“No… No…,” Maya pleaded. “He will find me. You no go. I can wrap it myself.”
“Nonsense,” Bill insisted. “Let me grab my hat and coat and I’ll go get him right now.”
Espé grabbed an extra towel and placed it around her own shoulders. “Before you go,” Espé said, pulling Bill to the side. “Maya is afraid of the doctor. She doesn’t have any money. That is why she didn’t want to come inside the church. I had to pull her in.”
Bills eyebrows raised. “No money? Why would money be needed for a person to come into the house of God?”
Gently Espé drew Maya to sit in a chair at the table, as she asked, “¿El padre de tu iglesia en casa pidió dinero?”
Mrs. Grant finally found her voice, “You need to speak English, Espé. We can’t help her if we don’t know what is going on. I don’t speak Spanish and I doubt Pastor Gregory does either. What did you ask the girl?”
Maya placed her hand on Espé’s arm and pleaded with her in Spanish. “Por favor, no señorita, no!”
Before Mrs. Grant could reinforce her linguistic demands, Espé lashed out at her. “Mrs. Grant, when you come to church, how much does the pastor charge you to enter?”
“What kind of question is that?”
Espé pointed to Maya shivering on the chair. “Maya’s priest would not let anyone into the church unless they gave him money.”
Mrs. Grant drew her head back, eyes wide and jaw slack, “I, I, I nev—“
“No, I don’t suppose you did.” Espé sighed, releasing the anger inside her. Her father said her passionate nature made her fierce in a fight, but hard to love. Turning a tender face to Maya, she gently took the crying girl’s hand and softly rubbed her uninjured arm with her other hand.
Bill was paying close attention now and noticed Maya’s wince even though Espé didn’t touch the injured arm. He knelt down on the ground next to Maya. “Maya, you do not have to pay to come into this church. God will meet you wherever you are.” He looked at Maya’s arm as she held it closer to her side. “What happened to your arm?”
Quickly Maya spoke up, “Nothing, Señor Pastor, my arm is fine.”
Espé’s reprimand was gentle, “Maya, I haven’t known Señor Bill very long, but I trust him. He’s going to get the doctor.” Bill nodded to her and headed out into the rain to find Doc Thompson.
It only took a few minutes to get the doctor, but Espé thought it felt like forever. The three women sat in silence. Espé comforted Maya, Maya softly sniffled and Mrs. Grant looked as though she wanted to help, but she didn’t know what to do.
The doc had a kind face. Deep crevices in his skin betrayed his age. The doctor walked to Maya and signaled for Espé to move. She stood and went to stand next to Bill, allowing the doctor to take her seat.
The doctor murmured to Maya in Spanish. She shook her head and held her arm tighter to her body. He spoke to her again and she reluctantly allowed the doctor to examine her arm. Chafing appeared around her wrist. Maya’s fingernails were bloody and torn. Espé heard Mrs. Grant inhale in horror.
“She’s been tied up,” the doc said. Maya looked terrified.
“Who did this to you?” Mrs. Grant demanded.
When Maya didn’t answer, Mrs. Grant asked the question again.
Turning to Mrs. Grant, Doc Thompson began speaking softly, “Mrs. Grant, I know you don’t know much Spanish, but there are a few words that I think you’ll understand. ‘Silencio’.”
“‘Silencio?’ That sounds a lot like our word ‘silence’.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it means.” The doctor turned back to Maya, but he continued to talk to Mrs. Grant. “And right now, I am saying that word to you. Silencio, Mrs. Grant, silencio. And there is no possible way I going to soften that word by adding the Spanish words for ‘please’. Your total silencio is required immediately.”
The doctor gently rolled Maya’s sleeve back. It was stuck to her skin as the fabric started to dry. He used a wet rag to loosen the fabric. As the fabric was peeled away, fresh bruising appeared on top of bruises that were quite old. A huge welt, the width of a leather strap appeared on the skin and a few bloody sores where the skin was ripped away came into view.
Mrs. Grant gave a cry of alarm. Bill puffed out a noisy wordless exhale. Espé fell back on her native tongue, “¡Dios ayúdame!”
Espé felt Bill’s hand pressing on her arm, and they locked eyes. She felt a rage inside her like she never had before. “If I find Mr. Waterman, I … I … I don’t know what.”
Bill pulled Espé into his embrace and gave her a hug. “I don’t think it was him.”
“Who else would hurt her?”
“I don’t know, but I do know Austin. He wouldn’t have done that. He may be gruff, but he isn’t cruel.” He released her and Espé immediately missed the warmth of his arms.
Espé realized that Mrs. Grant was talking to the doctor. “What is it?”
The doc turned and looked at everyone. “Maya’s arm is broken. I’m going to have to go to my office and get some plaster and linens. I don’t want her going back to that ranch.”
Before Espé could respond, Mrs. Grant stepped forward. “Of course not. Maya will be coming home with me until she has healed. There will be no argument. I insist.”
Maya gave a quick nod. “Gracias, Senora.”
A voice boomed across the room. “I thought you might be here.” Everyone turned to look at the front of the church.
Austin Waterman stood in the doorway of the nave, in a long oilskin coat. His hat was beaded with water and it rolled towards his back. He exuded anger. If Espé thought he was mad when he saw her earlier at the barn, that was nothing compared to the fury rolling off him in waves.
His dark eyes were on fire and his jaw was clenched. He moved it back and forth and Espé heard it give a slight pop. As his coat fell open Espé saw he had a pair of guns strapped around his waist and a knife strapped to his leg. He looked more like a gunslinger than a rancher.
“You can’t bring those in here, Austin,” Bill said approaching the man and holding out his hand.
“Out of the way, Preacher,” Austin said. He gave Bill a little shove and walked past him into the church. His eyes bore into Maya as he strode towards her.
Espé jumped in between Austin and Maya. “No,” she yelled, stomping her foot. “You cannot go near her.”
His lips curled up in the makings of a smile. “This isn’t your battle, Little One, but I appreciate you being so protective.” He stepped around Espé and stopped when he was in front of Maya.
“I’m only going to ask once, Maya,” he said through clenched teeth. “Where is he?”
Chapter 8
Two weeks later
Espé couldn’t believe that she had been in Bent for as long as she had. No one had come to find her, and she finally let down her guard. Just a bit.
She knew she was going to have to leave Bent soon to go to her next destination, wherever that may be.
During the past two weeks, she managed to avoid Austin, be evasive with Chance and Violet, and greatly enjoy the company of one handsome pastor.
Austin was too busy hunting the person who hurt Maya. Espé could admit that maybe she was wrong about the insufferable man.
Maya was starting to recover. Espé received updates from Mrs. Grant when the widows came to the church. Mrs. Grant now considered herself Maya’s advocate and there was no way she was going to let Maya return to Austin’s ranch before her abuser was found.
Chance must have thought she was headed out to the ranch each morning and she didn’t give him reason to think otherwise. The poor man had his hands full with the women. Several of her sister brides had made their love matches and Espé knew that weddings would be happening soon.
Violet may have been suspicious, but Espé was thankful the woman didn’t say anything.
Espé, however, was perfectly content leaving in the morning and walking up to the church to spend the day with Bill. He was
gracious enough to offer the church as a refuge, when she explained her situation about the pressure Chance was putting on her regarding time spent with the rancher.
If he thought it odd that Austin never came to find her, he didn’t say anything.
The widows didn’t say anything either. They would just glance at her with sly smiles as they entered the church for auxiliary business.
She learned, that he, like she, had no intention of ever getting married. Espé thought that was sad, because he would definitely make someone a wonderful husband.
However, it made him perfectly safe for her to be around since he was in no way shape or form interested in courting her.
He was caring, attentive, both a friend and a counselor, and had a wicked sense of humor once he became comfortable around folks. Espé spent her days helping around the church. Whether it was dusting the pews, straightening the hymnals, tending to the garden or just listening as he prepared his sermon.
The widows were at the church most days, when they weren’t escorting brides around the county. When they were in the sanctuary, Espé made herself scarce as she didn’t want to give even a hint of anything improper. Every once in a while, she would see them looking in the direction of her and Bill, then whispering among themselves.
Today, however, it was tea day and they were sitting in the nave around a table catching up on the latest chatter regarding the brides in town. Espé was sitting on one of the benches reading a book Bill found for her. It was in Spanish.
When she asked how he came to be in possession of a copy of Santa Bibla, he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her.
“Espé,” Widow Long called to her from the table, “my friend Mrs. Grant, told me the most remarkable news. She said that you are a Flamenco dancer. Is that true?”
“I was,” Espé said. She hadn’t said anything about her past to Mrs. Grant, and she certainly wouldn’t have brought up her costume. Espé didn’t want the older woman to think she dressed like a saloon girl.
“Was?” Mrs. Jefferys asked, peering at Espé from behind her glasses. Espé had learned this past week that not much escaped Mrs. Jefferys’s attention. “Well are you, or aren’t you? There is no was.”
“No. I do not dance the Flamenco.” Her words started to falter. She wasn’t sure where the widows were going by asking these questions. Mrs. Worthington mumbled something that Espé couldn’t catch. “What did she say?”
“That is a shame,” Mrs. Long said.
“What is?” Espé questioned.
“That you don’t dance. Prudence was told that your costume was absolutely exquisite,” Mrs. Long lamented.
Espé groaned. It had to have been Helena or Alice that told Mrs. English and Mrs. English shared it with Mrs. Grant. They were very close friends after all.
Espé thought Alice must have been the culprit, as Mrs. English was chaperoning the young woman quite frequently. They would have had plenty of time to talk when they were in Mrs. English’s carriage.
“Espé, dear, would you teach us some steps? How about anything you remember?” Mrs. English gave her a smile. “Anything? Just a few steps.”
Mrs. Worthington mumbled again.
“She said she fondly recalled dancing with her husband when they were younger,” Mrs. Clements offered. “I agree with Prudence, child. We would be delighted if you would teach us some steps.”
“I’m surprised that you would want to learn to dance, ladies,” Bill said coming into the nave. “Leave poor Espé alone. She is here to gather her thoughts and pray.”
“She should be visiting with Austin Waterman,” Mrs. Grant said. She looked around the table at the other ladies. “I don’t think she has been there in a week. He’ll probably move on and find someone else. He does need a mother for those two darling girls.”
Espé jumped up from bench and laid her bible to the side. “I will teach you a few steps if you don’t bring up Mr. Waterman again. Alright?”
The women nodded eagerly and pushed their chairs from the table. They moved them to the side, along with the table so there was enough room for everyone to stand in a line.
“You don’t have to do this, Espé,” Bill said, gently taking her arm. She gave his hand a pat.
“It is fine. I’ll teach them a few things and then it is done.”
Espé stood in front of them. “Stand up, with your back completely straight.” She shifted positions so they could see her. The widows shifted around, bumping into each other as they turned to show their straight backs. “Good. Now hold your arms like this.” She held her arms in a circle in front of her. “Imagine you are hugging a tree.”
Bill snickered and Espé turned to give him a glare. “Please, continue,” he motioned to her. “You are hugging a tree.” Espé smiled and turned back to the widows who had their arms at varying heights.
“Next, we will work on our wrists. You want to roll them forward and then backwards, keeping your arms in position.”
She watched the widows move their wrists. Mrs. Worthington said something, but Espé couldn’t catch it. Mrs. Jefferys, however, nodded at whatever her friend said.
“My wrists are tired,” someone complained. “What’s next?”
“When do we dance?”
Espé glanced to Bill who simply shrugged his shoulders. “Now you need to combine the wrist and arms.” Espé demonstrated, moving her arms gracefully over and around her head, while rolling her wrists and extending her fingers.
“Oh! You do that so nicely,” Mrs. Winslow said, blotting her eyes.
Espé looked at Bill. Had just these simple movements caused the woman’s tears? Bill gave her a shake of his head and motioned for her to continue.
“Now the feet work. Three steps. Stomp, ball and heel.” Espé demonstrated and the widows repeated the movements.
“Feet work?”
“I think she meant footwork.”
“Si.” Espé straightened her back again. “Now, put it all together.” Espé stomped her foot, tapped her heel twice. She stomped her other foot and raised herself on the ball, before tapping her heel once and shifting positions. She moved her arms gracefully and extended her fingers, circling her wrists in time with her footwork.
When she was done, she turned to the group of widows that all looked at her with confusion on their faces.
“I think we need music,” Mrs. Jefferys suggested.
“I don’t know if I like all that hip movement,” said Mrs. Grant. “But I agree, I could understand it much better if we had music.”
“I know,” said Mrs. Winslow. “We should have you demonstrate tonight at Viola’s. I mean Mr. Redburn’s?”
“Tonight?” Espé swallowed. She didn’t want to demonstrate for anyone.
“Why of course, dear. We are all coming over tonight to celebrate Myrakle and her Mr. Penella. I think there will be a wedding soon!” Mrs. Clements was practically jumping up and down.
The widows quickly separated and picked up their bags and wraps. They waved to Bill and then to Espé. “Can’t wait to see you tonight!” they said in unison as they walked out of the church.
Espé turned to Bill who was trying to suppress his laughter. “What just happened?” she asked.
Bill threw his head back and laughed. “That my dear, was the Ladies Auxiliary at their finest. They just volunteered you for entertainment tonight.”
“But I am not going to dance.”
“Alright,” Bill said, standing up from his seat. “But how are you going to tell a bunch of little old ladies that? They have their hearts set on seeing you dance.”
Espé bit her bottom lip. She looked at Bill. “Will you come tonight?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I received a telegram that Pastor Blevins from Fort Wise is stopping by this evening. He is bringing some guests he needs me to meet.”
Espé nodded, but inside she was disappointed. “I guess I better go get cleaned up for to
night.”
Bill came over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m sorry I won’t see you dance tonight, but I know you’ll be wonderful.”
He went into the sanctuary, closing the doors behind him so she couldn’t follow. Espé touched her forehead. It was warm where he pressed his lips to her skin.
Espé jumped in the air and ran all the way back to the house to get ready for the social that evening.
Helena assisted Espé once more fastening the buttons down the back of her dress. When she was done, Espé tied the shawl around her waist. She loved the way the fringe hit her legs as she moved. She found the rhythmic pattern soothing.
“Ready?” she asked Helena as they headed out of the room. They were met by Alice and Cina, who fawned over Espé’s dress. The small group headed downstairs.
The gathering was a surprise to both Chance and Beans, but with the ladies’ help, they were able to quickly make sandwiches and some small cakes. The room looked like the night that Espé first entered it. The table was on the far side and chairs were placed up against the wall.
“I got you a board, Miss Espé,” Beans said. “I dunno what you need it for, but I put it in the middle of the floor like you asked.”
Espé gave the man a quick hug. “Thank you.”
“Wasn’t nothing, Miss Espé.”
She walked to the center of the room and stood on the board. She had carried her shoes into the room, so she placed them down and slid her feet into them, securing the straps across her arch.
The widows and brides were seated around the room. The only other men in attendance were Chance, Beans and the Penella brothers.
The Penella brothers had arrived earlier and set up in the corner to accompanying the party. It wasn’t guitars, but Espé talked to the musicians about the beat and rhythm and they assured her they could keep up.
She gave Mrs. Grant a smile and stood up straight, tilting her head skywards, with one arm up and the other in front. She gave a nod and Joseph Penella drew his bow across his fiddle. He did short choppy bursts and Espé began to stomp her feet on the board. The nails in her shoes gave a sharp crack as they came in contact with the piece of wood. The other two Penella brothers joined in and Espé clapped with the rhythm.
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