Palomino (1981) Read online

  It had been eighteen years ago that August, and he had never loved another woman as he loved her. She was the only woman he had actually ached for, longed for, lusted after, laughed with, worked with, dreamed with, and respected more than he respected any man. But she was a very special kind of woman. Caroline Lord was no ordinary woman. She was a superwoman. She was brilliant and amusing, attractive, kind, compassionate, intelligent. And he had never been able to understand what she wanted with a ranch hand. But she had known her mind from the beginning and never regretted the decision. For almost twenty years now she had secretly been his woman. And she would have made the affair public long before, had he let her. But he felt that her position as mistress of the Lord Ranch was sacred, and although here and there it was suspected, no one had ever known for certain that they were lovers, the only thing anyone knew for certain was that they were friends. Even Samantha had never been sure that there was more between them, though she and Barbara had suspected and often giggled, but they had never really known.

  How's Caroline, Bill? She looked over at him with a warm smile and saw a special glow come to his eyes.

  Tough as ever. She's tougher than anyone on that ranch. And older. She was three years older than he. She had been one of the most glamorous and elegant women in Hollywood in her twenties, married to one of the most important directors of her day. The parties they had given were still among the early legends, and the home they had built in the hills above Hollywood was still on some of the tours. It had changed hands often but was still a remarkable edifice, a monument to a bygone era rarely equaled in later years. But at thirty-two Caroline Lord had been widowed, and after that, for her, life in Hollywood had never been the same again. She had stayed on for two more years, but they had been painful and lonely, and then suddenly without explanation she had disappeared. She had spent a year in Europe, and then another six months in New York. It took her another year after that to decide what she really wanted, but as she drove for hours, alone in heir white Lincoln Continental, she suddenly knew where it was she longed to be. Out in the country, in nature, away from the champagne and the parties and the pretense. None of it had had any meaning for her after her husband was gone. All of that was over for her now. She was ready for something very different, a whole new life, a new adventure, and that spring, after looking at every available piece of property in a two-hundred-mile radius of Los Angeles, she bought the ranch.

  She paid a fortune for it, hired an adviser and the best ranch hands around. She paid everyone a handsome wage, built them pleasant, cozy quarters, and offered them a kind of warmth and comfort that few men could deny. And in return, she wanted sound advice and good teaching, she wanted to learn how to run the ranch herself one day, and she expected them all to work as hard as she did herself. It was in her first year at the ranch that Bill King found her, took the place in hand, and taught her all he knew himself. He was a foreman of the kind most ranchers would die for, and it was purely by accident that he landed on the Lord Ranch. And even more so that he and Caroline Lord wound up as lovers. All that Samantha knew of Bill's history on the ranch was that he had been there almost since the beginning and had helped make the place a financial success.

  Theirs was one of the few California cattle ranches that showed a profit. They bred Angus cattle and sold a few Morgan horses as well. Most of the big ranches were in the Midwest or the Southwest; only a precious few in California had good luck, and many were kept in operation as tax losses by their owners city dwellers, stockbrokers, lawyers, and movie stars who bought them as a kind of game. But the Lord Ranch was no game, not to Bill King or Caroline Lord, or to the men who worked there, and Samantha also knew that while she stayed there she would be expected to perform certain chores as well. No one came to the ranch just to be lazy. It seemed indecent, considering how hard everyone else worked.

  When Sam had called Caroline this time, she had told Sam that at the moment they were short two men and Samantha was welcome to help out. It was going to be a busy vacation for Samantha, of that she was sure. She figured that most likely she would do small jobs in the stables, take care of some of the horses, and maybe help clean out some of the stalls. She knew just how unlikely it was that she would get a chance to do much more. Not that she wasn't able to. Samantha had long since proven her skill on a horse. A rider at five, in horse shows at seven, Madison Square Garden at twelve, and three blue ribbons and a red, jumping competitions thereafter, and a couple of years when she had dreamed of the Olympics and when she had spent every living moment she had with her own horse. But once she'd gone to college there hadn't been much time for horses, the dream of the Olympics faded, and in the years afterward she almost never had time to ride. It was only when she had visited the ranch with Barbara, or when she met someone with horses once in a great while, that she still got a chance to ride. But she knew that as a city gal, she would not likely be trusted by hands to work with them, unless Caroline interfered on her behalf.

  Been riding much lately? As though reading her thoughts, Bill leaned toward her with a smile.

  She shook her head. You know, I don't think I've been on a horse in two years.

  You'll be mighty sore by this time tomorrow.

  Probably. They exchanged a quiet smile as they drove on in the early evening. But it'll probably feel good. That's a nice kind of sore. Tired knees and aching calves it wasn't like the aching spirit she had borne these last months.

  We've got some new palominos, a new pinto, and a whole mess of Morgans, all of which Caroline bought this year. And then he almost grunted as he said it she's got this crazy damn horse. Don't ask me why she bought it, except some damn fool nonsense about he looks like a horse in some movie her husband made. He looked at Sam disapprovingly. She bought herself a Thoroughbred. Hell of a fine horse. But we don't need a horse like that on a ranch. Looks like a damn racehorse ' runs like one too. She's going to kill herself on it. No doubt about it. Told her so myself.

  He glared at Sam and she smiled. She could just imagine elegant Caroline on her Thoroughbred, racing across the fields as though she were still a young girl. It would be wonderful to see her again, wonderful to be back there, and suddenly Samantha felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. She was so glad she had come after all. She cast a sideways glance at Bill as he drove the last few miles toward the ranch that had been his home for more than two decades, and Samantha found herself wondering again just exactly how far his involvement with Caroline went. At sixty-three, he was still virile and handsome, the broad frame, the long legs, the strong arms, the powerful hands, and the brilliant blue eyes all combined to give him an aura of power and style. On him the Stetson looked marvelous, on him the blue jeans seemed to be molded to his legs. None of it looked trite or silly. He was the best of his breed, the proudest of his kind. The rugged lines of his face only helped to enhance the well-chiseled features, and the deep husky baritone voice was precisely what it had been. He was easily six feet four without the Stetson, and with it, he was literally a towering man.

  As they drove through the front gates of the ranch, Samantha breathed a sigh of relief of pain of lots of feelings. The road stretched on for another mile after the sign that said LORD RANCH with a handsomely carved L, which they also used in their brand. Samantha felt like an anxious child as she caught her breath, expecting to see the house suddenly loom toward them, but it was another ten minutes before they rounded the last turn in the private road, and then suddenly there it was. It looked almost like an old plantation, a beautiful big white house with dark blue shutters, a brick chimney, a wide front porch, broad front steps, surrounding flower beds, which became a riot of color in the summer, and, behind it all, a veritable wall of gigantic, handsome trees. Just down the slope from the house was a single willow tree and a little pond, which was covered with lillies and filled with frogs. Near at hand were the stables, beyond them the barns, and all around were cottages for the men. In Sam's mind it always stood out as the way a ranch
should look, but whenever she had seen others, she had rapidly discovered that few did. Few other ranches were as impeccably kept, as handsome, as well run ' and none of them boasted either Caroline Lord or Bill King.

  Well, little lady, how does it look to you? The pickup had stopped, and as he always did, Bill looked around with obvious pride. He had helped to make the Lord Ranch something special, and that was just what it was, most of all to him. Does it look different?

  No. She smiled as she looked around her in the darkness. But the moon was high, the house was well lit, there were lights on in the men's cottages and the main hall where they ate and played cards, there was a strong light near the stables, and it was easy to see that not much had changed.

  There are a few technical improvements, but you can't see them.

  I'm glad. I was afraid it might all have changed.

  Nope. He sounded the horn twice, and as he did so the door to the main house opened and a tall slim white-haired woman stood in the doorway, smiling first at Bill, and then instantly at Sam. There was only a moment's hesitation as she stood gazing at the young woman, and then with a light step she ran down the stairs, held out her arms, and took Samantha in a tight hug.

  Welcome home, Samantha. Welcome home. And then suddenly, as she smelled the dusty rose of Caroline Lord's perfume, felt her thick white hair brush her cheek, she felt tears in her eyes and a sense of having come home. After a moment the two women parted, and Caroline stood back and looked at her with a smile. My God, you're pretty, Sam. Prettier even than last time.

  You're crazy. And good Lord, look at you! The older woman was as tall and as thin and as ramrod straight as she ever had been, her eyes were bright, and her whole being suggested sparkle and life. She was as pretty as she had been the last time Sam saw her in her fifties, and now at sixty-six, she was still beautiful, and even in jeans and a man's cotton shirt she had her own undeniable style. There was a bright blue scarf knotted at her neck, she wore an old Indian belt, and her cowboy boots were a deep jade-green. Samantha happened to look down as she followed Caroline up the steps to the ranch house and gasped with a little exclamation of delight. Oh, God, they're wonderful, Caroline!

  Aren't they? Caroline had understood instantly and looked down at them with a girlish smile. I had them made specially. It's a final extravagance at my age, but what the hell. It may be my last chance. Sam was suddenly struck by that kind of reference, and it jolted her just to realize that Caroline thought like that now. Sam was silent as she walked into the familiar house, and Bill followed her with her bags. The entrance hall that they stood in boasted a handsome Early American table, a brass chandelier, and a big bright-colored hooked rug. In the living room beyond there was a huge fire blazing in the fireplace, surrounded by a cluster of comfortable well-upholstered chairs covered in a deep blue. It was a color picked up again in an antique rug, this one littered with bright flowers woven into the hooked design. The room was entirely done in blues and reds and greens, there was a brightness to it that seemed to perfectly reflect Caroline herself, and all of it was set off by the many antique pieces in rich woods. There were leather-bound books, brass fixtures everywhere, andirons in front of the fireplace, candelabra, buckets and planters, and sconces on the walls with lights like delicate candles. It was a wonderful old-fashioned room with elegance and warmth, much like Caroline herself, and it was perfectly in keeping with the fact that it was on the ranch. It was a room that would have been perfect in Town & Country or House and Garden, but which, of course, Caroline had never shown. It was her home and not a showplace, and after the very visible years she had spent in Hollywood she felt very strongly about her privacy now. In effect, for all but a few, she had virtually disappeared some twenty-five years before.

  Do you need some more firewood, Caroline? Bill was looking down at her from his great height, his snow-white hair revealed now that he had his big-brimmed Stetson in his hand.

  She smiled and shook her head, looking ever more youthful, the light in his eyes reflected in her own. No, thanks, Bill. I've got enough for the rest of the night.

  Fine. Then I'll see you ladies in the morning. He smiled warmly at Sam, nodded respectfully to Caroline, and with his long stride rapidly left the living room and went out. They heard the door close gently behind him, and as Samantha and Barbara had decided a hundred times during the visits while they were in college, Sam decided once again that the two couldn't be involved with each other after all. Not if they said good night to each other like that. And their greetings were never more personal than they had just been, friendly nods, casual smiles, warm greetings, serious conversations about the ranch. Nothing else was ever evident between them, and yet as one watched them one had a feeling, as though they had some secret understanding, or as Sam had once put it to Barbara, as though they were really husband and wife.

  But before Samantha could ponder the matter further, Caroline put a tray on a low table near the fire, poured a cup of hot chocolate, uncovered a plate of sandwiches, and waved to Sam to sit down.

  Come on, Sam, sit down and make yourself comfortable. And then, as she did, the older woman smiled at her again. Welcome home.

  For the second time that evening Sam's eyes filled with tears and she reached a long graceful hand toward Caroline. They held hands for a moment, as Sam held the bony fingers tight.

  Thank you for Jetting me come here.

  Don't say that. Caroline let go and handed her the hot chocolate. I'm glad that you called me. I've always loved you.' She hesitated for a moment, glancing into the fire and then back at Sam, Just as much as I loved Barb. And then she sighed softly. Losing her was like losing a daughter. It's hard to believe it's been almost ten years. Sam nodded silently, and then Caroline smiled at her. I'm glad to know that I didn't lose you too. I've loved your letters, but for the last few years I've been wondering if you'd ever come back.

  I wanted to, but' I've been busy.

  Do you want to tell me about all that, or are you too tired? It had been a five-hour flight, and then a three-hour drive. By California time it was only eight thirty, but by Sam's time, in New York, it was eleven thirty at night. But she wasn't even tired, she was just exhilarated to see her old friend.

  I'm not too tired ' I just don't know where to start.

  Then start with the hot chocolate. Then the sandwiches. Then talk. The two women exchanged another smile, and then Sam couldn't resist reaching out to her again, and Caroline gave her a warm hug. Do you know how good it is to have you back here?

  Only half as good as it is to be back. She took a big bite out of a sandwich and then sat back against the couch with a broad grin. Bill says you have a new Thoroughbred. Is he a beauty?

  Oh, God, Sam, he sure is! And then she laughed again. Better even than my green boots. She looked down with amusement and then back at Sam with a sparkle in her eye. He's a stallion and so full of fire that even I can hardly ride him. Bill is terrified I'll kill myself riding him, but when I saw him, I really couldn't resist. The son of one of the other ranchers near here bought him in Kentucky, and then needed some quick money so he sold him to me. It's almost a sin to ride him just for pleasure, but I can't help it. I just have to. I don't give a damn if I'm an arthritic old woman, or what kind of fool anyone thinks me, he is the one horse in my lifetime I want to ride till I die. Sam flinched again at the mention of death and old age. In that sense both she and Bill had changed since the last time. But after all, they were both in their sixties now, maybe it was indeed a preoccupation that was normal for their age. Nonetheless it was impossible to think of either of them as old people, they were too handsome, too active, too powerful, too busy. And yet, it was obviously an image of themselves that they both now had. What's his name?

  Caroline laughed out loud and then stood up and walked toward the fire, holding out her hands for warmth. Black Beauty, of course. She turned toward Samantha, her exquisite features delicately lit by the fire until she looked almost like a carefully etched came
o, or a porcelain figure.

  Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are, Aunt Caro? It was the name Barbara had used for her, and this time there were tears in Caroline's eyes.

  Bless you, Sam. You're as blind as ever.

  The hell I am. She grinned and nibbled at the rest of her sandwich before taking a sip of the hot chocolate that Caroline had poured from a Thermos jug. She was the same gracious hostess she always had been in the days when Samantha had first visited the ranch and all the way back to her legendary parties in Hollywood in 1933. So. Sam's face sobered slowly. I guess you want to know about John. I don't suppose there's much more than what I told you the other night on the phone. He had an affair, he got her pregnant, he left me, they got married, and now they await the birth of their first child.

  You say it so succinctly. Then after a moment, Do you hate him?

  Sometimes. Sam's voice fell to a whisper. Most of the time I just miss him and wonder if he's all right. I wonder if she knows that he's allergic to wool socks. I wonder if anyone buys him the kind of coffee he loves, if he's sick or healthy or happy or freaked out, if he remembers to take his asthma medicine on a trip ' if if he's sorry She stopped and then looked back at Caroline still standing by the fire. That sounds crazy, doesn't it? I mean, the man walked out on me, cheated on me, dumped me, and now he doesn't even call to find out how I am, and I worry that his feet itch because his wife might make a mistake and buy him wool socks. Is that crazy? She laughed but it was suddenly a half sob. Isn't it? And then she squeezed her eyes shut again. Slowly she shook her head, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as though by closing them she wouldn't see the images that had danced in her head for so long. God, Caro, it was so awful and so public. She opened her eyes. Didn't you read about it?