Into The Lair 0f Los Rey Lobo: Wildes 0f The West (Half Breed Haven Book 9)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  “In you go!” he said, shoving Jones forward. As the other men worked to swing the two doors shut, Rey Lobo saw Reyes had released the chain and was making a dash for the side door, but the bear had already become aware of his presence. It charged at him, and one of its paws just missed him, instead raking the side of doorframe leaving gashes in the wood as Reyes dived through it. Reaching safety, Reyes dropped to the ground and was mumbling some type of prayer incoherently. Inside the pen Jones had his back pressed up against the now closed doors.

  “Earn your second chance, Señor Jones! Hold him at bay long enough to refasten the chain to the pole, and I shall allow you to labor for me. Fail … well, that requires no explanation. Follow me, men, the show is about to begin. We shall get an enjoyable view of the redemption of Señor Jones … or his destruction!”

  Rey Lobo could hear Jones pleading further, but he ignored it and approached the stairway leading up the northern wall followed by his men. Once he was above and looking directly down into the pen, he was pleased with the vantage point, even with the rank smell of the bear manure rising into the air. As he took his place in the center of the group, he was vaguely aware of one of his men racing from the direction of the main entrance and grabbing the arm of Dogget who was last in line to go up the staircase. The two men turned abruptly and headed back towards where the man had come from.

  A cry of terror from Jones diverted Rey Lobo’s attention back to the spectacle below. He was still pressed with his back up against the gate as the bear was charging at him. Only a mere foot separated the terrified bandit and the snapping, frothing jaws. There was barely room to maneuver with the whip, but he tried. Jones managed to make a feeble snap that caused to bear to retreat and bellow out from its sting.

  “Well done, Jones! Well done!” Rey Lobo cheered from the walkway, even giving false applause to the man he was torturing below. He looked around at his men next to him as encouragement to do likewise, and they quickly mimicked him. The sound of a scream below once again commanded his attention back to the unfolding tableau.

  Jones had moved in with a second crack of the whip, but he had drawn too close, and the bear had swiped him across his bicep. Lobo could see the man’s shirt was torn there and stained with crimson.

  In terror, Jones circled the bear and was pressed up against the old adobe wall that made up one side of the pen. The bear charged at him, and Jones seemed to realize it was act or die. Furiously he began snapping at the bear as Rey Lobo had done earlier, but unlike the bandit leader, he was striking the bear about its head, neck, and shoulders.

  The bear retreated past the pole and by the doors, pacing back and forth as if it was considering what its next move would be. Jones knew this was his only chance. Springing forward, he raced to the pole and snapped up the lock and chain where Reyes had let it fall to the dust. The grizzly was already in motion as he looped the chain back through the ring and snapped the lock into place.

  Above the men were wildly cheering him on for his desperate move. Jones made it two steps back towards the adobe wall when he found himself flying through the air. The blow from the bear's paw was like being struck by a freight train. All the wind was knocked from his lungs and that was before he hit the wall as if he were some kind of battering ram.

  Jones bounced back and landed flat on his back. Half in a daze his eyes fluttered open to see the grizzly on its hind legs roaring down at him. He closed his eyes waiting for his crossover into whatever afterlife awaited him. The dagger-like paws dropped towards him, but instead of slicing through him they came up short! The animal bellowed in a fury. Only inches separated him from his prey, but they were enough to save the man’s life.

  Wearily, the man staggered to his feet and fell back towards the wall. A wave of agony so intense flooded through him that he screamed out. Only now did he realize the blow from the grizzly had handily shredded his back. He fell silent at the feel of his warm blood on his back. Slowly, sticking close to the wall, the man made his way towards the small side door.

  “Let … me … out … please!” Jones begged.

  Above, the crowd was still cheering, except the two men closest to Rey Lobo who saw the look of disappointment on his face. Rey Lobo was tough but fair and he would honor his word and release Jones. But clearly, he was disappointed.

  Suddenly, to the left of him, Rey Lobo became aware that the cheers of all the men to that side had fallen still replaced by a hushed murmuring. Already annoyed by Jones prevailing, he snapped his head towards them, and suddenly, he too understood the change in their behavior.

  Standing nearby, held by the steady hands of Frederick Dogget and staring down in horror at the sight of the bloodied and bedraggled Jones, stood a gorgeous woman, strands of her blonde hair peeking out from beneath her bonnet. For the first time in his boisterous life, the Wolf King found himself at a loss for words.

  CHAPTER 12

  Honor Elizabeth was in full preparation mode, in the bedroom of Jocelyn Holmes. She briefly walked over to the window and surveyed the view, as Jocelyn busied herself digging through her drawers. Out the window to the right, Honor’s eyes took in the well between the house and the large oak tree by the road. The rustling of branches told her that her plan was proceeding.

  She turned back from the window to find Jocelyn holding the pair of pants and the blouse she had been searching for to give to Honor to wear.

  “I think these should fit you okay, might be little tighter on you, of course, since we’re not exactly the same size.”

  With a smile, she accepted the proffered clothing. "These will do, thank you very much. If you could just be so kind as to help me with these buttons, I would find myself extraordinarily grateful for your kindness."

  As she started undoing the buttons on the back of the dress the young woman remarked, "I sure have to say you talk mighty fine for …"

  Looking back over one of her shoulders, Honor finished, “For a colored girl?” She could almost feel the embarrassment radiating from her new friend as she struggled to find the right words.

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that … I mean … well. I mean you-all sound so sophisticated and all … but didn’t you-all say you were from a ranch?”

  “It’s fine, Jocelyn.” Honor Elizabeth laughed. “People have been commenting on my speech for my entire life. It is surely something I am used to, and I can assure you, I garner no offense by it.”

  The mortified woman nodded a thank you, and Honor smiled to herself. It was true, of course. During the war, her father had sent her away from the Confederacy-controlled Arizona territory to Philadelphia. There she had attended an all-Negro finishing school and had reveled in learning the refinements of being a colored young lady of privilege.

  Young Honor had bonded deeply with one of her teachers, an abolitionist who had fled the South. Without even realizing it, she had gradually adopted the woman's refined manner of speaking mixed with a vaguely Southern accent she had picked up from her role model. Her way of speaking usually managed to draw some sort of comment or question from those puzzled by it. She was used to it now and even expected it.

  As Honor’s last button came undone, she squeezed the other woman’s hand. “Thank you, Jocelyn, but I can manage the rest on my own. You best see to getting the Ruiz family squared away in that root cellar you were talking about.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll head down and out the back door now. They are supposed to be waiting for me.”

  A moment later, the young blonde left the room closing the door behind her, and Honor listened to her footsteps retreating down the stairs before she began peeling out of her dress.

  Stripped down to her undergarments, she paused and looked at the clothes lying on the bed, as a warm breeze blew through the open window gently swaying the curly ringlets of Honor’s hair. With a sigh, she looked at the mound on the floor that was her dress. She had adored her dresses all her life. As a child, she loved when her father would buy her a new one and say, “
for my little lady!”

  She knew she should be getting ready. If the Holmes family was right, the agents of Los Rey Lobo could be here at any moment to drive them from their home. Still, she paused, unconsciously swishing her finger back and forth under the band of her choker with a silk rose she always wore. Just for this moment, her thoughts turned to her beloved father who was far away having returned to his hometown of Philadelphia.

  Judge Wilde had gone there to assist his brother and his ailing wife who was suffering from tuberculosis. The judge was helping them settle their affairs as they moved to Saranac Lake, New York, to reside in a “Cure Cottage,” in the hopes the pristine mountain air of the Adirondacks would improve her malady. He had been away for a month but would be returning soon. It was during his time away that the siblings had planned their surprise for him that led them on their journey to Carson City to retrieve the slabs of marble.

  Honor Elizabeth adored her father to such an extent that there were never words that could adequately express how much. She knew the horror stories of white masters that had forced themselves upon their helpless slave women. Honor's conception had been far removed from such a horrific scenario. She had come about born of a forbidden love between her mother and the young naval officer. That love had bloomed following his return seemingly back from the dead after being lost at sea off the China coast.

  She suspected, as well as the others, though they never brought it up, that she was Whip’s favorite. She had grown up joined to his hip, and he had indulged her in nearly all her wishes. Yes, she was a daddy’s girl and made no bones about it. She could never imagine life without him. How she missed him, and she longed for his return to Cedar Ledge.

  The sounds of feet pounding up the stairs drew her back to the present. Jocelyn must have forgotten something she thought. As she was reaching down for the clothes, the door swung open.

  “Joss have you seen Miss Wilde-”

  The young man's speech left him, and he froze stock still. His eyes blinked rapidly as he took in the sight of her hourglass figure and mocha skin highlighted in contrast against her white undergarments. She could see he was panicking at his blunder and trying to decide what to do next. As for herself, her teachings at the school demanded that she use the clothes in her hands to cover herself … and yet as one of the irrepressible Wildes she took pleasure in his look on his face … desire crossed with the panic.

  With a raise of her eyebrow, Honor couldn’t resist teasing the flustered man. “Your sister may not have seen me, but you surely have.”

  When Cody, at last, found his voice, he managed to croak out as he began to back towards the door, "I am so sorry."

  Still clutching her bundle of clothes, she managed to put one of her hands on her hip. “Stop! You were looking for me … is that not true?”

  “Y-Yes, ma’am … I just wanted you to know I got the rope ready.”

  “I thank you for that.” he managed as he remained frozen as if waiting for her next command. Honor Elizabeth walked over and stood before him, her endowments nearly touching his chest. A trickle of sweat shone on his forehead.

  “Anyone who knows me also knows that I love my dresses, but I had to bow to practicality, so your sister loaned me these garments. I am just going to put them on now. I will rendezvous with you downstairs, yes?”

  Backing out the door, Cody cleared his throat, “Yes, yes, Miss Wilde.”

  She winked at him as she closed the door on him laughing to herself. She had enjoyed that immensely, and there was no denying the carpenter was a most handsome man. The interest she had seen in his eyes was something she intended to revisit later, but now was a time of grave seriousness. They could be in a fight for their lives if the bandits did indeed show up and only the plan she had devised might save them all.

  ***

  Less than half a mile away, Honor Elizabeth wasn’t the only one getting dressed. Pulled off from the main trail and out of sight sat a wagon from the mission hideout of Rey Lobo. In a small clearing, Ned Denton was pulling on his boots while his wife Tracy busied herself gathering up the blanket they had just made love on.

  The pair figured they were entitled to their carnal recreation given what a busy day it had been. Two homesteads had fallen before them already this day, one by dynamite and the second torched before the eyes of the Mexican family that had called it home. Indeed, it had been a productive day, so they felt entitled to some fun, but both knew the day was not yet done.

  Nearby lay the homestead that was reputed to belong to the local carpenter. Ned had decided to use dynamite on this one because he knew there was a fair-sized carpentry barn next to the dwelling. They would blow them both sky high. After that, he and Tracy would make a final stop at the small home of an elderly widow and torch that place before heading back across the Sweetbriar and home to the mission.

  Ned crossed over to his wife, a glint of lust still in his eyes as she had not fastened the buttons up on her blouse yet. Without hesitation, he buried his face between her breasts causing her to break into laughter.

  The pair was a two of a kind. Five years ago, they had met in a county jail in California, locked up in cells across from each other. Ned had been incarcerated for an assault and Tracy was doing a stint for robbing some soiled doves of their nightly earnings. They had bonded across the way from each other and quickly planned an escape.

  It had been ridiculously easy. When a callow deputy had brought him his meal, Tracy had distracted him by whistling and pulling down her top. As the man turned to gawk, Ned thrust his arm through the bars choking him into either unconsciousness or death. Ned never knew which because once he removed the man's keys and fled; the pair never set foot in California again.

  Now after their five-year crime spree across the Southwest, they had fallen in with the Villanuevas and were promised a nice share of the profits soon to be had. With that carrot dangling from a stick, they along with the help of “Big Buck” Sheehan, had gone about with gusto chasing the hapless residents out of the valley, killing the more obstinate ones who wouldn’t leave.

  With a look that promised more later, Tracy buttoned up her blouse, and the outlaw couple moved through the brush to the wagon. For a brief moment, they looked at the lump in the back of the wagon lying between the two cases of dynamite and just shook their heads and smiled before Tracy threw the blanket over it. Moments later, Ned was commanding the team of horses drawing the wagon up the bank to their destination the home of Cody and Jocelyn Holmes. What they could never have counted on was a houseguest named Wilde.

  CHAPTER 13

  Earlier, things had not gone as Catalina had planned with the handsome and alluring young lieutenant. She had just come to an end of one of her stories, this one about the time she had rescued a woman of Swedish descent that had been kidnapped when they had been interrupted. They had been surprised when bursting out of the bushes, came a breathless young private that Washburn had called Nolan.

  Dashing up to them he had reported that one of the sentries who had been on patrol around the circumference of their temporary camp thought he had seen an Apache warrior amidst the shadows in a cluster of nearby trees. Washburn had quickly explained to him that his orders had been to be on the alert for a sighting of any Apaches along their route in this specific area. Word had come that a band of renegades was known to frequent a canyon not far from here. These particular renegades had earned a reputation as a violent band of men who would just as soon kill a white man as look at them.

  Without thinking, Catalina clutched his arm, and he pivoted around and looked at her. The concern must have been evident all over her face because he quickly assured her that her sisters would be in no danger. He had actually sent them on a longer route to the De La Santa Barbara Valley that would take them away from the dangerous canyon.

  This brought immediate relief to Catalina, and she had smiled at hearing that. Unfortunately, though, Washburn and some of his troops were going to take a patrol out just to ma
ke sure that there was nothing to the sighting. They were in charge of prime livestock, and he didn't doubt the Renegades wouldn't mind helping themselves to it. With apologies, he had mounted up with his men and rode off.

  Catalina had almost volunteered to go with him, but in truth, she had to admit a little time alone wouldn't be such a dreadful thing and perhaps would help clear her mind. Soon she had borrowed a blanket from one of the soldiers left behind to guard the herd, to use as a towel and returned to the creek. She knew she would welcome her dip in the stream even if she would now have to do it alone. As she relaxed and let the water flow over her while she held onto a rock warmed by the sun, she turned her thoughts to what had been troubling her. This time it wasn't Melinda and her fixation on her or even Whip's concern about her possible overindulgence in spirits.

  It was the marble they were hauling back to Cedar Ledge. It, after all, had been the last purchase her mother had ever made for her dream home. Circumstances had led to it having been forgotten all these years until its recent discovery. Catalina had not let on to her sisters the whole trip that she had been feeling sadness inside. They all expected her to be the fun-loving one, the jolly little sister and their "Peppercorn."

  Of course, she had enjoyed the trip and had genuine fun as the four women always did when they were together. Still, one of her deepest regrets in life was that Mercedes Corderro existed only in an old oil painting, one not very well-done photograph, given how less advanced photography had been over two decades ago, and in all the stories shared by Whip and her Mexican family at the Corderro Crest Vineyard.

  She knew she should be thankful for these, and she was, but was there anything she wouldn’t give to have one genuine memory of the woman as the vivacious, flesh and blood woman she had heard so much about? She didn’t think there was. Her dark thoughts momentarily faded as a bird flew in and lit on the rock she was holding onto. Just as suddenly, it looked at her and took flight.