by Lyn Cote
“Do you think that he was talking about Miss Dorritt?” Quinn asked Ash in a low voice. He hoped both that this was the answer to where Dorritt was and that it wasn’t true. Dorritt with Carlos is what he’d feared, hated. But if it were true at least he’d know where she was.
“Could be. Think we should just get ready and head for Rancho Sandoval?”
“I don’t want to go off half-cocked. Eduardo could have planted this story just to get us out of town. I want to question him before I do anything. Let’s see if there’s anyone else who knows where Eduardo is.”
Several fruitless hours later, the two of them headed back to Ash’s jacal—no wiser than they had been when they left after breakfast. They’d discovered that Eduardo and Juan had been seen in San Antonio on and off over the past few days, but no one knew where they were staying. And Ash and Quinn had not found them at any of the houses or shops around the plaza.
“Do you think they’ve gone back to the Sandoval ranch?” Quinn asked, his patience thin as a single hair.
“Might be. If we can’t find Eduardo, we may just have to head there and see what we can find.”
Quinn nodded, trying not to give into gloom. It didn’t help that he kept imagining Don Carlos touching Dorritt’s hair and face. Each time this image came, he wanted to put his hand around someone’s throat and squeeze.
After a midday meal with Ash’s large family, Quinn and Ash headed back to the cantina, where they hoped to find Eduardo. If they had no luck this afternoon, they would prepare and leave in the morning for Rancho Sandoval. They walked into the cantina, which was now full of men. Eduardo turned and said in Spanish so all could hear, “¡Hola, amigos! We meet again.”
Quinn nearly launched himself at the man who’d kidnapped him and now taunted him with an insulting grin.
Ash gripped Quinn’s shoulder and muttered, “Don’t let him goad you. We need to find out where Dorritt is. Without making a big fuss about what may have happened to her and bandying her name about more than it has been.”
Quinn knew the truth of each of Ash’s words. But it was hard not to just start swinging his fists. Still, he kept his face closed and his tone cool. “We do indeed meet again, Eduardo. Are you happy to see us?” Quinn spoke in English, not wanting the whole town to hear what they were saying.
Eduardo chuckled in an unpleasant way.
Quinn noted that every man in the cantina was giving them their full attention. Just what he did not want. “Why don’t we step outside where we can speak more privately?”
Eduardo laughed out loud and then replied in Spanish, “I don’t think so, mi amigo. You are not happy with me. But you cannot blame me. Whatever happened to you and Señorita Dorritt was on my cousin’s orders.”
All other conversations had stopped. No one was even trying to look as if they weren’t following the conversation between Eduardo and Quinn.
“That is what you say,” Ash said. “But I will want to talk to your cousin myself. It’s easy to put the blame on him when he’s not here to defend himself.”
Eduardo shrugged as if he were totally unconcerned. “What blame? My cousin enticed a pretty woman to come and stay with him at his rancho. Why is that worthy of blame? She is an Anglo and perhaps she thinks he will marry her. But my cousin is proud. He would never have serious intentions toward anyone not of Spanish birth.”
Quinn was so angry he actually saw Eduardo through a red haze. “If you dare to speak another word against the lady, I will beat the truth out of you.”
“Eduardo,” Ash said evenly, “I can’t figure out your aim. Something isn’t right here. And I don’t mean just because you kidnapped Quinn. What deep game are you playing?”
This finally prodded Eduardo. His face grew red and his hand drifted toward the pistol shoved into his belt. Then he stopped himself. He took a deep breath and tried to laugh. “Game? I am playing no game. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?”
Before Quinn could speak, he heard from outside the sound of voices calling out greetings, the noise of hooves and the jingling of harnesses. Chairs scraped back as everyone stood and headed toward the door. Everyone except for Eduardo, Ash, and Quinn. Before Quinn could reach Eduardo, he heard from the front of the cantina in Spanish: “It is the carriage of Don Carlos Sandoval!”
Eighteen
If what Eduardo had said was true and Dorritt was with Don Carlos, then Quinn might see her here and now. At least, he’d come face-to-face with Sandoval. The desire to shove everyone out of his path to the plaza hit Quinn like a Gulf shore wave. But he held himself back. His heart thundering, he sauntered out at the rear of the crowd. Ash stayed at his side. Just as Quinn stepped beyond the cantina into daylight, Don Carlos Sandoval opened the door of his large, sleek black carriage. It was hard to believe that the vaquero he’d never quite trusted was in fact a very wealthy man.
A Sandoval outrider jumped down from his horse and lowered the steps. Then Carlos reached out to take the hand of a little girl.
A little girl? And from her features obviously related to Sandoval. Quinn halted in midstride. He hadn’t been expecting to see anyone but Don Carlos and perhaps Dorritt.
The little girl wore a dress of red cotton and bonnet to match. Grinning, she hopped down: step, step, step to earth. Then she turned back and called, “Baje las escaleras, por favor, Señorita Dorritt.”
If Quinn had been threatened with instant blindness, he couldn’t have looked away. Yes, please come down the steps, Miss Dorritt.
Dorritt came into view, framed by the carriage doorway. Her smile seemed forced. All in black—gloves, bonnet, and dress—she looked even paler than usual. As she accepted Don Carlos’s hand and let him help her down the three steps, Quinn felt the touch of Dorritt’s hand as if it pressed his own. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold in that imagined contact.
Then she looked up, straight into Quinn’s eyes. Their gazes connected. For one moment, she stared into his eyes with frank honesty, imploring him—for what? He tried to read the message there, but so many thoughts were jumping in his head he couldn’t focus. Nothing he saw made any sense.
“¡Muy queridos amigos! My dear friends, may I introduce the lady I hope to marry, Señorita Dorritt Mott.” Carlos lifted Dorritt’s hand high and turned her one way and then another.
The men around him looked surprised and confused. This made it a certainty—in Quinn’s mind—that over the past week Eduardo had been busy gossiping against Dorritt. Certainly not been speaking of her in a way befitting a lady who Don Carlos Sandoval, one of the largest landowners in Texas, would consider marrying.
Although these words shocked Quinn, he had to allow one instant of relief that no physical harm had befallen her. Then, like a volley of musket balls, raw emotions ripped through Quinn. After all his worry, he was thrown off balance at seeing her safe, not in dire straits. He was furious at Sandovol for putting her on display as if he owned her. And a sinking disappointment gripped Quinn’s insides as he tried to grapple with the fact that she was with a man like Don Carlos—he who had everything to offer a lady. Quinn’s hands curled into fists. What was going on here?
Here in the plaza, Don Carlos was letting everyone know his opinion of Dorritt. His words and manner said she was without question a lady worthy of marriage and respect. I should be happy for her. It is what she deserves. She would make a man like Don Carlos an excellent wife. This thought deepened his misery.
“Señor Quinn,” Don Carlos called to him, “later we must speak. Por favor.”
Startled, nettled, and confused, Quinn managed a polite pull at the brim of his hat and then he stalked away, head down and fast. Yes, we will talk, Sandoval. He heard Ash call his name, his footsteps hurrying after him. But Quinn didn’t slow or turn. Until, suddenly, a thought came to him.
He halted, considering it. He looked around for Eduardo and Juan. They were nowhere to be seen. Eduardo had not come out to greet his cousin. Why was that? Was he unwilling to see Don Carlos?
Had he slipped away, fearing a reckoning? But from whom—Quinn or from Don Carlos Sandoval? Or perhaps both?
Dorritt watched as Quinn rushed away. Her heart strained to follow him. But she had duties to perform first. Would she be able to make Quinn understand that nothing had happened to her? That Don Carlos wasn’t responsible for her being kidnapped? How to untangle this knotty situation? She fought the desire to hurry after Quinn. Perhaps pursuing him would be futile. He hadn’t come for her. And she needed to reassure her mother. But their reunion would include her stepfather and half sister and wasn’t something Dorritt looked forward to. She looked up to Don Carlos, who was smiling at her though his eyes were troubled. “Will you escort me to my mother at the wagon train?” She had glimpsed it on their way into town.
“Of course.” He offered her his arm.
And she held out her hand to the little girl. “Alandra, come. I will take you to meet my mother.”
“Is she simpática?” Alandra skipped at Dorritt’s side.
Dorritt’s saddle-sore muscles still pulled as she walked. Would her mother be simpática, nice? Or distant and confused again? “Yes, she is nice to little girls,” Dorritt hedged.
She needn’t have worried. The moment her mother saw Dorritt coming, she rushed forward. “Thank God, you’re safe! Oh my Lord, you answered my prayers!” She began weeping.
Dorritt hurried ahead and accepted her mother’s embrace. “I’m fine, mother.” Feeling guilty over her uncertainty about her mother’s welcome, Dorritt tried to smile, but failed. “I’m sorry you were worried. It couldn’t be helped.” Dorritt smoothed her mother’s salt-and-pepper hair back from her pale and haggard face. Evidence of her mother’s pregnancy was visible with a thickening around her mother’s normally slender waist. “You should be sitting down.”
Dorritt helped her mother over to the wagon train, where a few straight-back chairs had been unloaded. Her mother sank into one and Dorritt sat on the one beside her.
“Where were you, Dorritt?” her mother asked, wiping her tears with a crumpled handkerchief. “I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry about that. I was kidnapped and taken to Rancho Sandoval, which is south of here and is the home of Don Carlos.” Dorritt motioned to him to come forward.
“Wasn’t he one of our vaqueros?” her mother asked in a confused voice.
Don Carlos bowed before Mrs. Kilbride. “You must accept my apologies for that innocent deception, Señora Kilbride. I let you believe I was a simple vaquero, instead of a rancher. Pedro, Juan, and Eduardo work for me. As for your daughter’s kidnapping—” Don Carlos looked pained “—there must have been some mistake made due to poor judgment.”
Dorritt thought her mother looked preoccupied. And little Alandra was hopping on her toes with anticipation. “Mother,” Dorritt said, “this is little Alandra, Don Carlos’s sister.”
Alandra made an extravagant curtsy and then bobbed up. “Hello, Señora Kilbride.”
Her mother wiped her eyes and nose and smiled. “Hello, little girl.”
“I am called Alandra,” the little girl pointed out and proceeded to lean against Dorritt. Dorritt took the hint and lifted the little girl onto her lap.
“Señora Kilbride, where’s your husband?” Don Carlos asked. “I wish to apologize personally to him.”
“Oh.” Her mother looked harrassed. “My husband is in jail here in the Alamo. He let his temper get the best of him. I don’t know what to do or how long they will keep him.”
Then Jewell appeared, striding forward, followed by Cole Anderson. Jewell’s eyes sparkled with spite. “So, Dorritt, you’ve returned.”
Jewell’s tart taunting words did not surprise Dorritt. She did not attempt to reply.
Don Carlos bowed to Jewell, but went on speaking with their mother. “You say that Señor Kilbride has been arrested? On what charge?”
Jewell evidently recognized the quality and style of Don Carlos’s gentleman’s clothing. Her eyes widened. She glanced to Cole, who merely shrugged.
Dorritt knew it was beneath her to take any pleasure in disconcerting her sister, but she couldn’t help herself. Trying to hide a smile that wouldn’t stop, Dorritt stroked Alandra’s back and ignored Jewell.
Cole Anderson spoke up, “Kilbride got excited when the commandant said we had to stay here until Mexico City confirmed we have a right to be in Texas.”
“You are dressed very fine, Carlos,” Jewell said, obviously not following the conversation.
“Señorita Jewell, we meet again.” Don Carlos bowed to her once more.
Dorritt spoke up, “Sister, Don Carlos Sandoval isn’t a mere vaquero. He owns Rancho Sandoval south of here.” Dorritt couldn’t resist adding, “His ranch covers nearly eight thousand acres.”
Jewell opened and then clamped her mouth as if being forced to swallow some horrid medicine. She glared at Dorritt.
“And I am su hermana, his sister,” Alandra added.
Dorritt chuckled. “Yes, this is poor, shy little Alandra.”
Cole smiled at the little girl. “My little sister is out picking wildflowers. But she will be happy to see Carlos again.”
Nodding, Don Carlos smiled indulgently at his little sister. “Señora Kilbride, if you will allow, I will leave Señorita Dorritt and my little sister with you. Soon I will go and speak to the commandante. I know him and will find out if anything can be done for your husband.”
“Oh, would you?” Mrs. Kilbride took Don Carlos’s hand between both of hers. “I would be so grateful. Dorritt disappearing. The soldiers making us come here, and then…” She pressed her handkerchief to her mouth.
“Don’t be sad.” Alandra jumped down from Dorritt’s lap. She began petting Mrs. Kilbride’s shoulder.
“I will join you at the inn, Señorita Dorritt.” Don Carlos turned to Mrs. Kilbride and Jewell. “You must allow me to secure accommodations for you also. Little Alandra wants to stay with your daughter, but I’m sure Señorita Dorritt would want her mother and sister to be comfortable as they wait upon events.”
“What happened to you, Miss Dorritt?” Cole Anderson asked as if he’d been holding this back with effort. “We were concerned about your safety.”
“It isn’t clear yet why Eduardo kidnapped me,” Dorritt said, choosing her words with care. “But Don Carlos is innocent. He was shocked to see me show up at his ranch and has shown me only the most gentlemanly regard and courtesy.”
“My brother is muy enojado, much angry with Eduardo,” Alandra said with audible disapproval.
Jewell looked irritated that she wouldn’t be able to use the kidnapping against Dorritt. But Dorritt’s thoughts had already drifted back to Quinn. She had observed him toward the rear of the crowd when she’d alighted from the carriage earlier. But he had not approached her. Why? Perhaps hearing Don Carlos state the hope that she’d become his wife, Quinn had believed that she’d already agreed to marry Don Carlos. Still, his rejection stung. During those terrifying miles after she’d been kidnapped, she had allowed herself to imagine their reunion. In her heart of hearts, she’d anticipated a scene that included an ardent embrace, vows of eternal love, and fervent kisses. Yet Quinn had never spoken to her of love….
Dorritt rose and offered her hand to the little girl. “Don Carlos, I think I’d like to go to the inn now.”
Inside Ash’s shadowy jacal, Quinn stood, ready for this clash. At the sound of Don Carlos’s greeting to Ash, Quinn had moved into his fighting stance, so he could draw his knife or pistol with ease.
Don Carlos halted just inside the door. “I didn’t come to fight, Quinn.”
“Too bad. I feel like fighting.” Quinn shifted on his feet, ready to spring. “You have much to answer for.”
“I don’t blame you. My cousin Eduardo has served me an ill turn. He kidnapped Señorita Dorritt, the lady whom I have fallen in love with and wish to marry.”
Unhappy with these words, Quinn didn’t let down his guard. Was Don Carlos telling him the truth?
Was Eduardo the one responsible for everything?
“You were telling the truth then,” Ash asked, entering behind Don Carlos, “when you told everyone you intended to marry her?”
Don Carlos lifted his chin. “Sí, I was. I’m in love with the señorita.”
“Where is my mistress?” Reva asked from the bench.
“At the inn,” Don Carlos said.
“Ash, I’m going to find my Miss Dorritt, if that’s fine with you.” Ash nodded and Reva left.
“Señor Quinn, I am at a loss to know why Eduardo did what he has done. When I left the wagon train to go home, I told him to protect Señorita Dorritt until she safely arrived at the Austin settlement. That was my order to him. Do you have any idea why Eduardo had Señorita Dorritt kidnapped?”
Quinn was still weighing and measuring each of Don Carlos’s words. The man sounded as if he were speaking the truth. Quinn glanced at Ash. His friend nodded once. Quinn relaxed his stance. If Ash thought Don Carlos was telling the truth, Quinn would give the man a chance to be heard. “Eduardo drugged and kidnapped me too.”
Don Carlos let out a sound of shocked anger. “That explains why you didn’t go after Pedro and rescue Señorita Dorritt.”
“Sit down and let’s talk.” Ash waved toward the small table and reached for the coffee pot hanging in the small hearth.
Uncertain and unconvinced, Quinn watched and waited, holding back all the anger that still dug its spurs in to him. “Don Carlos, tell us what you know.”
“You know more than I,” Don Carlos spoke as if holding tight to his own anger. “Three days ago, Pedro arrived at my ranch with la señorita in front of him on his horse, saying that my cousin told him to bring her to me. I cannot tell you how shocked, how incensed, I was. Can you tell me why you think my cousin Eduardo would do this?”
Ash’s features twisted with concentration. “You say that Eduardo is your cousin. How well do you two get along?”