The horses, wild with panic, left the roadway. Off center, the wagon careened into a tree. Wood splintered. The world tilted. Chiquita opened her mouth in a silent scream. Thrown free, she tumbled through the brush. Limbs tore at her dress. A fleeting image of Eduardo thudding into a tree nearby faded as darkness overtook her.
Cold drops of rain splatting on her cheeks woke her. She started to sit up. Every muscle in her body ached. She groaned and sank back down. Where was she? Hazy memories and the roar of rushing water brought it all back. She jerked upright. Dizziness blurred her vision for a moment.
Eduardo—she had to find him! The roar of the floodwaters filled her with fear. What if the gunman hadn’t been killed? Would he come after them? She heard a groan. Turning on muscles that burned with the effort, she spotted Eduardo a few yards away. Even from this distance, she could see the dark stain running down his face. Unable to stand, she crawled across the wet ground to reach him.
He was unconscious. The wound on his head wasn’t deep but had bled copiously. Blood mixed with the raindrops and ran off into the sand. Pulling up her skirt, Chiquita ripped off a piece of her petticoat. She used a corner of the piece to wipe away the dirt from Eduardo’s wound, then bound the cloth around his head. The bandage wasn’t pretty but would be serviceable.
The rain came faster. She couldn’t get the sight of the man being washed away out of her mind. A shudder raced through her. Thunder rumbled. The storm lumbered east. Rain still pelted down. The roar of the floodwaters captured her attention; the sight mesmerized her. She’d heard of flash floods before but had never seen the power and fury of one.
She reached back for Eduardo’s hand, uncertain what to do. How far was Tucson from here? Where were the horses? She didn’t want to leave Eduardo to get help, but if he didn’t have help soon… She refused to think further along that line.
She could hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Someone was coming. Dread coursed through her. Had the gunman survived? Was he searching for them so he could finish the job he’d started?
CHAPTER 16
The rain slowed. She and Eduardo were both soaked. His teeth began to chatter and his face held an unhealthy pallor. His lips took on a bluish tint. She knew she had to get him warm soon.
Peering through the brush, Chiquita had a good view of the road heading toward Tucson. That seemed to be the direction the horses were coming from. She was sure more than one horse approached. Had the gunman somehow found reinforcements? She crouched over Eduardo, waiting.
Four horses galloped around a bend in the road about a quarter of a mile away. Clumps of sandy mud splattered from the hooves. The riders sat erect in their saddles, not relaxed like Eduardo when he rode.
Panic swept through her. How could she hope to scare off four men? She glanced around, looking for something to help her. Wood from the wagon lay scattered through the brush, but none of the pieces would help. The basket that carried their lunch lay broken on the ground fifty feet from her. The remains of the meal had scattered in the dirt. Near the roadway, a gleam of metal caught her eye. Eduardo’s rifle. With a glance at the oncoming riders, she darted for the weapon, then scrambled back to place herself between Eduardo and the men. She lifted the gun, pointing it at them.
The barrel weighed more than she anticipated. Her hands wavered as she tried to hold the gun steady. How did men do this and make it look so easy? Jamming the rifle butt into her shoulder as she’d seen Pilar do, she willed her muscles to tighten and take the weight.
The approaching men slowed. They must have seen her moving to get the rifle. They were all dressed the same, which she found odd. Although she’d spent all of her life away from civilization, she’d still encountered a few drifters who’d stopped by for a meal. None of them wore exactly the same clothing, so why did these men dress that way? They came on at a walk until they were only about a hundred yards away. They stopped, their mounts standing still, as if trained that way.
The man in the lead came forward alone. Something about him seemed familiar, but she wasn’t going to let down her guard. He was still too far away to make out his features.
“Hello. We heard gunshots. Then one of my men spotted a team of runaway horses. Is there trouble?”
She centered the gun on his chest. He halted and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Only fifty yards separated them. Her palms were sweating, and her arm muscles were beginning to shake with the strain.
“Señora Villegas?” The man leaned forward, squinting at her. He slowly removed his cap. “I’m Conlon Sullivan. We met at your house when I came to see some horses.” Without his hat, she could see the shock of black hair. Now she knew why he seemed familiar. A wave of relief swept over her. The rifle wavered, and she almost dropped it into her lap. Tears clouded her vision. These were cavalrymen. That’s why they were all dressed alike.
Conlon urged his horse forward until he stopped next to them. His smile faded as he saw Eduardo.
“What happened?” Conlon swung off his horse and bent to examine her unconscious husband. “Were you thrown from the wagon?” She nodded. He stood, waving his men forward. His bright blue gaze met hers. Concern etched his brow.
“We’re here to help, señora. The fort isn’t far. I’ll send someone for a wagon to take you there.”
The wait seemed interminable. Conlon and one of his men checked Eduardo over. She thought they were trying to see if he’d broken anything in the fall. The lieutenant undid the bandage, examined the cut, then rewrapped the wound. By the time a large wagon rattled to a stop, Chiquita was shaking like a leaf in the wind. She tried to force herself to stop shivering, but the chill wouldn’t leave.
“My men and I will get Eduardo into the back, and we’ll drive you to the fort. We have a good hospital there.” Conlon lifted the rifle from the ground beside her and handed it to one of his men.
She refused to sit on the seat with the driver. Instead, she sat in the back with Eduardo’s head on her lap. He hadn’t come to, but he groaned and gritted his teeth when they moved him. Blood soaked the cloth around his head. She smoothed his hair, traced the lines of his face, hoping her touch would wake him or at least be a comfort.
By the time they reached the fort, Chiquita’s teeth were clenched tight to keep them from chattering. She couldn’t remember ever being so cold. She barely felt the hands that helped her from the wagon, holding her when her legs refused to support her weight. They escorted her into a building full of unusual smells. Conlon told her this was the hospital. The doctor there would take care of Eduardo.
“Glory, thanks for coming.” Conlon smiled at the petite redheaded woman who swept through the doors not long after they arrived. Chiquita, huddled in a blanket someone had thrown around her, tried to smile but failed miserably.
“Hello.” The woman plopped into a chair beside Chiquita. “I’m going to take you to our house. It isn’t far from here. Alicia, my helper, is heating water for you to bathe in. You need to warm up after the soaking you’ve gotten. Then, we’ll find some clean, dry clothing for you.” She glanced up at her husband.
“Señora Villegas.” Conlon squatted next to her chair. “I know you didn’t speak when Quinn and I were at your house the other day, but if you could tell us what happened, that might help Eduardo. Can you?”
Fear rose up to choke her. Eduardo might die because of her inability to talk. She opened her mouth and tried. No sound issued. She wanted to tell them, but her voice wouldn’t work. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She’d failed her husband. Would he be angry with her now? Would all his kindness turn to hate?
“Don’t you worry.” Glorianna took Chiquita’s hands in hers and rubbed them. “The doctor here is very good. He’ll fix your husband right up. Now you come with me.”
Chiquita pulled back. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to be here with Eduardo. A wife’s place was with her husband. He might need her. She had to see him.
As if she understood, Glorianna gave a g
entle squeeze and smiled. “You can’t do Eduardo any good if you get sick. After you’re warm and dry, I’ll bring you back. By then the doctor will be finished, and you can sit with your husband.”
She could see the wisdom in this. She would go with Glorianna, but as soon as possible, she would come back to be with Eduardo. Thinking of the man who shot at them, she felt nauseous. Although she didn’t want him to die in the flood, she hated the thought that he might still be after them. He wouldn’t give up until she was dead, and she had no idea why he wanted to kill her.
Chiquita barely noticed the wet earth smell as she hurried back to the hospital. The bath warmed her, but she couldn’t relax with the thought of Eduardo lying pale and chilled in the hospital. The fear that he might die made her rush to be back by his side. She pushed the door open and took a moment to get her bearings before setting off for Eduardo’s room. When she arrived, he wasn’t alone.
“Señora Villegas, I’m Dr. Elliot. Your husband is a lucky man. I didn’t find any broken bones from him being wrapped around that tree.” The doctor, a portly man who seemed to jiggle with every step he took, patted her on the shoulder. “The problem is the blow to the head.”
Chiquita clenched her fingers together. What was this doctor trying to tell her? Would Eduardo die? Her heart ached. She wanted her husband to know that she loved him. She wanted him to hold her again. There were so many things she wanted to do for him.
“We can never tell about injuries to the skull. He still hasn’t regained consciousness, but it’s possible he will before morning. The longer he stays like he is, the less likely he will recover.”
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Dr. Elliot grasped her arm. His face came close to hers. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Señora, you have to be strong. I might have a way you can help your husband. Let’s sit down and talk.” He led her to a chair, making the seat next to her creak in distress as he lowered his bulk onto it.
“I’ve heard that some doctors have success with head injuries when the patient hears a familiar voice. They say there have been cases where, after recovering their senses, the patient can repeat conversations they overheard while unconscious. I want you to sit with your husband and talk to him. I don’t care what you say. That doesn’t matter so much as him hearing your voice.”
Panic closed her throat with icy fingers. How could she do this? Even if she could talk, Eduardo had never heard her speak and wouldn’t recognize her voice. Maybe she could send for Pilar or Rico. He was familiar with them. She didn’t know how she could do that though. Since she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t tell anyone what she needed. Tears burned her eyes.
“Excuse me, Dr. Elliot.” Conlon stood in the open door. “I happened to overhear what you said to Señora Villegas. I’m afraid she won’t be able to talk to Eduardo. I don’t know the circumstances, but for some reason, she can’t speak.”
Dr. Elliot gave Chiquita a piercing look. “Is that right, young lady?”
She nodded, giving Conlon a look of gratitude.
“I want you to come with me to my office down the hall.” Dr. Elliot put a hand under her elbow. “I want to examine your throat and ask a few questions about why you can’t talk.”
Relief swept through Chiquita when she finally got to see Eduardo. A young man brought her a chair, placing it beside the head of the bed. Everyone left. She was alone with her husband.
His color, although pale, looked healthier. His lips didn’t have the blue tinge anymore. He appeared to be warm and dry, resting peacefully. She put her hand over his chest, then lay her head there, listening to his steady heartbeat. Tears of gratitude traced a path down her cheeks.
She had been with the doctor a long time. Although she’d been nervous and wary of him at first, she soon relaxed because of his professional attitude.
Dr. Elliot seemed to understand what happened to her at home. With only a few questions, he’d found out about Papa beating her and that she had spoken when she was a very young child. He talked to her for a long time, assuring her that this wasn’t a physical problem. When she learned to trust other people, she had a very good chance of speaking again.
Reaching under the edge of the blanket, Chiquita twined her fingers with Eduardo’s. She ran her thumb over his callused palm, watching his face for any sign of a reaction. He didn’t even twitch. Only the steady rising and falling of the sheet as he breathed let her know he lived.
She’d never felt so alone. No one here knew her. She couldn’t talk to anyone and tell them she needed help. She couldn’t even ask about the man who’d been shooting at them. Why had he been trying to kill her? When he’d come to the ranch the other day, he hadn’t said why someone paid him to kill her. He’d only said that they did. She’d never done anything to hurt anyone, yet now her husband, a good man, might die because of her. Resting her forehead on the bed, she wept.
Jesus, I know I’m not worthy to ask anything of You, but I do this for Eduardo. Please, help him. Help me. I can’t lose him. I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do. Lord, I’ve always been unworthy. I’m the worst of the sinners Eduardo told me about. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me. Please, spare Eduardo.
Peace bathed her in a comforting embrace. An indescribable feeling flowed over her as if she were being washed clean of every wrong thing she’d ever done. She felt like she could float away as the burdens lifted. Her chest warmed, the heat spreading all the way up her throat until even her lips tingled.
She didn’t know how long she rested on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t even sure what happened to her. If Eduardo were awake and she could talk, she’d ask him. Brushing her fingers across his still face, she felt the need to try speaking once more.
“Ed… uar… do.” The raspiness startled her. She glanced at the closed door, half expecting someone to have come in without her noticing. They were still alone in the room.
Touching her throat, she sat too stunned to do anything. Had that voice been hers? Opening her mouth, she fought back the fear of failure and tried again.
“Ed… uardo.” This time she knew the voice was hers. Although stronger, the sound still carried a lot of hoarseness from long disuse. “Love… you.” Delight raced through her to finally be able to say those words to her husband. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to talk more. Her heart felt full to bursting with gratitude for this gift.
Terror clutched at Eduardo. He could hear the floodwaters racing past, but he couldn’t see them. Someone needed his help. Chiquita? Had she fallen back in the wash when the torrent swept down? He didn’t think so, yet he couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom. He needed to see her. The light was too dim to make out anything. Sometimes voices pierced the mist, but they faded in and out. He couldn’t understand any of them.
Pushing upward, he struggled to find a way through the fog surrounding him. Pieces of memory pierced him. The man shooting. The raging waters. Chiquita’s terrified face. The horses’ screams. Pounding hooves. A crunch of wood. Blackness.
He couldn’t fight any longer. His strength faded. Maybe after he rested, he could find a way out of this odd place. The darkness began to close around him once more.
“Eduardo.”
Someone called his name. He’d never heard the voice before, yet for some reason, the sound tugged at him. A woman called him. Rising through the fog, he began to fight his way free. He had to respond. She needed him.
“Eduardo, love you. I’m afraid. Please, come back.” Her voice ended in a sob.
He blinked. Someone lay with her head on his bed. This couldn’t be Chiquita. She didn’t speak. He closed his eyes. Her weeping drew him back. Opening his eyes again, everything looked clearer.
In the dim light, he could still see the pale strands running through the woman’s hair. Chiquita’s hair looked like that. Could she have spoken to him, or was he only dreaming? He licked at his dry lips. Now he could feel her fingers wrapped around his hand. Using every last bit of energy h
e possessed, he closed his fist, holding her hand tight.
CHAPTER 17
Two days later, Conlon and Eduardo headed for Tucson. Eduardo made Chiquita stay with Glorianna. His wife delighted in playing with Glorianna’s twins and gave her some much-needed respite. A nagging ache from his wound still plagued Eduardo, the remains of his injury. Dr. Elliot assured him the headaches would pass in a few days.
The hazy memory of the soft voice that pulled him from the blackness still bothered him. He couldn’t get over the feeling that he should know who called him. Somewhere inside, he’d had the wild hope that maybe Chiquita had spoken, but she remained silent. She hadn’t left his side during his hospital stay. He warmed at the thought. Somehow, she seemed a little different, but he couldn’t quite figure out how.
After relating the events of the past few weeks to Conlon, the lieutenant urged him to consult with Quinn. Maybe the deputy would have some helpful advice, even though the Villegas ranch was outside his jurisdiction. Hesitant to leave Chiquita, Eduardo only agreed when Conlon pointed out she would be surrounded by the whole cavalry. Also, he would alert his sergeant to watch for possible trouble.
The first buildings came into sight. Eduardo forced himself to relax. Lord, You know how upset I am that this is happening. My wife is being threatened. I don’t believe this anger is wrong. On the other hand, I don’t want it to cloud my reasoning. Give me wisdom to do as You would have me do, Lord. Peace flowed through him, the comfort that could only come from God. Somehow, he knew this would all work out.
Quinn pushed the door of his house open to let them in. “Good morning.” Dark circles around his eyes gave him a haunted look.
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