Railroads would come, fortunes would be made, and there would always be men like Shanghai Pierce, Jay Gould and Senator Brandon who would profit from the sweat of others. Steve couldn’t change that. He could only do his best to see that his own family was safe.
Maybe it was time he refused Bishop’s efforts to draw him into more intrigue and focused on ranching and the pursuit of his own business ventures. He had done enough for both governments.
Now it was time to do his best for Ginny. For himself. And for their children.
When they got this silver to El Paso del Norte, he would wire her to meet him. It was time they told each other everything. It was time for complete honesty.
THE DESTINATION
42
Vera Cruz was humid, the heat pressing down like a damp blanket. In spite of the overpowering heat and occasional tropical thunderstorm that cooled the air only briefly, Ginny preferred to sit outside the posada, on the small patio that overlooked red roofs and narrow, dirty streets.
It seemed that she had done this far too often before—waited for a ship that would take her away—but she couldn’t escape her aching heart, the memories and a pervasive sense of despondency. She should have gone back to Brownsville, or even Galveston, anywhere but here, where there were so many memories.
She had gone back to Zacatecas with Renaldo and Missie, traveling safely with their escort. A week spent at Don Francisco’s hacienda had not made it easier to leave, but she had at last informed Don Francisco of her intentions.
“I’ve been away from my children too long. When Steve wants me, he knows where I will be.”
Would he want her? She’d hoped all was resolved between them, their growing intimacy in the valley an achingly tender confirmation of their love.
But the doubt, the uncertainty had returned, swooping down like a vulture to tear at her confidence, threatening to destroy all hope. Faith in their future was no longer certain.
Steve was always going off, always restless and in search of excitement. He did jobs for Jim Bishop because he wanted to, not always for some noble ideal of democracy and freedom for the common man. Would he ever change? Would he ever want to make a stable home?
Ginny closed her eyes, thinking again of Elizabeth Cady. Beth had been nothing like what she’d expected. There was none of the flamboyant beauty of Francesca or Concepciόn, or any of the other women Steve had been with over the years. Instead, Beth Burneson had possessed a quiet serenity and a beauty of spirit and soul that shone out of her intelligent eyes like a lamp in the darkness. It had taken away Ginny’s breath, seeing her pregnant and still so graceful despite her bulk, seeing the way she clung to her children.
And Matthew…so much like Franco, except for the eyes. The boy had his father’s eyes; deep blue, with ridiculously long lashes, still innocent, but with light of mischief shining in their depths. There had been such pride in the way Elizabeth regarded her children, mixed with fear that their happy life might be shattered.
It was a life Ginny envied, one of great stability. A contentment radiated from Elizabeth that was deep-rooted, unshaken even by her fears.
Ginny realized she was glad she’d met Elizabeth. It was a revelation that Steve had loved the woman enough to ask her to go with him, and a fluttering twinge in her own heart that he had forgotten her so quickly. It was one thing to share his body, but if he had shared his heart, it would destroy her.
But do I have his heart? Have I ever had his heart? If only she knew that, maybe she wouldn’t have found herself here….
Yet here she was, lingering in a town she detested, waiting for a ship to take her away from Mexico again. Here, where the oceanfront held little more than desolate sand dunes shaped by the wind into layered hills scattered with palm trees, the only beauty provided by the beautiful peak of Orizaba in the distance. Snow crowned its summit, white and gleaming in the sunlight.
She went daily to the ticket agent’s office to secure passage on a ship leaving Mexico, and each day was told that she must come back.
“Mañana, señora. Come back tomorrow.”
Finally, restless, impatient to be gone, she heard with relief the ticket agent inform her that the ship would be leaving early the next day.
“Don’t be late, señora, for there are others who will gladly buy your passage. Space for passengers leaving Mexico is limited, for the captains fill the ships with cargo for other countries. Soon, Mexico will be as prosperous as other nations. El presidente has promised it!”
He seemed glad to talk, though rather curious about the gringa who spoke the dialect as well as any native, and who looked so sad. Too lovely to be so sad, he told her. Ginny only smiled as she promised to be back early the next day.
“Don’t sell my ticket to anyone else,” she warned, and he swore on his mother’s life that he would never do such a thing.
“To see your children again will be too wonderful a thing, and I would not be so cruel, señora!”
As good as his word, the ticket agent saw to it that she had the best stateroom available. She had to admit that it was nicer than she had expected, given the limited space for passengers on the vessel. What did it matter, after all, if the cabin was small? It was only for a few weeks anyway, and then she would be in England, where it was cool and her children would be to welcome her.
Had Pierre married Lorna Prendergast yet?
