So now here they were, in Nuevo Laredo on the border of Texas and Mexico, instead of across the Meseta Central in the province of Zacatecas. So close to home, and yet still so far away.
Don Francisco planned a fiesta, of course, to welcome home his prodigal grandson. And Teresa would be there, the woman he had loved for so long—and who had given him a son to be claimed by another man. Richard. How ironic that the only other man to even slightly touch Ginny’s heart was Steve’s uncle. Did Don Francisco understand about Richard? But how could he, when she wasn’t certain she understood it herself?
Don Francisco had come to visit her at Richard’s soon after she had first been blinded. She recalled him gently asking questions of her, and she had detected the concern and sympathy in his tone even though she hadn’t been able to see him. He must have recognized that she still loved Steve, and been patient with her. What would he say when he saw her again?
Steve was his grandson, but Richard was his son. She had rejected one for the other. How strange that they were all so connected, even when unaware of the reasons, the true relationship. It must be a measure of the old man’s strength of character that they were so different, yet so similar, Steve and Richard both strong men in their own dissimilar ways. As was Don Francisco, an important man in Mexico even through all the political turmoil.
No doubt the fiesta would be a grand affair; guests would arrive from faroff provinces as well as neighboring haciendas. There would be music and dancing, wine—probably aguardiente as well—long tables of food, and all the aunts to fuss over Steve and scold them both for not bringing the children.
Thoughts of her children brought a familiar ache. It was terrible to miss them so much, even though she knew they were happy with Tante Celine. Sometimes at night she woke up, thinking she had heard Laura call out, or that Franco needed her. Then she would realize that it had only been a dream, that they were far away in the English countryside. It was comforting to know they were with Tante, and that Pierre would never allow them to come to harm.
And perhaps, by the time they join us here, I will at last be certain of Steve, of myself and our love…. Weren’t all the secrets behind them now? All the ones that really mattered? Yes. And while it was very annoying that he didn’t have enough confidence in her to confide the details of Jim Bishop’s plans, it wasn’t as important as personal honesty between them.
A clatter in the street below snagged her attention for a moment as a cart drawn by a small burro lost a wheel. The cart was piled high with produce for the market, and initiated an immediate flurry of activity as children suddenly appeared to snatch ripe melons from the cascading pile dumped into the street. Two men in wide, dusty sombreros stopped to help the driver right the cart and chase away the laughing thieves. Ginny watched idly, then it was quiet again, the excitement subsiding as the children vanished and the cart was propped drunkenly on a wheelless hub.
Restless, she closed the wooden shutters again to blot out the bright light and dust, then turned away from the window, stirring the sticky air with a small lacy fan she had bought at the French market in New Orleans. The heat was growing oppressive; a bath would cool her off, and she would have her gown pressed while she was bathing. Steve had said they were to have supper later at the fort across the river in Laredo.
She frowned. He’d been gone for hours. Just where was he? So many things could happen. She hated worrying, and there was no point in thinking about it any longer. It would do no good and only make her irritable.
A bath was brought up for her, hot steaming water with a sprinkle of scented salts, and she relaxed in the tub for over an hour, until the water cooled and she felt refreshed.
There would be few opportunities for baths for a time. The easiest portion of the journey was behind them. From here, the trip would be long, hot and hard, for they would have to cross the Sierra Madre Mountains on horseback, sleeping in small, rustic posadas along the trail and even on the ground beneath the moonlight and stars.
It was a trip she’d made many times, but it never got easier, she remarked that evening at the fort after supper was over and they sat out on the long porch of the dining hall where it was cooler.
“But Mrs. Morgan, soon the railroad will make travel so much easier,” Uriah Lott, a guest of the colonel’s, said as he leaned forward to stare at her earnestly. “I have already laid tracks from San Diego down to the Gulf Coast at Corpus Christi in order to transport sheep to market, and will be extending the line even farther.”
“San Diego?” Ginny’s brow shot up in surprise, and Mr. Lott laughed ruefully.
“Oh, no, I see I’ve misled you. San Diego is twenty-five miles north of Corpus Christi. But it’s a start. Why, I have investors behind me now, and plans to lay even more tracks across the plains and the border. That’s one of the reasons I’m here in Laredo, you see. It’s the perfect gateway into Mexico. When a permanent bridge is built to link with Nuevo Laredo across the Rio Grande, we will soon be able to travel all the way to Mexico City by rail! I envision tracks laid all the way up into Canada eventually, and it’s not just a dream. It’s the future.”
“So your railroad is going to compete with the big boys of Union Pacific and Central Pacific?” Steve regarded Lott over the rim
