“You certainly got out of bed on the wrong side this morning,” Roberta observed. “I much prefer Josefina’s version.”
“What does he mean, there are lepers about?” Jessica demanded. “Running sores and missing noses are not really my cup of tea.”
Roberta laughed. “I was startled at first too, but leparo is only a term of disparagement for the poor, unwashed, and the unemployed — all those ragged creatures you see in such great numbers begging, stealing, picking pockets, and knifing each other.”
*
The scene at the canal was every bit as colorful and lively as Josefina had said. Aside from the flowerdecked Indians in their produce-laden wooden craft, the most arresting of the spectacle were the riders, who were all men. There were horsemen in attire elegant enough to have graced the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, others in glowing charro costumes with wide-brimmed tasseled sombreros and silver-and-gold-mounted saddles, and still others in brilliant military uniforms of every hue. The sleek horses arched their necks and pranced, sidling and caracoling as if they were showing off every bit as much as their riders. There were certain of the carriages that seemed to attract a veritable swarm of preening horsemen.
A horseman separated himself from the melee and came cantering toward Roberta. He was dressed in a truly splendid uniform, white with scarlet frogs and facings, on his head a gold helmet with scarlet plumes. His horse was jet black, as was his saddle and bridle, both accented by insets of gold. Since she had expected him to canter by on the road along the canal leading to the part of the city containing the main barracks, she was startled to see him turn across the verge of the road and approach her. Not until he was upon her did she realize that it was Olmedo, her dashing dinner partner of Santa Anna's banquet.
“How nice to see you again, Colonel,” she greeted him. “How are your brigands coming along? I hardly recognized you in your new uniform.”
The horse stamped impatiently and pulled playfully at his bit. “I've been transferred to the palace horse guards,” he said gloomily.
“I would have thought you'd be relieved not to have to hang robbers anymore,” she observed. “Why don't you like being in the horse guards? They certainly have a splendid uniform.”
He made a gesture of impatience. “The horse guards are mostly the sons of El Presidente's friends and supporters. They parade about several times a day, head processions in the streets, accompany His Excellency's coach, and otherwise drink and gamble their time away. To real soldiers, they're a joke.”
“Well, Colonel, you certainly are beautiful, I'll say that. Do you need any further hint that perhaps we might have conjectured our way too close to the truth?”
“What do you mean?” He slid gracefully off the horse and stood next to her, his eyes on a level with hers, searching her face. “What are you saying?”
“Hasn't it occurred to you that it’s a bit odd, your suddenly being included among the relatives of hangers-on?”
“It has now,” he said thoughtfully, a dawning comprehension on his face. “They told me I was transferred to shape the guards into a fighting unit.” He laughed mirthlessly. “The first time I drilled them, I was told I was being too hard on them. Spoiled brats, they won’t be fighting men the longest day they live.”
“Let's hope they never have to fight,” she remarked grimly, thinking of Jason. “You've been taken out of action rather neatly, haven't you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. We’ll see. You were saying something at the banquet the other night, something about what you would do about the robbers.”
“Look at it this way, Colonel. There are probably as many if not more bandits in any given area than there are soldiers. To choke them off from the bottom, it is necessary to cut off their heads.”
“And how do you find their heads? It seems difficult enough to track down the rank and file.”
“Someone will have to join them, wouldn’t you think?” He stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck, then gave a snort of laughter. “By God, you have a truly diabolic turn of mind, mademoiselle. You have my profound admiration.”
He bowed and kissed her hand, his lips warm on her skin, then mounted his horse with a smooth leap. He touched his white-gloved hand to his helmet in a salute and was gone.
Jason sauntered over. “I see you’ve made a conquest, Robbie. Wasn’t that the good colonel who entertained you for so long at the presidential feast?” His voice was mocking.
“It was indeed,” she answered absently, watching the galloping horseman diminish into the tree-shaded distance, bars of sunlight flickering across his white uniform. She wondered what if anything she might have set in motion with her idle conjecturing.
In the end, the beggars forced them away, and they had their picnic under the trees at their own house.
For the first time in weeks Roberta became aware of Gavin, who sat chattering away with Silvia in a hash Spanish and English, his eyes locked with hers. Silvia laughed and put her hand on Gavin’s arm; he smiled fatuously, bent his golden head toward hers to whisper something that made her laugh even harder.
“Aren’t they a beautiful couple,” Josefina said to no one in particular. “It almost makes me wish I were young again.”
Roberta felt a strange pang she didn't want to examine too closely. She looked up to find Will regarding her sympathetically. She did wish that she weren't surrounded by so many who took such an intense interest in her every action and feeling — it was like being in a zoo with all those faces peering at her all the time. God, how she sometimes wished she were a man and could do as she pleased.
Will and Jessica went off arm in arm, she supposed to one of their amorous afternoon encounters that tickled everyone so since they hardly went out of their way to be silent. The rest of the company either sprawled on the grass, slept, or engaged in desultory conversation.
Suddenly a man who looked to be a ranchero emerged from the house. “Mademoiselle! I’m so glad to find you here, I couldn't have waited very long. May I have a word with you? My apologies, señor,” he said as he acknowledged Jason beside her.
“Colonel Olmedo! What are you doing here?” Roberta gasped.
“Only what you suggested. Come, I've got to talk to you.”
He took her arm. and walked with her to the far end of the large wild garden there behind the house.
“Where is your beautiful uniform?” she asked playfully.
He frowned. “There is nothing amusing about it. I am now on extended leave, ostensibly to run our family estate in Morelia until my brother recovers from injuries incurred when thrown from a horse.”
“I'm sorry, Colonel,” Roberta replied, contrite.
He smiled briefly. “Don't be. My brother is in perfectly good health. I am going to my family all right, but only to change horses. I checked with a patrol just in from Toluca, and I think I know where I may be able to pick up a band of brigands.” He looked her full in the eyes. “If you and I are wrong, I shan't be back.”
“I don’t suppose you can be dissuaded. You make me feel like an assassin, Colonel.”
He shrugged. “It is my decision, not yours. Do not molest yourself that you are responsible for my going. I would have gone long ago if I had had this idea in the beginning.”
“What if there is nothing in it?”
“Then I won’t have to worry about it anymore, will I?”
“Why are you telling me all this? What if I should talk to the wrong people? You hardly know me at all.” He smiled again, his eyes warm. “I know you better than you think. There could come a time when I need help, and I don’t wish to involve my family in this. They have to go on living here, you understand? There is a member of your company with whom you have, ah, engaged in certain secret activities. I am sure that he could raise a troop of horsemen through the offices of a certain general should the need arrive. You follow me?”
“I follow you, Colonel — all too well.”
“Please, my name is Cristiano. I th
ink the circumstances are extraordinary enough to warrant the use of first names, don’t you? Roberta, an odd name for a woman. But then you are different from most women, aren’t you?” He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. She felt his lips once again firm and warm on her bare skin. “This is so that you can tell your friends here that I came to see you as a suitor,” he laughed, “though believe me I wish that duty always carried such delightful perquisites. God willing, I shall come to you one day in the not too distant future with nothing but dalliance on my mind. You are an extraordinary woman, you know, and a very attractive one as well.” He walked over to his horse and tightened the saddle girth.
“How will you know where to reach me if you need help?” she asked. “Dios mio, I wish I could go with you.”
“I wish you could, too, my dear. I know when you are to play in which towns, that's good enough.”
“But some of them are a week's ride and more from Morelia,” she protested.
“I don’t know why, but somehow I think that I shall not be all that far from you.” He swung up on the restive black. “Adios, Roberta. Pray for me.”
“Vaya con Dios, Cristiano.” She briefly touched his leg with her hand, then stood there long after he was out of sight.
“You see, you aren’t totally abandoned after all,” Jason said at her shoulder. “You must have made quite a conquest. Why isn't our colonel in uniform?” Something made her hold back Cristiano's plan. “He's on leave, he says, to run his family's hacienda until his brother recovers from a fall from a horse.”
“Where is his hacienda?”
“Near Morelia.”
Jason nodded and stood silent for a bit, thoughtfully contemplating his cigar. “Morelia seems to have become quite popular of a sudden, hasn't it?” he said at last.
*
They would be riding horseback to Cuernavaca even though there were diligences that made the run in a day. Because there were no inns worth the name on the way, Hugh and Jason had arranged that they change horses at one of the coach stations, and pick up their own animals on the way back a week later. A diligence would carry their luggage.
“This will be the hardest ride you'll have,” Jason assured them. “If you can do this one, the rest will be easy. It's about as long a haul to Toluca, but we'll break that stretch at the Desierto de los Leones.”
As they left at four in the morning, they found the fields glittering eerily in the dying moonlight with heavy frost. Roberta fervently hoped the road to Toluca was better as they labored up an endless steep incline, weaving their way among huge volcanic rocks, the horses sliding about on the stony footing. At Cruz del Marqués they reluctantly changed their saddles to strange animals. Roberta found herself on a skinny little bay with a mouth like iron. Unshod, he stumbled frequently, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to do much downhill riding with him.
They stopped near Huizilac, an Indian village of cane houses and flowering trees, which Jason assured them, in answer to their complaints, was over halfway to their destination. Not long after they started once again, the road began a plunge downhill that seemed as endless as the climb up had been. Jason set their pace at a gallop down the stony descent, the horses making a deafening clatter as they ran. Two or three times Roberta had to jerk her horse’s head up to keep him from going to his knees. There was no doubt he was weak in front, and she gradually pulled him down to a slower pace rather than risk a bad fall. He tired rapidly despite her efforts, and his faltering steps caused them to fall farther and farther behind. She was about to bring him down to a walk when his front legs gave out entirely and he fell, throwing her onto the stones below. She saw the ground coming up at her, then knew nothing.
Long before she was conscious enough to open her eyes, she became aware of her body as one great hurting ache. For a time as she lay there with her eyes still closed, biting her lip to keep from crying out, she found it impossible to remember what had happened. She heard hoofbeats and opened her eyes to see Will fling himself off his horse and run toward her.
“Jesus, lass,” he said as he knelt beside her and held her gently in his arms, '”how badly hurt are you?”
“I don’t know,” she gasped. “It feels as if every bone I have is broken.”
“Thank God you can talk at least.”
Gently he began to move her arms and legs, none of which were broken.
He undid her high-necked blouse and pulled it down over her shoulder. She heard his breath hiss and looked down. Blood was beading up from a nasty-looking abrasion, and she knew that before long a large bruise was bound to appear. She moved her shoulder gingerly.
“I’m lucky. It’s sore but not broken. This lump on my head feels as big as an egg.”
He smoothed her hair carefully, his touch light. They were looking into each other’s eyes, his hand suddenly still on her hair, and he slowly bent to put his mouth on hers. She panicked when she realized the magic was still there. Aching body and all, she gave herself to the kiss, drowning helplessly in the feel of his mouth, the sure gentle touch of his hands.
“Lass, lass,” he said huskily at last, “I was afraid you’d been killed. Lord, what a fright you gave me!” He kissed her again.
“If you two can stop fondling each other for a while, perhaps we can reach Cuernavaca by dark.”
Jason’s tone was acid, and Roberta felt guilty. It was only then that she saw her horse was still down in an ungainly heap, its head turned at an impossible angle. The poor thing had gone down so hard it hadn’t even been able to save itself. Jason was hauling the saddle from its back, the bridle already lying over his arm. “Can you get up, lass? Here, let me help you.” Wobbly, her head ringing, she got to her feet. “Anything broken?” Jason inquired abruptly.
She shook her head slowly, wincing as she began to feel each separate bruise and scrape.
“Damned lucky,” he commented. “Broken bones on a road like this are no joke. Come on, you can ride up with me and Will can take the saddle.”
“I think she should ride with me,” Will said belligerently.
“Be your age, man,” Jason snapped. “That brute of yours has all he can do just to carry you, let alone someone else. All we need is for both of you to take a header this time.” He turned to Roberta and with his hands on her waist lifted her easily up to sit sideways on his saddle. He swung up behind, settling himself on the skirts of the saddle. “Be thankful it’s not you riding behind,” he advised Will grimly. “I’ll be fortunate afterward if I can still walk.”
Will grinned, his good humor restored at having missed the discomfort he hadn’t foreseen. They set off at a canter, allowing Jason’s horse to become accustomed to the extra weight. Jason held the reins with one hand; the other held her firmly up against him to prevent her from falling.
“Damned if I can think why the Mexicans like to ride this way with their women,” Jason complained. “It certainly does take one’s mind off romance.”
Maybe it took his mind off romance, she thought, amused, but she enjoyed being held close. She could feel his chest and flat hard stomach against her arm, and she pretended that it was Will who held her. She was as gone on him as ever, no longer caring who else he tumbled, as Jason had put it, willing now to accept him on any terms. It took them nearly two hours to catch up to the others, who hadn’t stopped, and Jason’s horse was badly blown.
“Let’s take a break,” Jason suggested. “We’ve made good time, it’s not far to Cuernavaca now. Gavin, you’re probably the lightest of the men, you take Robbie the rest of the way.”
Roberta knew perfectly well that Hugh was by far and away the lightest, but she could see, as Jason no doubt had, that the long ride was telling on the older man. His face was gray with fatigue, and she noticed that his legs shook when he stood on the ground. Daphne made him lie down with his head on her lap, and stroked his head tenderly.
“How far do you think it really is, Jason?” Daphne asked practically. “We oldsters aren’t actually cut out
for endurance contests anymore.”
“Ten miles at most. I think nearer seven or eight. Believe me, I wouldn’t have done this trip this way if there had been any choice in the matter. The others needed the trial, and Hugh didn’t want to pay for another diligence just for the two of you.” Jason was limping badly now, and Roberta saw why he had given her over to Gavin, who looked as fresh as when he had started.
Their legs stiff even after half an hour’s break, they mounted groaning once again, putting the tired horses at a slow canter down the stony grade.
“I’m glad for you, Gavin,” Roberta said as they rode along looking at the brilliant patches of wildflowers amid the pines and oaks.
“What prompted that?”
“I mean about you and Silvia. She’s a sweet girl and she certainly adores you.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I’m very fond of Silvia,” he said at last, “but I’m not in love with her.”
“Oh, come on, Gavvy,” Roberta laughed. “I’ve seen you with her. You looked every bit as besotted as she.”
“I wish I were. I’d marry her in a minute. The man who gets her will be very fortunate.”
“But you two seemed so smitten with each other.”
“I’m not smitten with her,” he said in an agonized voice. “It’s you, it’s always been you. Even though I swear I’ll never feel like that again about you, when I’m holding you like this I forget all the hurt and the longing. I see you making up to Will and Jason, and I often don’t think I can stand it. Robbie, I - ”
“Hush.” She put a hand to his mouth. “Don’t say it, don’t even think it, and one day it won’t be so. Silvia was meant for you, Gavin. Give it a chance.” There was a secret place deep in her mind that was gleeful, however.
He groaned and held her tighter as they ran on in the fading light, galloping a mile and walking half a mile to save the now rapidly tiring horses.
*
The inn was bare, but clean and quite comfortable. It wasn’t until they were partway through supper that Roberta realized that Jason had absented himself; she had been so conscious of Will that it never occurred to her to count heads. When the simple meal was over, she left the table to find his room. One of the perquisites of being a leading man — or lady — was to have a room to oneself. She knocked a little timidly.
A Masque of Chameleons Page 17