A Bride's Agreement

by Elaine Bonner

  When Pilar finished, Eduardo began to wipe Chiquita’s face with a warm cloth. The slow, gentle movement helped her relax. She closed her eyes as he worked to cleanse the area peppered by small splinters. The sedative in the catclaw tea began to spread a heaviness through her limbs. By the time Eduardo finished washing her face, she barely noticed as Pilar removed the shards of brick and bark one by one.

  By the time they finished, Chiquita didn’t think she could stay awake much longer. The strain of the afternoon, combined with the medicine, made her drift into a healing sleep. Her last memory was of Eduardo pulling a chair beside the bed, telling Pilar to go home, that he would sit with her for a while.

  Cradling Chiquita’s small hand in his, Eduardo couldn’t help wishing he was still holding her. If she didn’t need the rest so badly, he’d be tempted to lift her into his arms once more. He knew if he bumped her arm in the process, he would wake her. Checking the time, he saw he needed to take off the cactus pad, cleanse, and rewrap the wound. Pilar left explicit instructions for him to follow. The problem was, he didn’t want to risk waking Chiquita. All he wanted to do was sit here and watch her sleep. His fingers longed to trace the line of her cheeks, down her long, slender neck. He could almost feel the dip of the slight cleft in her chin. The memory of touching her soft skin warmed him.

  Protective feelings warred within him. He wanted to stay here to make sure Chiquita rested and recovered. At the same time, he wanted to scour the hills for her attacker. Jorge and Tomás had gone out when they’d arrived home, but they found nothing. They would go out once again, at first light, to renew the search. This time, Lucio and Rico would be with them. As soon as Pilar could come and stay with Chiquita, Eduardo intended to join his men.

  God, help me. I want to take vengeance. Help me control my anger, Lord. I can’t do this on my own. I want to have joy in my life, but how am I supposed to do that when all these things are happening? Please, Jesus, help Chiquita. I know she’s interested in You, but I don’t know what to say to her. Show her the truth about who You are.

  With a sigh, Eduardo kissed Chiquita’s fingers. After releasing her hand, he unwound the bandage holding the cactus pad on her arm. She moaned. He frowned. At the time, he hadn’t thought much about it, but Chiquita had cried out earlier. He stopped as the memory took hold. Did that mean she could talk? Had something happened to her long ago to make her quit speaking, even though she still had the ability to do so? Knowing how Diego treated her, he knew this must be a possibility. Maybe, given time, Chiquita would be able to talk to him. Hope surged. He would have to go easy on this, but maybe—just maybe—she could.

  The prickly pear pad didn’t want to pull away from her skin. The juice seemed to adhere to whatever it touched, which made the cactus a worthy drawing agent. As the pad cooled and dried, most of the unwanted particles would be drawn out, and the wound would seal. Eduardo retrieved a warm rag to loosen the edges of the cactus, lifting it free. The place where the wood punctured Chiquita’s arm already looked better. After washing her arm with some of the leftover catclaw tea as Pilar had instructed, Eduardo sprinkled powdered catclaw leaves over the cut and wrapped the arm.

  Through the whole process, Chiquita slept, moaning only when he removed the cactus. Tucking the covers around her, Eduardo once more sat in the chair by her bed. He picked up her hand. Her fingers were cool to the touch. That was good. Pilar said to watch for fever. As long as Chiquita remained cool, he knew she would be fine.

  The smell of tortillas cooking on the stove woke Eduardo. He’d fallen asleep, resting his head on the bed beside Chiquita’s hand. He rotated his shoulders, trying to ease out the kinks. His back felt like a herd of horses had trampled across him during the night.

  Chiquita’s soft breathing whispered in the quiet of the room. She had some color in her cheeks. Last night she’d been so pale, he’d been afraid for her. Touching her forehead, he sighed with relief at the coolness. He and Pilar both knew the dangers of fever.

  Chiquita’s eyelids fluttered a few times, then opened. She blinked, her honey gaze clouded with sleep. Her cheek, slightly swollen from all of the cuts, looked sore. Eduardo spent a long time last night thanking God that the shards hadn’t entered her eye. Several of the cuts were close. She tried to smile. Her dry lips looked painful.

  “Let me get you a drink.” Eduardo gave her a lopsided grin. “I must look awful. I fell asleep here and haven’t even washed up yet.”

  She started to raise her hand, winced, and shook her head. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the room to wash and bring her a drink. She lowered the cup and tried to smile. He knew from the way her mouth tightened when he moved her how much her arm hurt.

  “I think Pilar is here, fixing breakfast. I’ll have her come in and help you. Rico is out with the vaqueros, trying to find who shot at you. I’ll grab a bite and join them while Pilar stays with you.”

  Chiquita’s eyes widened. The faint flush left her cheeks. Her hand reached for him again, and she grimaced.

  Eduardo brushed the hair off her forehead. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe. We won’t go far. At least one of us will be within sight of the house at all times.” She leaned her cheek into his palm. He wanted to stay here forever. “I have to find out who’s responsible, Chiquita. We can’t live like this, with someone trying to hurt you.”

  Standing, he jammed his hat on his head. “I want you to rest today and follow Pilar’s orders. She’ll take good care of you.” He winked at her. She relaxed. The corners of her mouth almost tipped up in a smile. Eduardo left the room, lighthearted despite all the troubles plaguing them.

  “What have you found?” Eduardo spoke before his horse came to a complete stop. Rico, Jorge, and Tomás were clustered together, examining something on the ground.

  “Look at this.” The two younger men moved back while Rico pointed at the dirt. “Someone’s been smoking here.” Rico nudged the burnt scrap of paper with his finger. “Whoever shot at your wife is the same person who was on the far ridge, watching the house. They put the same twist on their cigarettes.”

  Eduardo squatted down beside his foreman. His finger traced the print of a boot. “You’re right. Look at this boot print. Whoever wears these walks with more of his weight on the outside of his foot, right here. See how the boot’s worn?”

  Rico nodded. “We think he shot at the house from here, but if so, how did he continue shooting when the Señora went around the corner? He wouldn’t be able to see her then.”

  Eduardo stood and looked down on the house. Although a long distance, this spot afforded a perfect view of the garden area, but the angle was all wrong for the far side of the house. Whoever waited here wouldn’t have been able to shoot the tree when Chiquita passed it.

  “Could he have been moving as she ran?”

  “No, Señor. I asked Lucio, and he claims he never saw any movement from the hillside. He would have seen him if the shooter moved.”

  Studying the ground, Eduardo followed the man’s trail to where his horse had been tied out of sight. The deep hoofprints in the hard dirt showed how the horse raced away from this spot. If only I’d been home, then I could have stopped this madman.

  “I don’t understand how he did this. Jorge, you and Tomás follow the trail. See if you can find where he went, but be careful.”

  Climbing on their horses, the two young men moved off. Tomás, as the best tracker, bent over his horse’s withers, watching the sign. Eduardo turned back to Rico.

  “What do you think? At first I thought Diego was responsible, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would he allow me to marry his daughter, then try to kill her? I don’t know what to think anymore, but I’m scared for Chiquita.”

  Rico slapped his horse’s reins against his leg. He stared across the hilltop. “I have an idea. Come on.”

  Eduardo followed, wondering what the older man was thinking. A few minutes later, Rico stopped and dismounted. Squatting beside a boulder, he beckoned to Eduardo.
There on the ground were more scuffed prints. These footprints were different. The boots were worn in a different area.

  Rico glanced up. “There wasn’t one man shooting at your wife, Eduardo. There were two of them.”

  CHAPTER 14

  How’s my favorite patient this morning?” Pilar bustled into the house as Eduardo left.

  Chiquita suppressed a sigh. For the past few days, Pilar had come every morning to change the bandage on her arm. By the morning of the second day, a slight infection seemed to be setting in, so Pilar made a poultice of malva leaves. She spent the morning putting the hot oatmeal-like mixture on Chiquita’s arm, waiting an hour, and then repeating the process. The hot poultice wasn’t pleasant, but the infection was gone. Now, the arm itched. Chiquita knew that was a sure sign of healing.

  Pilar set down her basket of herbs. “I’ve seen caged animals that looked happier than you do. I know you’re bored to tears having to stay in the house, but Eduardo knows what’s best. Until they find out who’s trying to hurt you, you need to stay out of sight.”

  With a nod, Chiquita moved to sit down and let Pilar begin her examination. She had been bored. She wanted to work in the garden. The weeds would be so thick, she would never catch up. She also wanted to begin watching for the cholla cactus to bud so she could gather some of the buds to dry. They made a delicious vegetable or a good addition to a stew. There was much to be done, yet she was stuck in the house.

  “Oh, this is looking good.” Pilar probed at the scar. “Is it itching yet?” When Chiquita nodded, Pilar smiled. “As long as it isn’t very sore, you’ll be fine. If you start having problems, let me know. Otherwise, I think I can leave you in peace.”

  Panic raced through Chiquita. She’d come to enjoy these visits with Pilar. This was her only contact with anyone, other than Eduardo in the evenings.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll still come every day and see you. Would you like a cup of tea?” Pilar laughed as she looked at Chiquita. “I promise I won’t put any foul-tasting medicine in this tea. I’ll even add a little honey for you, if you want.”

  A smile pushed at Chiquita’s heart. She’d never had a friend. Pilar always talked as if Chiquita was an equal or better. Quite often she tried to defer to Chiquita, since she was the boss’s wife, but the lack of verbal communication stood in their way. This past week, Chiquita had tried hard to work on her reading and writing, but she still didn’t know enough to converse that way.

  So many questions burned inside her—questions about Jesus and how she could become worthy of Him. For years, Mama refused to allow her to pray with her or even come near their small altar. They always said only certain people were good enough, and she wasn’t one of them. Doubt had begun to creep in. She needed to ask someone about the truth.

  “Here you go.” Pilar carried two cups of tea from the kitchen. After handing one to Chiquita, she wrapped her hands around the other and sat down.

  The warm tea felt, and tasted, delicious. The early morning still carried a chill. Later in the day, the sun would warm things up a lot, but for now, the house was cool.

  Taking a sip from her cup, Pilar looked up, her gaze serious. “Chiquita, do you have any idea who would be shooting at you or why?”

  Chiquita shook her head. She’d already let Eduardo know, but she was afraid he didn’t believe her. A lump settled in her throat. How she wanted to reassure everyone here of her innocence in this matter! She hated that she was putting them all in danger. Most of all, she wanted to know why this was happening.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about something else.” Pilar swirled the liquid in her cup before meeting Chiquita’s gaze. “The night we took the fragment of wood from your arm, you cried out in pain. Do you remember that?”

  Chiquita shook her head. That day was mostly a blur in her memory. Any attempt to recall what happened resulted in a headache.

  “Besides being afraid, you were in a lot of pain. I’m not sure Eduardo noticed you cry out, but he might have. He’s very quick to catch things.” Pilar leaned forward. “Chiquita, do you want to talk?”

  Her breath caught. Did she want to talk? Of course she did. The problem was, she couldn’t. She’d tried the last few days, when she had the house to herself. Not a sound would come out, no matter how hard she tried. Tears blurred her vision as she nodded at Pilar. Pointing to her mouth and then her throat, she shook her head.

  “Have you tried to speak?” Pilar set her cup on the floor beside her feet. She took Chiquita’s hands in hers. At Chiquita’s nod, she gave a gentle squeeze. “Do you remember having a serious disease when you were young or perhaps an accident that would have caused you to lose the ability to talk?”

  Chiquita frowned. She had only vague memories of chattering with Teresa when they were very young.

  “I know you used to be able to speak.” Pilar began to rub Chiquita’s hands. “I also have a feeling I know how you were treated by your family. Something must have happened, maybe something that made you afraid to say anything ever again. Is that possible?”

  Her heart hammered as Chiquita pondered the question. Could this be true?

  “Chiquita, if this is right, that you quit talking because of the way you were treated, then perhaps when you feel comfortable here, you’ll be able to overcome that fear. Don’t give up. Keep trying. It will be worth the effort.”

  As she worked around the house the rest of the day, Chiquita couldn’t get Pilar’s words out of her mind. Had she quit talking because of the beatings Papa gave her? The longing that had been in her heart for days now began to swell. She wanted to sit in the evenings with Eduardo and discuss things like she knew Pilar and Rico did. Was she hoping for too much?

  Dusting the books, she could almost hear Eduardo’s steady voice as he read to her from the Bible. This past week, something had changed between them. It had taken her a couple of days to figure out what the change was. She had begun to trust Eduardo.

  After the shooting, he’d become so concerned for her. Waking up to find that he’d slept by her bedside because of his concern had done something to her. No one ever cared about her like that before. The few times she’d been sick, she had still been expected to do work. No matter how bad she felt, she wasn’t given a break.

  Eduardo, though, seemed to want to pamper her. He thought she should stay in bed or rest rather than do her daily chores. She’d quickly put a stop to that. Other than agreeing to stay indoors for safety’s sake, she had continued cleaning and cooking. However, because of the change in him, she’d come to trust him. She could tell when he was thinking about the shooting because anger would darken his eyes, but her fear had disappeared. Eduardo cared about her. She didn’t know how she knew it—she just did.

  With the chores caught up by midafternoon, an excited shiver of anticipation washed over Chiquita. Eduardo encouraged her to work on her reading and writing. Today, she wanted to take the time to look at some of the books in his room that had the beautiful pictures in them. They fascinated her. She wondered if she could make out any of the words now. She’d made great progress over the last week.

  Settling on the floor in front of the bookshelf, Chiquita chose the book she wanted. This one had pictures of birds and animals that she’d never seen. Trying to make out some of the words, she lost track of time. Another world drew her in. She ignored the darkening of the room as the afternoon waned.

  A creak of the floorboards in the living room startled her. She glanced at the window, amazed to see the sunlight so far gone. Eduardo must be home already. Stuffing the book back in the shelf, she stumbled up on legs that had gone to sleep. Pins and needles pricked at her as she hurried from the bedroom. She hadn’t even started supper.

  She rushed into the front room, almost colliding with a man. She gasped and jumped back. Groping for the doorway, she calculated her chances of getting away.

  The man gave her a slow, sinister smile, his lips parting to show yellowed teeth. In one hand, he held a pistol. With a flic
k of his wrist, the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

  Fear clutched at her. Chiquita edged a step away.

  “Stay right there, señora.” His dark eyes narrowed. His gaze made her want to run and hide. “They said to kill you, but they didn’t say how pretty you are. I might just take you with me, instead.” He closed the gap between them. Lifting the barrel of the gun, he traced it across her cheek. “I can always kill you later.”

  Her knees shook. She couldn’t think what to do. Who was this man? Who sent him to kill her? Why? The questions made her dizzy. Closing her eyes, she hoped this was only a bad dream. Any minute, she would wake up and everything would be all right.

  “Let’s go.” His painful grip on her arm negated the idea of this being a dream. He dragged her to the door, opened it, and surveyed the yard, his gun ready. Satisfied, he holstered the weapon. Grabbing her wrist, he began to pull her around the side of the house.

  Fear gave way to desperation. She’d been mistreated all her life. Most of the time, she took what was dished out. This time, she intended to fight. Chiquita dug in her heels.

  The man spun around, his gaze ugly with anger. She yanked his mustache. He yelped. Lifting her arm, she bit his hand, drawing blood. He let go.

  She flew across the yard toward Pilar’s. She had to get help. His feet thudded behind her. She could almost feel a bullet hitting her back. Her throat burned, her lungs ached for air. He drew closer. His breathing sounded almost in her ear. She didn’t have time to get to Pilar’s. Darting to one side, she heard him curse.

  With a burst of speed, she sprinted into the barn. Racing down the corridor, she hopped up on a bench and fell over the barrier into a stall. Huddling in a corner, she strove to control her gasping breath so he wouldn’t hear her.

  “I know you’re in here. You may as well not hide from me.” His grating voice sent a chill through her. “Come on, honey. You can either go with me now, or I’ll have to kill you. I’ve already been paid for that.”