Texas Proud (Vincente 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "Very well." He didn't even look at her.

  Rachel watched him leave, and a short time later she heard him chopping wood. When he returned to the cabin with an armload of logs, he still didn't look at her, but went about laying a fire.

  "This should keep you warm until Zeb comes for you."

  Without another word, he left. The cabin felt so empty without him. Rachel lay back, fighting tears.

  He'd asked her to marry him, and she wanted nothing more than to be his wife. But Delia would always stand between them. And she was certain that he'd only asked her to marry him because he felt duty-bound to do so.

  Well, he owed her nothing. She had been the one who had seduced him. Her cheeks burned with shame. What must he really think of her?

  She slid out of bed and a blast of cold air almost drove her back under the covers. Her mind rushed ahead of her and she quickly got dressed. It was time to demand answers from her sister. Time to find out if it was Delia or Noble who'd woven a web of lies.

  Rachel moved to the warmth of the fire. There was something else she had to do. She had a strong suspicion that Harvey Briscal was somehow tied in with the accidents that had been happening to her lately.

  She was determined to find him and discover the truth. She would not live her life glancing over her shoulder in fear, or waiting for the next accident.

  When Zeb arrived two hours later, she met him at the door.

  "You had us right worried, Miss Rachel."

  She mounted the horse and glanced at him. "What do you know about Harvey Briscal?"

  Zeb merely shook his head, wondering what wild scheme Rachel was hatching this time.

  Three weeks later, Rachel was aboard the Robert E.Lee stage line, on her way to El Paso with Zeb as her traveling companion. When they first started out, the weather was bitterly cold. But the closer they got to El Paso, the warmer it became.

  Rachel had but one purpose in mind, and that was to find Harvey Briscal. Tanner had asked around town and discovered that Harvey had been seen in El Paso the previous week. Rachel hoped he'd still be there when she arrived; she intended to force him to admit what he knew about the snake in her bedroom and the fire in her barn.

  Rachel stared out the window at the desolate countryside. Tumbleweeds rolled about at the discretion of the persistent winds. In the distance, the whiteness of the salt flats reflected the sun and stung her eyes. Occasionally she saw the skeletal remains of cattle and oxen. The wind never ceased, but it was warm, even if it did taste of salt.

  She dismissed the discomfort caused by the stage's bouncing and jostling over the rutted road. She was angry that someone was trying to kill her, and she was determined that before she left El Paso, she'd know the culprit.

  She glanced across from her and met Zeb's gaze. The dear old man hadn't disputed her decision to make this trip, but he had doggedly insisted she would not leave his sight for a moment.

  Her mouth felt dry and it had nothing to do with thirst. Everything was coming to a conclusion, and she feared what would happen when she reached El Paso.

  Noble read the note that had been delivered to him by one of the hands from the Broken Spur. He'd hoped it would be from Rachel, but when he began to read, his lips thinned. It was from Winna Mae. She was concerned because Rachel had gone off looking for Harvey Briscal with only Zeb to protect her. In Winna Mae's opinion, Harvey was the one who'd put the snake in Rachel's bedroom. The note went on to beg Noble's help.

  With long strides Noble stalked to the stable, where Alejandro and one of his sons were bridle training a dappled gray stallion.

  "Patron," the gran vaquero said with pride. "This horse is ready to ride."

  Tomas ran his hand down the smooth flank of the magnificent animal. "Patron, this one is worthy of a king."

  "Alejandro, I need to locate a man who probably doesn't want to be found. But I suspect he still has friends in Tascosa Springs-friends who would be unwilling to talk to me. How would I go about finding a man who doesn't want to be found?" Noble asked, crushing Winna Mae's note in his fist.

  Alejandro pondered for a moment, studying the bridle in his hand. Then he said, smiling and pushing his son forward, "I would send my son, Tomas, into town to listen and learn. You would be surprised what someone will talk about when a Mexican is standing right next to him at the bar. It is like we are invisible and do not have ears and eyes. If anyone in town knows about the man you want, my sons will find out for you."

  Noble nodded. "The man is Harvey Briscal."

  Alejandro gripped Tomas's shoulder. "You heard the name of the man the Patron wants you to find. Ride to town. Go to the saloon, where you will listen and learn."

  The young Mexican smiled, pleased to be entrusted with such an important mission for the patron. "Si, Papa, I will listen and I will learn about this man." His eyes shifted to the man he'd grown up respecting. "If Senor Briscal can be found, I will learn of it, Patron"

  Noble was troubled. "Harvey is a coward, and that makes him dangerous if he feels threatened. If you meet with any trouble, I want you to forget about Harvey Briscal and come home at once, Tomas."

  "Do just as the Patron has told you. And as your father, I shall add one more thing."

  "Si, Papa."

  Alejandro's hand tightened on Tomas's shoulder. "You will order a drink, but you will sip it slowly. Do you understand?"

  The dark eyes showed disappointment. Tomas said in a deflated voice, "Si, Papa."

  "If you have to stay long at the saloon, you must not make yourself suspicious. Order a second drink. Make a show of drinking it, but do not. Your mama will carve out my heart if you come home drunk."

  "Si, Papa. I can enjoy one drink but no more."

  Alejandro's eyes softened. "See to your safety. I would go, but everyone knows me, and they would not talk so easily if I were with you."

  Tomas turned to his horse, and had his boot in the stirrup when Noble stopped him.

  "Tomas, throw your saddle on the gray stallion. He's yours."

  The young Mexican's eyes widened with disbelief, then brightened with joy. "I shall take the best of care of him, Patron" While he spoke, he was already loosening the cinch on his horse, and he hefted the saddle onto the back of the gray.

  "Have you nothing more to say to the Patron?" his father asked, his voice chastising, his eyes narrowing. "Have you forgotten your manners?"

  Tomas quickly removed his wide sombrero and rolled the brim in nervous fingers. "I thank you for the honor of the horse, Patron"

  Noble laughed and clapped the young Mexican on the back. "You will earn him before you get back, Tomas. Look to your father's advice. Make yourself inconspicuous and listen well. But most of all, look to your safety."

  Tomas swung into the saddle, his head at a proud tilt. "I will not disappoint you, Patron."

  Noble and Alejandro watched the young man ride away.

  "He's a son to be proud of, Alejandro."

  "Si, Patron. My sweet Margretta gave me fine children."

  "I should like to have a son," Noble said, surprising himself when he put the sudden realization into words.

  "How is Senorita Rachel?" the gran vaquero asked with feeling.

  "Not much gets past you, does it, my friend?"

  "I have known you too long, Patron. I have never seen you care so for a woman before. I know where your heart lies."

  "Then pity me, Alejandro, because it would be easier to tame a wildcat than to conquer Rachel Rutledge."

  "Ah, but to have such a woman for your wife would be worth the trouble, no?"

  "Her husband God help him, whoever he may be will never know one day's peace."

  "Si," Alejandro agreed with the experience of a happily married man who is not entirely in control of his own life. "When a man loses his heart to a spirited woman, he needs much divine guidance." Then his eyes sought the Patron's. "You worry that she is in danger, do you not?"

  Noble nodded. "And well I should."

  Ra
chel stood outside the hotel room, trying not to think about the stench that came from the filthy place. It had not surprised her that Harvey would frequent such an establishment. There had been several half-clad women downstairs, and the hotel clerk had looked at her suspiciously when she had told him that she was Harvey's sister.

  Zeb stepped in front of her and rapped on the door.

  They could hear movement inside, but no answer. Again Zeb knocked, but still no answer.

  Rachel set her chin and drew in a deep breath. The door looked flimsy enough. "Move aside, Zeb," she said.

  "Now what're you doing, Miss Rachel? We know he's in there, but he ain't gonna open the door to you. Well just wait downstairs-er, no, we'll wait across the street in that nice little hotel till he comes out. He has to eat sometime."

  "I said move aside!" she repeated more forcefully.

  Zeb did as she asked, but he stayed close to her should there be any trouble.

  With one strong kick, the flimsy lock gave way and the door splintered. Rachel stepped inside and faced Harvey. He lay on the rumpled bed trembling like a coward. The gun he pointed at Rachel wavered. He swallowed once and then again before he found his voice.

  "You! What're you doing here?"

  Rachel ignored his gun and concentrated on the man's small, greedy eyes. "It's simple, Harvey. I have some questions and you have the answers."

  "He's with you, ain't he?" Harvey's eyes darted fearfully to the door.

  "Who?"

  "That Spanish bastard."

  "No. Only Zeb's with me, Harvey. What are you afraid of?"

  "Not you."

  "I want to ask you some questions." Rachel moved closer to him. "I want to know who you work for."

  "I don't have to talk to you. Get the hell out of my room."

  By now, Zeb had maneuvered his body so he stood between Rachel and Harvey. "If n I was you, I'd tell her what she wants to know. She can be powerful fearsome when she's all het up. But you saw that in town that day with the big fellow." The old man's gaze became pointed. "Now tell her what she wants to know. And keep to decent talk. Miss Rachel's a lady."

  Harvey licked his lips and slid against the iron bedstead. "I could shoot you both dead and claim it was self-defense. You broke into my room."

  Zeb seemed undaunted by the threat. "You could get me right enough, but you'd never see me bleed, 'cause if n you'll recall, Miss Rachel's a deadly shot."

  Harvey scooted off the rumpled bed, his gun dipped, and he seemed to cringe. "It wasn't my idea to go after you, Miss Rachel. I didn't want to.

  She stepped to Zeb's side. "Who hired you, Harvey?"

  "It was-" His eyes widened in horror as he looked beyond her. "No, no. I wasn't gonna tell her. Don't shoo-"

  A shot rang out. Rachel and Zeb watched Harvey go limp and slowly slump to the floor.

  In an instant, Rachel turned to see the huge man who filled the doorway. His cruel mouth twisted, his gun still smoking in his beefy hand. It was the redheaded man who had attacked Noble that day in Tascosa Springs.

  Red smiled. "I don't expect you to thank me, little lady. But I did save your life. Harvey had a gun."

  Rachel quickly went to her knees beside Harvey.

  "Who hired you, Harvey?" she shouted, grasping his shirtfront. "Tell me!"

  Harvey tried to say something, but a thin stream of blood flowed from his mouth. He stiffened and his eyes rolled back into his head. He was dead.

  Rachel stood up slowly and turned to Red. "You shot him deliberately because you didn't want him to tell me who he works for."

  Red dropped all semblance of pretense. "Yeah, I did. What're you gonna do about it? You left your gun on the floor beside poor Harvey." He ran his hand over his mouth. "I owe you something, little lady. You made me look bad, and I don't take to people who make me look bad."

  Zeb, who had been easing forward, raised his gun. "You forgot `bout me, didn't you?"

  Red fired so quickly that it took Zeb by surprise.

  Rachel cried out as she watched Zeb crumple, his gun hitting the floor before he did.

  Tears blinded Rachel as she bent down to the dear old man. "Oh, Zeb, Zeb," she said, sofdy touching his face. "Why did you do it?" She saw the dark stain on his shirt, and anger overwhelmed her. She quickly ripped a strip from her petticoat and pressed it against the wound. She couldn't tell how badly he'd been hurt. But he couldn't die he just couldn't!

  Golden sunset filtered through the dirty windowpane and streaked across Zeb's face. He tried to rise, but Rachel pushed him back.

  "I can't ...help you none. I failed you when you needed me." Sadness clouded his flickering gaze, and he lost consciousness.

  Rachel lunged forward to reach for Zeb's gun, but Red was there before her, kicking it out of her reach. She inhaled quickly, too angry to be frightened. She was never so brave as when she faced her own fears. Drawing in a steadying breath, she stood, staring at Red. "If Zeb dies, you die."

  "I don't think so, lady." A slow grin etched Red's features, his eyes running down her body with a suggestive leer. "I'm gonna enjoy your body; then if you're nice to me" he shrugged "who knows? I may let you live."

  "You are a disgusting coward. I'd rather die than have you touch me,"

  "Have it your way. But you just ran out of defenders, and you just ran out of time."

  "It's you that's run out of time, Red," said a cold granite voice just behind him.

  Rachel felt a sob rising in her throat. "Noble!" She looked from him to Red. Red had just shot two people, and now his gun was pointed at the man she loved!

  "Step away from her," Noble commanded.

  Red threw his head back and laughed. "Well, you see the problem here is that you're gun's holstered and mine ain't. It was kinda like when you was facedown in the streets of Tascosa Springs. Only then you had the little lady here to protect you."

  Noble stepped closer to the man. "I don't need a gun to outsmart you."

  Red cocked his head with a look of puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

  "No, Noble, don't do it," Rachel cried.

  Noble's hand rested on the handle of his gun, and he didn't dare take his eyes off Red, who stepped closer to Rachel and placed his gun barrel against her temple. "Do you need to hide behind a woman for courage, Red? Some cowards do."

  Rachel shuddered at the feel of cold steel against her skin. She realized that Noble was trying to distract Red's attention from her. She glanced at Zeb's gun, which was halfway under the bed, out of her reach.

  Red looked undecided and then angry. "No man calls me a coward and lives." His eyes drifted to Rachel and then back to Noble. "I can kill her now," he threatened. "And I will without regret if you don't drop your gun."

  Noble unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the floor. Red wouldn't hesitate to shoot Rachel if he didn't do something quickly. "If you are as tough as you say you are, get rid of your weapon and fight me like a man," Noble challenged, taking another step forward. He was baiting the man playing to his ego hoping to tear his attention away from Rachel. "Are you afraid to face me from the front, and without help? You're a big man, Red, probably stronger than me. Drop your gun and let me see what you're made of"

  Red stared at his gun, and then crammed it into his holster. "I'm a better man than you'll ever be, big landowner."

  Amid muscle and sweat, the two men clashed Red the larger, more muscular Noble more agile and more intelligent.

  Rachel was all but forgotten now, so she inched toward the gun. At last, her hand closed around the cool handle and she raised it toward Red. She couldn't fire or she might hit Noble. Intuitively, she realized that she was no longer a part of the battle between the two men. Noble had a score to settle with Red, and he would not welcome her interference.

  A crowd had been lured into the hall by the sounds of gunfire. Several people watched with interest as the two men came together in a clash of fury.

  Red's hand clamped across Noble's face, forcing it backward, while he
worked his fingers around, trying to gouge out Noble's eyes.

  With a swift uppercut, Noble caught Red in the jaw and the big man went reeling backward, slamming into a chair and tumbling over it onto the floor. Pure rage made the big man's eyes bulge, and he gained his feet and made a mad lunge at Noble.

  Noble was ready for him and agilely sidestepped the charge. Red hit the wall with such force, he had to brace himself against the bed to keep from falling.

  "You had enough?" Noble asked.

  Dazed, Red shook his head to clear it. Sweat and blood ran down his face, blinding him for a moment. With the swipe of a huge hand, he wiped his eyes and located Noble.

  Then, charging like a maddened bull, Red landed a fist on Noble's jaw that sent Noble reeling backward. Noble slammed against the wall, but he didn't lose his balance or his calm. He merely smiled.

  "Not bad, Red. But if that's the best you can do..."

  Laughter came from the group of onlookers. Red realized he was being humiliated once againjust like in Tascosa Springs. His anger made him more cloddish and clumsy.

  Red was at a definite disadvantage, Rachel thought as she watched the two men battle. Noble remained coolheaded and in control.

  This time Red charged Noble straight on. Noble deftly stepped aside and Red hit the iron bedstead, looked stunned and collapsed to the floor.

  He didn't move. He was out cold.

  Winter retained its grip on West Texas, and the north winds blew almost daily, sweeping across the plains with frigid air.

  Zeb had never had so much attention. He was recovering in a bedroom at the big house, where Rachel and Winna Mae saw that he had everything he wanted.

  Of course, they didn't make the coffee as strong as he liked it, but it was drinkable. The custard pies Winna Mae served him, because they were his favorite, more than made up for the coffee.

  Rachel came downstairs carrying Zeb's lunch tray. She entered the kitchen to find Winna Mae kneading bread dough. "There is nothing wrong with Zeb's appetite. He ate everything."

  Winna Mae paused and pushed a lock of gray hair from her cheek with her arm, taking care not to get the sticky dough in her hair. "The old fraud is well enough to get up." Winna Mae laughed. "But he isn't any trouble. I'm just glad he survived his wound."