A Bride's Agreement

by Elaine Bonner

  Following Eduardo back to the horses, Chiquita didn’t know what to think. These feelings were so new. Never in her life had she felt the need to comfort someone. She’d always been the one hurt, and no one ever showed sympathy to her. She wasn’t sure how she knew what to do. She’d only done what she thought would be nice. A soft touch in times of distress had been a dream of hers.

  This was strange to her. How could she be willing to trust any man? She almost felt like a traitor to herself. After her father’s cruel trickery, she knew better than to lower her defenses around Eduardo, but she couldn’t seem to help her actions. His admission of his need for help and forgiveness tugged at her heart, breaking the barriers even more. Holding Eduardo felt so right and so good. She hadn’t wanted to let go of him. What was she to do?

  The one thing she longed to do was talk to Eduardo. Every day, the desire seemed to grow. After her visit with Pilar, Chiquita tried to recall a time when she used to talk. There were vague memories of playing with Teresa. She thought she might have spoken then, but the fuzzy recollection could be just her wanting this so bad. Maybe this was another of her dreams.

  When they got to where the horses were cropping grass, Eduardo put his large hands on her waist and lifted her up into the saddle. She could feel his strength. For a moment, she almost reached out to run her hand across his broad shoulders. Catching herself, she worked at arranging her skirt instead. She had to be careful. Maybe this was a trick of his. He acted nice now, but when she became vulnerable by caring for him too much, then he could hurt her even more.

  “Are you enjoying the ride?” Eduardo reined El Rey around and started toward home. He glanced back for her answer. She couldn’t help but nod. Riding was delightful, and she couldn’t wait to do more.

  When they emerged from the trees, Eduardo slowed, waiting for her to come alongside him. “I need to talk to you about what Rico told me this morning.” He frowned and gazed off at the hills to the east. “We think someone has been watching our house.”

  He held up a hand at her fearful look. “No, I don’t think there’s any real danger. It’s probably some drifter riding through, although they usually come on down and ask for a meal or work.”

  A chill trickled down Chiquita’s back. Glancing around, she hoped no one was watching them now. The gelding snorted and danced a few steps. Chiquita grabbed the saddle to keep her balance.

  “I didn’t tell you to scare you.” Eduardo reached out to pat her horse. “I only want you to be careful and stay close to the house. Don’t gather food alone. If you need to go and I can’t go with you, then I’ll have one of the vaqueros accompany you.” He shrugged. “This is probably nothing, but I want you to be safe.”

  His smile eased Chiquita’s trepidation. She wanted to ask what sign they’d found. Who watched them? How close were they? A sense of unease dimmed the brightness of the day. Although she’d been enjoying the outing, she couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of the house.

  Closing her eyes, Chiquita forced her tense muscles to relax. For years, she’d done this exercise when her father delighted in frightening her. She refused to let him get pleasure from knowing how terrified she was, so she would put on a brave front. She could do the same now. She didn’t want Eduardo to think her a coward. Threats had been a way of life for her for years, and she wouldn’t let an unknown peril ruin the life she had now.

  She tried to focus once more on her memories. If Pilar was right, and she used to talk, why had she stopped? For the first time in years, she allowed herself to recall her difficult early years. Pictures floated through her mind—bits and pieces of agony: Mama, with her hand raised to strike, her face red with rage; Papa, the sadistic smile on his face as he hurt her. Teresa and, later, her other sisters as they stood wide-eyed, watching her torment.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Eduardo’s touch made her jump. She almost lost her seat in the saddle. He grabbed her, his concern evident. “I must have kept you out riding too long. You look tired.”

  Wrapping the reins around the saddle horn, Eduardo reached for her. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The horrible memories were too recent. What did he intend to do? She stiffened, preparing for the worst. Then, looking into Eduardo’s eyes, she relaxed. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He wasn’t like Papa. She had to believe that.

  Taking a firm grip on her waist, Eduardo lifted her. His gaze never left hers. Her heart began to pound, this time not from fear. Time slowed. She couldn’t take her gaze from his face—his eyes, his mouth. She lifted a hand to caress his cheek. Never before had she felt like this. She wanted his strong arms around her, to lay her head against his chest and hear his strong, steady heartbeat.

  Time stood still as Eduardo drew her close. She could feel the warmth emanating from him. Her pulse raced. Eduardo’s smile faded, replaced by a look of intensity. He began to lower his face toward hers as he settled her in front of him.

  Chiquita’s gelding let out a scream. Pain shot through Chiquita. She gasped. El Rey jumped. Eduardo yelled, clutched her close, and kicked El Rey into a full gallop. The pain increased. Her leg was on fire. Dreamlike, Chiquita looked down. The feathered shaft of an arrow protruded from her thigh.

  CHAPTER 10

  Panic coursed through Eduardo. He dug his heels into El Rey’s sides, urging the big horse to go faster. They flew across the ground toward the ranch house. He tried to ignore the droplets of blood dripping from the hem of Chiquita’s skirt. Holding her tight, he prayed she would be okay. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face pale and beaded with sweat.

  Apaches! They’d attacked again. For the last two years, things in Arizona had been fairly quiet. Why were they attacking now? This didn’t make sense. The Indians knew the cavalry would be out after them in force. They didn’t venture into this area anymore. Please, God, let her be okay. Help me get her home safely.

  The gelding raced beside him, laboring to keep up with the longer-legged stallion. Blood ran from a wound on his withers. The arrow must have grazed him before striking Chiquita’s leg. That was why the gelding had squealed. His eyes were wild with fright as he worked to keep up.

  Guilt pricked at Eduardo’s soul. He thought of the nights they’d spent together as he read the Bible to Chiquita. He could tell from the intensity of her interest that she’d never heard the Bible before. He’d started reading in the book of John to give her an idea of why the Bible had been written. Lord, I knew she didn’t know You, yet I haven’t taken the time to explain the Gospel message to her. Oh, God, if she dies, I won’t be able to bear it. Please give me the chance to introduce her to You. I know she’s interested. Help her understand.

  El Rey seemed to sense the urgency of the moment. He stretched out and ran as if his, not his mistress’s, life depended on it. Eduardo knew the longer the arrow stayed in her leg, the more the risk of infection. Even the jarring of the hard run could cause bleeding they would be unable to stop. His arm tensed as he held her close, trying to keep her from being jounced too hard.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Were the Indians following? Where were they? He hadn’t seen or heard any sign of them. Would they attack the ranch next? Living this isolated always meant running the risk of this type of attack.

  The ranch buildings came into view. El Rey’s breathing was labored, but Eduardo couldn’t let him stop just yet. The gelding had fallen behind. Eduardo began to yell as he raced into the barnyard.

  “Rico! Rico, gather the men.” He pulled El Rey to a sliding stop. “Pilar, come quick.”

  Rico ran from the stables, followed by Tomás and Jorge. Pilar appeared in the doorway of her cabin. Seeing him holding Chiquita, she came running as she dried her hands on her apron. Lucio ran out of the bunkhouse, one hand clutching his side. The gelding thundered into the yard, his reins flapping, the whites of his eyes showing. Jorge caught hold of him.

  “Rico, Tomás, get your guns. Chiquita’s been shot by Indians. I don’t know if they’re behind me or not, but we have to
be ready.” Eduardo reined El Rey toward the house. “Pilar, get your medicine. Meet me at the house. We have to get this arrow out.”

  Pilar wheeled and raced back to her house. The men all went for their guns. Eduardo knew they would do their best to protect the ranch while he saw to Chiquita. At the house, he eased off of El Rey, still holding Chiquita. She moaned as he landed on the ground with a thump. Leaning back against his horse, Eduardo got a better hold on her, careful of her injured leg.

  Striding to the door, he heard Pilar coming. She reached his side in time to lift the latch for him. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she waited for him to enter first. He strode through the house to the bedroom where Chiquita had been sleeping, ignoring the questioning glance Pilar gave him.

  “I can take care of her if you want to go see to the men.” Pilar was all business as she began to examine the way the arrow had pierced the skirt and gone into Chiquita’s leg. Eduardo hesitated. She gave a quick nod at the door. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  Stepping outside, Eduardo stayed in the shadow of the house as he scanned the perimeter. No sign of Indians. El Rey stood near the door, his sides still heaving from his heroic run. Sweat matted his red-gold coat. Eduardo grabbed the reins and began to lead El Rey to the barn, where he or one of the men could care for the horse. The stallion deserved an extra measure of feed today.

  Rico would be in the barn. He would have either Jorge or Tomás in the loft, watching the surrounding countryside. After the attack that killed his parents, Eduardo had been careful to keep the area close to the buildings brush-free. He didn’t want to give anyone a place to hide and sneak up on them. The Apaches wouldn’t have an easy time. He and his men were prepared.

  He stopped just inside the dim interior of the barn to let his eyes adjust. Lucio was in the first stall with the gelding, sponging down the wound near his mane. Eduardo could see the gelding still trembled from the injury and the terror.

  “Tomás and Jorge are both up there, watching. They haven’t seen any sign of trouble.” Rico strode toward him. “What happened?”

  Eduardo began to take the tack off El Rey. “We were ambushed down near the river. We were coming out of the grove of trees where the family’s buried. I didn’t see or hear anything.” Eduardo paused and frowned at Rico. “There’s something funny about this attack.”

  Rico nodded. “If we don’t see anything soon, we might try sending Jorge for the Elias brothers. They’re the best at finding renegades.”

  “You’re right.” Eduardo led El Rey to his stall and began to brush him down. J. M. Elias knew Indians better than any other man he knew. He would gladly come and help them figure out this ambush.

  Waves of pain washed over Chiquita. She’d never known this much hurt before. Had her father found some new torture? She moaned and wanted to move away. That wouldn’t work. He always liked it when she showed a weakness. Gritting her teeth, she stayed as still as possible, refusing to make a sound.

  Once more, Papa stabbed her leg with a hot poker. She cried out. The sound broke free without her permission. Papa would be pleased. Darkness closed in around her. She fought the blackness to no avail.

  Later she awoke, coming to in a haze of torment. Pilar leaned over her, deftly winding a strip of cloth around Chiquita’s leg. Something hot pressed against the flesh. Pilar glanced up. Seeing Chiquita was watching her, she smiled.

  “You’ll be fine, I think. The arrow went in the fleshy part of your thigh and didn’t make you bleed too much.” She frowned. “Of course, when I took the arrow out, you bled quite a bit. I’m sorry that hurt so much.” She tied a knot in the cloth and pulled the covers over Chiquita. “You lost some blood coming home. I’m glad you fainted. That saved you from a lot of pain.”

  Picking up a cloth and dipping it in a bowl of water, she began to wipe Chiquita’s face. The coolness felt so good, Chiquita wanted to groan with pleasure. Her face and neck felt gritty with dried sweat and dirt.

  “I’ll let you rest for a while with this poultice. When it cools and I have to put a new one on, I’ll wash you down, too. I want you to stay still so you don’t break open the wound.”

  Pilar gathered the soiled clothes and carried them from the room. She moved in and out, removing the dirty water and medicines she’d used. Her quick glances at Chiquita spoke aloud how concerned she was. Chiquita knew there was something Pilar hadn’t told her. Had Eduardo been hurt, too?

  She closed her eyes, trying to recall what happened. She remembered the ride and leaving the grove. A clear vision of Eduardo lifting her from the saddle, a strange look in his eyes came back to her. Once more, her heart reacted. What had Eduardo been trying to say to her with that look? The remembered feeling that had washed through her made her stir in bed. Hot pain jolted through her. She bit her lip, forcing her body to stay still. She still couldn’t remember much past the time Eduardo had been lifting her. What had happened? Where was he?

  Heavy steps clomped in the hallway outside the room. The man of her thoughts opened the door and peeked in. He smiled. Her heartbeat sped up.

  “Pilar told me I couldn’t come in if you were sleeping.” He crossed the room. Pulling up a chair, he took off his hat and put it on the foot of the bed. “I don’t usually listen to Pilar, but when she’s caring for someone sick or hurt, she’s like a grouchy mother bear.”

  “I heard that, young man.” Pilar swept in, carrying a tray. “If you’re going to come in here and disturb my patient, you can make yourself useful. She needs something to eat and drink.” Pilar set the tray on a small table near the bed. “Don’t stay too long and wear her out. She needs to rest.” Giving Eduardo a warning look, Pilar left the room. Chiquita didn’t know how she could be so bold and sure of herself.

  Eduardo gave Chiquita a sip of water, the cool liquid easing the dryness of her throat. He cradled a small bowl of stew in his hand, acting like feeding her was awkward. She wanted to take the spoon from him and feed herself, but she couldn’t get her arms to move. She seemed to have no strength.

  “I promise to give you small bites.” His mustache lifted as he grinned at her. “I’m sure you’re curious about what happened and what we’re doing now. Right?”

  She nodded, eager to hear whatever he would tell her.

  “Well, as long as you eat, I’ll talk. When you stop, I’ll take it as a sign that you’re too tired to hear more.” He wiggled his eyebrows, making her want to giggle. “This is my way of making you eat, so you’ll put a little meat on those bones.”

  She obediently took a bite. The stew tasted delicious, although she wasn’t hungry. She chewed slowly, hoping this would keep him talking.

  “Do you remember being shot?” She shook her head, and he continued. Between giving her small bites, he recounted the story of the attack and the race for the house. He told her the measures they’d taken to see the ranch would be safe. By the time she couldn’t eat another bite, he appeared to have finished his story.

  “Jorge is getting ready to ride to the Elias ranch. He should be able to return with them by tomorrow. They’re the best, and I know they’ll help. They were the ones who found the Apaches who killed my folks.”

  Eduardo stood and stretched. “I think I’d better let you rest. I’ll be back in later. Would you like for me to read to you tonight?” He seemed to be especially excited as he asked the question. Chiquita nodded. As he left the room, Eduardo turned and winked at her. Warmth flushed her face. What was this man doing to her?

  The next day, Eduardo heard the thunder of hoofbeats as he sat beside Chiquita. That must be Jorge, returning with the Elias brothers. Eduardo smoothed the hair away from Chiquita’s forehead. She’d only been sleeping for a short while. She’d lost so much blood yesterday that he was amazed at how well she was doing. She wanted to get out of bed this morning, but he and Pilar insisted that she stay put. By tomorrow, he would have to tie her down to keep her there. He smiled. He’d never known a woman with so much spunk.

  L
ast night, he had hoped to share the Gospel message with her, but she’d been so weak, she’d gone to sleep early. He prayed to get the chance soon, but he wasn’t sure she understood enough to invite Jesus to be her Savior. Since she couldn’t ask any questions, he had to try to guess what she wanted to know. That wasn’t easy.

  Pilar hurried into the room. “Rico sent me to stay while you go talk with those men. How is she doing?”

  Chiquita stirred, then quieted. Eduardo beckoned Pilar to follow him from the room so they wouldn’t disturb her further. “She ate well this morning. This is the first time she’s fallen asleep.”

  “Sleeping is good for her.” Pilar nodded. “When she wakes up, I’ll change the dressing. If she’s doing all right, maybe she can get up a little later.”

  “Don’t let her do too much.” Eduardo knew he didn’t need to caution Pilar, but he couldn’t help himself. “That woman works more than three people.” He and Pilar shared a chuckle before he trod down the hall and left.

  When Eduardo got to the barn, J. M. Elias was examining the arrow Pilar had removed from Chiquita’s leg. His brothers, Ramón, Juan, and Cornelio, conversed with him in low tones. The four brothers looked grim as they studied the wood and feathers. Rico and the vaqueros watched from a distance.

  Eduardo strode toward the brothers. Dread clenched his gut. He could recall in vivid detail the conversations they’d had when his parents died. They would know how hard this must be for him. All morning, as he sat with Chiquita, he could feel his anger building. He’d tried to pray and give this to the Lord, but his feelings wouldn’t go away. His wife had almost died. If the arrow had been a little higher… If he hadn’t been lifting her from her horse… Those “ifs” had been running through his head since the ambush happened. Rage boiled inside him like a simmering stew.