Jared raised his eyes, which had been riveted on the weeping figure at his feet, to his brother, and spoke resolutely. “No. She’s my wife, and no man except me is going to see to her. If she goes home, she goes with me.”
Rudy bit off an argument even as he watched Jared lean down and grasp Lauren under her arms, pulling her to her feet. She yanked her arms free and stared up at him defiantly. Then without a word, she walked toward Charger and pushed herself up into the saddle. She sat stiffly as Jared mounted behind her. Rudy watched them until they rode out of sight. He shook his head in puzzlement and despair for these two people whom he loved. Then he set about gathering brush for Flame’s funeral pyre.
Lauren held herself rigid on the saddle in front of Jared, who seemed as determined not to touch her as she him. What he was feeling after her attack remained a mystery. When they finally cantered into the compound and up to the front of the ranch house, Jared spoke the first words that had passed between them.
“The honeymoon is over,” he said sarcastically. “Congratulations, Lauren. No one has ever been able to come between my brother and me. Before you cause more friction, I want to leave here. In the morning. Be ready early.”
“Very well,” she replied as she slid to the ground and strode into the house without once glancing back at him.
* * *
After the misty-eyed goodbyes and warm farewell embraces from the Mendezes, it was hard for Lauren to return to Olivia’s house in Coronado where she knew only disquietude. Had it not been for the arrival of Elena’s baby girl, which a beaming Carlos had announced to her a few days ago, leaving Keypoint would have been unbearable.
Upon their unexpected arrival, Olivia pointedly didn’t ask about their visit. Lauren now knew why she held such a great deal of contempt for the family who lived at the ranch. Carson Wells politely inquired into Lauren’s well-being on their first night back. He was, it now seemed, a regular at dinner.
Jared was defensively sullen and drank steadily throughout the meal. Olivia heaped acclaim on the Vandivers for being successful in securing a trunk of the railroad to Coronado. The date for the groundbreaking was to be announced soon.
“With any kind of luck with the weather, labor, and so on, we should have a railroad by this time next year.”
“Swell,” Jared mumbled into his glass.
“I should think that would make you happy,” Olivia snapped at him.
He pushed his chair back and rose unsteadily to his feet. “I’ll tell you what makes me unhappy. Those damn Vandivers were snooping around Keypoint the other day. I wasn’t there or they wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near it. I want them restricted to the area designated for the power plant. Is that clear?” His face was flushed and his amber eyes glowed like animal eyes in the dark.
“Yes, Jared, I’ll mention that to them. I’m sure they’ll comply,” Olivia mollified him.
He only snorted as he refilled his glass, sloshing whiskey over his unsteady hand.
The only joy in the house for Lauren was Elena’s baby. Her introduction to Isabela had been made as the baby sucked greedily at her mother’s milk-laden breast. Lauren was shocked at Elena’s immodesty as she bared her breast, but the new mother wasn’t at all embarrassed. Rosa looked on with grandmotherly pride. Isabela’s hair was coal-black and her black eyes were lightly fringed with dark lashes.
The baby stayed in the small room off the kitchen that Rosa shared with Elena. When Elena was busy somewhere in the house, Rosa was nearby to answer the demanding cries of her granddaughter. As long as Olivia wasn’t disturbed, everything would be fine.
Lauren hated for Carlos to be separated from his family. She intended to talk to Jared about them living together at Keypoint. Surely with another Mendez baby coming, Gloria could use Elena’s help.
Lauren was amazed that Elena recovered from her child-birthing so quickly. The new mothers whom she had attended while living in the parsonage had taken weeks to get out of bed, but Elena resumed her duties in the house right away, pausing periodically and only long enough to feed Isabela.
So it was a matter of deep concern to Lauren when she found Elena leaning against the bannister one afternoon, unable to continue upstairs.
“Elena, what’s wrong?” she cried as she rushed toward the girl and lent her support.
“I’m just tired, I think.” Elena’s voice contained none of its usual animation.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a while? I’ll explain to Olivia.”
She took the girl’s elbow and steered her toward her room. Her alarm increased even more when Elena didn’t argue with her as she was wont to do. Without protest, she lay on her bed and Lauren covered her with a light blanket. The baby was sleeping quietly across the room in her crib. Lauren left them, hoping that Rosa would soon return from her marketing.
After dinner, Lauren surreptitiously slipped into the kitchen while Olivia and Jared discussed some banking business. Rosa was sitting at the work table, her fingers sifting through the beads of her rosary. When the door closed softly behind Lauren, Rosa opened her eyes. “Rosa? What’s wrong?” she asked quickly. “Is it Elena?”
The woman clasped large hands over her broad cheeks and bobbed her head up and down in affirmation. Tears pooled in her chocolate eyes.
“Está enferma. She has the fever bad.”
Lauren tiptoed into the darkened room and knelt down to feel Elena’s forehead. It was burning. Rosa had undressed her and the young woman lay under the blanket clad only in her thin chemise. Lauren turned up the gas light nearest the bed and immediately saw the rash. Red eruptions covered Elena’s throat and chest. Lauren unbuttoned her chemise, but knew before she looked that the rash extended down Elena’s torso. With an aching heart, she returned to the kitchen.
“Rosa,” Lauren said calmly, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, “did Elena vomit last night or this morning? Did she complain of being chilled?”
“Sí, señora,” Rosa answered dismally. The woman’s ravaged face confirmed Lauren’s suspicions. Rosa knew the gravity of her daughter’s illness.