?"

"It is not a question of cynicism; it is reality. I have yet to meet the woman who can hold my interest for more than a week at a time."

Dan picked up his glass and studied its dark contents.  "I hope someday you fall hard for a
woman, and I hope I am around to see it."

"Don't hold your breath until that happens, Dan, or you will not be around."

"What about Clarissa Patterson?" Dan asked him. "You know how she feels about you, and she is very pretty."

Edward walked over to his desk and sat down. He propped his long legs on its smooth surface. "Clarissa is not the kind of girl you play games with. Her mother would not allow it. I may have to settle for her in the long run."

Dan laughed. "I can see years of wedded bliss ahead for you."

"Let us change the subject. This one is beginning to bore me," Edward told him.

"All right," Dan said, shaking his head. "I was wondering if you are going to the annual spring picnic. It is only two weeks away, you know."

"I suppose I will have to put in an appearance," Edward said in exasperation, "but I do not intend to stay very long." He shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows, I may not be welcome."

"In view of your politics, I am surprised you have not been tarred and feathered already. There have not been any problems, have there?" Dan asked.

"No, it seems the prodigal son has been returned to the fold and forgiven. I chose to fight with the Union Army because I felt it was the right thing to do. I never wanted Texas to secede in the first place, and as you know, I fought hard in the state legislature to prevent it. You know what Sam Houston's views were, Dan. It is a feeling more widespread than you might imagine. A lot of people
just kept their feelings to themselves. I chose to stand up and be counted, and as things turned out, I was right. Texas should never have joined the Confederacy."

Dan eyed him warily. "We had better move on to another subject, since my sympathies were for the other side. I wore a gray uniform, remember?"

Edward sighed. "Yes, I know. The war is over now. You and I will not argue the fine points."

"You were with General Sherman in Georgia, were you not?"

"Of course, you know that I was," Edward snapped, "but I do not intend to discuss it with you.

"No, that is not why I was asking," Dan replied. "The strangest thing happened two nights ago. I was called to tend an injured man out at the Delgados'. Do you know them?"

"No, I cannot say that I do, but go on, Dan."

"Do you remember Mammaw's daughter?"

Edward lifted his feet from the top of the desk and leaned forward, knitting his brow in thoughtfulness. "I do not remember her, actually, but everyone around here knows that Mammaw had a daughter. She died, did she not?"

"Yes, that is correct. She married a planter from Georgia, and left Texas almost twenty years ago, I believe."

"That is all very interesting, Dan, but what are you getting at?"

"I met her daughter, who would be Mammaw's granddaughter, at the Delgados'. She was there with a man called Bodine."

"What was she doing at the Delgados'?" Edward asked.

"I am not too clear on all the details, but from what I gather, she and this Bodine came all the way from Georgia on horseback. I know it sounds farfetched. Anyway, this Bodine was thrown from a horse, and Mammaw's granddaughter sought help from the Delgados."

"I have heard of a man called Bodine," Edward said thoughtfully. "If it is the same man, he is something of a mystery about here. Yes, as I recall, he worked for Mammaw."

"It may well be the same man," Dan told him. "He is old enough to be the girl's father. In fact, at first I thought he was her father."

"How strange," Edward said. "Does Mammaw know they are at the Delgados'?"

"No," Dan told him, "and here the story gets even stranger. She is not even expecting them. I told the girl I would ride over and let Mammaw know she is here. I should have done so before now, but I have been with Margaret Dennison. She just delivered her seventh daughter. She is not young anymore, and the birth was hard on her."

"What is the girl's name, and what does she look like?" Edward asked, looking at Dan with interest.

"I was too tired to ask her name," Dan answered him, "and as for her looks, she looks like any newborn baby, red and wrinkled."

Edward looked at him impatiently. "Not the Dennison baby, Mammaw's granddaughter."

Dan knew who Edward had meant, but could not resist teasing him. He threw back his head and
laughed heartily. "You would like for me to tell you
that she is beautiful, wouldn't you? I hate to
disappoint you, Edward, but she is rather homely. In
fact, I felt sorry for her, she was so pathetic-looking."

"Oh, well," Edward said, losing interest, "Mam
maw will be glad to welcome her, whatever she looks
like."

Dan emptied his glass and rose to his feet. "I had better be on my way now. If I time it right, maybe Mammaw will feed me."

"Give her my regards," Edward told him. "I have
not had a chance to see her since my return. She was
always a favorite of mine."

"I will do that," Dan said, and added: "Edward."

"Yes?"

"You can go back to your ranting and raving."

They smiled at each other, and Dan left his friend in a better mood than he had found him in.