Jacey's Reckless Heart

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  With that, he walked over to a pew on the opposite side of the aisle and picked up something small that Jacey couldn’t make out clearly. Her left eye was watering and beginning to swell shut. She kept blinking to keep her right eye free of tears. She waited in silence until he walked back over to her.

  Into her face, he shoved a small painting of an elegant woman in a black velvet dress. A part of its frame was torn away. She sniffed but gave nothing away. Great-grandmother Ardis.

  “Is this perhaps your mother?”

  “No.” Jacey marveled at her steady voice, when inside she was shaking.

  Don Rafael raised the picture and rubbed his finger over the lady in the painting. “What a shame. I was so sure it was. Well, no matter.” He tossed the picture aside. It hit the chapel floor with a clattering dance. More of the frame broke away. Ignoring it, Don Rafael sat down next to her and turned toward her. He rested a hand on the pew’s back, not quite touching her.

  Jacey refused to recoil from him. Or even to look at him. She stared straight ahead and right through Miguel Sereda.

  “I know you don’t believe me, Señorita Lawless, but I never bore your mother any malice. I never gave any order to harm her. My men tell me she was already dead when they arrived. Isn’t that a mystery?”

  Jacey couldn’t help herself. She turned toward the monster and stared at him. “What about my father?”

  Don Rafael made a gesture to indicate his innocence. “I swear on that cross right there that I never gave any orders to see him harmed, either. I never wanted their deaths. Or that of the old man out in the wagon yard and all those animals. It must have been a sickening sight.”

  Jacey thought of poor Old Pete and his dogs and cats and chickens. They’d been slaughtered where they stood. “If you didn’t order anything, and your men didn’t do anything, were they there for a tea party?”

  Don Rafael laughed and sought out Miguel’s face as he pointed at Jacey. “Did I not tell you she is amusing? It will be such a shame to kill her.”

  * * *

  Approaching from the adobe-wall side of the family’s private chapel, and thankful for its remote location on the villa’s grounds, Zant edged up to its propped-open doors and stealthily peered inside. At the altar, a torch burned brightly, casting shadows and light out through the low windows. Facing Zant was Miguel Sereda. But Don Rafael and Jacey, seated in a front pew, had their backs to him. Zant watched Jacey for a moment. She was sitting up and talking. Relief coursed through him.

  With Zant and Victor now were Blue and Paco. Using hand signals, Zant indicated the positions he wanted the men to take. When Miguel turned around momentarily, he sent Blue and Paco scooting over to the other side of the open doors. And he stayed where he was with Victor at his back.

  Zant assessed the situation in the chapel. Sereda was armed and, most likely, so was the old man. So, one false move or sound from him or his men, or going in too soon or too late, could cost Jacey her life. Zant had only his instincts and a prayer to help him pick the right moment. Until it came, all he could do was watch, listen, and wait.

  * * *

  “No, Señorita Lawless, there was no time for a tea,” Don Rafael continued. “My men tell me that from their hiding place, they watched as your father exchanged fire with two gringos who were dressed in their best clothes, like … how do you say? … dandies? When your father got the best of these men, they fled from the ranch. My men waited for them to come near, and then they slit their throats. Do you remember Rafferty? Yes? Well, Rafferty was there, and he told me they then searched these men.”

  Sickened at having to hear of her parents’ last moments from the likes of Don Rafael, but needing to know what had happened, and riveted by his story, Jacey asked, “What were they hoping to find?”

  Don Rafael looked surprised by her question. “Why, for clues as to who they were and why they were there, of course. I’m sure they kept any money they found, but they did bring me that lovely woman’s portrait I showed you. But that’s neither here nor there. Done with their search, they bound the dead men to their horses and set them off in a gallop. Next they slipped down to the hacienda and surprised your father as he bent over your mother’s dead body.”

  Jacey took a deep breath to stiffen herself against further tears. “Go on.”

  “As you wish. Rafferty says he shoved the very piece of spur you have around your neck into your father’s face—so he would know who was asking—and ordered him to tell them where his daughters were. Señor Lawless refused and he then did a very stupid thing. He jumped up and hit Rafferty. The two men scuffled, and when my other men could get off a clean shot, they killed him. He fell over your mother’s body. How tragic, no? Ahh, but you are crying again. Miguel, how can I be so cruel to her?”

  Hot and sweaty with emotion, her voice thick with tears, Jacey blubbered, “I am not. Go on.” Inside, her heart was melting, her strength was waning. Poor Mama. Poor Papa. They weren’t killed together or even by the same men or for the same reasons. And there was no way she could let Hannah know this. Or Glory. In the face of Don Rafael’s continued quiet, Jacey gritted out, “What were your men’s orders?”

  Don Rafael smirked. “Their orders, my dear señorita, were to bring you and your sisters here. Where you would die by my hand. After letting your father know who and why. But even the best-made plans often go awry, no?”

  Left breathless by his bald pronouncement, and swearing that only one of them would walk out of this chapel, Jacey could only stare at the heavy cross suspended above Miguel Sereda. What about Hannah, alone in Boston? And Glory, dear God, alone at the ranch? Were they even still alive? Jacey turned to stare at the evil man sitting next to her. “Why me and my sisters?”

  “I thought it would be obvious to you. I wished for your father—in the long, empty years ahead of him—to have no joy from his family. No daughters to love. No grandchildren. I wished for him to live a long time and to know the suffering one goes through after the death of a child. Suffering such as I have known.”

  “But why now? Why not years ago? We’re grown women now.”

  The old don shook a finger at her. “Aah, now you see. So was my Miranda when she died. She was a beautiful woman, like you. But there is more. You see, you can blame Zant for some of this. It was only when I freed him from that prison, when I brought him home, that I realized he truly was lost to me, too. He wanted no part of me or his inheritance. He wanted only to drink and to fight his life away. He turned his face away from me. It was then I made my decision.”

  The glittering lights in his black eyes dimmed some as he smiled. “And now … such is life’s irony … he has come back to me. I again have a family. While you, señorita, have none. I’m afraid you must suffer your sisters’ fates. You see, I’d already sent men after them before Zant came home for good. And now, I have no way of stopping them. It’s all very sad.”

  Jacey turned a snarling mask to her tormentor. “You sick son of a bitch. You’re what’s sad.”

  Don Rafael only quirked a grin as he cocked his head at her. “Am I? Well, then, let me show you something else. Miguel, will you hand it to me? Ahh, thank you.” Taking it from Miguel, Don Rafael dangled a ruby necklace in front of Jacey’s face. “Do you recognize this?”

  Jacey’s blood ran cold, even as her face heated up with fever. A ruby necklace. The world was full of ruby necklaces. But this one had to be Laura Parker’s, mentioned in her journal, the journal being hand-carried to Glory. Seething inside, Jacey forced a calmness into her voice that she truly did not feel. “Why would I?”

  He swung the necklace back and forth in a slow arc. “No reason. But it has a most interesting history. You see, the story of the Kid’s death at your father’s hands and the breakup of the Lawless gang filtered down to us here. Miranda was heartbroken. She wouldn’t believe her lover was dead. With no choice but to prove it to her, I sent men to the deserted Lawless hideout. They dug up the body and brought it back here. I made her v
iew it. Screaming and crying, she threw herself across his gruesome corpse. She then dug wildly through his shirt’s pocket, saying she felt something. She pulled out this necklace and insisted the Kid had been bringing it to her when he was killed. She wore it every day thereafter until her own death.”

  Jacey flinched at the horror of it all. And was glad that Zant wasn’t hearing any of this. It would kill him. She realized Don Rafael was still talking and focused on what he was saying.

  “All this is very long, and I apologize. But there’s only a little more to go. Well, I heard later that the reason your father killed the Kid was because he’d murdered a family coming alone through Apache Pass. Apparently they had a baby, which your father found and took home with him.”

  He looked into Jacey’s face. But waited in vain for a response from her. Fearing and yet knowing what was to come, she could only stare at him. “At any rate, I now believe this necklace belonged to that woman the Kid killed. And that baby is the girl you think of as your youngest sister. And this”—he dropped the necklace into his hand—“is your sister’s birthright from her real mother. It is indeed sad that the two will never be reunited. You see, she is the one I especially want dead. She was the cause of the Kid’s death and eventually of my Miranda taking her own life.”

  Jacey’s heart nearly stopped beating. She had to get out of here. Had to warn Glory. She should’ve never left her baby sister alone. Despite everythings she’d heard, Glory was her baby sister. Overcome with emotion, with the need for action, Jacey jumped up. Immediately, two guns were aimed at her. “You’re going to have to kill me right here, you lowlife scum. Because I’m going to my sister, and I’m leaving now.”

  Don Rafael grabbed her arm with his free hand. “No you’re not. You’re dying right here. I won’t allow you to live, not with a Calderon bastard filling your belly. You are no better than my daughter, and she was a whore, shaming the entire line with her sin.”

  “There is no bastard in my belly. I carry no one’s child.”

  He shook her arm violently enough to loosen Jacey’s curls, and increase the pain in her face. “Lying whore. Zant himself told me this thing.”

  “I heard him. It appears you’re not the only one who can lie convincingly. But go ahead and shoot me. Right now, right here. Right in this holy place. My revenge will be knowing you’ll rot in hell for such a thing.”

  Don Rafael’s entire demeanor changed. He grinned evilly into her face. “Nothing so dramatic. I intend to make your death look like a suicide. I would not want Zant to wake up and learn I have killed his whore lover. I would only lose him again.”

  Jacey ignored his insult to focus on what he’d said about Zant. “Wake up? From what? What have you done with him?”

  “Don’t worry. He rests comfortably in his room. He’ll have a headache tomorrow, but that will be all.”

  Realizing the moment was near, knowing she’d have to create a diversion in the next few moments or die, Jacey continued to taunt the old man. Maybe he’d let go of her and she could shove him into Miguel, who now stood just behind his boss. “What makes you think Zant would believe I committed suicide? Why would I?”

  “I will tell him you thought he was dead. And killed yourself out of grief. Like my daughter did.”

  “He knows me better than that. He won’t believe you.”

  Don Rafael’s shout of laughter echoed insanely throughout the chapel. “But he will believe me. He’s believed all these years that his mother took her own life.”

  Jacey froze. “What are you saying?”

  “I killed Miranda myself. She would not get over her grief and marry the young Spanish don I arranged for her to wed. I had no choice. She continued to humiliate me. All she would do was cling to Zant and shower her love on him. I strangled her myself and took her child to raise as a proper Calderon. But he too defied me at every turn. Until now. Now he is truly my heir, and you will not stand in my way.”

  With that, he poked the gun into her back and began marching her down the center aisle. Miguel was two steps behind. Fear pounded in Jacey’s heart and at her temples. Her throat threatened to close. Sweat beaded over her. It was now or never. And her gown hindered her more, only made it more difficult for her to reach her knife. But it couldn’t be helped. Jacey began slowing her steps, began to resist Don Rafael’s tugging on her.

  Then, he did exactly what she wanted. Snarling a warning, he let go of her arm and shoved her shoulder. Jacey whipped around and shoved as hard as she could against the old man’s chest. With a startled cry he fell back against Miguel. Jacey dropped to the floor and rolled, tearing at the gown’s yards of fabric, pulling the skirt up, desperately searching for her knife in its sheath. This would be her only chance.

  * * *

  Outside the chapel, Zant fought off Victor’s restraining hold. “Victor, let go. I’m okay. I’m under control now.” Finally jerking free, he called across to Blue and Paco. “Now. Let’s go.”

  Zant leaped up from his hiding place, Norona’s gun in his hand. The four men burst into the chapel, brandishing their weapons and yelling out warnings for Miguel and Don Rafael to freeze and drop their guns. Shocked by the suddenness of the attack, Don Rafael and Miguel did freeze. But they didn’t drop their weapons. Instead, they both pointed them at Jacey, who was sitting on the floor, her skirt pulled up, her hand clutching her knife.

  “Jacey, are you all right?” Zant didn’t dare spare her a glance with his question. He watched instead the two guns aimed at her.

  “I’m okay, Zant. Did you hear—”

  “Every word.” He raised his black-eyed, hate-filled gaze to his grandfather. “You rotten bastard. Let her go.”

  The old man cocked the Colt and aimed it at Jacey’s heart. “I cannot. She will destroy everything I’ve done for you.” He then spoke to Victor. “What are you doing here with him? I told you to guard him.”

  “I am, Don Rafael. See? I am still with him, like you said.”

  Don Rafael narrowed his eyes. “Good, Victor. Now, bring me his gun.”

  “I cannot. You have it.”

  The old man’s complexion deepened to red. “The one he has in his hand, you simpleton.”

  “No. Don Zant is my chief. Not you. You hurt my friend Esteban. I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

  Zant breathed out his relief. But a snarl curled his grandfather’s lip. “Then you will die with the rest of them. I will see to it myself.”

  “No you won’t, Don Rafael. Your days of seeing to anything are over.” Zant lowered his voice to a hiss of hatred. “I was never a bastard, was I? And you let me think it all those years. Did you think it would make me grateful? You told me, from the time I was a boy, how lucky I was to have such a wonderful grandfather who’d forgive me the circumstances of my birth. Didn’t you?”

  He drew in a breath, glared, and went on. “And all that time, you knew that Kid Chapelo’d married my mother. How do I know? Conchita left their marriage certificate on my bed this afternoon. And you, you heartless shit, you killed my mother. Your own daughter. How could you?”

  Zant grimaced, swallowing back the sick bile that rose to the back of his throat. “Did you have me thrown into prison so you could rescue me? Was that supposed to make me more cooperative?”

  Don Rafael shook his head no and raised his free hand to Zant. But it was Miguel who spoke up. “No, he did not. I did that. I produced the false evidence that convicted you. Call it my gift to Don Rafael for all the heartache you have caused him.”

  Zant was as stunned as Don Rafael’s face showed him to be. When the white-haired old man spun toward Miguel, taking his gun off Jacey, Zant motioned for her to move over to him. She quickly came to her feet.

  But Miguel grabbed her and held her to him, placing her between himself and everyone else. He put his gun to her temple. “Not so fast, amigo.”

  With a hiss of breath, Zant raised his gun to a neutral position. “Don’t even think it, Sereda.”


  Miguel started to say something, but then got the strangest look on his face, like something had just happened that he couldn’t quite believe. His arm fell limply away from Jacey. He staggered backward, clutching at his belly and looking at his own blood. He then looked up at Jacey, whose bloody knife remained fisted in her hand. The dying man raised his gun to her.

  Zant snapped back into position. His shot took Sereda in the forehead and spun him around. The Mexican fell dead onto a pew, slid off, sprawling faceup on the floor. In the silence, Zant heard the sounds of running feet outside. But he stared impassively at the dead man and said, “I owed you that.”

  Behind him, Blue said, “Zant, you hear that running? We’re going outside. Are you all right in here?”

  Zant nodded. “Yeah. Go. I can handle this. It’s my place.” As his men departed, he watched Don Rafael, who now seemed not to comprehend what was happening. He looked old. His face seemed to have taken on more lines, his jowls drooped heavily, his clothes seemed not to fit his shrinking body. Suddenly, seeing him like this, Zant wasn’t sure if he could or should kill him.

  But then, Don Rafael straightened up. As if time had slowed, Zant watched in horror as his grandfather raised his gun again to Jacey. She froze, her eyes widened. Zant heard the hammer click back in place. Saw Don Rafael begin to squeeze the trigger. The gun erupted as Zant screamed out, “No!”

  Don Rafael then very coolly swung the gun to Zant. And fired again. The bullet missed him, but Zant heard Jacey scream out. Blinded by rage, he aimed and pulled the trigger. At the same moment, Jacey’s knife flew through the air. It lodged in the old man’s chest a second after Zant’s bullet hit him there as well … with a dull thunk and an explosion of blood.

  Don Rafael fell to his knees The gun slipped from his fingers. He held his hands out to Zant.

  Zant spared him only a glance as, holstering his gun, he rushed to Jacey. She was collapsing where she stood. He was seized with fright at the sight of her blood-spattered dress. Just as she would’ve hit the floor, Zant reached her. Kneeling with her in his arms, he stroked her hair, searched her for wounds. “Oh, my God, Jacey, are you hit?”