Cameron holstered his pistol, bent down, picked up the rifles, and handed them back to the men. Then he returned the pistols, as well.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m a little gun-shy these days.” He held out his hand to the man riding with the girl. “I’m Jack Cameron.”
The man nodded knowingly. “I have heard of you, the Indian fighter. I am Ramón Martinez. This is old Juan. He fought the Apaches in Mejico. They took his eye.” He gestured at the girl with his thumb. “This is Juanita. I am taking her home to her mother.”
“I bet her mother will be very happy to see her.”
“Sí,” Martinez said. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Cameron.” He started to rein his mule around.
“Wait,” Cameron said.
He turned to see Marina coming up behind him, dragging the saddlebags. He went to her and opened one of the pouches. Removing a statuette, which shone radiantly in the bright sun, he took it to Ramón Martinez and held it up to the man.
“Here, take this,” he said. “For your trouble.”
“Dios mio, look at that!” Martínez shuttled his astonished eyes to old Juan, who grinned toothlessly.
“Señor, I could never …!”
“Yes, you could,” Cameron said. “You must.”
“I … I must give you something in return.”
“How about one of your mules and some matches?”
“Si, si,” Martinez sang, still in awe over the statuette in his hand. He tossed Cameron the pack mule’s lead rope. “You can have the mule, the packs, and all. There is food, coffee, and even some tobacco.”
“Señor,” Cameron said, “That’s the best exchange I’ve ever made in my life. We’re even.”
Martinez shook his head. “Oh, we are far from even, señor, but I am happy to make the gesture.”
“Farewell,” Cameron said.
“Farewell, Mr. Cameron,” Martinez said as he and old Juan reined their mules away, toward a cleft in the rock through which a trail threaded. Martínez removed his sombrero and swept it to his chest with a flourish. “And you as well, señora.”
“Buenos dias, Marina said, smiling brightly at the man.
When the trio had left, Cameron turned to Marina. He took her in his arms and kissed her. He held her away from him and stared deeply into her smiling eyes.
“Let’s go get Jimmy and your daughter and go home,” he said.
Marina’s smile brightened even more. “Home? Where is home, Mr. Cameron?”
“Home?” he said, turning a thoughtful gaze northward.
“Home is up north, in the high desert country. I’ve got some good grass, a sound spring, and one hell of a view of Rockinstraw Mountain off my gallery.”
“And it’s not so hot? I’m tired of the heat,” Marina said.
“Cool breezes blow through the cottonwoods, even in summer.”
“I think we would have a good life there, the four of us,” Marina said.
“I think so, too.” He smiled and kissed her again.
She draped her arms over his shoulders and looked into his face lovingly. “You know what I think, Jack? I think you are a romantic.”
Cameron leaned down, picked up the saddlebags, and heaved them onto the mule. He took the mule by the rope and Marina by the hand, and they set off to find Jimmy.
“You know what I think, Marina? I think you’re right.”
Gold and love affairs are difficult to hide.
—Spanish proverb
Books by Peter Brandvold from Tom Doherty Associates
Dakota Kill
The Romantics
“This man should become the new Louis L’Amour of Westerns.”
—Rosanne Bittner
“A gritty, fast-paced Western … . There’s plenty of horse sweat and gunsmoke in this one, but Brandvold’s Old West isn’t strictly a man’s world, and his aging Eastwood-style hero is refreshingly human.”
—Minneapolis Star-Tribune on Once a Marshall
“Dakota Kill is a hard-hitting, gritty Western so vivid you’ll hear the leather creaking in frigid air, smell the blood spilled in the snow, and feel your toes freezing in the stirrups. With a writing style as uncluttered as the landscape, Peter Brandvold will get your fanny in the saddle on page one, and you won’t be stepping to the ground ‘til the smoke clears.”
—Linda Sandifer on Dakota Kill
“In a gritty, flowing style, Brandvold takes the reader on a high plains journey through the rugged country of a man’s greed and a woman’s love. In between, there is sorrow and justice, all played out on blood-soaked ground as bleak as the villain’s soul.”
—Jory Sherman on Dakota Kill
The Romantics is a thrilling adventure shot through with danger and heroism, with greed and jealousy, and with love and honor.
The daughter of a Hispanic landowner, Marina Clark, has been given a map that purports to lead the way to a hidden cache of Spanish gold. To her husband, Adrian, his beautiful wife and her map are the keys to restoring his family’s fortunes and honor, both lost during the Civil War.
The Clarks’ guide through sun- and sand-blasted lands of what will one day become the American Southwest is Jack Cameron, a deadly shot who has won fame as an Indian scout. It should be an easy trip, assuming they can avoid marauding Apaches and greedy Mexican rurales.
But the Clarks are not the only ones seeking the gold. Gaston Bachelard, a former Confederate Army officer turned bandit, is hot on the Clark’s trail, eager to use the Spanish gold to fuel a revolution in Texas. Bachelard will kill anyone who stands in his way.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this bookare either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE ROMANTICS
Copyright © 2001 by Peter Brandvold
All rights reserved.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
eISBN 9781429971232
First eBook Edition : May 2011
First Edition: January 2001
First Mass Market Edition: March 2002
The Romantics Page 31