Free Journey of the Heart by Marjorie Farrell Page B

with an ironic laugh. “He’ll act the gentleman as usual and let his hired wolf do the dirty work. Chavez looks like a wolf, with those green eyes of his. There seems to be no feeling in the man, Elizabeth, or else he couldn’t be doing his job.”
    Elizabeth had finally stopped shaking. “Are ye feeling better, a ghra?”
    “I am, Michael. And what about Gabe? Will he stay, do you think?”
    “He’ll stay, Elizabeth. And we are lucky he will.”
    * * * *
    That night, Elizabeth dreamed of her family. Her father was lying there, that black-red rose of blood on his white shirt. Her mother was on the ground, skirt above her waist. And she, Elizabeth, was walking up the bank, her bucket full. “Here’s the water you wanted, Ma.” But Jonathan, her little brother, was gone.
    She awoke with a start, her chest aching with unshed tears and she felt Michael’s solid warmth next to her. She burrowed into his arms and let the tears fall.
    Michael woke immediately. “Elizabeth, what is it?”
    “I had a dream, Michael. A nightmare about my parents.”
    “Oh, muirneach,” he whispered and he stroked her hair gently.
    “I used to dream of it every week,” she whispered, “but that was long ago in Santa Fe. Before I married Thomas. When I became his wife, I guess I felt safe again.”
    “And are ye feeling unsafe now, Elizabeth?” asked Michael with pain in his voice.
    “Oh, I feel safe here with you, Michael,” she protested, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
    “I know ye do, but with Chavez riding in like he did….”
    “I suppose he reminds me of the Comancheros,” she said after a moment. She shuddered and her voice broke. “They were lying there, Michael, just like they were that day. My father and my mother. I was coming back with the bucket of water they sent me for. I had wanted my little brother to go, you know. If he had, Michael, then he’d be alive today and I’d be….”
    “But thank God, ye’re alive here with me, Elizabeth, for what would I have done without ye all these years, muirneach.” He kissed her gently on the lips and she responded with an almost desperate passion. “Make love to me, Michael,” she whispered.
    Their lovemaking usually began slowly and tenderly and built to a crescendo. Tonight, however, Elizabeth was ready for him almost immediately and Michael entered her after only a few kisses. He could feel his body respond to her need and he drove into her as deep as he could as she raised herself to meet him.
    “Oh, Michael,” she whispered as she lay there afterward, her head cradled on his chest, “If anything happened to you….”
    “Whist, my dear one, nothing will.”
    But he lay there after she fell asleep, wondering if he would be able to keep his promise.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    The mail had contained not only Michael’s newspaper, but a letter for Cait from Henry. Her mother had handed it to her, noticing only the surname and the postmark and said, “Here is a letter from Susan Beecham, Cait.” Neither her mother nor her father noticed her quick blush when she saw Henry’s initial.
    He was arriving in three weeks and would stay ten days on his way to visit a classmate in California. “I can’t wait to meet your parents, my dear,” he wrote, “and get their permission to make our engagement official. We can travel back together, just as we planned.”
    She should be ecstatic, she thought, as she reread the letter. She couldn’t wait to see him, that was true. But his imminent arrival meant she had to tell her parents her plans. They assumed she was home for good. That she would be looking for a position teaching school in the county, and eventually marry someone from the valley. She had to tell them soon. Tonight.
    She went out for a long ride with the letter tucked inside her blouse. She picnicked in the little canyon east of the ranch and reread the letter several times and daydreamed of Henry. He was very handsome with his brown hair and brown eyes and