Dare to Love

by Jennifer Wilde

  “I wouldn’t try anything,” a rough voice announced. “If I were you I’d drop that gun and step out of the coach. You women, too. Everyone out! Pronto!”

  XL

  Bradford tossed his pistol out the window. With the barrel of a rifle jammed against his stomach there was little else he could do. The man holding the rifle slowly withdrew it and opened the door of the coach. Bradford climbed out, his hands over his head. Millie looked at me, her cheeks pale, and then she pressed her lips together and followed Bradford, eyes flashing defiantly. The rifleman took her elbow. She pulled it away. I shoved the jewel case under the seat with my foot and, gathering up my skirts, climbed out with a composure that belied the nervous trembling inside.

  Bradford was standing to one side with the driver and the guard. Millie stood with hands on hips, ignoring the man with the rifle and glaring at the three men who sat on horseback, pistols leveled at us. One of them was dressed entirely in black, black boots, tight black pants, black shirt, black leather gloves. A silky black hood covered his head, leaving only his eyes visible through two round holes. The other two men wore faded cotton shirts and pants, red bandanas hiding the lower part of their faces, wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

  The man with the rifle was dressed in Spanish style, tight leafbrown pants that flared at the bottom. The hem and lapels of his short, square jacket were faced with bands of black and green embroidery. Both jacket and pants had seen better days. His dark brown hat with low crown and wide, round brim was fastened under his chin with thin leather thongs. He had pulled his neck scarf up over his nose and cheeks. Coal black eyes glowed belligerently as he studied us. I felt sure his mouth was curled in a scornful sneer.

  The Spaniard walked over to his horse and thrust his rifle into a long, narrow sheath hanging across the saddle. He moved arrogantly, his shoulders rolling, the spurs on his boots jangling noisily. He exuded an air of fierceness. Even though they held pistols on us, the other three men weren’t nearly as frightening, not even the man in black. I sensed instinctively that the man in brown was both vicious and highly dangerous. He glared savagely at Bradford and the two men beside him. All three had their arms raised above their heads. Bradford’s face was expressionless. The guard seemed ready to yawn. The driver was clearly terrified.

  “Where ees the other man?” the Spaniard demanded.

  “What other man?” Bradford inquired. “You think someone else was travelin’ with us?”

  “The Englishman who wears the fancy clothes and handles the gold. He ees supposed to be with you.”

  “’Fraid he isn’t, partner.”

  “They think we’re carrying gold,” Millie exclaimed. “They think we have all the money from your performances. Well,” she said, addressing the Spaniard, “you’re wasting your time. That money is already in a bank in San Francisco.”

  He wheeled around to stare at her and clearly liked what he saw. His coal black eyes glowed with naked lust. Millie kept her hands on her hips, her stance deliberately audacious. Her cheeks had regained their soft pink hue, and her eyes were even more defiant. I knew that she was as frightened as I was, but she wasn’t about to show it.

  “Thees one ees cocky,” the Spaniard growled, devouring her with his eyes.

  “I hope you like what you see!” she snapped. “Seeing is all you’re going to do. You lay one hand on me and I’ll bite it off!”

  The Spaniard took a step toward her. “I think maybe I teach her to be respectful.”

  “Easy, Rico,” Black Hood warned.

  Rico jerked his head around to glare at his leader, Black Hood, who sat on his horse like some bizarre medieval prince. The leader shook his head. Rico made a disgusted noise in his throat, but he moved away from Millie. She turned to Bradford with an exasperated look.

  “What kind of coward are you?” she wanted to know. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

  “I’m no coward, Ma’am,” he drawled. “Neither am I a fool. I’m not going to do anything with three pistols pointin’ at me.”

  “A wise man,” Black Hood rasped.

  The hooded man slipped his pistol into its holster and swung lightly out of the saddle, strolling toward us. He was tall, very tall, with the lean, muscular build of an athlete, and he carried himself with supple grace. He waved Rico aside and, ignoring Bradford and the others, stopped a few feet in front of me, dark brown eyes observing me through the holes in the hood.

  “It seems we’ve made an error,” he remarked.

  His voice was a soft, husky rasp, not really a whisper but closely akin to it. He seemed to caress each word fondly, and the result was unusually seductive—that was the only way to describe it. I wondered what he sounded like when he wasn’t disguising his voice. I wondered what he looked like behind the hood. Now that he had subdued Rico, I wasn’t at all afraid. The nervous trembling had vanished.

  Millie was no longer afraid either. She was fighting mad.

  “We’ve got no gold!” she said. “Why don’t you and your men just ride off and leave us alone!”

  Black Hood didn’t seem to hear her. His luminous brown eyes held mine. The man had a strange, compelling magnetism that seemed to vibrate in the air around him. I had the feeling he would have commanding presence even without the disguise. One sensed great strength and ruthlessness as well, despite the genteel manner and caressing voice.

  “You’re even more beautiful than they claim,” he said. “The reports don’t do you justice.”

  “You’ve seen me before.”

  “Oh?”

  “You saw me dance last night.”

  “So you know about that?”

  “Everyone does. It was an unusual risk to take.”

  “But worth it, Elena.”

  My name was a low, seductive caress, soft and silken and husky, spoken with incredible tenderness. I realized with a start that the man was wooing me, wooing me with gentle gallantry that would have been far more appropriate in a moonlit garden.

  “What about the gold?” Rico protested. “You told us the Englishman would be with them! You said he would be carrying twenty thousand dollars!”

  “So I did.”

  Anthony had had only a few dollars more than that amount in his saddlebags when he departed with the guard the night before. I wondered how Black Hood had reached a figure so nearly exact. It represented what we had taken in during the past two weeks at three different mining towns. I suspected that he had a whole network of people spying for him, providing information about gold shipments and such. One of them had obviously been keeping an eye on us for at least two weeks.

  “The money is already safely in the bank,” I said calmly. “My manager left with it last night.”

  “That presents a problem,” Black Hood replied. His voice was full of regret. “You see, I need that money.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll have to rob the bank.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said.

  Rico climbed angrily inside the coach and began tearing it up. A moment later he gave a loud exclamation and jumped out with the jewel case. Millie gasped and started forward. Bradford restrained her with a sharp command, his hands still in the air. I stood very quietly as Rico broke the clasp on the case, opened it and took out a handful of jewelry. Diamonds and sapphires glittered with shimmering blue and silver-blue flames as they dripped from his rough tan fingers.

  “Holy Virgin Mary,” he said thickly. “Look what ees here.”

  “Let me see them,” Black Hood ordered.

  Rico shook his head in awe, dropped the jewels back into the case and held it out with both hands. Black Hood examined them thoughtfully for a moment, then reached in to extract a narrow silver filigree hair clasp set with over twenty superbly cut diamonds. I had worn it the night revolution broke out in Barivna, the night Brence had killed Heinrich Schroder and carried me away to safety. Black Hood studied it closely, turning it this way and that, the diamonds throwing off dazzling spokes of light in the sun.
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  “Lovely,” he remarked. “A gift, I assume.”

  “It was given to me by the King of Barivna.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I read about him. He lost his throne because of you. Isn’t that right?”

  “Some people chose to think so,” I answered coolly.

  He chuckled softly and gazed at the clasp again, then dropped it back into the case.

  “I don’t think we’re interested in jewelry,” he said. “Put the case back in the coach, Rico.”

  “You’re out of your mind! They’re worth a fortune!”

  “Put the case back in the coach.”

  Rico stood there defiantly, clutching the case to his chest. His eyes flashed dangerously, and I knew his cheeks must be flushed bright red with anger. Black Hood didn’t repeat his command again. He waited, tapping his fingers on his thighs, and suddenly the genteel manner was gone. Though he didn’t speak, though he made no menacing gesture, he had become as hard as steel and chillingly lethal. Rico still hesitated, clearly contemplating rebellion. But finally, muttering a curse in Spanish, Rico slammed the case shut and hurled it into the coach. Black Hood turned to Millie.

  “I want you to deliver a message,” he said.

  “A message?”

  “I am releasing you and the men. I want you to go to San Francisco and locate Miss Lopez’ manager. I want you to tell him that she will be returned to him safe and sound as soon as he brings me twenty thousand dollars.”

  “What?” she cried.

  “Now hold on!” Bradford yelled.

  “I’m taking Miss Lopez with me. I assure you she won’t be harmed, not if my instructions are followed. Her manager is to come to this spot tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock, with the money and without the law. I’ll meet him, and as soon as I have the money, she’ll be returned.”

  “You can’t do this!” Millie exclaimed. “It’s—it’s kidnapping! If you think—”

  “I think you’d better follow instructions,” he interrupted, speaking in that soft, raspy voice. “Duke must be unarmed, of course, and there must be no lawmen with him, nor any lurking behind rocks. For Miss Lopez’ sake, I suggest the law know nothing about this.”

  “So this is Black Hood?” Millie snapped, turning to Bradford. “You told us he robbed only the exploiters! You told us he helped poor people!”

  “Yeah, this isn’t your style,” Bradford said to the tall bandit. “You’ve never abducted a woman before.”

  “I have my reasons,” the outlaw replied.

  “And I know what they are!” Millie exploded. “Well, I can tell you one thing, if you’re going to abduct Elena, you’re going to abduct me, too! We go everywhere together.”

  “Hush, Millie,” I said.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with these villains, not for a minute!”

  Bradford had regained his indolent, laconic manner, holding his arms in the air as though in an idle stretch. His brown eyes surveyed the ground casually, and I saw them rest on the pistol he had tossed out of the window. The gun lay about five yards away, near the foot of one of the large rocks.

  “I reckon there’s not much we can do,” he drawled. “This isn’t going to endear you to folks though, Hood. Robbin’ the money dealers is one thing. Abductin’ women is another.”

  “Miss Lopez won’t be harmed.”

  “I have your word on that?”

  I sensed the outlaw’s smile. The dark brown eyes were amused, as he said, “You have my word.”

  Bradford nodded, apparently satisfied, and then he seemed to fly forward, lunging into space, skidding across the ground, his hand reaching for the pistol. But Black Hood’s arm moved with even greater speed. He whipped his gun out and fired. There was a puff of smoke and a blazing streak of orange. Millie shrieked. Bradford fell to the ground as the pistol flew out of Bradford’s fingers and clattered against the face of the rock. He looked up in amazement. His cheekbone was badly skinned, but otherwise he appeared to be unharmed. It had all happened in less than five seconds.

  Black Hood kept his gun leveled on the man on the ground.

  “Can’t blame a man for tryin’,” Bradford observed.

  “I could have killed you.”

  “Mighty glad you didn’t, I must say.”

  “Get up.”

  Bradford climbed to his feet, brushing dust from his tan breeches. The tail of his worn cotton shirt had pulled loose from his waistband. He calmly tucked it back in, brushed a smudge of dirt from one of the sleeves and ran his fingers through his mop of sun-streaked hair. Millie looked at him with new appreciation. The incident had shaken her considerably, but she made a quick recovery, rushing over to examine the skinned place on his cheekbone.

  “You’ve hurt yourself,” she said testily. “That needs to be washed and tended to. There’s a canteen of water in the coach, and I’ve got some ointment in my carry bag.”

  “Get back,” he ordered. His voice was stern.

  “No one’s going to do any more shooting,” she informed him. “There’ll be no more foolish heroics. Come on over to the coach. I’ll fetch the canteen.”

  “I said get back!”

  “Go on over to the coach with her,” Black Hood said. “Climb inside, both of you.” Then, pointing his gun at the driver and the guard, he said, “You two, get back up on the seat.”

  The terrified driver wasted no time. He scurried over to the coach and scrambled up onto the seat as though pursued by demons, then seized the reins with trembling hands. One of the horses reared its head irritably. The guard lowered his arms and swiped at the fringe on his soiled leather jacket, completely unperturbed.

  “What about our guns?” he inquired. “I’ve had that rifle for nigh on to twenty years.”

  “Empty the rifle, Rico,” Black Hood ordered. “Empty the pistol, too, then return them to these gentlemen.”

  Rico obeyed, muttering angrily to himself as he picked up the battered old rifle and emptied it of shells. He snapped it shut and thrust it into the guard’s hand. The guard sauntered over to the coach and climbed up beside the driver, resting the rifle across his knees again and gazing indifferently into space. Bradford slipped his emptied pistol into its holster and continued to stand where he was. Millie stood close beside him.

  “Get in the coach!” Rico snarled. “Move!”

  “You’re going to regret this, Hood,” Bradford said. “If you harm so much as a hair on her head, I’ll personally track you down and put a bullet in your gut. That’s a promise.”

  He took Millie by the wrist and started toward the coach. She protested vehemently, planting her heels firmly in the dirt, trying to pull free, declaring at the top of her lungs that she wasn’t about to go off and leave me. Bradford sighed and scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the coach. She kicked. She shrieked. She pounded on his chest with her fists. He didn’t seem to notice. He tossed her bodily into the coach and climbed in beside her, calmly looping an arm around her throat when she attempted to jump back out.

  “All right!” she snapped.

  “You goin’ to behave?”

  Millie flung his arm aside and flounced angrily onto the opposite seat, tears splashing down her cheeks. She wiped them away and stared out the window at me, looking absolutely wretched. I managed to smile. I told her I’d be all right, told her not to worry.

  “I can’t help but worry,” she said irritably. “Anthony’s so tight with a dollar he’ll probably let them keep you!”

  The driver clicked the reins. As the horses took off, the coach bounced vigorously, spraying loose gravel in all directions. The luggage on top shifted and slipped, but the ropes kept it from toppling off. There was a cloud of dust, and by the time it lifted the coach was disappearing around a mass of boulders in the distance. I told myself I wasn’t afraid, but there was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my hands were shaking. I hid them in my skirts and tilted my chin defiantly.

  “Well?” I said.

  “Y
ou’re very brave,” Black Hood told me.

  “Not nearly as brave as my friend. Millie would have shot you herself if she could have gotten hold of a gun.”

  “There was no need for anyone to shoot anyone. I could have put that bullet between your man’s eyes if I’d wanted to. I admire a man with courage, and he was courageous indeed.”

  “Now I suppose you’re going to carry me off.”

  “That’s right. You’ll come peacefully? I’ve read a great deal about the famous Lopez temper.”

  “I promise not to scratch,” I said acidly.

  Black Hood chuckled again, and then, taking hold of my arm, led me over to his horse, a beautiful chestnut. Rico was already mounted and was watching us with hostile black eyes. The other two men had put away their pistols and waited patiently. Neither of them had spoken a word, unlike the volatile Rico. Black Hood released my arm, placed the toe of his boot in the stirrup and swung lightly into the saddle. Leaning down, he circled my waist with his hands and swept me off the ground, settling me in front of him.

  “Comfortable?” he inquired.

  “Not very.”

  “You’re going to be less so, I fear. This is necessary.”

  He whipped out a black silk scarf, folded it neatly and, before I could protest, tied it over my eyes. The blindfold immediately disoriented me. I tried to turn around but felt myself slipping. A strong, muscular arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me back against him. I grew dizzy, and the dizziness increased as the horse started to move. The arm tightened, holding me securely.

  “It’s a very long ride,” he murmured. “We’ll stop to rest in an hour or so.”

  “How considerate of you.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to get too tired. I plan to take very good care of you.”

  I tried to relax. The world was a black void full of movement and noise and sensation. The dizziness vanished as soon as I grew accustomed to the motion. I wondered if we were heading east, or west. Perhaps it was south. Yes, we were going south. Then, the horse turned and headed in another direction. North? I sat rigidly, holding my back stiff, refusing to lean against him, but that was foolish. My spine hurt dreadfully. I forgot my pride and leaned back, resting my weight against his chest. His arm loosened, tightened again as he adjusted his hold to accommodate me.