Allegiance

by Rosalie More

  "You think you can get these ... soldiers back under control?"

  "Absolutamente. We look now to the future. We need you, Señor. Our records of deeds and land titles are in bad disarray. We could use your knowledge of these things. We can make you a citizen overnight, if you want."

  Tyler was no stranger to battlefield horrors and he knew that monuments had been known to rise from the ashes of war. “We'll discuss that later. Right now, all I can think about is—Sorry, I've got to go.” Tyler elbowed his way through the double doors and paused on the threshold, grateful for the concealing folds of the serape Amy had given him so long ago. The night air, thick with the greasy smoke of a myriad campfires, burned his eyes.

  "Watch yourself, Señor."

  "I will. Thanks.” The doors swung closed behind Tyler.

  His horse stood tethered within the walled yard of the church. He threw the saddle on its back and cinched it down; slipped the bridle into place. None of the shadowy figures staggering in the firelight beyond the walls approached to challenge him. Perhaps the rebels had all drunk themselves into a stupor or satisfied their thirst for blood.

  After shoving his loaded rifle into its scabbard, he swung into the saddle and rode toward the Sangre de Cristos—the Mountains of The Blood of Christ.

  * * * *

  Thank goodness for a full moon and a sensible horse! Just after Tyler left the chapel, a man stepped out of the trees, waving his arms. Tyler pulled his rifle from its scabbard, but held his fire as the bay gelding sidled nervously to the opposite side of the track. He wished he still had his pistol, but the bullies hadn't returned it.

  "Ty! It's me, Jeb. Hold up!"

  "Jeb! What are you doing out here?"

  "I went to meet you like I promised, but I didn't dare walk into the church yard—not with those bucks doin’ a war dance all around it."

  "Just as well you didn't."

  "I never caught up with Amy, Ty. But I found out she went to the mountains to get the muskets."

  "You know the way out there?"

  "I got directions."

  "Good.” Tyler released a lungful of air he'd been holding. “Do you have a horse?"

  "Tied to a tree—I'll fetch him."

  Jeb led Tyler for several miles north before choosing a dimly marked track heading back into the hills. Almost immediately after making the turn, the sound of hoofbeats drove Tyler off the trail hunting for cover.

  Two mules trotted around the curve toward him, each with a rider.

  Jeb made no attempt at concealment, but drove his heels into the ribs of his mount and bounded forward to meet them. “Wahoo!” He leaped off his horse and grabbed the bridle of one of the passing mules. “Rosa!"

  Tyler stared at Jeb, slack-jawed, as he hauled the rider off the mule and swung her around in his arms.

  "It's Rosa!” Jeb laughed like a crazy man. “And her cousin, Mateo."

  The girl's wide eyes caught the gleam of moonlight. “Jeb? Madre mía!"

  Tyler tangled his horse in the thorny underbrush trying to turn around, and by the time he got back on the road, the reunion was in full swing. Rosa was weeping and clinging to Jeb's neck and her cousin was chattering away in something other than English.

  "Where's Amy?” Tyler shouted his question twice before getting a response.

  Jeb finally sorted out the details and told Tyler about the broken wagon wheel that had stranded Amy and Benito on the mountain trail. “They ain't goin’ any farther tonight, Ty. We'd do better lookin’ for ‘em in the morning."

  "I'm going after her now. Tonight. Get the bearings for me, will you?"

  "I can do that. Then if it's all right with you, I'll go back to town with Rosa and get another wagon wheel. I'll meet you up there—prob'ly tomorrow."

  It wrenched Tyler's heart to see the way Jeb kept hugging Rosa to him like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. He averted his face to spare himself the pain of how much he wanted to find Amy. “Fine, Jeb. Now get that heading for me, please, and make it quick."

  * * * *

  Dusk faded into full darkness, slowing the progress of the tracker. Alizar urged Chulo on, fairly certain the wagon would continue to follow the rough track across the mountain slopes. Obviously, it was heading for the Taos Trail. One thing about wagons: unlike horse tracks, they left grooves wherever they went. Even if his scout was blind, he could follow its route by trailing his fingers over the ground. Alizar wondered how long it had been since he'd heard the musket shot up ahead. He had to be getting close now.

  "Allí están!" Chulo called. “There, see?” He pointed out a flare of light about a quarter of a mile away.

  A campfire? Alizar smiled, thinking how easy a surprise attack would be on men whose eyes were blinded by light. “Bueno, but before we close in, know this: if, by chance, Señorita Amy Baker is with them, you must not harm her. Do you understand? If you draw so much as one drop of her blood, you are a dead man! I will personally cut out your eyes and throw you naked in a patch of prickly cholla!” He glared at the boy. “Anyone else is fair game, however."

  Chapter 30

  Benito whipped his head around to stare into the darkness. He held up a hand for silence. Amy froze.

  Suddenly, he leaped up to scatter the blazing stalks with his moccasined foot. “Someone comes."

  "Rosa and Mateo?"

  "No.” Wearing a long serape which hampered arm movements had given Benito the habit of gesturing with his mouth and chin. He swiveled his jaw toward the back trail and puckered his lips. “That way."

  She wondered if it was General Armijo again, back with reinforcements. “The lantern's burning in our wagon! Should I—"

  "No time.” Benito stomped out the last flickering embers. “Come.” He led her away from the wagon to a juniper tree with low sweeping limbs. Following directions, she crawled well beneath it and sat with her back to the bristling trunk. In the dark, she would be nearly invisible to anyone passing by

  He gave a satisfied grunt and vanished.

  Snappings and cracklings she wouldn't have noticed before brought the wooded slopes to life. Some of it she could blame on the mules tethered in the bushes above the road, but the rest? Faint rustling noises that might have been stealthy footfalls moved past her hiding place. She breathed through her mouth carefully to eliminate the faintest hiss and prayed that it wasn't really an enemy who stalked the camp.

  She waited an eternity. A full moon rose above the mountains and shed a cool white light over the landscape. One of the mules brayed, shattering the quiet. An owl hooted and got an answer.

  Without warning, strong hands reached in and grabbed her, hauling her roughly from her cover. Branches tore at her hair and arms. She gasped, but didn't scream, thinking it might be Benito. Except he wouldn't be so reckless, would he? Whoever it was snaked an arm around her waist, hoisted her off the ground, and carried her toward the wagon. A friend wouldn't have done that.

  She thrashed and kicked wildly until he dropped her in a heap. “Benito! Help me!"

  Brutal hands jerked her up, pulled her arms behind her, and steered her forward. “There are two, no more.” Her abductor spoke awkward Spanish—was he indio?

  A figure moved in the shadows. “Bring her to the light.” That voice sounded familiar! Smooth, fluent Spanish. A whiff of smoke from a cigarrillo sullied the air.

  A lamp still guttered inside her wagon, bathing the interior with an unsteady glow. The crates and kegs inside fairly shouted for attention, their identity unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for.

  With a jingle of spurs, the man in authority evolved out of the darkness and approached the rear of the wagon. As Amy's captor released her, she sagged against the tailgate, struggling for composure. Her bones trembled within jellied muscles. “Alizar! What are you doing here?"

  Dark eyes scanned the interior of the wagon without showing much surprise, then shifted to her face. Reproach was there, and disappointment. He spoke slowly. “Each time I thought about what
you might have in your wagons besides the ordinary trade goods, I told myself I was being foolish. So what if she and her brother brought too much gunpowder from St. Louis? She is beautiful and innocent, my novia. She would never deceive me."

  "I wanted to tell you. I—they wouldn't let me. They didn't believe, as I did, that you would understand. But I know how you feel about the government in Mexico, about Pérez and his corrupt officials, about how revolution is the only way the people can get what they want."

  "What they want?” He smiled sadly. “What the people want and what they need are different things sometimes. But I do not understand why you did this. Whose idea was it to smuggle the arms into Santa Fe?"

  "I can't tell you that. Isn't it enough to know I want to help your people get the democracy and liberty they deserve? Free elections? A decent constitution to protect their rights?"

  With a snort of disgust, he dropped his cigarrillo in the dust and ground it out with his boot heel. “And how do you propose to do that? Supply weapons to a bunch of indios and half-breeds?"

  Amy frowned, confused. “Why not? They're the ones rebelling. Where's the revolution without them?"

  He chuckled and shook his head in wonder. “That is what I love about you—so much idealism!” A measure of warmth returned to his eyes. “Perhaps they will be prepared one day to run the affairs of state, but for now, they need a strong leader, one who knows what is best for them."

  Cold reality soaked through like a dash of ice water. “That would be you, I suppose?” She sniffed in disdain. The man she'd thought would make a perfect revolutionary—nothing more than another self-serving, power-hungry tyrant.

  The sound of an exploding musket below the road startled Amy. She whipped around, staring. “No! Benito! Don't shoot!” The man who had grabbed her had disappeared. “Alizar, how many men did you bring? Tell them not to shoot!"

  "You are safe, do not worry.” Drawing his pistol, Alizar stepped behind the wagon.

  "Alizar! No!” When he failed to answer, she ran the other way to the edge of the road, calling for Benito. About twenty-five yards away, he crashed through the bushes and fell headlong into the dirt at the edge of the road.

  She raced forward. “Benito!"

  His face twisted in pain as he groped with one hand under his bloody serape. He extended his other arm toward her in a mute appeal for help. Moonlight reflected on the dull metal of a knife protruding from his ribs. Without hesitation, Amy grasped the slippery handle and wrenched the blade out. A ragged cry burst from Benito's throat.

  She tugged his clothing out of the way to examine the wound. His ribs had apparently deflected the main thrust of the knife and sent it through the outer layer of muscle below his arm—no vital organs involved, thank goodness. When she wadded up the tail of his shirt and pressed it against the wound, she was able to stop the bleeding.

  "Does he live?” Alizar leaned over her shoulder.

  "So far, yes, with no help from you. Why are you attacking us?"

  "I am not attacking you!"

  "How can you say that? You're in charge, aren't you? One of your men dragged me through the bushes. Another stabbed Benito—he could die!"

  "Benito shot first."

  "We don't know that.” She swallowed hard, trying to control her fury, needing to retain a semblance of calm for Benito's sake. “I need light. Could you build me a fire? Use the yucca leaves and stalks over there. And bring me the canteen of water from the wagon. Please."

  He complied without a word, pausing now and again to whistle shrilly, apparently to his companions. Whoever they were, not one showed up.

  She dressed Benito's wound the best she could in the bright firelight, tearing his under shirt into strips for bandages. The bleeding finally stopped on its own, and she felt confident he would survive.

  She had finished tucking Benito into his bedroll when Alizar returned from a search of the wooded area below the road. He bore the limp body of a fallen comrade. By Alizar's grim expression, she figured the man was dead.

  "Why did you come, Alizar?"

  He lay his burden down. “I feared General Armijo might give you trouble."

  "Armijo? Well, he would have, I guess, if he'd found us."

  He gave her a searching look. “Chulo thought four of you were here defending the wagon. Who else is with you?"

  "Rosa and her cousin, Mateo.” Amy was in no mood to share details. Not while Alizar exhibited that suspicious manner she disliked, the one where his eyes drilled into her, and a demanding tone edged his voice.

  "So, where are they?” In the harsh glare of the flames, his face appeared carved of wood.

  "They went back to Santa Fe."

  "Why?” He scowled. “Getting answers from you is like pulling the teeth!"

  "Perhaps I'd like an answer or two. What are you doing here, anyway?"

  He regarded her in stony silence for a moment, then his expression changed, relaxing a little. “What is wrong, querida? You are not usually so unfriendly.” He dropped his gaze to Benito. “I did not mean for this to happen. You know I would never harm you."

  She studied the lines of his impassive hawk-like face, realizing she didn't know him at all. How had he found her here? Only the Orlandos had known of the cache, and soon after their arrest, General Armijo. She shivered, wondering how the man standing before her managed to be one step ahead of everyone all the time. “You frightened me,” she admitted. “You behaved like an enemy. I suppose you were surprised to find me here."

  "I should not have been. The truth was there for me to see all the time. When General Armijo arranged to have your brother and the army spy arrested, all this fell to you, did it not? What had me fooled was—"

  "The fact that I'm a girl?” She gave him a disgusted look. “How could Amy Victoria Baker accomplish what two men could not?"

  Alizar smiled. “Your sweet softness does not fool me any longer, cara mía. No, what fooled me was your hiding the muskets so long—almost a year! They are muskets, are they not?"

  "Yes. Breech-loading carbines."

  He nodded, still smiling. “Muy bueno. But why did you keep them secret?"

  "I didn't know whom to trust. And I was waiting for the revolution."

  "You did not trust me.” It was a statement, tinged with wonder.

  "You still haven't told me what you want. Why you're here."

  The firelight gleamed in his eyes. “My intentions are to make you the happiest woman in Santa Fe. How would you like to be the wife of a governor?” He moved closer and put his arms around her.

  "What?” She pushed him away, gaping at him in disbelief.

  "New Mexico needs a governor. Better me than that fat pig, Armijo.” His smug expression showed how big a favor he was doing for everyone in the territory.

  "Aren't you being presumptuous? First the rebels must win—"

  "The revolution is over, Amy. Finished. Pérez is out."

  "Already? But how—"

  He pulled her into his arms, ignoring her protests. “Querida mía, I forgive you the doubts. This has been a strange time for you, has it not? Now I see why you stalled me, why you discouraged my courtship. You had this terrible secret, but now it is out. You have no reason to distrust me. You will see. We will be married and live in the palacio, and I will give you the wonderful life you deserve."

  She pressed her palms against his chest. “But how can you do that? Why would they let you—"

  "No one can stop me. With my loyal vaqueros and your muskets, we will have enough power to defend ourselves until we can build a larger army. You will live like the queen."

  She shook her head. “No, that wouldn't be right! The people want to choose their leaders. We must hold elections. Everyone must have a chance."

  He laughed. “Do you believe there is any peon or Indio in the whole of Nuevo Méjico fit to govern? Such a thought staggers the mind! Ridiculous!"

  She wrenched herself free of his grasp. “Ridiculous, is it? I begin to see ho
w greedy and selfish you really are!” She shook a finger in his face. “You listen and listen well: I did not haul the muskets to Santa Fe in order to support any tyrant. That includes you. The rebels will fight for their rights, and I will help them."

  Alizar's eyes narrowed. “If you do not wish to share in the privileges of my position and rank, then so be it. You have the choice. But anyone who is not for me, opposes me. I give you fair warning!"

  He turned and stalked toward the wagon. “With or without you, the muskets are mine."

  Horror chilled her to the marrow. “That I will not allow! Alizar! Do you hear me? You are not taking the muskets!"

  He neither paused nor looked around. His voice floated back. “One thing I do not need is a bunch of Indios armed with good weapons running berserk through Santa Fe attacking the palacio."

  Amy stared after him, clenching her fists and fuming helplessly.

  A groan from Benito reminded her she was not alone. She'd almost forgotten the wounded boy wrapped in his bedroll on the ground beside her feet.

  Benito gazed up at her, his lips moving in a whisper. "Señorita...” His eyes shifted repeatedly toward the bushes. He jerked his chin and pointed with his lips. He was trying to tell her something!

  Then she saw it, half-hidden under a bush—his carbine. “Is it loaded?” She stepped around him to pick it up.

  "Sí, sí!"

  She whirled with it in her hands. “Stop, Alizar! You're not taking them!"

  Something in her tone must have told him she was serious. He stopped a couple of yards from the wagon and turned.

  She brought the carbine to her shoulder and took aim. “I mean it! Get on your horse and ride away from here. Now!"

  He froze for an instant, his eyes widening. Then he grinned evilly. “You could not shoot me, Amy. I am certain of that.” Deliberately, he drew his pistol and held it at arm's length, pointing it directly at her heart.

  * * * *

  When Tyler rounded a bend in the road and caught the first glimpse of light from a fire, he sagged with relief. Reining his horse in beside a juniper tree, he scanned the camp: brilliant firelight illuminated the wagon, several mules tethered in the bushes, and two figures facing one another across a space of over fifty feet. The hairs stood up on his neck as he realized that Amy and Alizar were caught in a deadly standoff. They stood unmoving, sighting along gleaming barrels at one another, she with her carbine and he with a large pistol, frozen in a deadly tableau.