A Lady Bought with Rifles

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A Lady Bought with Rifles Page 30

by Jeanne Williams


  Simple for a commander to see that a suspect is shot “while escaping”—easy to plant evidence and buy witnesses. And if I were left a sudden widow … I shivered at the officer’s eyes, which flickered as if coals burned far back in their darkness. I’d been forced into one marriage. I didn’t want there to be a second.

  “Please, Colonel.” I laid my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry to have troubled you with private matters. Thank you, but put this out of your mind.”

  “Dear lady, the matter seems not so privatè after all. Be assured I will carry out my duty.” His face was expressionless as he turned away, but I sensed a ruthlessness I hadn’t seen unleashed since Cruz burned.

  Staring after him, I felt overwhelming panic. What had I set in motion? How could I stop it? I didn’t completely hate Court; in his way he’d taken care of me and been father to Jon. I didn’t want to be responsible for his death and I feared that was what it came to, for Ruiz must be sure he coverd his tracks. Holding Court on charges would be too risky, but apprehending a smuggler in the act, an American perhaps distributing rifles and ammunition to rebels.…

  Oh, Ruiz could concoct almost any story and make it credible. Unlikely that my word would be taken over his, even if there were not horrid probabilities of his ensuring my silence by threats to Jon or the peaceable Yaqui miners.

  How could I have blundered so badly? The man I’d thought to dominate with a smile had now become infinitely more dangerous than Court, who at least would not hurt Jon.

  As Trace would have put it, I had played hell. Now I must run across the coals and try to ward off an avalanche of brimstone. I was starting for Court’s office when I saw him coming down the walk. For the first time in all our married life I went to meet him.

  The pleased surprise that had shone on his face dimmed as Court looked down at me and his bleached heavy brows drew together. “What’s wrong, love? Jon—”

  I shook my head, my throat so constricted with guilt and dread that I couldn’t speak. Court swept me toward the house, his arm around me, made me sit down and poured wine.

  “If it’s not Jon, it can’t be too bad,” he soothed. “Drink up, sweet, and let’s have it.” His head jerked back suddenly and his eyes went hard as polished brass. “I saw Ruiz leave you. Miranda. Did he dare—”

  “He didn’t bother me,” I blurted. “But I—I’m afraid he means to accuse you of smuggling or something like it. He said Americans have many temptations and opportunities.”

  “Hell, would I smuggle?” demanded Court. “He can’t have any proof, because there isn’t any! I’ll go have it out with that crazy one right now.”

  I caught his wrist as he swung toward the arch. “No, Court. He won’t care that it’s a lie. Don’t you see? He can shoot you if you argue or try to get away.”

  For seconds, Court gazed at me as if I’d gone mad, before belief gradually dawned. “By God, he could get away with it, couldn’t he? With the whole country in turmoil, uprisings everywhere, no one’s going to worry much about an American killed for resisting arrest for running guns. Neat. I’m surprised he’s not gone higher than colonel.” To my utter confusion, Court burst into laughter, head lifting back on his powerful neck, before he sobered. “I admire ambition, but I don’t mean to be Ruiz’s stepping-stone,” he growled. “Especially not when it’s clear he’s crazy for you and would try to console your loneliness before I was properly cold.” Rubbing his chin, Court stared toward the garrison, the Mexican flag rippling green, red, and white in the breeze. “Have any idea when he’ll start his comedy?”

  “Soon, I think. He may guess I’ve told you.”

  “Strange he’d hint his plan to you.” Court frowned. “What did he say exactly?”

  “He asked if you had any mysterious visitors, if your behavior was unusual.” Guiltily, I used the truth, though not all of it. “And then he said what I told you about opportunities.”

  Court deliberated. I knew that his quick shrewd mind was trying out positions, discarding, altering, testing. “It’s the devil of a mess,” he said after what seemed a long time. “I don’t have enough weapons to arm our miners and they’d be no match for soldiers anyway. If we could make it to Las Coronas, we could stand him off till I could get word to friends who’d settle his little game. But I can’t leave you and Jon and he’s bound to have sentries watching now he’s tipped his hand.” Court slapped his hand to his knee. “Hell, I’ll give the bastard a dose of his own physic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Court gave a wolf smile. “I’m going to do the government a big favor by locking up an officer who’s plotting to throw in with rebels. His men don’t love him, and some would sell their grandmothers for a few pesos. There’ll be witnesses.”

  “But what if he disproves the charge?”

  Court shrugged. “All I care about at the moment is putting him where he can’t get at me. And a bribe or two can ensure he isn’t reassigned to Mina Rara even if he can beat the treason count, which I doubt. His family have no money or influence.”

  “But how will you lock him up?”

  “I’ll walk into headquarters and have a gun on him before he can blink. Once Ruiz is my prisoner, the rest is child’s play. Captain Ortega, his second in command, might even file the charges if I made it worth his while.” Court brushed a kiss on my cheek as he concealed his Colt .38 beneath his shirt and pulled on a loose vest. “Don’t fret, love. I’ll have this gun in his ribs before he can say ‘Buenos días.’”

  He strode out, whistling. If he had any doubt of the outcome, it didn’t show. I had to admire him. I also had to think what to do whichever way the encounter went.

  If Court subjugated Ruiz, he might have to stay in Mexico long enough to push the officer’s trial. If Ruiz killed Court, I had better take Jon, with whatever supplies I could gather, and get away. But if Court was arrested, locked up till an opportune time for slaughter … Damm it, I would have to try to free him since I’d caused the mess.

  My head whirled, but I put down the wine and hurriedly began to assemble, for immediate flight, necessities I’d been secreting. I sent Chepa for Caguama. He could have Cascos Lindos and another sturdy burro waiting behind the stables along with dried meat, dried peaches and quinces, rice and beans, blankets, two changes of clothing for Jon and me, and other necessities stowed into packs that could be tied behind the burros’ saddles. Water would be our most important need, but was heavy.

  Two water skins? Three? My head throbbed and I tried not to panic as I wondered what was happening at the headquarters.

  Caguama came while I was slipping the twisted pieces of gold into a leather pouch containing my jewels. I always wore my mother’s crucifix, of course, with its turquoise the color of my dead love’s eyes. I had only a few coins, but hoped the cheaper jewelry would serve for barter till I reached a place where I could sell the gold and the truly valuable ornaments.

  Caguama’s first loyalty was to Jon, his second to me. He wouldn’t give away my plans, if they could be dignified with that name. So I told him what was needed, but though he nodded understanding, he didn’t go at once but stood shifting his feet.

  “Well?” I asked sharply.

  “You go away, lady? You and Juanito?”

  “Yes, my friend. You know my husband wishes to send Jon far away to school.”

  “So Juanito has told me, lady. You run to keep Juanito with you. But you have no guide, no men?”

  “I did not know whom to trust.”

  Caguama glared at me accusingly. “You can trust me.”

  “But the señor will be very angry,” I protested. “If he catches us, he might even kill anyone who helped us.”

  The young Seri’s grin exposed the gap in his teeth. “He must first catch, lady. Where do you go?”

  I told him my vague notions of how to reach California. He shook his head, appalled. “I can take you. That is my country, at least part. But alone! You and the child? Oh, lady, you would die!”


  “If you take us, the señor would put a price on you.”

  He laughed and scratched his ear. “Then I would be worth something, pero no? To escape along the coast, lady, you are better with one Seri than with fifty soldiers or vaqueros.”

  His confidence raised my spirits. “If we get away safe, my friend, we will owe you much.”

  “I wish one thing.” The smile faded from his broad features. “To be with Juanito.” He began to collect the supplies and said he’d see to water and burros, after we arranged that I’d slip away with Jon as early as possible that evening.

  “Juanito does not know yet?” the Seri asked.

  I explained briefly about Ruiz and Court. “It has all happened fast, Caguama. If the colonel locks the señor up, I must try to free him. But whether we run from my husband or the commander, we had better run tonight.”

  “I will be ready. He hesitated. “If Señor Sanders does not return soon, do you wish me to find out what has happened?”

  “I—I don’t know, Caguama. Be watchful, but don’t go to the garrison unless I ask you.”.

  He went out and I ran to the veranda, peered toward the headquarters. Sentries patrolled and a squad was drilling, but I could see nothing unusual.

  What was going on? Surely Court would move quickly since surprise was his chief ally. If he pulled off the audacious play, he’d have to win Captain Ortega, make sure there’d be no problems from the garrison. It seemed to me that he’d been gone longer than all that could have taken.

  Inwardly chilled in spite of the July heat, I leaned my face against the wall and tried to think what to do if Court was gone much longer, for that would mean Ruiz had taken him.

  Should I go to headquarters and try to make some bargain with the colonel? Or let Caguama determine where Court was being held and then somehow get him loose? If only I’d never tried to influence Ruiz to block our journey! I was resolved now to escape, whatever happened, but by bringing Ruiz into the situation, I had multiplied the problems. Now I had two men to elude, one of whom, my husband—no matter how ill he’d used me—I couldn’t leave under virtual death sentence.

  Jon darted in with several small friends and I told them to go get lunch from Raquel or Chepa. My heart contracted as shouts and laughter rang back down the hall. Jon had never been hungry or thirsty, and if anyone in the world wasn’t his friend, he was happily oblivious to it.

  Suppose I took him to his death? What if we were lost or robbed because I wouldn’t let him be sent away? Was I being selfish to risk him?

  My thoughts roved back to when I was his age, when I begged my father and mother to let me stay with them. Offered a choice of England or a trip such as the desperate one I’d planned, which would I have chosen? The trip, of course.

  He would have one parent, one friend, and one burro. Trace, am I doing right? No answer—there never had been in all these years that I had hoped for some sense of communication.

  With growing dread I watched the distant garrison. And then my heart froze as a man came out of headquarters, saluted the guard, and started in my direction.

  The colonel, and he was not waiting till dark.

  18

  My impulse was to run to my room, but I forced it down. I would go to meet him, demand to see my husband. Instinctively I knew if I showed fear, Ruiz would pounce. He would anyway, but boldness, all the cool imperiousness I could muster, might fend him off till I could do something for Court and escape with Jon and Caguama. I refused to even think that Court might be past help; there had been no shots. Ruiz probably needed time to think before his final action.

  Walking rapidly but without flurry, I met the colonel by the school. “Where is my husband?” I asked flatly.

  “Under guard in my office.” Ruiz permitted himself a slight smile. “I must admit I was startled to be facing a revolver, but fortunately, my aide walked in and stretched the señor out with his rifle butt.” Dark eyes played over me, gathering heat. “I was amazed, Doña Miranda, that you told the señor of our plans.”

  “Arresting him was not my plan, Colonel. I had hoped you might forbid our departure on grounds of safety or national interest. I am horrified at what has happened and feel much to blame.”

  “For that I have much sorrow, but when you see the advantages you should be reconciled.”

  “I will not be reconciled if harm befalls my husband. I wish to see him.”

  Ruiz shook his head, sighed eloquently. “Ladies! Never knowing what they want. First this, then that, changeable as mists.” His tone lost its playfulness. “Perhaps they need a man to tell them what they want and make them like it.”

  “Speaking for myself only, Colonel, I know perfectly what I want in this case—the señor’s release.”

  “I am grieved not to oblige you, Doña Miranda, but I have my duty.”

  “Which is to investigate suspicions. When you discover these to be unfounded, Colonel, you will naturally release my husband, who, also naturally, will be most grateful.”

  I could almost trace his thoughts as he studied me, eyes narrowed. He could put Court out of the way, actually rape me if his blandishments didn’t work, but he couldn’t be sure that I’d marry him. It was even possible that I’d kill myself, and held have had considerable annoyance for nothing.

  He desired me, but he also had visions of wealth. At this point I wasn’t going to balk at hints that might swing the balance. “Yes,” I repeated. “The señor would be grateful. As would I, Colonel, though I would express my gratitude in a different manner.”

  He caught his breath. Passion radiated from him. “Doña Miranda, if I could believe that—” His thin hawk face appeared to swell, and he touched his tongue to his lips. “Not that I doubt your word, but once your husband is released certain things might prove difficult.” He bowed over my hand, but turned up the palm and kissed it lingeringly. “Let me pursue my investigation this afternoon. Then if you will allow me to call this evening, we can discuss it thoroughly.”

  He meant to collect in advance. And there was no way to ensure he’d keep the bargain. But I thought of the burros and Caguama and steeled myself to do whatever was required in order to leave with a clear conscience about Court. Strange, I was his wife, he was the only man who had ever had me except for that single time with Trace, yet it wasn’t to him I felt unfaithful, but to Trace, when I thought of sleeping with Ruiz.

  “May I see my husband?” I asked again.

  Ruiz laughed. “There will be time for that when my investigation is complete. But in all other things, beautiful lady, I am at your orders.”

  Stifling a rude one, I turned and walked back to the house. I had made a grand muddle, but at least Court’s death wouldn’t be on my head and I would tell the Seri to be ready to leave at any moment after dark, though the heavy doomed feeling weighing down on me made me admit Ruiz might not leave till morning.

  I would ask him to write an order for Court’s release and request that I might be allowed to surprise Court with it. That way I could leave the order with Dr. Trent and ask him to deliver it after I’d been gone at least eight hours.

  Crossing to the patio, I found Caguama showing Jon and a friend how to make harpoon barbs of ironwood. “You killed a sea turtle as big as you?” Jon was asking, round-eyed.

  “Tall as me and much fatter,” Caguama grinned. Leaving the boys to admire the sculptured prong, he rose and came to me.

  I explained in a few words that Court was under military arrest, but that I hoped to arrange his freedom that evening with Colonel Ruiz and as soon as that was done, we would leave.

  “Do not worry,” the young Indian said. “I have the burros in the stable, and everything ready. I will sleep at the door of Juanito’s room, lady, and carry him out when you are ready.”

  If he had any notion of what arranging I must do with Ruiz, he mercifully gave no hint, though his light brown eyes were concerned. “Try to sleep,” he urged. “You need to be strong tonight.”

  More th
an he knew. But along with my dread of that interlude with Ruiz and anxieties about the arduous journey, exhilaration—a sense of life, returning freedom—was waking in me. It was as if after years of numbed existence with Court I was starting to breathe again, feel blood pulsing fresh and eager.

  If only Trace were alive! But at least I had his son. And tonight or early tomorrow we would leave what had been a singular kind of prison. I filled my lungs with air, hugged Jon as he ran to show me the harpoon barb, and went to write one letter to Court and another to Dr. Trent.

  In the message to Court I said that I was taking Jon to the United States and that he should no longer consider me his wife. In time my legal representative would contact him about divorce and a division of property. “You know Jon is not your son,” I wrote. “I believe this is really why you wish to send him away. The antipathy could only grow as he becomes older and embitter all our lives. You forced me to marriage but you’ve been kind to Jon. Let’s cry quits and wish each other well.”

  I asked Dr. Trent to try to reconcile Court to my permanent absence, thanked him for his friendship during the years at Mina Rara, and put Court’s letter inside his for delivery.

  Pausing, I checked preparations. In the armoire my divided leather riding skirt, copied after the one Tula had taken from me, hung with a cotton shirt above my oldest and most comfortable boots, wide-brimmed felt hat, and the pouch of jewelry and gold. Jon’s travel clothes were ready on a shelf in his room. I could help him dress,’ briefly explaining the journey, while Caguama got the burros loaded.

  That left getting Court’s release and the letters to Dr. Trent. I decided to entrust that trip to Raquel. No danger of her trying to stop my flight. She’d be delighted to have Court to herself and she could also be relied on to see that the doctor carried out his mission promptly, though again she wouldn’t rush Court’s freedom prematurely for fear of his overtaking me. How perfectly her interests and mine coincided! I could almost chuckle over it as I sought her out.

  She assumed that I was riding to Hermosillo and from there would take a train to Arizona. That would be a useful impression for Court, so I didn’t correct it. Her distress over Court’s detention was slightly overbalanced by my assurances that he would be released and by my plans to go away. This she plainly considered lunacy, but it was not her duty to remonstrate with the mad.

 

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