He could feel the concussion of the air against his skin caused by the impact of more than a ton of flesh as the two bulls came together. The impact was so powerful, it snapped one horn off the first bull and sent it spiraling through the air. Both bulls slumped to the ground, dazed and unmoving.
Rafe didn’t have time to congratulate himself on his success. Finding only thin air rather than an opponent, the third bull had refocused its attention. His shirt impaled on the second bull’s horns, Rafe took up the only defensive position he had. He limped around to the far side of the fallen bulls and hoped the third wouldn’t leap across their bodies.
The pounding of hooves behind him sent his hopes plummeting. He had no defense against a fourth bull. He might be able to pull his shirt off the second bull’s horns, but that would only give him a short respite. When he turned, he was stunned to see Broc racing toward him astride one of the picador’s horses. Limping toward his friend, Rafe caught Broc’s outstretched hand when he brought his horse to a standstill and somehow managed to mount behind Broc.
“What took you so long?” Rafe asked. “I’m out of shirts.”
Broc’s chuckle was more a release of tension than amusement. “I’m sure it seemed like hours to you, but you weren’t out there more than a few minutes.”
Finally safe enough to stop worrying about the bulls, Rafe looked around to see a half dozen riders with spears enter the arena. Thick pads over their mounts’ bodies protected them from possible attack.
“I don’t think they’ll be having any bullfights today,” Broc said. “Two of those bulls aren’t in any condition to fight. How did you get them to charge at the same time?”
“Pure luck.” He put his arms around Broc and held on. He felt so weak, he was afraid he’d fall off.
One thought prevented him from feeling a complete sense of relief at having narrowly escaped death. Someone wanted him dead badly enough to risk releasing three bulls with hundreds of spectators watching. Having failed, would his enemy abandon subtlety and ambush him or attempt to kill him outright? The only person he could think of who would want him dead was Laveau.
The moment he emerged from the arena, people surrounded Rafe to congratulate him on his narrow escape, compliment him on his strategy, say what a strange accident it had been. Rafe wanted to get back to his hotel and take care of his wounded hip. He didn’t think he’d suffered much more than broken skin, but it hurt like hell. Besides, he wasn’t accustomed to appearing in public without a shirt. He felt naked.
“Rafe! Rafe!”
Turning in the direction of the voice, Rafe saw Luis and Maria making their way through the crowd. Dolores followed them closely with Laveau trailing at a distance.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to fight the bulls,” Luis exclaimed when he got within shouting distance.
“It wasn’t planned,” Rafe said.
“Who do you think arranged that?” Broc asked in a low voice. “Laveau?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’d be happy to see us both dead. Maybe he’s the one who shot me.”
“Laveau is smart enough to have pulled off the release of the bulls, but he wouldn’t have wanted it to look like an accident. He’d want the rest of the Night Riders to know he’d done it.”
There wasn’t time to say any more. Maria and Luis had reached them, bringing a doctor who ordered Rafe to accompany him to a tent where he would check his injury. Rafe would have refused, but he knew that would upset Maria.
“Is he badly injured?” Maria asked the doctor.
“I haven’t had time to look yet,” the doctor replied. “He still has his pants on.”
Many of his fellow soldiers had been wounded during the war and suffered the indignity of having to undress or lie naked before strangers. Having to bare his butt with practically everyone he knew on the other side of a cloth partition was just about more than Rafe could handle.
“Can I come in with you?” Luis asked.
“No!” Rafe, Maria, and Dolores responded at the same time.
“Oh.” It took Luis a moment to digest their refusal.
“Get those pants off,” the doctor ordered. “I can’t see through cloth.”
“Maria said those bulls weren’t supposed to be in the ring,” Luis said to Rafe through the partition. “Did you ask for them?”
“No.”
“Laveau said you were a very good bullfighter. I thought you must have done it a lot.”
“The wound doesn’t look too bad,” the doctor said, “but it’s going to hurt for a while.”
“Laveau threw a rock at that bull. Mama said you owe him for saving your life. Mama said he’s a hero.”
Rafe locked glances with Broc, who had accompanied Rafe behind the partition.
“I refuse to be turned into anything so hackneyed as a hero,” Laveau remarked in his languid style. “I won’t pretend to be fond of you, but I would prefer to see you expire in a fair fight.”
Laveau’s comment sounded genuine. Rafe wondered who had arranged to have the bulls escape.
“I hope you’ll change your mind about letting Luis stay with me,” Dolores said.
“Don’t bother him with that now,” Laveau said. “The man has been injured.”
Rafe would force himself to thank Laveau for distracting the bull…if he didn’t choke on the words.
“I ought to put a dressing on the wound,” the doctor said.
“I don’t need one.”
“If I don’t, the wound will weep and soak through your clothes. After that it will dry and stick to your clothes. You won’t be able to remove your pants without ripping off the scab.”
“Dress it,” Broc said. “I’ll make him lie still. Remember what you said to me when the doc was trying to put my face back together?”
Rafe had forced Broc to let the doctors save what they could of his face. He’d changed the dressing himself, ignoring Broc’s protests that all he wanted to do was die.
“Let the doctor dress the wound,” said Maria. “You have to set a good example for Luis.”
Resigned, Rafe nodded to the doctor. How had he ended up being the one to set a good example for Luis?
“As soon as the doctor is finished with you, we’re going back to the hotel,” Maria informed him. “I’ll decide later whether you’re up to going out for dinner. I don’t want you to do too much and come down with a fever.”
“Listen to the lady,” the doctor said.
Broc chuckled. “I’ve been telling him that for days.”
Rafe groaned inwardly. Everybody was trying to domesticate him, and he wasn’t even married.
The man stormed around the confines of the small room, raging at fate, which had decreed Rafe would escape still another trap set for him.
“Damn it to hell!” he shouted. “How can one person have that much luck! God must be watching over the bastard. He should have been dead several times over.”
“Did you know he was a bullfighter?”
“Shut up, you fool! He’s no bullfighter. He’s just the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.” The man drove his balled-up fist into an open palm. “He can’t escape me forever.” He turned to the man still huddled in the corner. “You’d better make sure he doesn’t get away the next time, or they’ll find your body in a ditch.”
“Laveau must have had something to do with it.” Broc had repeated that comment so many times, Rafe had lost count.
“It doesn’t make sense for him to have helped me if he was trying to kill me.”
“There were two other bulls.”
“Still.”
“Then who else could it be?”
“I’ve been cudgeling my brain for the last several hours, and I can’t come up with anyone who wants me dead except Dolores.”
“How could those bulls have gotten out without anyone knowing?” Maria asked.
After being released by the doctor, Rafe had spent the remainder of the afternoon in his hot
el room. He had insisted on going out to eat, but he’d been relieved to get back to the hotel. Maria had put Luis to bed, then come to join Rafe and Broc.
The hotel couldn’t aspire to compete with establishments in San Francisco or even Sacramento, but the management offered several suites. Laveau had the largest, so Rafe was installed in a sitting room featuring red velvet drapes with gold tassels, a thick Turkish carpet, and chairs that showed more style than comfort. Marble-topped tables and paintings in gilded frames added to the feeling of opulence.
The sheriff had promised to look into how the bulls had got out, but everyone had been too busy watching Rafe’s ride and applauding his success to pay attention to the bull pens.
“I don’t have an answer to any of these questions,” Rafe said, “and I’m tired of racking my brain looking for some. I’m going to put it out of my mind.”
“It wasn’t an accident.” Broc sounded aghast.
“You haven’t been here in ten years,” Maria said. “How can anyone have such a grudge against you?”
“My point exactly,” Broc said. “That makes it all the more obvious Laveau has to be behind the attack. I know,” he said when Rafe started to interrupt, “but maybe he decided to help you because he saw you were going to get away and he wanted to be above suspicion. You have to admit he’s just about the craftiest man we’ve ever known.”
“I’ll agree with anything negative you say about Laveau,” Rafe told Broc, “but I’m certain he wasn’t behind that attempt to kill me.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Broc said, “and I’m going to prove it.”
“How?”
Chapter Twenty
I’m going to move into Cíbola, follow him wherever he goes, know everything he does, everyone he meets. Sooner or later he’ll make a mistake. When he does, I’ll have him,” Broc said.
“No one will believe you,” Maria said. “Laveau is handsome, rich, and free-spending. Having my sister as a companion just makes his acceptance by the townspeople more complete.”
“Do you think he’s handsome?” Rafe had never given Laveau’s looks any thought.
“He’s a low-down, conniving skunk,” Broc said.
Maria’s eyes twinkled when she smiled. “You only have to watch women’s expressions to know they think he’s very handsome.”
“What about you?” Broc asked.
Rafe seemed very interested in the answer.
“Let me put it this way: A snake is graceful and sinuous, but I can still dislike it because it’s poisonous. A flower can be beautiful and still give off an unpleasant odor.”
Rafe laughed. “Don’t ever play chess with her.”
Broc failed to see any humor in her response. “Laveau is an ugly snake who gives off a foul odor. I haven’t forgotten the reason I came to California was to bring him to justice.”
Rafe had been surprised to find Laveau had come to Cíbola rather than San Francisco, but not as surprised as when he learned Laveau had sent him the clipping from the Chicago newspaper. He was certain Laveau was hoping to find some way to benefit from Rafe’s inheritance, but that was a far cry from planning his murder. How could Rafe’s death benefit Laveau?
“Neither have I,” Rafe replied, “but I don’t see what we can do.”
“We could kidnap him and take him back to Texas.”
“Why do you want to take him back to Texas?” Maria asked.
“To hang him for what he did during the war.”
Maria looked stunned. “Wouldn’t that be murder?”
“Yes,” Rafe admitted, “a stumbling block that has stymied us from the beginning. Being a traitor isn’t a crime unless you betray the winning side. Laveau is careful never to end up on the losing side.”
“He didn’t even lose his share in the family ranch,” Broc said in disgust. “His sister sends him his percentage of the profits each year.”
“He ought to be thankful for his sister and her husband rather than hating them,” Rafe said. “Cade has made the ranch very profitable. Laveau would have run it into the ground within five years.”
“He couldn’t have done that because he wouldn’t have been able to drive out the squatters in the first place.” Broc told Maria the story of their return to Texas and the fight to regain control of both the di Viere and Wheeler ranches. “Laveau thanked Cade for getting back the family ranch by sneaking into his bedroom at night and trying to kill him.”
“That’s terrible!” Maria’s look of horror appeared to appease some of Broc’s anger.
“Now you understand why we are determined to find a way to bring him to justice.”
“Unfortunately, as long as he stays in the United States and its territories, he’s protected by the Army,” Rafe explained.
“You’ve got to help me find a way to keep him away from Luis,” Maria said. “No telling what he might do to the boy.”
“I’d be just as worried about his mother’s actions if I were you,” Broc said.
“I know Dolores isn’t a good mother, but she’d never do anything to hurt Luis.”
Broc didn’t look convinced, but Rafe agreed with Maria.
“I’d better check on Luis.” Maria rose from her chair.
“He’s not a baby,” Broc reminded her. “Besides, he’s just down the hall.”
“I suppose I’ll always feel protective. He’s probably the closest I’ll come to having a child of my own.”
Rafe wondered how she meant that and whether he could change her mind.
“Are you sure you want to make these changes?” the lawyer asked Rafe.
“Why would I ask you to do this if I weren’t sure?”
“Possibly because you want to get back to Texas so badly, you haven’t thought of all the ramifications.”
After the attack in the bullring, Rafe realized he had to make provisions for Luis in case something happened to him. If his wishes were not spelled out, Dolores might get control of Luis and the ranch. He could imagine the boy being dragged after her as she flitted from one man to another.
“My father had enough confidence in Maria to make her Luis’s guardian.”
“His joint guardian.”
“I made it clear to my father that if he married Dolores, he’d never see me again. In essence, he left Maria in charge of Luis and you as overseer of the ranch. What I’m doing changes that very little.”
Rafe had decided to make Maria sole guardian of Luis if anything should happen to him. He was also giving her control of the ranch until Luis reached his twenty-first birthday. If anything were to happen to Maria, the lawyer would assume her responsibilities until Luis came of age.
He had considered taking Luis to Texas with him, but the ranch was the boy’s inheritance. He needed to grow up here, to become so familiar with the land and the people that they became an integral part of him. All Cade’s ranch in Texas and Rancho los Alamitos had in common was lack of rainfall.
Rafe wasn’t about to disclose to anyone that the biggest question in his mind centered around his feelings for Maria and her feelings for him.
“So you’re sure you want Maria to have control of everything?” the lawyer asked.
“Do you see any problem with that?”
“Your father’s widow might object.”
“I have complete confidence that you and Maria can take care of everything.”
“I’ll draw up the papers. They should be ready for you to sign sometime next week.”
Rafe rose. “Send a message to the ranch. I’ll come into town as soon as I can.”
He paused outside the lawyer’s office to rest his hip. The pain was gone, but his muscles were still stiff and the scab would pull off if he wasn’t careful. The last thing he wanted while walking through the center of Cíbola was to bleed through the seat of his pants.
He wondered what it was about Henry Fielder that made him wish his father had employed another lawyer. The man had been the family attorney for as long as he could remember—and on
e of his father’s best friends. He’d never done anything to warrant this vague feeling of discomfort.
Rafe shook off the feeling. He didn’t have to like the man any more than the man had to like him. All he asked was that Fielder do his job. That way Rafe could go back to Texas with a clear conscience.
Well, almost.
This was an unexpected shift, but maybe it was better. He would have been happier if Rafe were dead, but there was always a danger of being caught when you killed someone—or hired it to be done. If Rafe was determined never to return to California, he could focus on Maria. She would be easier to dispose of and fewer people would care. He would have no trouble handling Dolores Jerry. She was doing everything she could to ruin herself. With a little help, she would succeed quite nicely. Then there would be nothing to stand in his way but a helpless boy. Whether he lived or died would depend on the boy’s cooperativeness.
His chuckle was mirthless. He would finally have the wealth and power he wanted. Never again would he have to be subservient, pretend Warren Jerry wasn’t an old fool when he’d let himself be seduced by a tramp younger than his son. The folly of marrying her to give his bastard child a name was beyond his comprehension. Knowing that child would inherit vast wealth and a position of power and importance caused him almost physical pain.
He would soon have the wealth and position in society he deserved. And Warren would get the justice he deserved.
Maria stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t think the strain had begun to show, but it probably wouldn’t be long. She turned away from the mirror and cast aside her dressing gown. It was time to get on with the business of running the house hold. Rafe and Luis would be back from their ride soon, eager for breakfast. She wasn’t hungry, but she always ate with them. She missed Broc. His presence had served to break the tension between her and Rafe. She wondered if he was still following Laveau. From the information he sent Rafe, he hadn’t yet uncovered any suspicious behavior.
Someone Like You (Night Riders) Page 22