Page 86 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
“If I had a granddaughter, no member of my family would dare harm her. If you are referring to Sanders’s bastard”—he flicked Graciela a look of contempt—“your lies become ridiculous. Sanders’s bastard has no claim to Barrancas property.”
“I have your daughter’s marriage papers,Señor.Graciela, named for your late wife, is not a bastard.” Dots of color flamed on Jenny’s cheeks, but her voice emerged as steady as rock. “Your daughter was not the fool that perhaps you believe she was. She confirmed that Graciela is indeed your legal heir,Señor,whether or not you accept her. And you have my word that it’s only luck that prevented your family from killing your granddaughter.”
Rage stiffened his jaw. “You are not welcome here,Señorita.Take this child, whoever she is, and leave my lands at once.”
Graciela’s chin came up and her posture unconsciously mimicked her grandfather’s. “Jenny does not lie.” Her shoulders pulled back and indignation burned in her eyes. “And neither do I! Tito poured snakes on me, and Luis blew up our train and killed Uncle Ty. They did, too, try to hurt your granddaughter. That’s me, Grandpa!”
He turned on his bootheels and had almost reached the door when a sharp voice called his name.
“Senor Barrancas.”
Jenny turned to see Ellen striding into the room, wearing a hastily donned jacket and hat. She threw Jenny and Graciela an exasperated glance, then walked forward and seated herself on the only piece of furniture that was not upholstered.
“Perhaps some refreshments?” she said in Spanish to the woman hovering in the doorway. “Coffee for the adults, lemonade for Don Antonio’s granddaughter.”
The woman cast a quick glance at Don Antonio’s frosty rage, then hastened away.
Ellen’s smile did not touch her eyes. “Forgive me for assuming the role of hostess, but it appears you have several guests today.”
“SeñoraSanders,” Don Antonio said icily. “Please accept my condolences for the loss of your husband.”
“I have suffered new losses,” Ellen answered softly, beckoning Graciela to come sit beside her. “My son and my daughter-in-law.”
Hardly daring to breathe, Jenny stood beside the fireplace and watched the frigid but carefully polite interplay between the representatives of two families who bitterly hated each other. And her respect and admiration for Ellen Sanders grew by leaps and bounds. Ellen had seized upon Mexican courtesy and used it to manipulate Don Antonio.
Moreover, Ellen had guessed Graciela’s destination, had followed, and was bent on holding her own while sitting in the lion’s den.
“I pray you will forgive a blunt observation, but I doubt the loss of your alleged daughter-in-law pains you any more than the loss of a Sanders pains me.”
Ellen met his eyes. “You are wrong. I was deeply sorry to learn of Marguarita’s death. I intended to welcome my son’s wife to my home, and I was prepared to accept and love her. The Barrancas and Sanders women were never part of the feud between you and my husband.”
“I have business to attend,” Don Antonio said stiffly. “When you have finished your coffee, Chala will see you to the door.”
“You have lost a daughter, and I have lost a husband and a son,” Ellen said quietly. “Let it end, Antonio.” She placed her arm around Graciela. “Let our beautiful granddaughter serve as a bridge of truce between your family and mine. She came to you of her own free will and against my wishes because she wants to know her mother’s family, too. I was wrong. She is as much yours as mine. She was right to come to you. You sent one chid away. Will you harden your heart against this child, too?”
When Ellen sent Jenny a glance, she read it at once. Without a word, she moved forward, took Graciela by the hand, and led her out of the room.
For the next hour, she and Graciela wandered the grounds surrounding the hacienda. No one approached them. No one spoke to them. When they spotted the boy leading their horses toward the heavy carved front doors, they hastened to the porte cochere.
Ellen emerged grim-lipped and hard-eyed. She mounted her horse without speaking, waited for Jenny and Graciela, then rode out in front. She didn’t drop back beside them until the horses had trotted off Barrancas lands.
“Will he accept her?” Jenny inquired softly.
“Damned if I know! That is the proudest, stubbornest, most unbending man I ever met outside of Cal Sanders. But at least he knows the whole story now. I don’t think the old jackass believes half of it, but I gave him an earful to think about.” Her gaze narrowed. “Speaking of jackasses… what thehellwere you two thinking of to go busting in there like thieves rushing to a lynching? I ought to whup the both of you for being so dad-burned stupid.”
It was Graciela who began. First she looked astonished, then surprised. “Jenny. Grandma sounds just like you!” She burst into delighted laughter.
Jenny gazed at Ellen and fought to hold her expression steady, struggled to look contrite. But Graciela’s infectious laughter grabbed the tensions of the last two hours and transformed them into giggles. Jenny’s mouth twitched. Her shoulders shook. And then she was roaring helplessly. “We must have lost our minds,” she shouted, laughing so hard she thought for certain she would fall off her horse. “You’ll have to whup us.”
“You sure as hell did lose your minds!”
“Grandma, you can’t cuss. Me and Jenny quit cussing. You have to stop cussing, too!”
And then Ellen was slapping her hat against her thigh and laughing until tears streaked down her cheeks.
Every time they looked at each other throughout the rest of the week, one of them would chuckle, and then they would all burst into laughter until they had to hold their sides and sit down.
And each day of work and laughter, each walk with Robert, each task shared with Ellen and Maria, each trip to sit on the porch of Ty’s house, each time Graciela slipped her small hand in Jenny’s, made it harder for her to think about leaving.
