by Nan Ryan
A slight shiver claimed Suzette. “Don’t speak of death. We’ll grow old together in Mexico.” She smiled and drew his hand back to her stomach. “This child will come to visit us there, along with his brothers and sisters.”
Kaytano smiled and nodded. “I love you, I love our child.” he breathed as his mouth descended to hers.
Curtis Baird was so full of life it was hard to imagine he wouldn’t live for many more years. When he felt ill, he never let it be known, and when Kaytano asked how he was feeling, the nephew’s concern was waved away with no reply.
Curtis had a new project and it was one in which he took great joy. On the long worktable in his shed, Curtis, singing loudly, worked tirelessly on a baby cradle of cedar. He’d given Suzette her choice of woods and she picked cedar, explaining that there were no cedars at the hacienda and she loved its clean, fresh smell.
“Then cedar it shall be.” Curtis had winked at her and stripped the shirt from his big, powerful chest. He began work, promising Suzette and Kaytano that he wouldn’t overtire himself. Each morning after breakfast he worked lovingly on the cradle while Suzette kept him company. She enjoyed their time together in the workshop. They were comfortable with each other, as though they’d known each other all their lives. The big man had a wonderful sense of humor and kept her amused with his anecdotes and comical stories about Kaytano and himself. Curtis had a magical way of making the most poignant of tales take on a lighthearted cheerful side, so that touching stories about a young Kaytano brought smiles instead of tears. The way Curtis told it, it seemed like great fun and high adventure that a fifteen-year-old half-breed, a loner, friendless and cunning, should drift to Hell’s Half Acre in Fort Worth to become a faro dealer. It was there that he met men on the wrong side of the law and began to ride with them; it was a natural evolution that the intelligent young Kaytano would soon be the leader of his own gang.
Curtis was a bubbling spring of information about the man she loved, and Suzette was hungry for every word. Kaytano let the two enjoy each other. He spent his time riding Darkness about in the rain forest.
On one such morning Curtis was making steady progress on the fine cradle, Suzette at his side. Kaytano, his hair growing long, his hard features relaxed, was out in the forest on Darkness. Lunchtime came and Suzette and Curtis shared a light meal on the east patio at the circular table under the cypress. The sun had disappeared and ground fog was drifting in. Curtis took his last drink of coffee and yawned.
“Hon,” he said to Suzette, “why don’t we leave the dishes and take a nap? I’m about to fall asleep. We’ll get up when my wandering nephew gets back.”
“A great idea,” Suzette agreed.
An hour later, unable to sleep, Suzette in her batiste nightgown padded barefoot out onto the front porch. At the corner of the house, a weeping juniper’s clustered green leaves hung downward, covered with dew. All about, the earth was quiet and still; the fog engulfed the house. She could see no more than a few yards away.
Suzette was stretching, wishing Kaytano would return, when she heard it. At first she was sure it was nothing more than a nighthawk, trilling to its mate. She tilted her head and looked around. Again she heard it and she began to smile, her heart speeding. She stepped off the porch and hurried through the yard. Kaytano, out of the magical mist, was signaling her with their secret call, the one he’d taught her the first night they’d made love.
Mindless of the fact that she wore no moccasins and nothing at all under her thin nightgown, Suzette hurried out of the manicured yard. Stopping once again, she listened, determining the direction of the sound. Grinning, she rushed through the thick, lush undergrowth, unbothered by the leaves and vines under her bare feet. As if hypnotized, she walked through the cloud forest, blindly heading in a westerly direction. She’d gone only a few steps when the house was no longer visible. Still she’d not reached the source of the sound. She kept going, her heart beating fast, apprehension beginning to nag at her. She drew farther and farther away from the safety of the house and still she hadn’t found the whistling Kaytano. Now she no longer heard the sound. Doggedly she walked in the direction of the last call, her breathing growing ragged.
From out of the fog he rode into view. Suzette stopped, started to scream, and found she was mute. Directly in front of her, a naked savage wearing only a breechcloth, moccasins, and a headband sat atop his pony. The horse walked to the trembling girl and she stared transfixed at the hard, hairless chest of his rider, satiny-smooth, a sheen of moisture covering him, residue of the fog. She couldn’t take her eyes from the dark, sinewy thighs hugging the horse.
He was beautiful. A savage. A wild animal. Graceful, cat-like, cunning. He reined the horse to her side. A strong pair of hands reached for her, lifting her up in front of him. Long, strong arms of burnished copper held her against his naked chest. He said nothing, nor did she. She looked at his classic profile, his solemn, steady gaze, his sensual lips.
Kaytano wheeled Darkness and galloped away while an adoring Suzette smiled and pressed her face to his shoulder, inhaling deeply of his woodsy scent. They thundered through the forest, but Suzette was unafraid. Impatient, but not afraid. Impatient to once again be in his embrace, to feel those lean fingers touching her, to have that hard mouth plunder hers, to have those beautiful dark eyes raking over her.
Kaytano pulled up Darkness. He slid from the horse’s back and reached for Suzette. Darkness, his reins trailing on the ground, lazily lowered his head to graze. Not six feet from the powerful beast, the lovers stretched out side by side. Suzette, feeling the powerful magnetism of the naked Indian, trembled while nimble fingers unbuttoned her soft nightgown. Kaytano pulled the batiste apart while Suzette looked into his beautiful eyes. Kaytano laid a hand on her pale stomach and tenderly explored with sensitive fingertips for any changes. Suzette, her heart fluttering in her breast, bit her lower lip and watched those black eyes study her belly with an intensity that was almost frightening. His hand went about gently probing, sliding, pressing.
Slowly Kaytano lowered his face to her, his flowing black hair tickling her trembling flesh. His warm lips began feathering kisses over her stomach. She quivered at his touch. His open lips pressed soft, light kisses to her warm, sweet body.
When they were both breathing faster, Kaytano lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “My God, you’re more beautiful than ever.”
A moan escaped her lips. “I should be,” she whispered, “I’m full of you.” Her hand went to the rawhide strip tied at his waist. With a decisive jerk, the chamois breechcloth fell away, freeing his beautiful brown body to her worshipping gaze. When she touched him, it was he who moaned and pulled her to him.
On a clear, sunny day in late September, Kaytano kissed Suzette good-bye and rode up Cathedral Peak to hunt. It was afternoon and Curtis had worked most of the morning on the almost-finished cradle for the baby. Suzette and he sat on the long porch, talking lazily, drinking homemade wine. The maguey plant’s leaves had been trimmed, toasted, pressed, and the juice allowed to ferment. It was then distilled into the delicious wine they sipped.
“This batch is good, Curtis.” Suzette licked her lips.
“Some of the best,” he agreed and promptly began entertaining her with a story about the first time Kaytano had ever had a drink. “He was no more than five years old. The mischievous little devil sneaked into my bedroom and found my bottle of rotgut. By the time we got to him, he’d swilled down three healthy slugs.”
“That’s terrible.” She shook her head, smiling.
“Well, maybe not so terrible. Do you know that’s the first and last time I’ve ever seen Kaytano drunk?”
Curtis told her his favorite stories about the dark young man they both loved. “Honey, that reminds me,” Curtis said while they sipped their wine and laughed. “Run in there to my bedroom and look in the top drawer of my bureau. There’s a tin box of old pictures you’ll be interested in seeing.”
Back with the box, Suze
tte eagerly waited while Curtis handed her yellowing photographs of Kaytano. Kaytano at four, a beautiful, smiling little boy with the biggest, blackest eyes in the world. Kaytano and Curtis, a small fish on a line dangling from Kaytano’s proud hand. Kaytano at thirteen, not yet a man, no longer a little boy. The pictures were priceless to Suzette and she laughed and oohed and aahed.
Curtis handed her another photograph, explaining, “And this is my dear sister, Virginia, Kaytano’s mother, and that young man with her is Austin Brand, the boy Virginia loved till she died.” He continued to rummage through the box for more pictures of interest to show her.
Suzette, the small, faded photograph clutched in her hand, felt a terrible heaviness pressing down on her chest. She looked at the two young people and felt a lump in her throat. Virginia Baird was a breathtakingly lovely, small, angelic blonde. She was smiling prettily into the camera. A tall, handsome, young Austin Brand stood with his arm around her, looking only at her. It was obvious he was madly in love with her. Suzette felt her insides twisting painfully. So many times Austin had looked at her just the way he was looking at Virginia.
Suzette lowered the photograph, while beside her Curtis innocently continued telling her about the man in the picture. “That was taken when Virginia was just fifteen. Austin…Austin Brand…was my friend. I brought him home one day, and when he and Virginia saw each other, it was love at first sight. Austin was nineteen, but of course he knew Virginia was too young to marry. He was willing to wait. But, well, fate stepped in. You know the rest, I’m sure.”
“I…yes, yes.” Suzette felt her head spinning and closed her eyes.
“Hon, are you feeling all right?” Curtis clasped her shoulder, coughing loudly.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I’m fine, it’s the wine, I suppose. You’re getting me tipsy the way you did poor little Kaytano.” She touched his cheek affectionately. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll lie down for a while before Kaytano gets back.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He helped her up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
When the bedroom door closed behind her, Suzette clasped her hand over her mouth and ran to the bed. Throwing herself face-down across the mattress, she fought the waves of nausea claiming her body. Agony clawed at her; guilt oozed like some deadly poison from every pore; pain bent her double.
How could she ever be happy knowing Austin must spend every waking hour worrying about her? What had Austin ever been to her but the kindest, most caring, loving husband a woman could have? And what had she given him in return? From the beginning she’d never returned his love. She’d taken all he had to give—his love, his money, his name, and she’d never returned anything to him. She’d been a faithful wife, but even when he made love to her she’d never once felt the way she did when Kaytano loved her.
Too heartsick even to cry, Suzette lay on the bed and felt her happiness slipping away. How could she be happy when her happiness was built on another’s pain? Would God in His heaven allow her ecstasy with no payment. She thought not. She’d been raised on the Bible and, try as she might, she couldn’t forget those teachings. An eye for an eye. That’s what the Bible said. She’d pay; there was no doubt in her mind. But how? What would be required of her?
Instinctively Suzette turned to her side and protectively wrapped her arms around her stomach. As though an Angel of the Lord stood over her nodding, Suzette had the horrible premonition that the beautiful cradle Uncle Curtis had almost finished would never be filled.
A week later, Curtis Baird was dead. Kaytano, holding tightly to Suzette’s hand, stood dry-eyed before the newly turned mound of earth. Suzette cried quietly for the dear man she’d grown to love and for the delicate new life inside her.
As they stood in the rain, the padre committing the soul of Curtis Baird back to the soft earth of his beloved Cathedral Mountain, a posse of mounted men rode ever closer to the secluded alpine retreat.
Austin Brand, his gray eyes probing the horizon, rode across the hot desert. To the south, the jutting Chisos mountains shimmered bluish-gray through the thermals of heat rising from the desert floor. Austin, his lips chapped from the sun, his custom shirt stained with sweat, felt no discomfort.
Those mountains were his destination and the long hard journey was nearly behind him. By night he’d be high up in those inviting blue peaks. There in the cool beauty of the high desert, he’d find her. His beloved wife would be there waiting. His beautiful little Suzette was in those mountains, and when he reached them and her, she’d kiss his dry, cracked lips with her soft, cool ones. With a silken touch she’d stroke all the heat and tiredness from him. In only a matter of hours she’d never again be away from him.
The rain grew heavier as Suzette and Kaytano reached the ranch house. Quietly they ate their evening meal and went into their bedroom. Suzette, though she’d not mentioned it to Kaytano, was in pain. Her back had been bothering her throughout the day, but she didn’t want to worry Kaytano. She was sure she’d be better by morning.
They lay in their bed while the rain lashed the windows. A small lamp burned on a bedside table. She’d asked if she might leave it burning through the night. Kaytano shrugged and nodded. His arm about her shoulders, Kaytano said softly, “I’m taking you home on the train tomorrow.”
“No, Kaytano. It’s not safe for you to be on a train in Texas. Besides, what about the horses?”
“I’ll put them on a railcar. You can’t ride in your condition.”
For a time they lay in silence, the sound of the rain and wind growing steadily heavier. Suzette said in a whisper, “Kaytano, will you make love to me?”
Kaytano turned his head. “You’re sad. Don’t be, Suzette. Uncle Curtis was a happy man. He made the most of the time he had.”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. Kaytano softly kissed her mouth. Warmly his lips moved on hers while he unbuttoned her nightgown. When he moved over her, she cried and clung to him. She made love to him as though they would never make love again.
The moon had gone down and the rain had stopped when the bedroom door flew open. Kaytano sprang from the bed. He was going for his gun when the bullet slammed into his chest. Suzette screamed and started to him. A bright blossom of blood appeared and his gun slipped from his hand and to the floor. Kaytano sagged against the wall.
“No!” Suzette screamed and threw her body in front of him. “No!” she screamed and whirled around, her back against Kaytano. While his blood saturated her nightgown, Suzette looked across the room into Austin’s fierce gray eyes. He stood with the gun still raised. While she stared in disbelief and horror, a scalding, agonizing pain knifed through her stomach, taking away her breath, her hearing, and finally her feeling.
Blackness engulfed her.
37
Suzette could hear voices. She struggled to open her eyes.
“She’s coming around, doctor.” A woman’s voice sounded close. Suzette fought the darkness. The bright lights blinded her so she quickly closed her eyes again.
“Nurse, move the lamp away,” a man’s deep voice said just above her. Strong hands were on her face, patting it. “Mrs. Brand, wake up. Open your eyes, my dear.”
Suzette’s eyes opened. Leaning directly over her face, his hand on her cheek, a graying man dressed in white smiled at her. Suzette licked her dry lips and tried to speak. A faint, croaking sound came from her tight, aching throat.
“Listen to me, Mrs. Brand.” The man in white moved his hands to pick up one of hers. “You are in the hospital in Murphysville in Presido County. I’m Dr. Daniel Flores.”
“Where is…”
“Shh! Don’t tire yourself further, Mrs. Brand. Your husband is just outside. I know of your terrible long ordeal, my dear. It’s over; you’re safe and soon you’ll be going home.” The kindly doctor smiled at Suzette and leaned closer. “Before I let your worried husband in, I wanted to tell you that you lost the baby you were carrying. Since you were held prisoner for several months, I�
�m aware the child was by the outlaw. I’ve no intention of telling your husband you were pregnant. He doesn’t know and I see no earthly reason for him ever to know.”
Suzette watched the doctor’s lips moving as he whispered conspiratorially to her; he smiled as though she’d be pleased to learn a worrisome burden had been lifted from her. Hot tears slid down her pale cheeks and she clutched the doctor’s hand. “No,” she said, unbelieving, “no, it can’t be.”
Misunderstanding, the doctor reassured her. “Yes, my dear. The good Lord has been kind. The animal who held you is dead and so is his child. You’ll have no living reminder of him.”
She wanted to scream. She had to scream. This well-meaning man was calmly telling her that Kaytano and his child were dead. He smiled as he assured her that Austin had shot the man she loved more than life and that she had obligingly lost Kaytano’s child.
Suzette looked through her tears at him and wondered if it were he or she who had gone insane. Could this man who called himself a healer actually be standing over her smiling because a man had been shot to death and a life not yet formed had been shed? It was he, not she, who was crazy.
Weakly, Suzette pulled her hand from his and whispered, “I want to die.” She tried to lift her head as her voice rose a little. “I want to die. Doctor. Help me. Help me die.” She watched as his smile disappeared and a concerned look crept over his face.
“Now, Mrs. Brand, don’t you…”
“I want to die!” Her voice grew louder, spiraling into a scream. “Let me die, dear God, let me die!” she screamed hysterically, rising from the bed. “Kaytano!” she cried at the top of her lungs while bitter tears wet her cheeks. “Kaytano, Kaytano!” she continued to scream, while the doctor, his face now stern, and the nurse, who’d hurried back to the bedside, tried to force her back down to the bed.
The door flew open and Austin Brand, his face contorted with pain and grief, hurried into the room. Through her tears, Suzette saw him and screamed louder. “No, no,” she sobbed while Austin, his eyes full of tears, was instructed by the doctor to help subdue his distraught wife.