Where No Ravens Fly by Harry Jay Thorn

Author:Harry Jay Thorn [Thorn, Harry Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Margaret Vagg

Frank Vagg was an impatient man. Several of his life-shaping decisions on the long journey from the green pastures of Virginia to the dusty border town of San Pedro had been hasty and spur-of-the-moment affairs. Some had worked out while others had not, but he had learned one valuable lesson, and that was not to press his sister. Margaret Vagg had arrived home that morning. The liveryman’s surrey had brought her, Lefranc and her moderate luggage back out to the Circle V. She was dusty and irritable, and insisted on a hot bath and a change of clothes before reporting in full to her brother. Vagg settled on the porch and chewed on a cheroot, fighting the urge that boiled within him to know of her news from San Antonio.

Margaret Vagg was, like her older brother, slight of stature but not to such a degree as to be unattractive to men. An inch or so taller than Vagg, with auburn hair, a pale, high-cheekbone face and piercing blue eyes that could at one and the same time attract the attention of a man and warn him that it was not an open invitation to flirt; that was left to her full red lipped mouth. Those lips, if the eyes agreed, could welcome a kiss, but if they did not then the curl of the upper lip could destroy him in an instant. Margaret Vagg was very aware of these facts and used them to profound effect while dining and dancing in San Antonio at the expense of the businessmen who sought her out, not only for her own charms, but for the fact that any dealings with Frank Vagg could sometimes lead to a healthy profit.

Vagg looked up, dogged his cheroot and got to his feet, giving her a gentle hug and a kiss on each cheek as she reached him and sat herself beside him. ‘Drink, Marge, dear?’ he asked.

She hated being called Marge, but it was his little intimacy and she bore it, albeit somewhat grudgingly. ‘I have asked Miguel to bring us a bottle of chilled white wine and two glasses,’ she said quietly, a deep, pleasant voice that, given the occasion, could render a good tune.

‘How was San Antonio? Worthwhile, I hope?’

‘That depends, brother mine.’

‘On what?’

‘On how we move forward from here.’ She took a small leather-bound book and sheaf of papers from her purse and set them in front of him.

Vagg gave them a cursory inspection and pushed them to one side. He waited knowing she would condense their content in a few clear and concise sentences if she so wished.

Miguel, the manservant, brought a silver tray, a jug of ice, a bottle and two long stemmed wine glasses. He uncorked the bottle as was his duty but knew better than to pour the wine. That, as always, was the master’s task.

They sat there in the early afternoon sunshine, sipping their wine and making small talk about the ranch until, much to Vagg’s relief, she told him of her visit to the halls of power in uptown San Antonio.

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