“I’ve always blamed Franco’s daring on his mother. I see I may have been mistaken.”
Elizabeth smiled, though there was a hint of strain still left in her face. “He’s very well-behaved, just full of energy.”
“So Ginny says about Franco.” He glanced around, then back at the couple standing awkwardly on the porch. “So Fidelito is still with you?”
“Oh yes, and Domingo, too, though he’s not as spry as he used to be. He won’t admit to it, of course.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
It was suddenly far too uncomfortable now that he had achieved the purpose of his visit, and he could tell that they wished him gone.
“Will you let me know if he ever needs anything?” He looked directly at Elizabeth, holding her gaze, and knew that she understood.
“Yes, of course. But he’s very happy and healthy. We love him very much.”
“It shows. Well, I’m thankful you let me see him. And if it means anything to you, I won’t intrude.”
Martin Burneson nodded, relief in his eyes. “I rather thought you’d do the honorable thing, Morgan.”
“He has your name,” Elizabeth blurted suddenly, then colored. “His middle name. Morgan. Martin insisted, said that one day he should know about you and his real lineage.”
Steve nodded. “When the time is right, I’ll be glad to answer any questions he may have.”
As he turned, gathering up the reins to his horse, he heard a shout, and paused to see Fidelito running toward him.
“Señor! Señor! You have come back!”
It was the first true welcome he’d had since coming back to Prayers End and Steve grinned, bracing as Fidelito—now a sturdy adolescent—threw himself at him like a cannon ball.
“I saw you, and I thought to myself that you looked so familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw your face closer that I knew it was you,” the youth chattered in idiomatic Spanish, and grinned when Steve answered in the same dialect.
“I hope you haven’t been hiding under any sidewalks lately.”
“Ah, but if I had not, they would have hung you, so you should be grateful. Now, I am too big to hide in so small a space.”
“You’re nearly a man.”
“Sí, so I tell my grandfather, but he says I am still young enough to beat for insolence.”
“Fidelito! Fidelito! Come and get our ball down from the roof of the smokehouse. Pedro has put it up there again when I told him not to throw it so high!”
Young Matthew’s impatient demands snared Fidelito’s attention, and he turned to tell him to wait just a moment while he spoke with an old friend. As he turned back to Steve, he wore a puzzled frown, and then dawning recognition lit his eyes as he looked again at the child.
“It’s time I go,” Steve said quietly, and in Spanish, “I know you can keep a secret well, and that you’ll keep this one, too.”
Fidelito nodded, eyes huge in a face that mirrored his sudden understanding. “Sí, I would never betray you.”
“Tell your grandfather hello for me.”
He didn’t look back this time either, but rode north toward the Prendergast spread. It occurred to him that one day Ginny would learn about the child he’d had with Elizabeth. After all, if Jim Bishop knew—and damn him, he’d found out about it somehow, or he wouldn’t have made that cryptic comment about seeing an old friend or two—it was bound to come out sooner or later. It wasn’t something he could tell Ginny right now, when they were still uncertain of each other, still had doubts. No, he’d wait. The right time to tell her would come around.
16
Sunlight seeped through windows left open to allow in a warm breeze, slanting across ocher walls, spilling bright gold over the mahogany furniture and pretty carpets. At last they were in a decent hotel, new and freshly painted, with the smell still lingering in the air. Ginny and Paco had crossed the border from Presidio, Texas, to the tiny town of Ojinaga in the state of Chihuahua late the night before, and she had gone straight to bed.
But it had been a restless sleep, peopled with dreams of places and faces from her past, and she had tossed and turned the entire night. Maybe she was too tired to sleep, or too frustrated.
I hate waiting! Every day she expected Steve to return, looked for him on the horizon as they rode, expected to see him around each bend in the road and behind every stand of trees. At first, she had lingered in Laredo after Steve left, uncertain what she wanted to do despite Paco’s obvious impatience. Finally she had decided she would travel on to the new rancho after all, too restless to remain in Laredo, and unwilling to go to Zacatecas without Steve.
Damn Steve. Damn Bishop, and damn the rebellion that made it unsafe to travel right now! If it wasn’t so risky, she would go on by herself. And why not? She’d done more dangerous things before, had survived it all.
But now she had other things to consider. Her children would be motherless if she miscalculated, and she had just begun to know them, just begun to win over Franco. Laura was easier, accepting her with a sweet, guileless trust that was at once comforting and terrifying. How could she ever betray that faith?
So she waited, restless and miserable, while Paco tended to some business he had here in Ojinaga, deviling him when the days passed and the tension grew too strong to bear.
“Please, Ginny, wait for Steve’s return,” he begged when she joined him downstairs one morning, frustration prompting her to announce her intention to leave immediately for Mexico City. “I don’t deserve this. Save it for him!”
“He’s not here, so you’ll have to
