But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.
The scripture verses from her childhood wouldn’t leave Rebekah’s mind. She never, ever wanted to thirst again. What would it be like to have a well of water springing up in this place? Inside her?
By the time Rebekah finished the water, the other girl returned with beans wrapped in a tortilla. Rebekah would have preferred a bowl of chicken noodle soup back on the McKinnon Ranch and spring green grass as her view out her bedroom window. But this was a feast for now.
Rebekah forced herself to take a bite, chew, swallow, and take another bite. The other girl refilled her cup, and Rebekah washed down the last bite of her meal. Through the slits of her swollen eyes, she saw both girls sitting on the floor by the low cot, staring at her.
Rebekah tried to smile in appreciation but her swollen lips wouldn’t form the bend. She managed a simple, “Gracias.”
Both girls’ eyes widened and they looked at one another, and back at her.
“You speak Spanish?” The older one of the two said. “We thought you were a foreign woman from an exotic place.”
Rebekah tightened her lips, attempting to smile again. If only they knew how foreign she had felt most of her life.
“What are your names?” Rebekah asked in Spanish.
Even the few words exhausted her, but they were sufficient. The girls came alive.
The younger said, “I am Antonia Fuentes and this is my sister, Carmelita. We are servants for Señora Guerra. She is very, very surprised to see you, and to see her grandsons, Señor Sancho and Edgardo. Everyone thought they were dead. We heard they were overtaken and brutally slaughtered by the Mexican army. Señora Guerra has been preparing to avenge them.”
It was a lot of Spanish words, but Rebekah’s grasp of the language had improved the past few weeks, plus Antonia spoke slowly. She was so innocent to be in this place. Her brown eyes were soft and round, her long black braid pulled forward over her shoulder.
The older sister, Carmelita, was a few years older. She wore the under layer of her black hair down with the top layer braided into a crown on her head. Not quite a young girl, not quite a young lady yet. Such a vulnerable age.
Carmelita took Rebekah’s plate and held it in her own lap. Rebekah realized she’d been about to drop it.
“What is your name, señorita?” Carmelita asked.
Rebekah thought of the various names she was called over the years—Becka, Miss Rebekah, Doc Beck. Recently, Sister Rebekah.
Mostly though, she introduced herself as Doctor Rebekah LaRoche. But that sounded ridiculous here.
She settled on, “My name is Rebekah.”
The girls accepted this with a simultaneous nod. “Señorita Rebekah, you should sleep,” Antonia said. “We will put cool cloths on your eyes. But you should sleep. Señora Guerra will send for you soon.”
Chapter 5
Before Carmelita woke her, Rebekah’s dream was of an explosion of wildflowers covering the hillside of the Omaha Reservation. Or maybe it was the McKinnon Ranch. One thing for certain was the man in a U.S. Cavalry uniform who rode to her rescue.
Rebekah struggled awake as Carmelita explained that the sisters needed to prepare her for dinner at the Grande Colina Hacienda—the great hill home.
Though Rebekah didn’t imagine being able to hold herself upright more than five minutes on her own, she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to stay alive in the valley of Los Abrigos.
The Fuentes sisters helped her dress in a soft yellow gown with cream lace trimmed in Spanish style. From the musty smell, Rebekah guessed the dress had been stored away for some time.
The sisters fussed over her, doing her hair in a soft twist at the back of her head and finishing it with a large Mother of Pearl shell comb. Rebekah had never been decked out in the wealth of bandits before.
The sisters helped her to her feet, the only part of her body that didn’t feel chafed and sore. The tight corset the sisters inflicted on her held her back straight. She needed all the help she could get this evening.
The girls weren’t doctors, but they had set Rebekah on the path to healing. She was far from being capable of escaping, but with the cold compresses and natural remedies the girls used, she could get through the next hour without collapsing.
Carmelita supported Rebekah as they made their way up to the hacienda from the adobe casita. There was a path that led to the open back door of the grand home which Rebekah could discern was the kitchen by the luscious smells.
Carmelita steered Rebekah to the left, around the house and to the side steps of the terrace. They mounted the steps and headed for the double front doors. Closer to them and her eyes fully open, Rebekah noted the carvings of ships and oceans on the ten foot doors.
Antonia went to the entrance and glanced back at Rebekah, her soft brown eyes looking like a doe knowing a hunter was about to take her life.
“Are you ready, Señorita Rebekah?” she asked softly.
Rebekah nodded, the tight skin of her neck adding to the pain in her body.
The wood doors swung open and Rebekah stepped across the threshold. She drew a quick breath of surprise. She was entering another world. Another century.
A history book. A fable.
Torches lit the twenty-foot-high walls holding up the long corridor. The torches were placed between Spanish conquistador-style armor guarding a palace fit for the king of Spain’s home. At least in the 1500s.
Rebekah’s mind started coming alive with questions of what this place was, how long it had been there, and how it survived for so long. One thing she didn’t wonder about was how it was funded.
Antonia closed the door and tucked herself close to Rebekah’s other side. She felt like a mother hen wanting to spread her wings and cover these girls.
What kind of life had they had? How long had they been stuck in this bizarre world?
The sumptuous aromas coming down the hall made Rebekah heady. Food far too rich for her sensitive stomach assaulted her nostrils.
When they reach the end of the corridor, the wall to her right ended, opening up to a dining hall. A heavy oak table, fifteen feet long, was spread with an inordinate amount of food. At the center of the lavish affair was a roasted pig, an apple clenched in his teeth as he glared at Rebekah.
She had a vision of Abuelita Guerra being in that pig skin, all pompous and bloated while not realizing what she truly was. Speaking of whom…
Abuelita Guerra was seated at the head of the table, Sancho on her right. They were the only two at the feast table set for three.
Rebekah wanted to laugh at the ridiculous amount of food for only a few people.
Sancho, dressed in a white charro suit with embroidered swirls in red, stood at her entrance. He bowed at the waist as he said across the room, “Welcome to the Grande Colina hacienda, Señorita LaRoche.”
Abuelita Guerra never took her eyes off Rebekah. So, this was who Sancho Guerra inherited his unnerving stares from.
Rebekah took a steady breath. How she wanted to pray! Where was a fortifying scripture from her childhood now?
The Fuentes sisters, still flanking Rebekah, shrank behind her even as they helped her move down the long table.
Sancho came around his grandmother to pull out the chair on Abuelita Guerra’s left. With the sisters’ help, Rebekah seated herself gracefully. The girls skittered back to stand against the wall.
Sancho pushed Rebekah’s chair forward then stepped away, his hand brushing her shoulder. Intentionally.
Abuelita Guerra’s eyes shot to him then back to spear Rebecca. She had seen it as Rebekah felt it.
Sancho reseated himself and started to reach for the salad dish that was nearest him. Abuelita Guerra cleared her throat loudly and he halted with a demure smile. He spoke to Rebekah.
“I have been away from my grandmother’s fine teachi
ngs too long,” Sancho said in English. “When you are the leader of a group of men who do not know one end of a fork from another, you can be corrupted by them.”
The word corrupted coming from Sancho Guerra was humorous, but Rebekah wouldn’t laugh if she could. This was her inquisition, her moment of finding out whether she would live or die tonight.
Abuelita Guerra folded her hands in front of her on the table, and Sancho mimicked her, bowing his head. Abuelita Guerra swept her gaze from him to Rebekah, who folded her blistered hands, her bandage wrists hidden beneath the yellow silk sleeves of the gown, and closed her sore eyes.
As Rebekah listened to Abuelita Guerra recite a blessing over the food—it sounded as though she had spoken it the same way for decades—Rebekah wanted to add her own prayer. Instead, words spoken by Jesus came to mind.
And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.
The prayer wasn’t lengthy and Rebekah joined in with a quiet amen.
Abuelita Guerra and Sancho crossed themselves then Sancho reached for the salad dish again. He offered it to his grandmother. Carmelita stepped forward and used two wooden paddles to scoop lettuce onto Abuelita Guerra’s plate.
Carmelita’s eyes darted as though counting the number of leaves. She halted and Abuelita Guerra looked at her with cold eyes. Carmelita carefully removed a small purple leaf.
The grandmother picked up her fork and Carmelita stepped back. Rebekah held her frown. For this royal family to even have lettuce in a desert valley like this was a luxury.
Antonia began filling the gold goblets. Rebekah wondered if Spanish conquistadors had drunk from those goblets.
They began the meal in a silence that made Rebekah focus on one bite at a time. Carmelita had served her, and Rebekah was surprised at the wisdom she showed in the selections. She gave Rebekah gentle foods, rather than rich ones. She was a good nurse, something Rebekah very much needed.
After they finished the first course and the sisters began serving the second, though Rebekah couldn’t eat more, Abuelita Guerra set her fork down and addressed Rebekah.
“My grandson told me how you deceived him and assisted in the killing and capture of my men,” she said, the Spanish words sounding dead on her tongue.
Carmelita dipped a spoonful of beans onto Rebekah’s plate, her hand trembling.
Abuelita Guerra continued. “He also told of how you are a woman doctor, yet you masqueraded as a holy sister. He wants his son, Edgardo, to have the privilege of executing you.”
Carmelita dropped the bean bowl on the table. It didn’t spill but did knock Rebekah’s silver butter knife to the floor, drawing a sharp glance from Abuelita Guerra. Rebekah leaned forward to partially block the woman’s view as Carmelita retrieved the knife.
Rebekah, mouth feeling as dry as when she was in the desert, didn’t want to respond to the accusation or the threat. But she needed to draw attention from Carmelita.
“Señora Guerra, I did what I felt I must do,” Rebekah said. “The life of a friend was threatened. Would you not have done the same in my place?”
Carmelita placed the knife back on the table and Abuelita Guerra’s attention went back to Rebekah. Her eyes were afire.
“You will not dare presume what manner of woman I am, and what I would and would not do.”
Abuelita Guerra leaned back as Carmelita added a chicken breast to her plate, but didn’t shift her gaze away from Rebekah.
After several seconds of staring at one another, the silence in the room was crushing. Rebekah longed to find a place to rest, but she held herself in the chair as steadily as she could.
Finally, Abuelita Guerra spoke. “Upon examining your bag, I saw you have instruments and medicines that we did not yet possess. I am considering having your skills tested. There are those in Los Abrigos valley who will want you executed immediately. But one lesson they must learn is that time has no meaning in this place. It is something you will learn as well.”
Abuelita Guerra nodded at Carmelita. “Remove the doctor to the guest quarters.”
To Rebekah she said, “You are free to move about the valley. But you will not go up the road. I will send for you whenever I have made my decision.”
Rebekah used her hands to push the chair back, though she was really pushing herself to her feet. Thankfully, Carmelita was immediately at her side and helping her get away from the table, away from Abuelita Guerra, away from Sancho, away from that ridiculous meal with its stuffed pigs.
Chapter 6
Jimmy had never been locked up in jail in his life. That was a source of pride for him, even at a young age, because plenty of boys his age knew the inside of a jail cell, and Jimmy could say he didn’t.
But what was it the Word of God said about pride going before destruction?
Being locked up in a jail cell in Mexico wasn’t complete destruction, but it felt like it to Jimmy when the guard clanged the cell door closed against Jimmy’s continued protests.
“I’m telling you, I ain’t going to do nothing against the law here! At least, not American law. If I’ve messed with one of yours, I’ll make up for it, but you can’t keep me here. I got to rescue a friend before it’s too…late!”
Jimmy shouted the last word as the Mexican guard closed the door leading into the lawmen’s office, blocking it from the sights and smells of the prisoners.
Jimmy didn’t blame the guard for leaving so quick. Not only did the man likely not understand a word Jimmy said, the odor in the prisoner area was enough to drive anyone out.
Jimmy rattled the cell door in frustration. He’d barely crossed the Mexican border and made it through two villages, trying to find where Sancho Guerra’s hideout might be, when he landed in a place called Golden and the local law snatched him up.
Hearty laughter sounded behind Jimmy and he jerked around to see a heavy-set man settled in the back corner, grinning at him with yellow teeth. What teeth the man had left, anyway.
It didn’t look like he’d lost them in fights, though. More like too much whiskey drinking. Smelled like it, too.
The man laughed again and hollered something in Spanish at Jimmy. They were the only ones in the large communal cell, so there was hardly a reason to shout.
Jimmy frowned and shrugged. He didn’t know what the man said. Didn’t want to know. If he didn’t get out of there soon, who was going to rescue Miss Rebekah? Was she even still alive?
“Yes, she is!” Jimmy hollered at the wall and banged his fist on the cell door behind him.
The man chuckled and stroked his mustache that drooped clear to his shoulders. He shouted something at Jimmy again and laughed.
Jimmy glanced around the cell for a way to escape. He’d heard cowboys brag about breaking buddies out of jail after a drinking binge, but Jimmy didn’t have those kinds of friends. Especially not in Mexico. There was only one Friend he had who could help him and Miss Rebekah.
Jimmy ignored his cellmate, who kept talking to him in Spanish, and went to one of the cots furthest away. He knelt by it, clasped his hands together, rested his elbows on the dirty blanket, and closed his eyes. He didn’t know whether to pray for Doc Beck or himself first to get out and rescue her. Looked like he’d have time for both.
He began praying while the man laughed harder behind him.
Chapter 7
Rebekah spent the next three days in a plush guest room in the hacienda wondering how often the suite was used. What sort of people were voluntary guests of the Guerras?
Carmelita brought meals to Rebekah and treated her wounds each day. Rebekah learned the girl had worked inside the house the past two years whereas Antonia only started a few months ago, and was still unnerved every time she stepped through the front doors.
Rebekah understood that feeling. There was a sense of evilness emanating from the walls, echoing loud whenever footsteps passed by her door. Each time, Rebekah wondered if Abuelita Guer
ra was sending for her to have her executed; or if she was ready to test Rebekah about becoming the village doctor.
After three days under Carmelita’s treatment, Rebekah felt well enough to venture beyond those walls. While she didn’t feel strong enough to attempt an escape, she could scope out the valley, and meet the inhabitants to see if she could find sympathy among them. A woman as harsh as Abuelita Guerra likely had close enemies.
Rebekah headed out of the room on the third morning and down the corridor where she found a side door to leave through.
The warmth of the morning told her she didn’t want to be out past ten. She was quite done with suffering in the desert heat for now.
The road leading down from the hacienda at a slant tested Rebekah’s sore muscles, but she made it to the bottom without stumbling. The layout wasn’t so unlike Doctor McKinnon’s home on the ranch in how it sat on a rise overlooking the barn and bunkhouse. But she never received hostile looks like she did there at Los Abrigos.
At a blacksmith anvil under a thatched awning, two men were making horseshoes. They halted and stared at her, eyes dark under long black bangs. Were they related to any of the bandits killed by the Mexican army with Rebekah’s help?
Across and to the left from the men, a cluster of women were shucking corn. They knelt around a pile of dried corn cobs, rubbing cobs on flat, textured stones. The women stopped talking and watched Rebekah, their expressions showing their suspicion.
Perhaps venturing out of her room hadn’t been a good idea.
Rebekah made it through that area and to a large corral where a herd of horses meandered. They spotted her and several came over to the fence, bobbing their heads over the top rail. Rebekah stepped close, inhaling their fresh scent.
A dappled gray dropped his head over the rail and nudged Rebekah’s hand. A thrill of delight went through her and she rubbed the back of her hand against his warm nostrils, then stroked his dappled face.
Desert Captive (Doc Beck Westerns Book 4) Page 3