by Pam Crooks
Jeb applauded with gusto. “Damn, but you’re good.”
The admiration in his words warmed her. “Thanks.”
“What else can you do?”
“Somersaults. Drags. Handstands. Cartwheels. Backbends. Just about anything I want to do, I guess.”
“All on the back of a horse.”
She nodded and righted her skirt again. Jeb took the mare, and they fell into step back to camp.
“Ever count all the tricks you know?” he asked.
“Once.”
“And?”
“A hundred of them. But that was a while ago.”
“You think you know more than that?”
“Maybe a hundred and fifty.”
A slow whistle slid between his teeth. They reached camp. Elena noticed their supper dishes, still lying in the grass. Still unwashed.
Jeb noticed them, too. He pushed his hat higher onto his forehead. And frowned.
Elena took pity on him. “I’ll wash them if you bed down my horse.”
“I’ll do both chores,” he said. “It’s my fault your horse needs grooming all over again. I already said I’d do dishes, and I will.”
“You’ll do them in the dark,” she warned.
“Yeah.” He glanced at the sky. “Seems so.” He seemed annoyed by the situation he found himself in. “Go on,” he said before she could offer to do dishes again. He gave her a swat on the behind with his hat. “Get ready for bed. I won’t take long.”
He set to work pulling the saddle off her mare. Elena watched him a minute before she gave in and headed to the stream to wash up.
Jeb Carson was a hard man.
But a fair one.
And if she wasn’t very careful, she would find herself liking him much more than she should.
Chapter Eight
Something yanked Jeb from deep sleep into instant awareness. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The intrusion was elusive. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was out there. Beyond their camp.
Someone.
Elena lay a dozen yards away, her back to him, her breathing slow and even.
A dozen yards too far. He should’ve bedded right next to her. Kept her close. He reached for his gun, gauged the hour at well past midnight, well before dawn.
Anyone out this time of night meant trouble.
He moved silently to Elena and clamped a hand hard over her mouth. She jerked awake, her throat working up a scream. Seeing him, she froze, eyes wide.
He could taste her fear. Her confusion. He motioned her to keep quiet. She nodded, once, and he removed his hand from her mouth. She sat bolt upright and he pressed a pistol into her palm. Her fingers closed around the weapon. She looked terrified, but he didn’t take time to reassure her.
Most likely, things would get worse before they got better.
The sound came again. Closer. He remained crouched beside her, his brain working to discern the sound’s location. She touched his forearm and pointed to the stream.
At times like these, his senses turned razor sharp. It was uncanny what he could hear, see, in the dark of night. Creed claimed he turned into a damn beady-eyed hawk. A predator hunting the unsuspecting. Saved his butt more than once.
Two men on horses took shape. They made no attempt to be quiet. Their voices rose and fell in what sounded like a drunken song. Could be they didn’t know Jeb and Elena were near.
Could be they did.
It wouldn’t be the first time an unknown enemy had used a ruse like this to draw him out. Jeb had learned the hard way to leave nothing to circumstance. He bent close to Elena’s ear.
“Get to the horses,” he whispered. “Anything happens to me, ride out of here as fast as you can.”
She drew back with a tiny gasp and an emphatic shake of her head.
“Go.” He pulled her to her feet and gave her a firm shove toward their mounts.
She went, but reluctantly. He left camp, slipped deeper into the night, closer to the stream, each footfall soundless. The men moseyed to the water, dismounted and led their horses to drink.
They hadn’t yet detected his presence. Had they come alone? Or were they traveling with a band of comrades, scattered and hiding somewhere nearby?
One of the men unbuttoned his pants to piss. Jeb made his move, a Colt in each hand.
“Well, now, if I’d known I was going to have callers this late at night, I’d have prepared a right proper welcome,” he drawled.
They spat startled epithets and spun toward him, both scrambling for their weapons.
“Touch ’em, and you’re dead!” Jeb snarled.
“All right! All right!” One pair of hands shot up.
He kept his attention on the pair that didn’t. “Whatever you’ve got in mind, forget it, amigo,” he warned. “I can shoot faster than you can think.”
“We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” Gravelly voiced, he was clearly the older of the two. The leader. Jeb’s eye narrowed at his hostility.
“Never said you did. But I might need convincing you don’t plan to.” His Colt jerked. “Get your hands up, I said.”
“You got claim to this part of godforsaken country that says a man can’t take a piss when he needs to?” The hands slid skyward.
“Never said that, either.”
“We got a right to be here, same as you,” the other said. He spoke with a faint lisp, brought on by several teeth missing at the front of his mouth.
“I’ll decide that.” He returned one of the Colts to the holster. With his free hand, he disarmed the men and threw their weapons into a pile in the grass.
“See here, boy. Name’s Sergeant Calvin Bender. This is Corporal Nate Martin. We’re with the United States Army.” Bender’s chest puffed from his superiority. “I could have you thrown in jail for this.”
Thin moonlight enabled Jeb to see they were dressed in Army uniforms all right, but where were the rest of the men in their company? Were these two lost?
Or had they deserted?
He gestured with the Colt toward camp. “I like to see who I’m talking to. Start walking. A fire will give me all the light I need.”
The two men exchanged tense glances.
“Relax. Nobody’s going to get hurt,” Jeb said. After all, he knew what it was like to be taken captive. To not know if he’d be shot on the spot. Or tortured. Or released with his hide intact. “Just want some answers, that’s all.” He pinned his stare on the one who’d tried to answer nature’s call. Sergeant Bender. “By the way, there’s a lady with me. Fasten your pants before you meet her. You might make her blush.”
The man glared with a noticeable lack of amusement but did what he was told. Jeb stepped back in indication they should go before him.
“Don’t walk too fast. Or too close. Don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll all be just fine,” he said.
The men shuffled forward, their hands high.
“Elena,” he called.
“I’m here.” Her voice reached him from the dark vicinity of the horses.
“Throw some wood on the fire and stoke it high,” he ordered as they entered the camp. “We’ve got company.”
She hurried to the embers and soon transformed them into spitting, snapping flames. In the firelight, he studied the faces of his captives, noted how disheveled and dusty their clothes were. They’d been too long from a hot bath and a good laundress, and once again he wondered where they’d been.
“Name’s Jeb Carson,” he said, standing back and finally sheathing his own gun.
“Carson?” The corporal stared, jaw agape, the holes between his teeth more evident. “The Jeb Carson?”
Jeb’s mouth formed a cool smile. What was it Lieutenant Colonel Kingston had called him back in Laredo? Legendary.
Ah, yes. A legendary soldier.
Seemed his reputation had reached beyond the steaming jungles of war-torn countries clear into the scattered ranks of the United States Army.
“Last heard you we
re in Santiago,” Bender said, watching him, one thick-browed eye narrowed. “What brings you back to the States?”
Jeb debated telling him he had retired as a soldier-for-hire. That his plans called for a normal life somewhere in California.
But he held back. Let them think he was still on the government’s payroll as a hired gun.
“Business,” he said.
“We’re looking for a man named Ramon de la Vega,” Elena said suddenly. “Have you heard of him?”
“The revolutionary?” Bender asked. “Reckon most folks around here have.” His frosty gaze fastened on Elena. “What do you want with him?”
“Elena,” Jeb growled, stopping her when her mouth opened to reply. “That’s enough.”
He didn’t yet trust these two men. Though they wore the uniform proclaiming themselves as defenders of the United States, their presence this close to the Mexican border, alone and in the middle of the night, was too suspicious for Elena to innocently explain their own presence.
“Perhaps they’ve heard something about Nicky, Jeb,” she said. “If Ramon and his men have been seen in the area, then—”
“You’re the baby’s mother, ain’t you?” Martin said, stunned.
Elena whirled toward him. “Yes! Yes, I am. How did you know? Have you seen Nicky?”
“We saw him all right,” Bender said, and a slow, calculated grin appeared on his lips.
Jeb recognized the meaning in that grin. A thunderous rage began to build inside him.
“You saw him?” she gasped, turning back to Bender.
“Yep, de la Vega was mighty proud of that boy, too,” he drawled. “Carried him in his arms, as bold as you please. Told everyone in the village about his new son.”
Elena’s hands flew to her mouth. “When? What village?”
“Depends how bad you want to know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, clearly taken aback.
“Means everything comes with a price, lady,” Martin said, his voice carrying a thread of amusement.
“You expect me to pay you for that information?” she demanded in shock. She strode closer to Bender. “Where did you see my son? Tell me! Where was he?”
“Elena! No!”
Jeb lunged toward Elena before she could grab the sergeant by the front of his coat. But the soldier grabbed her first—with enough force to send her falling into him with a cry of surprise.
“Let her go!” Jeb roared. His hand closed around the man’s wrist like a vise. Elena kicked out, fists flailing. Bender had all he could do to hold her squirming body and struggle free of Jeb’s grasp at the same time.
“Nate! Take her!” Bender yelled. He flung Elena with a suddenness that had her tripping over her skirts into the corporal. He was unprepared to take her weight, and they tumbled to the dirt, alarmingly close to the fire.
Jeb had a fleeting glimpse of them rolling in a tangle of arms and legs as Elena fought to free herself. His fist drew back. The hit snapped Sergeant Bender’s head back and hurtled him spread-eagled to the ground.
Elena screamed. Jeb spun toward her. Flames licked at her skirt hems, and she batted them frantically. Corporal Martin’s expression turned ugly. He lunged toward her and battled to haul her to her feet.
Jeb snarled and threw his weight into him. Martin’s grasp yanked free, and Elena scrambled away from the fire with a sob.
“Make a run for it, Nate!” Sergeant Bender bellowed, heaving himself, swaying, to his feet. “I ain’t waitin’ for you!”
The corporal’s struggles faltered. “Cal!” He swore violently. “Damn you, Cal!”
Jeb took advantage of Martin’s distraction to pull a knife from the sheath at his waist. He had no choice but to let the sergeant go. He wasn’t in any position to abandon the corporal, and he sure as blazes couldn’t leave Elena behind.
Horses’ hooves confirmed Sergeant Cal Bender had escaped.
But Jeb had his accomplice at his mercy.
His weight held the smaller man down on the ground. The blade pressed against Nate Martin’s scrawny neck. His round, panicked eyes revealed his fear.
Jeb’s lips curled back in a feral smile. He liked it when the enemy showed fear.
“Ever feel a knife sliding across your throat, Corporal?” he taunted. “Only burns for a few seconds, but all that blood pouring out makes you forget it even hurts at all.”
Martin lay perfectly still, his breathing wheezy.
“I’m going to ask you questions,” Jeb said. “And you’re going to answer them with the truth. I’ve never been much for rules, so you’d better play the game right, y’hear me?”
He let Martin take all the time he needed to think the warning through. Finally Martin nodded.
“Where did you see the boy?” Jeb demanded.
“In a village, south of here.”
“There’s a hundred villages south of here,” he snapped. “Which one?”
“San Ignatius,” Martin said quickly. “A morning’s ride past the Rio Grande. Southwest of Eagle Pass.”
Jeb committed the directions to memory. “When did you see him?”
“This afternoon.”
That would explain his and Sergeant Bender’s travel-worn appearance. They’d been riding hard since then.
“You with a patrol down there, Corporal?” he crooned. “Or just doing some leisurely sight-seeing?”
Martin’s hesitation lasted long enough to convince Jeb he was doing some serious soul-searching. And with every second he did, Jeb knew the Army soldiers had been up to no good.
“We had a meeting with de la Vega,” Martin admitted.
“A meeting.” Jeb hid his surprise. “What for?”
“He’s hurting for arms. Guns. We knew where he could get some, and—” the corporal ran his tongue around his lower lip “—we set up a deal with him.”
“To sell him guns?” Jeb demanded in disbelief.
“Yes, sir.”
His control began to slip. “I had you and the sergeant pegged wrong, Corporal. You’re even more stupid than I thought.”
“De la Vega’s aiming to help his people. He wants to overthrow Díaz. Help them get their land back.”
“You’re helping him start a damned war!” Jeb roared.
“What do I care what they do down there?” Martin shot back. “Long as they keep their troubles on their side of the border, they can shoot themselves up all they want.”
Jeb fought to keep his voice even. “When are these guns expected to reach the rebels?”
“Not sure,” Martin hedged.
“Soon?”
“I said I don’t know for sure.”
Jeb’s glower darkened. The blade pressed harder against skin.
“Soon, then. Don’t know exactly, but—” Martin released an uneasy breath “—soon.”
“Who’s bringing the guns? Where’re they coming from?”
“Someplace up north. Denver, I think. I swear I don’t know who’s bringin’ ’em in. Cal handled all that. Some deal he made with a friend of his. A quartermaster.”
A quartermaster in the Army would have access to supplies like rifles. Would know just where to order them, keep them stored until they were ready to sneak out.
A quartermaster as greedy, as traitorous, as Cal Bender or Nate Martin.
Jeb had heard enough. He roughly jerked the corporal to his feet, the knife plain in his hand.
“They’ll hang you for treason for this,” he growled.
Sweat glistened on Martin’s brow. He watched Jeb close. He was ready to bolt. Jeb could feel it.
“What of Nicky?” Elena said. She crouched a few yards away, her face pale. She rose slowly. “Tell me everything you know about him.”
Jeb wondered how much she understood of the danger her baby was in. That with all the corporal told them, the stakes had just gotten a hell of a lot higher for everyone.
Martin’s gaze raked her, from the top of her golden head down to the burned
edges of her skirt hems.
“He don’t look nothin’ like you, does he?” he taunted.
“Answer me,” Elena said, desperate.
“That dark, wavy hair. Dark eyes. Yep, Ramon’s his daddy, all right. How did he get under your skirts anyway?”
“Shut up!” Jeb said, giving him a vicious shake.
Elena hiked her chin higher. “I’ll ask you one more time, Corporal. Was my son all right? Was he crying or—or anything?”
The pain was there—in the faint quiver of her voice—and Jeb glanced at her, words of assurance on his tongue. Words that would tell her if it was the last thing he ever did, he would find her baby and return him safe to her arms.
His mantra, finding her baby.
Suddenly her eyes rounded, and she gasped.
“Jeb,” she screamed. “He’s got a gun!”
He never saw where Martin pulled the pistol from, but he reacted to her warning with pure instinct, honed from years of hard fighting. His fist shot outward, connected with the other man’s wrist. Bone snapped. The bullet went wild, the bark still sharp as Jeb swung the knife’s blade in a lethal arc.
Blood spurted from Corporal Nate Martin’s neck. A thin and perfect line of crimson that ended his life in an instant.
For a moment, Jeb didn’t move. In slow motion, the soldier sank to the ground.
“Oh, my God,” Elena whispered. “Oh, my God.”
Jeb dropped the knife, turned full toward her, and saw the horror on her face.
“It had to be done,” he said.
“You killed him.”
“Yes.”
She had probably never seen anyone killed before. Jeb had seen it, had done it, too often. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at Martin. Or maybe she couldn’t look at Jeb anymore.
“He was the enemy, Elena. A traitor. You, of anyone, should know that.”
“A traitor?” Finally she looked at him, the color gone from her cheeks.
“He betrayed our country to de la Vega. So did Sergeant Bender. They’re both traitors.” He watched her close. “They betrayed Nicky.”
“Because of the guns.”
Jeb stiffened against the bitterness. How could she understand when she’d never lived as he had?