With the mask tied around his face he dismounted and slipped Coraje’s reins beneath a small stone container filled with miniature roses. If Coraje pulled back gently, the stallion would think he was well-secured.
But Sawyer knew that if the horse was intent on escaping he could do so with little problem.
Not making a sound, Sawyer approached the front of the house. Night creatures buzzed and chirped in the trees and bushes, and an old yellow dog crept out from behind a marble statue of St. Francis that stood near the door.
Sawyer watched the dog carefully, ready to bolt should the animal begin to bark. When the beast merely stared back at him, he held out his hand, smiling and whispering softly when the dog licked his fingers.
Reaching into the pocket inside his cloak once more, Sawyer took out a long metal pick. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the device and hoped he hadn’t forgotten how.
He ascended the seven stone steps that led to the huge, richly carved door and eased the pick into the brass lock. Concentrating intently on sounds and sensations, he listened for the clicks and quivers that would tell him he’d opened the lock.
He sensed he’d succeeded before any click or quiver reached his ears or fingers, and dropped the metal pick back into the pocket in his cloak. Slowly, he twisted the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and when his vision improved he knew he’d struck gold.
The house not only reeked of wealth, it glittered with it as well. Everything Sawyer saw, from the richly papered walls and elegant furniture to such trivial items as the small rug in front of the door and the hat stand, spoke of money.
He made his way through the house quickly and silently, finding expensive objects such as gold candlesticks, silver tableware, and bejeweled sit-arounds in various rooms. He didn’t touch the valuable household objects, however, for they would have to be sold.
What he wanted was cold, hard cash. Money Zafiro could spend immediately.
He found a handful of currency in a clay jar in the kitchen. He also found two dozing maids in the room, neither of whom so much as twitched in their sleep as he searched.
Much like a maze, with connecting corridors and rooms that opened into others, the hacienda offered countless places to investigate. Sawyer found more bills in a desk in an office, inside a velvet reticule he found in one of the salons, and in two pockets of a coat lying on the back of a chair in the dining room.
He then ascended the staircase. The first room he came to sheltered a baby and the infant’s sleeping nanny. The baby stirred restlessly in his cradle, making small whimpering sounds that told Sawyer he was about to cry and wake up the woman responsible for his care.
Sawyer made great haste to pick the baby up out of the cradle. Patting his little back, he walked the child around the room until the infant fell asleep again. Gently, he put the baby back in his bed and left the room.
He found nothing in the next five rooms he searched, but at last came upon the one bedroom he’d been looking for.
The patrón and patrona of the hacienda slept peacefully in their bed, which was canopied by a dark green swath of satin. Making not a sound, Sawyer crept into the room and swiftly found money in the dresser drawers, in several purses, and even a handful of coins scattered on the top of a vanity.
But he knew there was more. And his finely honed instincts told him exactly where to look for it.
He crossed the room and looked at the huge, magnificently framed portrait of a distinguished gentleman that hung on the wall above a satin settee. After taking the portrait down he didn’t see a safe in the wall.
But then, he hadn’t expected to.
He felt along the back of the heavy portrait, triumph soaring through him when he found a small slit in the velvet backing. Sliding his hand into the opening, he felt an object and pulled it out.
The flattened leather pouch was full of crisp bills, which he promptly slipped into his cloak.
One more place to look, and he would be done and gone.
He approached and knelt beside the bed. His movements slow and steady, he pushed his hand beneath the mattress, right under the sleeping owner of the hacienda. The man mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over closer to his wife.
The wife let out a loud snore that nearly stopped Sawyer’s heartbeat.
Perspiration trickling from his forehead, he pushed his arm farther between the two mattresses, smiling when he felt a hard container. Carefully, slowly, he pulled it out.
The money box brimmed with gold coins.
It was time to leave.
He exited the room and made his way down the dim corridor. As he neared the top of the staircase he heard a noise at the other end of the hall and turned to look.
Two people stared back at him, a young man wearing only a pair of ragged breeches and a young woman dressed in a gossamer night rail edged in fine lace.
The patrón’s daughter and some servant lad were obviously lovers.
And they’d caught him. The girl began to scream.
Sawyer whirled away from the stairs and dashed into one of the bedrooms he’d investigated earlier. The one with the doors that opened onto a balcony. He yanked the doors open, stepped out on the balcony, and whistled loud and long.
He then climbed onto the railing, and with one tremendous burst of strength he threw himself into the air.
He caught the tree branch neatly. As the branch bowed with his weight he whistled again.
Out of the night came Coraje, who stopped beneath the tree and snorted when Sawyer fell to the ground in front of him.
Sawyer scrambled to his feet and mounted. “You could have come a little closer so I could have landed right on your back,” he mumbled to the stallion.
With that he urged the black horse into an easy canter that soon became a thundering gallop.
And the inhabitants of the hacienda poured out of the estate just in time to see the legend who’d come back to life.
Zafiro and her people stood in the great room, unable to speak as they stared at the small mountain of currency and gold Sawyer had dumped on the table.
Tears filled the eyes of the old outlaws, each of them remembering the days when they, too, had enjoyed midnight forays such as the one Sawyer had committed only hours ago.
Tia dabbed at her eyes as well. The money her dear Francisco has somehow acquired meant that her kitchen would soon be filled with every supply she could ever wish to have.
Azucar’s gaze bounced from Sawyer to the gold and back up to Sawyer. Now the handsome devil had money to pay for her services. Finally, at long last, she would lie beneath his muscled body and give him the ecstasy she’d yearned to give him since the first day she’d seen him.
Sawyer saw plainly everyone’s emotions and thoughts. Everyone’s save Zafiro’s.
No expression whatsoever touched her features or glimmered in her eyes. She simply stood by the table staring at the money, her only movement the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed.
Was she angry that he’d returned to pillaging? he wondered. But why would that anger her? She’d spent most of her life with thieves, and she adored them, defended them, understood why they did what they did.
“Zafiro?” he said.
Finally, she looked up from the money.
And finally, he realized what she was feeling, thinking. Sadness burned in her eyes, a deep sorrow that could only have come from her heart.
She knew. Knew that the money was the last thing he would ever do for her. The last duty he would perform as her knight in shining armor.
Delaying his departure would only prolong her grief, he decided. Although he’d slept only a few hours after his return to La Escondida, he would gather his belongings and leave. With any luck he would reach Synner, Texas, in two weeks’ time.
“You are leaving now,” Zafiro said.
Her voice shook; he knew she was holding back tears. “Yo
u know why I have to go.”
“Yes.” Sorrow squeezed around her very soul. “Yes, you must go.”
“Why must he go?” Pedro asked, his question echoed by everyone except Lorenzo, who had sat down in a chair and fallen asleep with a gold coin in his hand.
“Zafiro will explain,” Sawyer answered. “Now I’ve got to get my things together.”
When he disappeared upstairs Zafiro told her people everything Sawyer had remembered and everything he now had to do. Only Tia saw no sense in the story. Lost in her fantasy world, she vowed to spank Sawyer if he so much as set foot out of the cabin much less out of La Escondida.
But when he came back downstairs Sawyer quickly ended her protests. “Mama, I’m not a little boy anymore,” he said gently, rubbing his finger over her fat cheek. “You can see for yourself that I’ve grown into a man now. I can’t stay with my mother forever. You know that. I have to go out and make my own way in the world. It’s what sons are supposed to do, you know.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Tia understood his reasoning. She stepped away from him, looked at him up and down, and her eyes widened. “A man,” she whispered. “You have become a man now, Francisco. Oh, my son.” Her hug of farewell lasted so long that Sawyer was forced to pry her arms from around him. And when he drew away from her his shirt was damp with her tears.
He turned to Azucar then. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek, played with her brittle hair, then bent down to give her a quick peck right on her lips. Her gasp of joy induced him to give her a sad smile.
Odd. But he realized he was going to miss the old strumpet.
Next he faced the old outlaws and embraced each of them in turn. His throat closed a little as he held them, and he knew he would miss them as well.
The hug he gave to Lorenzo awakened the old man, and Lorenzo promptly returned to the subject about which he’d been speaking before falling asleep. “Yes, the Quintana Gang stole our share of gold too, Sawyer. And we will never forget the night you robbed us. A thief robbing thieves. It was an honor, you know.”
“Yes, well, good-bye to you all,” Sawyer said. Each old person, in his or her own way, had become special to him, and his voice was thick with emotion as he bade them farewell.
His bag of clothing slung over his shoulder, he picked up Zafiro’s hand and led her outside toward the barn. There, he quickly saddled and bridled Coraje and attached his bag and small trunk to the saddle.
The last thing to do was to say good-bye to Zafiro.
She looked so miserable standing beside the barn door. Like a little broken thing that couldn’t be repaired.
He’d broken her. He hadn’t meant to, but he had.
He pulled her into his arms, and in only seconds he felt her hot tears further wet his shirt and warm his chest. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he murmured to her. “I’d stay, you know. If I could, I’d—”
“But you cannot.” Closing her eyes as tightly as she could, she squeezed out the rest of her tears and willed herself to stop crying.
This was not how she wanted Sawyer to remember her.
She lifted her face from his chest and smiled for him. “Thank you for all you have done, Sawyer Donovan. If not for you I do not know what would have happened to us. I, too, wish you could stay at La Escondida, but life, it is not roses to sleep on.”
He smiled a sad smile, knowing he was going to miss her mangled expressions. He’d miss the sound of her voice, the song of her laughter, the pretty sparkle of her smile, and the beautiful glow in her sapphire eyes.
He would truly miss Zafiro Maria Quintana.
Bending slightly, he kissed her. This was the last time he’d ever kiss her. Hold her. Feel her.
The moment he realized that, something inside him emptied and became a dark void. And he knew no one could ever fill or illuminate it again.
It belonged to Zafiro. Without her it would be empty and dark forever.
What an ironic twist of fate, he mused. He’d come to La Escondida with a dark emptiness inside him, and he was leaving with another.
Zafiro was right.
Life was not roses to sleep on.
“I will pray for you,” Zafiro said when he lifted his head and ended the tender kiss. “I will think of you every single day for the rest of my life, Sawyer. I promise.”
“And I won’t forget you either, sweetheart.” Seeing that she was about to lose her valiant battle with tears, he released her from his embrace and mounted Coraje.
She watched him slide his black hat onto his head, and for a moment she did nothing but stare at the contrast of the black against the gold of his hair. “Be safe,” she whispered.
“I will. You too.”
“Sawyer?”
“Yes, Zafiro.”
She moistened her lips, lips still warm with the gentleness of his kiss. “I love you.”
He tucked her love into his heart, where he would shelter the tender emotions forever. With a nod of his head and a flash of his smile, he bid her a final farewell and quickly urged Coraje out of the boundaries of the hideaway called La Escondida.
Giving Coraje his head as the stallion carefully picked his way down the rocky slopes, Sawyer dwelled on the woman he’d left behind.
Anything musical would remind him of her voice, her laughter. A song. A sweetly played instrument. A whistle. Even the sound of a gentle rain.
He would think of her smile when he saw something bright. Sun-kissed dewdrops. The happy twinkle of a star. A sudden and beautiful sizzle of lightning.
And her hair… God, she had gorgeous hair. The velvet black of midnight would never let him forget her hair.
Her thoughts. Her ideas. Sawyer smiled. Anything outlandish in the world would have him remember that wonderful daftness of hers.
An hour passed. He continued to think of Zafiro. Another hour passed. He found a road that headed north, and he followed it.
It would lead him into Texas. Toward Synner and his brothers and sister.
He felt as though he were two men. One knew he had no choice but to return to his family, to the children who needed him.
But the other man yearned to return to Zafiro, in whose arms he’d found such pleasure and in whose outrageous company he laughed and shouted on the same breath.
A sigh rushed from his chest, and he leaned his head back over his shoulder and looked at the wide-open azure sky.
Zafiro’s eyes were bluer.
Her eyes shone even more brightly than her sapphire.
Her sapphire.
The large and unusual jewel appeared in his mind so clearly, he felt as though it were truly inside his head.
Her sapphire.
He jerked on the reins, forcing Coraje to an abrupt halt on the dusty road. His mind pounded with realizations.
She was right. Zafiro was right.
Danger would arrive to La Escondida.
He turned Coraje around and quickly sent the stalwart animal into a full gallop.
Why hadn’t he thought of this before? he chastised himself. How could he have been so blind to such obvious peril?
In a little over an hour a very tired Coraje entered the stony confines of the hideaway. “Zafiro!” Panic edged Sawyer’s voice as his gaze swept through the yard searching for her.
Zafiro almost fell out of her swing when she saw Sawyer return.
He leapt off Coraje’s back and met her halfway as she ran across the yard.
They stopped in front of each other, each of them breathing hard.
“I had to come back,” Sawyer told her. He stared at her sapphire, which glimmered between her breasts.
“You did?” Joy danced through her.
Sawyer picked up her sapphire. “The man that got away yesterday,” he began, rolling the blue jewel around in his hand. “He saw Tia run into La Escondida, didn’t he?”
“What? I… Yes. Yes, I think he did. Why?”
“He saw your sapphire too, Zafiro.”
She looked down at her gem, the
n back up at Sawyer, suddenly sensing all was not right. “Yes. He saw it.”
“He won’t forget it. If he tells anyone about it… If he mentions it even in passing…”
“If he tells?”
“Luis is going to hear about the sapphire, Zafiro,” Sawyer explained, careful to keep his voice low and even so as not to unduly frighten her. “When he hears about it he’s going to know who was wearing it. And it won’t be hard to find out where the sapphire was last seen. The man who got away yesterday knows where La Escondida is.”
Fear stole Zafiro’s voice and her every thought but the one of Luis.
He was coming. But of course she’d known he was. Had known for months.
It’s just that she never expected her sapphire to be the cause of his arrival.
Sawyer was right. News of her sapphire would travel quickly through the tight circle of thieves, and then Luis would know exactly where to find her.
“That’s why I came back,” Sawyer rushed to tell her as he watched panic fill her eyes. “I’ll be here, Zafiro. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The need to believe him consumed her. But he didn’t know Luis the way she did. Didn’t understand the lengths Luis would go to in order to acquire what he wanted.
“Zafiro?” Sawyer stared at her face. Right before his eyes her coloring paled. “Zafiro—”
“You are not enough.”
“What?”
She took her sapphire into her hand, squeezing it so hard that her hand began to ache. “I mean that you will need help,” she said, the shiver she heard in her own voice deepening her apprehension. “You cannot face Luis alone. He is too—”
“Sawyer, you are back!” Maclovio shouted as he, Pedro, and Lorenzo came out of the cabin and stepped into the yard.
With a nod of his head, Sawyer acknowledged the three men, then turned back to Zafiro. “Listen. I can—”
“No,” she whispered. “No!” Spinning away from him, she looked beyond the stony walls of La Escondida, imagining Luis and his gang riding toward the hideaway. “You do not understand, Sawyer! Luis will—”
“All right, I can’t face him alone,” he cooed. Folding his arms around her, he smoothed her hair and caressed her cheek. He wasn’t afraid to face Luis and the man’s gang alone, but knew he had to somehow set Zafiro’s mind at ease before true panic set in. “I’ll have help, Zafiro.”
Bed of Roses Page 29