“No. My own.” She met his gaze and shrugged. “My husband left it to me. Life insurance money and money from the sale of his stores.”
“Oh, I understand.” He hadn’t thought of her as a rich woman, but it was starting to sound like perhaps that was the problem. If such a thing could be deemed a problem.
“Somehow they learned about it, and now they expect me to turn it over to them. My father has some investment he wishes to make, certain that it will make him rich very quickly, and my mother expects me to immediately arrange for us to move to California, where a much better lifestyle awaits her.”
“California? Why California? I would think she’d want to return to her home.”
“No, she was shamed there and has no desire to have to explain or reveal the truth. California has become the focus of their interest.”
“What will you do?”
“Nothing.”
They had reached the top of the rise where the old Protestant church stood. Just beyond was the adobe Catholic church with its bell tower. To the right of the church was a grocery store. Several old women stood outside with their baskets, talking in Spanish.
“I wish I could speak Spanish. It sounds like such a beautiful language,” Susanna said, watching the women.
“I speak enough to get me into trouble, but I’m learning more. Lia and LeRoy speak it, and I’ve learned by practicing with them and their boys. I’m sure Lia would teach you too.” Owen pointed to the small grocery store. “They bring in a lot of supplies from Mexico. Some of the ingredients the old folks love and can’t get in American stores.”
They continued walking, with Owen sharing bits and pieces of information he could remember. “The old women here do what they can to make the area beautiful. They plant gardens, and though there’s plenty of tamarisk, they work to cut it out.”
“Why? It seems like anything green around here would be good.”
“There’s a high salt content in the leaves, and it causes the soil to be unfriendly for other plants.” He led her toward an old schoolhouse and then around the bend in the road to where the black iron gates of the cemetery stood open. “Of course, no community would be complete without a place to bury the dead.”
They walked past the gates, and some of the first graves came into view.
“These are dated during the Civil War,” Susanna declared.
“Yes. The Battle of Valverde in February of 1862.” Owen touched the top of a cross-shaped marker. “It was a big battle, with over twelve hundred casualties. Most of the fighting took place north of Black Mesa and east of the river, and some of the soldiers were buried in mass graves by the river.”
“Who won?
“I think the Confederates did. I don’t know much about the actual fight. It seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “It does—a lifetime and more.” She gazed at the peaceful resting places of the cemetery. “Thank you for bringing me here. My spirit is already calmer, and that was something I didn’t think possible.”
They started walking again, making a wide circle back toward New Town, and Susanna continued to speak.
“I’m sorry I’m poor company. I just don’t know what to do about my family. Even Gary was in a mood.”
“That’s probably my fault. I talked to him about trying a different job. He’s just not able to understand what I need from him, and he’s making a mess of things and always expecting me to cover for him . . . something I vowed I’d never do again.”
“Again? You sound like there’s a story behind that.”
He nodded. “There is. Maybe for another time. Right now, I want to help you with your problems.”
She smiled. “There’s nothing to be done. My mother informed me I’m dead to her if I don’t help them. My father wants to invest and needs my money to do so. I promised my uncle I wouldn’t interfere anymore in his plan for them to bear their own consequences. So maybe my only choice is to go. Leave San Marcial.”
“No!” Owen hadn’t mean to react so quickly, but he whirled her toward him and held fast to her arms. “Please don’t.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t?”
“Don’t go. I don’t want you to go.”
Susanna shook her head. “I don’t want to go, but I might have to in order for them to learn their lesson. I’m not good at being nagged or whined at.”
“I understand that, but I . . . well, I’d hate for you to leave. We’ve just started to get to know one another.” Owen realized how tight his grip on her arms was and let go. “I’m sorry. I just want to say that . . . I’ve come to care for you. I want us to be friends. Good friends.” He couldn’t bring himself to offer her more.
She studied him for a moment, seeming to understand. “I want that too. I’ve come to enjoy our talks.”
He nodded and started walking again. “I’m sure we can figure this out, Susanna. We just need to give it some thought.”
11
Gary brought his friends to the hotel again nearly a week later. Susanna was glad he hadn’t asked her to cook for them but was less than pleased to have the men just hanging around, keeping her from being able to work on her quilt squares, since they had taken up the table with their card game. Empty was teaching Gary some new game that was sure to net him a hefty profit.
“I think you should head home, Gary,” Susanna said. “It’s nearly suppertime, and Mother and Father will be expecting you.”
“Aren’t you coming too?” her brother asked.
“You know the situation.”
“We can always get something to eat at the cantina. Charlie has the best Mexican food,” Empty said. “Why don’t we all head over there? The games will start after nine.” He gathered up the cards and stuffed them in his pocket as if it were already decided.
“I guess I’d prefer that to listening to my parents tell me how bad things are,” Gary admitted.
Bill whispered something to Herc, but Susanna focused on her brother. “I’m sure they’d like to at least see you, Gary. They must miss you.”
“They probably miss you too,” her brother replied. “But I don’t see you rushing over to comfort them.”
She smarted at his comment but tried to show little reaction. Instead, she picked up a cleaning rag and began to wipe down things in the kitchen. “All I know is that you are still on their good side, and we should try to keep some sort of communication open between us.” She looked at the others. They already knew the worst of it. Gary wasn’t silent on the matter at all.
“I don’t think it matters unless we’re willing to give them money, and then they’re more than happy to talk to us.”
“I still think you should make an appearance at supper. They’ll want to know how you’re doing at your job.”
“No, they won’t. They’re ashamed of me working a job.”
Susanna glanced at his friends, who were now examining Herc’s new knife and trying to ignore her conversation with Gary. For a moment she wondered if any of them had family. Maybe they could relate to what Gary was going through.