“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mother,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.
“She’s probably just looking for a little diversion to ease her boredom. I know that if I had nothing to do but change bed linens and embroider sofa cushions every day, I’d go stark raving mad.”
10
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
“Yes, but you’re not your sister,” Collie retorted, then fanned the air to shoo away the words. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m just being silly.”
“Yes, you are,” Rayna agreed. “Learning a Mescalero ceremony isn’t going to change the way she feels about you. You’re her mother. She loves you.”
“I know she does, dear.” She started to pat Rayna’s arm, then remembered the layers of dirt and the clean sheets she was carrying. She withdrew her hand so quickly that both of them laughed.
“Oh, go ahead, Mother,” Rayna teased. “I’d love to see Consuelo threatening to skin you alive.”
“Collie!” Raymond’s deep voice reverberated through the courtyard, startling his wife and daughter.
“What is it, dear?” Collie stepped closer to the gallery railing and found herself looking down on the top of her husband’s balding head.
Raymond twisted around and looked up. “Riders coming in.”
Rayna joined her mother at the rail, her unbound hair spilling over her shoulders. “Who is it?” Visitors were rare and always a source of excitement because they varied the routine of ranch life.
“Looks like Ben Martinez and that Hadley fellow from the newspaper in Malaventura.” Raymond grinned up at his daughter. “Hullo, missy. Hear you had a little trouble with Samson again.”
“You don’t have to look so smug about it, Papa. You’re the one who hired that no-account drifter who claimed to be a blacksmith.”
“Live and learn, missy. Live and learn. Gil’s already given him his walking papers.”
“Well, if he leaves on a horse he shod himself, we can expect him back by nightfall.”
Raymond’s hearty laugh bounced off the walls of the courtyard as he made his way toward the parlor at the front of the hacienda. “Are you two ladies going to come down to greet our guests, or not?”
“I’m on my way, Papa,” Rayna said, tossing her saddlebags and hat on the chair just inside her door before heading for the stairs.
But Collie had other ideas. “Not until you’ve had a bath and changed into proper clothing, young lady,” she said sternly. “You cannot receive visitors looking like a common cowhand.”
“Don’t be silly, Mother,” she replied without stopping. “I’ve worked the herd right alongside Ben Martinez during roundup for the last six years. If he saw me in anything other than Levi’s and boots, he’d have a fit of apoplexy.”
She was right about that. Ben was Rancho Verde’s nearest neighbor, and he was well acquainted with Rayna’s unusual habits. The man with Ben was another matter entirely, though. “That may be, but Mr. Hadley is a fine gentleman from Boston. You should greet him properly.”
11
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
When Rayna realized what her mother was getting at, she stopped at the head of the stairs and gave her the most wicked grin in her repertoire. “You mean he’s a fine unattached gentleman from Boston, and I should pretend to be the delicate flower we both know I’m not.”
Collie sighed with exasperation. “You do have manners and breeding, Rayna. It’s just a matter of recognizing the appropriate time to display them.
This is one of those times.”
“Sorry, Mother, but I’m not about to trot out my best behavior for that Boston dandy,” she said, continuing down the stairs. “He can’t even sit a horse properly.”
“There’s more to life than sitting a horse!”
“Not my life,” Rayna replied.
“I give up,” Collie muttered, hurrying down the gallery. She had raised two of the most beautiful young women in the territory of New Mexico, and both, it seemed, were destined to remain spinsters—Skylar by circumstance of birth and Rayna by choice, or just plain stubbornness, Collie wasn’t sure which.
For safety’s sake, Rancho Verde had been situated in the center of the valley so that riders approaching from any direction would be visible long before they reached the hacienda. That gave Collie ample opportunity to dispose of the bed linens and instruct Consuelo Rodriguez, the Templetons’ housekeeper, to prepare refreshments for the guests. Then she went in search of her husband and daughter. She found them on the front veranda watching the riders approach. Rayna was telling her father about the unbranded cattle she’d discovered and the merry chase they had led her on.
“It’s fortunate Samson didn’t lose that shoe until after I’d corralled the herd.”
“Fortunate for the blacksmith,” Raymond commented with a chuckle. “I’d hate to see what you’d have done to him if you’d lost that yearling.”
Rayna didn’t share her father’s mirth. “Rest assured, Papa, if that had happened there wouldn’t have been enough left of that charlatan’s hide to—”
“That’s enough, Rayna.” Collie said, then turned a stern eye on her husband. “And that’s enough out of you, too. If you didn’t encourage her—”
“Oh, now, Collie . . .” Raymond threw one arm over her shoulder. “You oughta know by now that nothing either one of us says is going to discourage Rayna from speakin’ her mind or doing what she wants to do around the ranch.” He winked at his daughter. “And she does it so well that I can’t hardly complain, now, can I?”
Though Rayna smiled at her father and the affectionate way he gathered Collie to him, the mild disagreement between them made her uncomfortable.
The only real quarrels she’d ever heard them engage in had been over her.
Her earliest memories were of her father teaching her to ride and her mother protesting because she was too young. The same had been true when he taught her to use a rifle and a revolver.
12
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
Raymond had allowed her to ride herd as soon as he was confident of her ability to manage a cow pony from a sidesaddle, and Collie had objected to that, too. They had fought over Rayna’s determination not to be sent away to school, and an even bigger argument had ensued when Raymond had supported Rayna’s decision to abandon her inconvenient sidesaddle in favor of a more practical stock saddle. Collie had given in on the issue of riding astride only after her husband convinced her that cutting range stock from a sidesaddle was not only impractical but exceedingly dangerous. Collie had argued that Rayna shouldn’t be working alongside the men like a common cowhand, but she’d lost that argument along with the original one.
In fact, with the exception of the issue of education, Raymond and his namesake had won nearly every battle. Rayna knew that would never keep her mother from trying to reform her, and she didn’t mind. Collie might protest her behavior, but she would never stop loving her. That was all that mattered to Rayna. Being a bone of contention between her parents did disturb her, though.
But Rayna knew this argument wasn’t going to get out of hand because their visitors were riding through the gates, and Collie would never have aired the family’s quarrels in front of guests.
“Howdy, Ben. Mr. Hadley,” Raymond greeted the two men as they neared.
“What brings you all the way out here?”
Though Raymond’s greeting was friendly, the two riders showed no sign of returning the affable welcome. They doffed their hats to the ladies, but their faces were grim as they dismounted.