Page 55 of The Promise of Jenny Jones

Jenny lowered her head. Never had she hated anyone as fiercely or as passionately as she hated Robert Sanders right now.

In some secret darkness of her soul, she had hoped to find him dead.

The admission shamed her, but Robert’s death would have allowed her to fall back on her promise to Marguarita and she could have taken Graciela to raise with a free conscience.

She would have taken Graciela from the big, richly furnished house. And the thousands of fat cows. And the beautiful bedroom and the wonderful life that awaited her here.

She would have taken Graciela from all this to live in a shack by some stinking wharf? Was her love that selfish?

Stomach cramping, head splitting, she stumbled through the day, happy for Graciela, miserable for herself. Missing Ty with a painful ache that cleaved her in two.

Finally, at ten o’clock, at Graciela’s insistence, she oversaw Graciela’s bath in a room set aside for that purpose, listened to her prayers, and tucked her in bed. Tonight new people appeared in the list of please-blesses.

Graciela kissed her, then fell back against a plump pillow and gazed up with shining eyes. “They aren’t ugly as sin. Daddy is as handsome as Uncle Ty. And Grandma Ellen is pretty, don’t you think so?”

“Yes, she is,” Jenny whispered, pulling a linen sheet to Graciela’s chin. “Where’s your locket?”

“I let Daddy keep it. He wanted to. Daddy’s sad now because of Mama, but he said we’ll get acquainted later. I like Juana, too. And Grizzly Bill.”

“Who the hell is Grizzly Bill?” When Graciela lifted that one irritating eyebrow, she recanted the cussword.

“He’s the foreman. He says he has a little horse just my size. Oh Jenny, everyone likes me!”

“Well, of course they do.” Standing, she gazed down at a tumble of dark hair spilling across the snowy pillow and tried to smile. “Are you too excited to sleep? Would you like me to punch you in the jaw and knock you unconscious? I’d be happy to do it.”

Graciela laughed. “I love you, Jenny. Good night.”

“Good night, kid.” Leaning, she blew out the light, then hesitated in the doorway, observing the room in which Graciela would grow to be a woman.

A light breeze ruffled lace curtains at the windows.

Braided rugs cushioned the floor. Flowered wallpaper climbed the walls, the colors repeating in quilt and bedskirt.

It resembled a picture in a rich man’s catalog.

Expressionless, Jenny closed the door and walked toward the staircase.

Robert and Ellen waited for her at the foot of the stairs.

They sat at a heavy claw-foot table in the kitchen because Ellen shared Jenny’s opinion that kitchens were the best place to hear news, good or bad. By the time she finished telling her story, the grandfather clock in the parlor had chimed midnight.

Robert pushed to his feet, his face pale.

Jenny didn’t think he’d heard much beyond the sound of bullets hitting a wall and a woman’s frail body.

“I’m much obliged to you, Miss Jones. This family owes you a great debt.

You’re welcome to stay at the ranch for as long as you like.

When you leave, you’ll leave with a sizable purse. ”

Jenny frowned. “I don’t want your money, sir. Bringing Graciela home wasn’t a job. It was a promise.”

She and Ellen watched him stumble into the night, letting the door bang behind him. Then Ellen sighed heavily.

Turning her head, she gazed out the window. “I guess you don’t understand a lot of this.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Are you a drinking woman, Jenny Jones?”

“I’ve tipped a few in my time,” Jenny said cautiously.

“Good.” Ellen went to a cabinet, moved some sacks and boxes, and returned to the table with a bottle of bourbon and two tall tumblers. “I’m sensing there’s a lot about you and my son that you haven’t told,” she said, when the tumblers were full. “I need to hear it.”

Jenny tossed back a swallow of liquid courage and let it burn down her gullet. Then she talked about Ty.

When she finished, Ellen shared out the rest of the bourbon. “Last time I drank this much was after I buried Cal.” She studied Jenny’s face in the lamplight. “You loved my boy,” she said softly.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Ellen leaned back in her chair, away from the light.

“Of the two boys, Ty was most like Cal, only neither of them ever saw or admitted it. Stubborn and hard as nails, them two. Neither would bend an inch.” She smiled down at her tumbler.

“When he was a tadpole, Ty used to say he wanted to fight outlaws and rescue pretty women when he grew up. If a man’s got to die, it’s good to face it doing what he always wanted to do.

” She lifted her eyes. “I like you, Jenny Jones. You got real promise. That was my mama’s highest praise.

She’d say, ‘Ellen, you got real promise.’ ”

“Thank you, ma’am. But you don’t know me.”

“You think I don’t?” Ellen laughed before her face sobered.

“You won’t tell a lie to save your own hide…

but you’ll lie to spare a child’s feelings?

” She smiled across the table and spoke softly.

“I know you, all right. You have a heart as big as your courage, and you love that little gal upstairs.”

Jenny gazed into her tumbler. “I have to leave. Tomorrow.” The words fell out of her mouth, pushed by the pain of liking Ty’s mother, of sitting at a table where he had sat. He had walked through these rooms, maybe used this glass. Everywhere she looked, her heart saw him. And Graciela.

“Honey, I know you want to put things behind you and move on. And I know a clean cut hurts the least. But that little girl don’t know that.

And that little girl still needs you. So I’m asking you to stay a while until she don’t feel she’s surrounded by strangers.

” She reached to cover Jenny’s hand. “Saying good-bye isn’t going to hurt less a month from now than it will tomorrow. ”

Jenny thought about it, then nodded reluctantly. “I guess you’re right. And I promised Ty I’d wait a month.” Tilting her head back, she gazed at the ceiling and blinked at moisture swimming in her eyes. “But it’s so hard.”

“Loving is, honey. Loving is.”

She made herself useful by helping with the wash and cooking, and she surprised Grizzly Bill and the boys during branding week by working as hard and as well as a man. She put up jelly, made pickles, joined Ellen at the mending basket.

And slowly she withdrew from Graciela.

Now it was Ellen who listened as Graciela chattered through her nightly bath.

And it was Ellen or Robert who heard her prayers and tucked her in at night.

During the day, Jenny made certain there were always others present, and they weren’t alone together.

It hurt that Graciela didn’t appear to notice.

One day, thinking she could bear it now, she borrowed a horse and rode to Ty’s house. The house was silent and boarded up, but the clean strong lines reminded her of him. This was the house he had chosen and built for himself. She sensed him here.

Sinking to the porch steps, she gazed out at the land Ty had ridden and loved, opened herself to the air he had breathed, and finally she let herself grieve.

A tear spilled down her cheek, then she covered her face in her hands and sobbed as she had not sobbed since childhood, not since her favorite brother had drowned in the lake.

She wept for Ty, and for herself, and for dreams that had died before being born.

Stumbling, she reeled about the yard, shouting fury at the sky, dashing tears from her eyes and screaming her pain for God’s ears. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He should have lived.

Eventually she returned to the porch steps and sat there, rocking in anguish, remembering every word Ty had spoken to her, every small gesture he had made.

In agony, she recalled every detail of the night they had spent together, the long kisses and feverish caresses, the whispered words, the soft laughter.

Despite everything, during the long days of silence with no word from him, a tiny corner of her heart had continued to hope.

That was what hurt the most, that little flame of hope when there was no hope.

Today, she tried to kill it. It got smaller, but her hope was as stubborn as she was. It wouldn’t die entirely.

At the end of the long afternoon she returned to the ranch house with reddened swollen eyes and trembling lips. Ellen studied her then gently touched her arm. “Did it help?”

“No.”

“Jenny? Would you ride with me today? Jake’s been teaching me. You’ll be surprised how well I can ride now. All by myself!”

“Good idea,” Ellen agreed before Jenny could think of an excuse. “That will get you both out of my hair while I finish these pies.”

“There’s someplace I want to go,” Graciela confided, lowering her voice.

“Oh? Where’s that?” Removing her apron, she hung it on a peg.

Graciela slid a look toward Ellen bustling around the kitchen. “It’s a secret. I’ll tell you later.”

“Give me a minute. I’ll change into riding duds.”

“No, what you’re wearing is fine. All you need is a hat.”

Jake, whom Graciela had firmly wrapped around her little finger, had the horses saddled and waiting.

“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” Jenny asked, swinging up into a lady’s saddle with a frown.

She could ride sidesaddle, but she hated it.

“All right. What’s the secret and the big rush? Where are we going?”

Once they reached the main road and Graciela reined her pony to the right, Jenny figured it out. “Wait a minute. Hold up there, kid.” She leveled a stare at Graciela’s flushed face. “Do you think we’re going to just ride up to Don Antonio Barrancas’s place without an invitation or a by-your-leave?”

“He’s my grandpa.”

“Yeah, well he isn’t beating a path to your door to acknowledge that fact, now is he?”

Graciela tossed her head. “Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here.”