by Jeanne Rose
"You need to make the medicine, yes?"
Was he really going to forget about everything? She took a deep breath. "I could use a few more cockleburs." And a chance at the jimsonweed.
"I will gather them for you." He kept one eye on her as he plucked more burrs, a few minutes later asking, "Is this enough?"
She'd forget the jimsonweed, at least for the moment. "That's plenty." She'd try to sneak out of camp after dark. "I'll need a knife to open the burrs."
"I will do that for you, as well."
Because, she was certain, he thought she'd try to carve him up. He didn't trust her, with good reason. Not that she would ever again try to disable him unless she was forced to do so. He seemed to be the only person with any power over Xosi, who wanted to kill her. Temper blunted by the knife fight, Louisa knew she was going to have to keep her emotions in check, play the cards that had been dealt her, and wait for the right time and place to make a move of any sort.
She memorized the exact location of the clump of jimsonweed as they ambled back to the camp.
After Tezco opened the cocklebur pods, Louisa squeezed out the seeds and used a bent spoon to crush them into a pulp. Then she added water to spread the substance more easily. Using strips of cloth as bandages, she smeared on the medication and applied them to the men's wounds. Tezco's man flinched with pain. The cowboy named Roberto tried to smile as Louisa placed the bandage on his shoulder. He was of Mexican heritage, if not birth, and he thanked Louisa in both Spanish and English.
In the latter tongue, he also asked, "Why are we being held prisoner?"
"I don't know." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I am a captive myself. I don't even know where we're going, except that it's somewhere in Mexico."
She knew Tezco overheard but he didn't offer any explanations. He allowed her to wash her hands and the utensils in the pool of water, then walked her toward the fire so she could get some supper. Her middle felt hollow. Eagerly taking a tin plate piled high with meat, she added beans and several crude cornmeal tortillas.
Tezco took a plate for himself and sat down beside her. After wolfing down several bites of food, he asked, "Who is this Robin Hood?"
Frances had told her about the children's book she'd sent away for several years ago. "Robin Hood is a legend from old England. He was a thief who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor."
"Ah, I see." Tezco wiped up some beef juice with a tortilla. "Perhaps I am like such a man."
"Robin Hood didn't carry off women."
"I give to the poor...some of the silver I steal," he argued.
"Oh?"
"My bandits are merely thieves...most of us forced into such a life." He sounded earnest. "My father was an honest man, a rancher who didn't agree with Porfirio Diaz's methods. The rurales shot my parents in their bed one night and Diaz helped himself to their land."
Something in his tone and expression made her think he was telling the truth. "When you were a child?"
"A very young man. I had to take care of my little sister from then on. She has had a very hard life."
Louisa couldn't help adding, "And now she has a very hard attitude."
"She is jealous of you. But she will learn to accept you."
Louisa hoped she wouldn't be around long enough to receive so much as a crooked smile from the vicious Xosi.
He added, "You will also learn to accept me."
Louisa's blood chilled, and she silently called out to Sam to find her. But no, she couldn't count on him, on a man who'd run out on her once before. Knowing she could only count on herself, she waited until Tezco took her plate back to the band's cook, then rose and sneaked away from camp.
A full moon had risen and flooded the landscape with pale light. She glanced at the horses, tethered and grazing, and stared in the direction of the canyon's mouth. She was certain the lookout Tezco had posted was sitting there with a rifle across his knees. Insects twittered loudly and a breeze rustled through the leaves. Still, Louisa heard the soft footfalls coming up behind her.
Tezco laughed. "Now where are you going, querida?"
Stiffening, for he might try something again, she said, "I want to check on my horse."
"He has already been taken care of."
"I still want to see him."
Tezco ambling along a few feet behind her, she found Defiant in the small herd and spoke softly to him. He nickered and she kissed his nose before checking his back for saddle sores, then running her hands up and down his legs to check for swelling. Finally, she examined his feet for loose stones. Thank goodness, the horse seemed fine.
"You're a good old boy, aren't you?" she whispered, patting his neck. But she thought his big liquid eyes seemed sad and scared. "Yeah, I know." She wished they were home, too.
"You are very skilled with horses," Tezco remarked.
"I break them, train them. It's the way I make my living."
And, despite her trying to harden her heart against him, she envisioned Sam, a picture of fluid grace when he'd raced her on Irish. Her throat tightened. He'd always been nearly as skilled with horses as she...
"Perhaps you work too hard." Tezco's low voice brought her back to the present. "A beautiful woman like you should have a softer life with servants."
"I like my way of life."
"You would choose such, even if you were wealthy?"
"I don't care about wealth."
Or settling down – no doubt he thought he could tame her. Disgusted, she stared past him at the quiet camp, fires getting lower as the darkness deepened. Most people had stretched out in their blankets, though the night was young.
"I assume you do want to be wealthy," she continued, "though I don't see how your trip up to New Mexico Territory did much good. You aren't leading pack mules loaded with gold, and your captives aren't worth anything."
"Not to most people, I agree."
An odd answer, one that puzzled her even more. "What are you going to do with those men?"
She couldn't see his expression but the way he was standing, with arms quietly folded across his chest, made her think he was assessing her.
"You do not need my reasons."
She kept at him. "I don't know why you're being so secretive about your prisoners. It seems crazy."
"Believe me, I am not the crazy one."
She nearly stumbled over an indentation in the ground. In the moonlight, it looked like a deep, ancient hoofprint. Having wondered about similar markings she'd seen on the way to this canyon, she asked, "I heard some of your men say they'd never been out of Mexico before. But this looks like a trail."
"One that is not ours, though we will follow it to the Rio Grande and pick it up on the other side. Many years ago, the Comanche rode out of Texas every autumn to terrorize the Mexican countryside."
Comanches? Louisa felt a little thrill.
"Rancheros and villages could count on the Indians arriving as soon as the harvest was over. There were so many, they came so often, their horses' hooves cut trails that remain even today. Now the peasants thank Dios the Comanches ride no more. They stole horses, burned, killed, even attacked by moonlight."
Louisa thought of painted, easy-riding warriors. She thought of her father, whom she'd never known. "I'm half Comanche."
"Ah, no wonder you are so brave and fierce."
"And no wonder I don't choose a soft life."
Even in the dim moonlight, she could see his smile. "I will always allow you to do as you like, querida, if that is what is worrying you. I do not want your spirit broken. I only ask that you be true to me."
Untouched by his reassurances, she gritted her teeth. If she did what she liked, she'd be riding out of here. "You kidnapped me. We're not having a love affair."
"Not yet."
Not ever. Sam was the only man she wanted to share a bed with. But best not to challenge him openly, not when he had her so completely in his power. Intent on tying her wrists for the night, Tezco slipped a couple of leather cords
from his belt and indicated she hold her hands together in front of her.
"Why are you doing this? You posted guards. I have no place to go."
"You may remain free as long as I can watch over you. But when I need to sleep, you must be bound. You might try something foolish and hurt yourself."
How nice that he worried about her. But she held out her wrists. Thank God, he simply tied them, making no attempt to so much as kiss her, much less drag her into his bedroll. Her action this afternoon might have made him realize she wasn't thrilled by the idea. Maybe he would back off. Perhaps he really was decent-hearted, if a thief.
Though she still wondered what he was doing with those captives.
Tezco spread out her blanket, then his own several feet away. Wishing her goodnight, he lay down and wrapped the blanket tightly around him. Night at a higher elevation was sure to be on the chilly side.
Louisa pulled her blanket up to her chin. The moon soared high above in the sky. She stared at the glowing orb, huge and white-faced. Thousands of stars winked and clustered on either side as if paying it homage. She could hardly believe the same beautiful sky was at this very moment shining down on the people she loved so far away -- Ma, Frances, Chaco, Adolpho and Luz, the children...Sam.
No, she didn't want to include Sam, she thought, appalled when she realized a tear had seeped out of one eye. She swiped at it angrily. Where the hell had Sam been the night she'd been kidnapped? Where the hell was he now? As usual, she couldn't trust him. He'd probably turned his back and taken off, the same way he'd left her in Santa Fe six years before.
Louisa sighed, still gazing at the moon, and mused on moonlight raids. If she squinted her eyes, she could imagine Comanche warriors riding through the night's shadows. And she could also imagine herself with them, her hair loose and twined with feathers. She'd be ready to screech war calls, shoot arrows, steal horses, go after the white-eyed soldiers.
Like Sam.
His too familiar face haunted her inner visions. No matter how she tried to forget about him, he sneaked back in. In disgust, she closed her eyes and told her imagination to quit playing tricks on her. Like her body, it obviously needed rest.
West Texas
MONTE RYERSON STOOD FROZEN in the moonlight, for a moment thinking his imagination played tricks on him. A figure on horseback galloped past the barn straight toward him, leading another horse with what appeared to be a dead body stretched across the saddle.
Jake O'Brian spotted his employer and pulled his foaming mount up in a flurry of dust. "They killed Tobias! God only knows what they did with Roberto and Shorty!"
"Who? Where?" Monte struggled to keep his composure. He grabbed the reins of the horse that carried the dead man, recognizing him even in the semi-darkness. Grief twisted his gut. He'd known Tobias for almost twenty years. "What happened, man?"
"It was all so fast, I ain't rightly sure." But as Jake dismounted, the words spilled out, "The far west range. We was counting cattle, rounding up some stray steers. Then they hit us, rode up out of a dry riverbed. Musta been at least fifteen or twenty of 'em."
"Rustlers?"
"Guess so. They was armed to the teeth and looked to be heading for Mexico. A pack of bandits, if you ask me."
Monte noticed lantern lights flickering from the direction of the bunkhouse. The other ranch hands had heard the galloping hooves and were coming to investigate.
Jake went on, "Tobias and me, we rode off when bullets started flying. I was some ways away before I realized he'd been shot off his horse. And the other two hadn't got the chance to mount and follow either." He heaved a sigh. "Guess they was pinned down by gunfire. I shoulda stayed and fought for them."
"And then you'd be dead, too."
"Or would've disappeared along with 'em," the man admitted. "When I rode back to get Tobias, there was nary a trace of Roberto or Shorty. Nothing but a hat on the ground and all those hoofprints heading south."
Which was strange. Only Indians took prisoners and there were no more free-ranging bands around.
As soon as the hands found out what was going on, Monte ordered one of them to take care of the horses, a couple of others to carry poor Tobias to the barn and wrap him in a blanket. Either they'd have to bury him on the ranch or send his body to the undertaker in El Paso tomorrow morning.
He escorted Jake into the ranch house, tried to get him to eat. But all the man wanted was a stiff drink. His grizzled, mustached face was pale, his eyes haunted.
Angry, Monte made a decision. "We're going after them."
Jake merely raised one bushy brow. "Don't want to notify the sheriff or the Rangers?"
"It'd take too long and don't know as they'll want to cross the Rio Grande. We need to pick up those tracks while they're fresh." Though Monte could probably follow the bandits anywhere as long as rain didn't wash out their prints. Tracking was something he'd learned from his Comanche father. "Maybe there's some way we can get Roberto and Shorty back alive."
"I'm with you."
"Then you'll need to get a good night's sleep. Meantime, I'll ask someone to line up some fresh horses and supplies for the morning. Maybe a couple of the other men will be willing to come along, too."
Even if chasing bandits wasn't part of their jobs. Even though Monte himself had ranch duties and was awaiting the arrival of Captain Sam Strong. Roberto had a family -- he couldn't face them if he didn't try to get the man back.
"Where are you going tomorrow, Pa?"
Monte turned at the sound of his son's voice. Stephen propped his rangy frame against the door lintel. He was the only parent his kids had, Monte thought guiltily. But he also felt a responsibility for the people who worked for him.
"Jake and I are gonna be gone for a couple of days. There's been some trouble." Might as well be honest. "Tobias is dead. Roberto and Shorty are missing."
Stephen reacted immediately, straightening, his expression shocked. Raised on a ranch, the boy had dealt with death before, if not the violence of a random shooting. And he'd liked Tobias. "What happened? The rustlers?"
"Probably. A band of Mexicans headed for the border."
"I'll get my stuff together –"
"No!" Monte watched his son's jaw harden in that stubborn way that made him resemble his mother. "Your sisters need someone to take care of them. I want you to stay here."
Still, the kid objected, "Pa!"
"You'll be in charge, son, the man of the family and the owner of this ranch."
Stephen's expression changed as he suddenly realized the implications, started to worry. "Are you saying you might not make it back?"
"There's always that possibility." Monte rose to pat Stephen on the shoulder, the only gesture of affection the boy allowed these days. "But I'm too tough to go down easy. And I don't think there's many Mexicans who want to start another war." Not after Texas and the U.S. defeated them in 1848. "All I'm asking is the return of my men."
For which he'd use threats and persuasion first, the promise of gold and cattle second. Bullets would be a final resort.
The thought of doing battle yet again was a real nightmare.
PLAGUED BY NIGHTMARES, Tezco had resorted to rising in the middle of the night and taking long walks around the camp. That seemed to halt the bad dreams and made him tired enough to sleep soundly until the sun came up.
He wished he and Xosi had made amends, wished he could talk to her. She was the only one with whom he might admit such troubles. He was being haunted by the mysterious, fierce face they had both seen in her mirror that night at Aztec. The strange entity appeared at the start of each of his nightmares, snarling some garbled language before taking off on the night wind. Then he himself became the entity, gazing down at a shadowy pattern of mountains and canyons revealed by pale moonlight.
A practical, not particularly religious man, Tezco had no idea as to what was causing this vision to haunt him. But if the dreams didn't go away, he was seriously considering seeking out a priest or a bruja.
>
Xosi would be surprised, he thought, glancing toward her sleeping form as he stirred the embers of the fire. Once more wishing he had her counsel, he sat down and stared into the leaping flames. When he started to nod off, Tezco finally rose and returned to his sleeping place. Thinking he had caught sudden movement from Louisa's bedroll, he stood still for a moment, waiting. But she remained quiet, had probably only turned over in her sleep.
He sighed, wishing he could wake her, assure her that everything would be all right. The captives she was so concerned for would be set free as soon as he gained access to Beaufort Montgomery's tesoreria. And though she claimed wealth meant nothing, she would surely be impressed with all the horses she could buy with Aztec gold.
Imagining Louisa's pleasure, Tezco could almost taste her sweet soft kisses, feel her taut body pressed against his own. If only they were that close now. A little lovemaking would make him forget about nightmares. But, so far, Louisa seemed unaffected by him. Not that he planned to give up, nor to take the young woman against her will. He had been truthful when he had said he did not want to break her spirit.
Because he desired her love.
Tezco realized that with surprise. He was in love, for the first time in his life – the reason he risked his sister's wrath. And that was why he would stubbornly wait for both women to come around.
Now if only he could dream of Louisa instead of snarling faces, his sleeping problems would be of a much more pleasant ilk.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM OFTEN DREAMED of Louisa. The first night his search party camped in Texas, he awakened out of a dead sleep, fully expecting her to be lying in his arms. His heart nearly broke when he realized she wasn't there. Would never be unless he could get her back from the kidnappers they'd been chasing for days.
With a sense of urgency, he rose. Light barely glimmered in the east, announcing the arrival of dawn. He went to the campfire, stoked it and added a few more branches of dried brush. Then he started cooking breakfast with the last ration of bacon. They'd have to make do with jerky, hardtack, coffee and beans from now on.