Desert Moon Read online

  Chapter 8

  That was only the first of Honor’s visits to the Bell cottage. James took time from his duties on the ranch to teach Honor to drive, and once she was competent, she traveled to the little home near Kendrick Peak often. Each visit produced growth in her Christian walk.

  One particularly beautiful afternoon she said, “Daddy, all the scriptures I have known practically forever mean something now. Is it because I am reading with my heart?”

  “Aye, lassie.” The wise eyes lit with an inner glow. “Faith is the key to unlock the mysteries of the universe.”

  Inevitably their talks included James. Daddy was firm in the belief that James would come to know God as other than a Mastermind. “He’s a pantheist, you know.” He intercepted Honor’s questioning glance. “One who equates God with nature and the laws of the universe.”

  “Is it wrong to see God in nature? At the canyon I felt something of this.” Honor’s face was wistful, remembering the beauty and magnificence of the place.

  “There is nothing wrong with seeing God as Creator of this earth’s glory so long as you don’t lose sight of God—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, who brought salvation to this world.”

  “And James only sees the creating force.” A shadow crossed her face. “Daddy, who is Lucille Lawson?”

  The old man looked surprised at the change of subject. “Why, she’s a twice-divorced woman who”—he looked shamefaced, and Honor could see him carefully choosing words—“who had designs on James and his ranch.” He peered at her more closely. “How did you hear of her?”

  “Her name was mentioned by Babs and the crowd the day I was married. I also saw it on an envelope in the library.”

  “She’s not your kind—or James’s.”

  Honor spread her hands wide. “Who is?” Her honest eyes met Daddy’s. “He is such a mass of contradictions. Laughing one moment, locked behind a granite wall the next. I know he doesn’t drink or go in for that sort of thing.” Her face shadowed. “Because of my stubbornness here I am married to him. I’m learning the terrible results of sin. If I hadn’t insisted on my own way, James would be free.”

  “Are you sure he wants to be?” The quiet voice cut through her depression.

  “How can he help it? He laughed when he told me how he even arranged with Juan to come dashing out with the telegram supposedly telling Phillip was coming. It did say that, but James had already known Phillip was due soon.” She stopped, trouble chasing away the joy that always came through her learning sessions with Daddy. “Such a quixotic gesture! He seems honorable enough, except for that—”

  “Would you have thought of yourself as honorable before meeting Phillip Travis?”

  “I would have then.”

  “Yet you chose not only to marry Phillip but to deny every teaching you have been given,” Daddy gently reminded. “I cannot say why James did such a thing. When he came to me after the wedding and told me, I was stunned. I cried out in protest, asked how he could deliberately plot and arrange this marriage.”

  Honor held her breath in the little pause that followed.

  The judge’s face was stern. “He told me that even though you persisted in believing nothing but the best of Phillip, he couldn’t stand to see you crushed under his brother’s boots like a frail flower.”

  “I really thought Phillip would change, especially after coming to Casa del Sol.”

  She couldn’t believe the way Daddy’s big hand balled into a fist and struck the shining edge of a piecrust table. “Lassie, any girl or woman who marries a man in hopes of reforming him is doomed to a living hell on earth! If it is not in a man to live clean and honorably before marriage, only rarely will he do it after.”

  “Yet you refuse to see my marriage to James as a tragedy.” Honor regretted the words as soon as they came out.

  Daddy Bell’s face settled into deep lines. “I would have given anything on earth to prevent it. Now it is done; you can only go on from here.”

  “I know.” She stood and restlessly walked toward the window. “Even when I was being married I sensed something wrong. I refused to admit how weak Phillip was. He needed me. Since accepting Christ I have begun to see the awfulness of what God saved me from, and it is from my own actions.”

  “It always is.”

  Honor turned back toward him. “It’s just that I don’t know how to approach him. I don’t know if he reads the Bible I gave him. Even if he does, he never mentions it.”

  “You’ve stayed in spite of everything. Are you going to continue to honor your vows?”

  Honor looked deep into the searching eyes. “I must. I promised before God and man, gave my word.” She bit her lips to steady them. “Unless he sends me away.”

  “And do you want to stay, lassie?” Before she could answer, his face crimsoned. “Forgive me.” He held out both hands to Honor. “I have no right to ask such a thing.”

  He deliberately changed the subject. “The only good whatsoever I can see coming from such a beginning lies in your heart, and in the life James has led since childhood. He hates anything smacking of cheapness.”

  Honor nodded, and Daddy continued, “He also believes in God but has not yet met Him face-to-face. He cannot admit he is a sinner and claim forgiveness through Jesus’ death on Calvary.”

  “Will he ever?”

  “He must!” Daddy dropped her hands to bring his fist down against the arm of the chair. “He knows the way. But it may take a long, hard road of traveling before James Travis accepts the gift of salvation through our Lord Jesus.”

  “Just as it was a long, hard road for me.”

  Daddy sighed. “Yes. I cannot condone in any way what the two of you have done. Neither is there any time for crying over the past. You must go forward and leave what will be in God’s hands.”

  “You will pray for us?” It was through a blur that Honor saw his benedictory smile.

  “I have been—since James came with the news. Live your faith so he can see it is real. Your refusing to break your vows will be a witness.”

  Mrs. Bell’s round, smiling face appeared in the doorway. “Honor, one of these days I’ll teach you to make some of my special recipes. James loves them.” In the general conversation following, Honor’s depression could not help vanishing. She laughed. “It will be a real accomplishment when I can equal your doughnuts!”

  “Anything worth knowing is worth working at,” Daddy reminded, leaving Honor with a parting word. She knew it was not to doughnuts but to her own life and walk with God that he referred.

  Several days later she told Rosa, “It’s good to be back in the kitchen.” Her floury hands stilled on the big board where she was practicing making tortillas. “I haven’t had a chance since Granny died, and I’m really a homemaker at heart.”

  “It is good. Señor’s woman should be home, not off working for others.” Rosa snorted. “Flagstaff women are leaving homes and children. Pah! They should stay home where they belong.”

  Honor hid a smile. What would Rosa, happy with her pots and pans, think of San Francisco, where women were flocking to offices! “Where do the cowhands eat?” she asked.

  “The cookhouse.” Rosa’s white smile widened. “I show you when everyone is gone. Cookie likes my pies but no visitors.”

  It took weeks for Honor to discover how big her new home really was. James began to take her around more, as if she truly were a special guest. She could almost forget the unusual marriage at the sight of the birds, coyotes, a startled deer.

  “Honor,” he asked on one of the expeditions, “are you unhappy here?”

  “No.” Before he could reply, she remounted the pony who had replaced Jingles. Although her favorite pinto would recover, he wasn’t to be ridden for a time. When she was in the saddle she looked down. “When I forget about—about that ceremony, I am not unhappy.”

  “I’m glad.” He covered her rapidly tanning hands with his own. Something in the dark eyes flickered, making her wo
nder if Daddy Bell could be right. Was her husband beginning to care for her? It was the first time he had touched her since their wedding day.

  Breathless, unwilling to acknowledge what she either saw or imagined, Honor touched her horse with her heels. “Race you back to the ranch!” The spell was broken. She felt the wind in her face and, exulting, cried out encouragement to her pony. She felt rather than saw when James caught up with her. The longer stride of Sol easily overtook her pony.

  “Faster, faster,” she urged, but always he was there beside them, laughing above the wind she created with her momentum. Neck and neck they raced to the corral. At the last moment Sol leaped ahead and left Honor and her mount to come in second.

  “You could at least have let me win,” she complained as she slid from the saddle, refusing his help. “Seems it would be the polite thing to do!” Her disheveled hair surrounded the hat that had slid back until it was only held by the cord around her throat. Strangely stirred inside, she felt the need to pick a quarrel of some kind to relieve the tension, even if it was only over a silly race.

  “Is that what you want—to be let to win?”

  If the quizzical question had a hidden meaning, she chose to ignore it. Stepping close, hands on hips in an easy Western pose, she glared at him. “I intend to beat you fair and square, Mr. Man. And I’ll do it with honor.”

  Her pretended indignation slipped at what she saw in his face. The combination of tenderness and kindness almost proved her undoing. Quickly she turned back to her horse. “I’m going to begin by showing you how well I can unsaddle my horse and rub him down.” Her deft hands that had practiced hours in secret for this very moment made short work of lifting the heavy saddle. She staggered a bit but triumphantly got it where it belonged and went on to groom down her horse in the best way possible.

  “Say, you’re going to make a pretty good rancher’s wife after all!” He took one step toward her, a new admiration showing.

  Honor’s heart flipped over. The intensity of her own emotion almost overwhelmed her, but the feeling was interrupted.

  “Really, darling, it takes more than being able to rub down a horse to be wife of the heir of Casa del Sol!”

  Honor whirled toward the speaker. Soigné, every shining blond hair in place, green eyes smiling maliciously, the woman was everything Honor was not at that moment! Acutely aware of her own appearance, Honor flushed deeply. Who was this woman?

  “Hello, Lucille.” James’s voice was flat, unemotional.

  So this is Lucille! Honor boiled as the woman tucked her hand in James’s arm and smiled up into his face. “I understand congratulations are in order. This must be the little bride?” She lifted highly painted lips and kissed James square on the mouth. Honor had the satisfaction of seeing him recoil.

  “Always dramatic, aren’t you, Lucille? What brings you out here?”

  “Curiosity.” The boldness of her statement left Honor speechless. “I ran into Phillip. He told me he was carefully staying away from the ranch for a while—until the honeymoon was over.”

  So that was why Phillip hadn’t come as promised. Honor’s mind ran double track, wondering why Lucille had come.

  “Mrs. Lawson is an old friend,” James explained. “Lucille, my wife, Honor.”

  “Honor!” The heavily made-up eyes widened. “How quaint!”

  It was too much. Honor’s good nature had been strained. “Yes, isn’t it? But then, I’m a bit quaint myself. Perhaps that is why James married me.” She saw his jaw drop, and smiled sweetly at their guest. “I must excuse myself and tell Mama Rosa there will be a guest for dinner. You will stay, won’t you?”

  “I’ll stay.” With the tables turned, Lucille sounded grim.

  “Then I’ll see you later.”

  “Do you dress for dinner?”

  Honor thought rapidly then disarmingly touched her rumpled clothing. “Doesn’t it look like we need to dress for dinner?” She walked steadily toward the house before Lucille could answer. This was one time she felt she needed to dress for dinner. The horrible truth dawned on her—she had no evening gown except the white dress she had been married in!

  Giggling nervously at the hastily contrived trap that had caught her, she burst into the house. “Mama Rosa! Come quick!”

  “Señora, what is it?” An alarmed brown face peered from the doorway, closely followed by Carlotta’s anxious one.

  “A Mrs. Lawson has arrived—”

  “Her!” Carlotta’s sniff was a masterpiece. “Mrs. La-De-Dah in person!”

  “Exactly.” Honor felt herself relaxing under their understanding. “She was hateful, wondered about dressing for dinner. I told her yes. But I don’t have anything except my wedding gown!”

  “Wear it,” Carlotta advised. “Wait!” She dashed into the open courtyard and returned triumphantly with a handful of late roses. “Mama can put up your hair and tuck a flower in it.” Her skillful fingers were twining the flowers even as she spoke, carefully removing thorns, fashioning a beautiful corsage. “This goes on your left shoulder.”

  When Honor was dressed, her two faithful friends stepped back in admiration. “Beautiful!” Carlotta clapped her hands, but Mama Rosa only smiled and said, “Señor will be proud.”

  He was. Honor could see it in his eyes when she descended the curving staircase. Lucille Lawson stood close, shivering in a backless ice-green gown.

  “Why, Mrs. Lawson, come in where it’s warm! That hall of ours does stay cold.” Honor threw open the door to the library. “James, why did you leave her standing out there?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Tell me, are you here for long?”

  Slightly disconcerted but unwilling to allow anyone else to steal the stage for even a minute, the green eyes matching her gown hardened. “I really don’t know. That is, when I came to Phoenix—I’ve been shopping in New Yawk, you know—well, I just heard about the wedding and rushed right out here with a gift.” She handed a heavy box to Honor.

  For one moment Honor felt like throwing it into the fireplace, but then her own breeding replaced the urge with a quiet smile. “It was kind of you to think of us. James, will you open it, or shall I?”

  “Go ahead.” If the tone of his voice was an indication, they were in for cold weather during Mrs. Lawson’s stay.

  Honor hesitated, noting the expensive label on the box. She wanted nothing from this woman, especially her gifts. Why had she come, just when things might have improved with James? Keeping her face bland she lifted the contents of the package. “Oh!” She dropped it back in its wrappings, unable to conceal her distaste. James came to her rescue, holding up the platter surrounded with heavily carved silver snakes.

  “Lucille, that has to be the ugliest thing I have ever seen.”

  “Why, Jimmy!” She pouted. “It’s solid silver. I thought you’d like it—to remember me by.”

  His voice was grimmer than Honor had ever heard it. “Then if it’s solid silver I’m afraid we’ll have to say thank you and return it. We couldn’t possibly accept a present so valuable. Or inappropriate,” he muttered just loud enough for Honor to catch.

  “Sorry, darling.” Steel blades unsheathed themselves in her green eyes. “Just thought I’d bring you a reminder of all our past—associations.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” James Travis caught her by the shoulders, swinging her around to face him. “You know there’s never been anything between us.”

  “Oh?” She pointed a woman-to-woman glance at Honor, who stood frozen in place. “Of course, darling, if you say so.”

  “I do say so. To be brutally frank, you’ve been a nightmare. There hasn’t been a time you haven’t followed me and tried to give the impression of some hidden relationship between us.”

  “Poor boy.” She stroked his cheek with a white hand she had managed to free. Honor stood like a statue, wondering. How can she do it? I would be scared to death if James looked at me like that! There’s almost murder in his eyes!

  “Don
’t touch me!” James loosened her so she nearly fell. He jerked the bell rope nearby. Honor could hear it pealing in the distance. Time stood suspended until Juan appeared, almost running. “Señor?”

  “Mrs. Lawson won’t be staying for dinner. Please show her out, Juan.”

  Honor gasped as Lucille Lawson went a dull, murderous red. It was her turn to shoot hateful sparks into the air. “So, it’s true! This baby-faced little thing has you snared. You think she’ll ever have brains enough to be mistress of Casa del Sol? The way I hear it, she fell in Phillip’s arms like an overripe apple, got herself invited down here.” She spun back to Honor. “What happened? Did you find bigger game?”

  “That’s enough!” James seized her by the arm and propelled her to the door, only stopping to scoop up the offending silver gift. The eyes of the carved snakes glittered in the dim light. “Get out and take your snakes with you!”

  Honor heard their footsteps across the tiled floor of the hall then the dull thud as the heavy door banged into place. She dropped in a chair, exhausted by the scene, frantically searching for something to say when James returned.

  He came back, breathing hard. Without a word he crossed to the fireplace and poked its already blazing contents into a minor inferno.

  “Well?” She hadn’t known her voice could be so weak and trembly.

  “Well, what?” The anger in his eyes was directed at her now.

  “Well, Mrs. Lawson—she—” Honor was unable to go on.

  “She’s a troublemaker and always has been.”

  Honor waited, but he didn’t go on. How could he so casually dismiss that vicious woman? Gnawing doubt crept into her heart. “She must have had something to base all that on. It’s hard to imagine any woman bursting into a honeymoon…” She turned fiery red but forced herself to continue. “Unless she had been given some kind of reason to expect—”