“Give me that bucket,” the guard said. “It stinks in here.”
After the guard left, Faith helped the girl lie back on the cot and then placed her hands on either side of Calida’s face. Faith leaned in so none of the other girls could hear and smelled the sour odor of the girl’s bile. “Are you pregnant?” she asked.
Calida blinked back tears and nodded.
“Who is the father?”
“A boy in my village.”
“Why did you say you were a virgin?”
“I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. What will they do to me when they find out?”
Faith knew what they would do: kill her and the baby inside her, but she couldn’t tell the frightened girl the truth. “They won’t find out,” she said. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure they don’t find out.”
The guard opened the door again and pointed at Faith. “Señor Salazar is ready for you.” Just as he turned his back to leave, Faith reached under the sheet of her cot, snatched the steak knife she had stolen, and dropped it into the secret pocket.
Valencia observed her concealing the blade and called out, “Be careful.”
Faith nodded, patted the pocket, and glided out the door.
Faith sat across from Salazar at the small table in the side courtyard, her spine as stiff as a cactus. Juanita set a plate of eggs and bacon before each of them. Salazar was smartly dressed in a forest green frock coat with pewter buttons and high black trousers. A scarf of green checkerpane hung from his neck.
He scooped up some eggs with his fork and swallowed them. Picking up a rasher of bacon, he nibbled it to a nub, which he then fed to Viper. The dog licked his fingers with its huge black tongue and then sat rigid as a statue, waiting for more.
Salazar pointed at Faith’s plate with his fork. “Eat, Miss Wheeler. Mrs. Medina has made the bacon extra crispy.”
Faith stared down at her plate. She had a stabbing hunger, and the aroma of the bacon was enticing, but she chose not to eat right then. Instead she asked, “What did you do to the man who dropped the chicken bone?”
Salazar sipped some coffee and set the small cup down. “How did you know it was a chicken bone?”
“I saw one of the cowboys eating. He dropped it on the ground just before you came outside.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to hurt him.”
Salazar dipped his head in a gesture of understanding. “I sent him away.”
“You lie,” she said pointing to the pink tinge of the fountain water. “You killed him or you had him killed. I asked you not to harm him. I saved your dog, but you wouldn’t spare him.”
“I was upset,” Salazar said. “I apologize.” He re-focused on his breakfast. Then: “Tell me, Miss Wheeler, what would you like to do with your life?”
Faith realized he was changing the subject, so she decided to eat. She carved up both eggs with the edge of her fork and scooped up a mouthful. “I want to be a nurse, like my mother,” she said.
Salazar’s eyes brightened, half moons of brown skin sagging beneath them. “My grandmother was a healer, all five feet one inch of her,” he said. “She also believed in God, like you, no?”
Faith reached for a glass of water that had two lemon wedges bobbing on top. “I believe in God,” she said, “and the damnation of the wicked.” She took two loud gulps.
“Such harsh words,” Salazar said with a quizzical look. “Isn’t forgiveness part of your religion?”
“For those who ask for forgiveness.”
Salazar dabbed his lips with the linen napkin, gently set it down, and creased it with the side of his hand. “How would you like to take on a greater role at the hacienda?” he asked.
“What kind of role?”
“You’re a healer, which is a tremendous gift. You could help tend sick animals, sick people even. You could assume the role your mother had, except you could do it here, in great comfort, in great luxury. Every morning could start this way for you.”
The voice of her dead father resounded in her ears: A flattering mouth worketh ruin, Faith. Remember: the devil is a flatterer.
She leaned forward and said, “You killed my mother and father.”
Salazar held one hand up. “Garza killed them.”
“He works for you.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
“You speak of them as if I’d lost a pet, instead of the people who brought me into this world.”
Juanita returned to the patio to clear the plates and freshen the water glasses. She waited while Viper licked Salazar’s plate clean before removing it. “More coffee?” she asked.
“No,” Salazar replied. “Please bring the dog inside.”
Juanita nodded, brought the plates into the house, and then returned for the animal, leaving Salazar and Faith alone. After several silent moments, Salazar rose and sauntered towards her side of the table. Cat-like, she tightened her leg muscles, ready to move in any direction.
“I’m sorry Garza killed them. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance,” Salazar said. “Wouldn’t you like to live here?”
“No,” Faith said. She reached under her smock and fingered the handle of the knife.
When he stepped closer, she could smell bay rum on his skin. “I would like to be your benefactor,” he said. “In fact, I’d like to be more than a benefactor.”
With a trembling hand, Faith eased the knife from the hidden pocket. “What do you want?” she asked.
“You know I would never harm you,” he said in a soothing voice, “or let anyone else harm you.” He slid his hand along the table as he inched closer. “You and I could be friends. Perhaps, more than friends.”
“Never.”
“I hope to make you mine one day.”
Faith jumped from the chair, brandishing the knife. He back-stepped when he saw the blade. “Oh, my little mustang, what do you intend to do with that?”
“Come closer and I’ll kill you,” she said, jabbing the air.
He shook his head, laughing. “No, you won’t. You don’t have it in you.”
He tried to move closer, but she kept her distance by circling the table, knife extended.
He squinted, smiled, and extended his palm. “Give me the knife.”
“You smirk because you know I won’t kill you, but I can hurt you—by hurting myself.” She pressed the knife against her own cheek. “I can fix it so I’m worth a lot less to the men that are coming.”
Salazar froze, his smile melted, and the color leached from his face. “Don’t do anything foolish,” he said, wiggling his hands in front of him. “I think God would consider it a sin for you to harm yourself, don’t you? He was the one that blessed you with that beauty.”
“No man will pay for a whore with a hideous scar across her face.”
“You’re not a whore.”
“Not yet.”
They had danced a three-quarters turn around the table, so that Faith’s back was to the house. She hovered with the knife in her right hand, tense, poised to cut. They stood motionless for several seconds. The only sound was the fountain swashing in the background.
From the corner of her eye the girl saw movement as Juanita burst from the shadows. With two quick thrusts, Faith sliced two deep gashes in her left cheek in the shape of a cross before Juanita toppled her to the floor, the knife clattering across the tiles out of Faith’s reach. Viper charged out of the house and gnashed at Juanita’s hand, its bark fanged and feral, its eyes yellow and frantic.
“Basta,” Salazar screamed at the dog, and the animal backed off.
Juanita jumped up, cradling her chewed hand, and yelled, “That monster bit me.”
Salazar rushed to Faith with a handkerchief. “What have you done? Why, Faith? Why?”
When he tried to dab at her face, she pushed his hand away. She raised herself on one elbow, her eyes glassy and distant, the shoulder of her smock spattered with blood,
her cheek stinging with fire.
Vexed, Salazar rested a hand against his forehead, before motioning to Juanita. “Help me get her inside,” he said.
They lifted Faith from the floor. Her head spun, and her legs wobbled. “My uncle will come for me,” she mumbled, and then she staggered into the house, pressing her hands against her bloody cheek.
CHAPTER 18 RIDING TO THE MEETING
Emmet and Kingston had five more miles to travel before the road forked and they parted company. In the distance, a layer of clouds wreathed the hills. Patches of blue sky poked through the gray where the sun had burned off the morning mist.
“Thanks again for coming,” Kingston said.
“You know my feelings about this,” Emmet said. “You’re going in there with blind hope. You might come out a sheared sheep.”
“I’d rather put myself in danger instead of Faith. A bad peace is better than a good war. If they agree to ransom, there’ll be no need to fight.”
“Not unless we want to free the other girls,” Emmet said.
“We can make that decision after Faith is safe.”
“Too bad the other females don’t have rich uncles,” Emmet said. He reached for his canteen, popped the cap, and took a swig.
“What are you saying? That I’m heartless because I don’t help all the girls?”
Emmet sleeved his mouth. “I know that you’d tear the world apart for your family’s sake. But Faith ain’t my kin, so it’s hard for me to isolate her plight from the rest of the girls.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Those girls are all in the same wagon that’s about to roll off the same cliff. Each of us is guilty of the good we don’t do, Major. To my mind, we’re obliged to help them all.”
“If I had enough money, I’d ransom them all; you know that, Emmet. But that won’t stop Salazar and Garza from abducting more girls after we’ve gone.”
“That’s my point,” Emmet said. “You could ransom Faith and call it a day, or we could rescue those girls and run for the hills. Or we could take the cousins on and wipe them out. We could end Salazar’s reign of terror. We have the men, the weapons, and the element of surprise.”
“Rescuing those girls is a tricky business, Emmet, let alone with bullets and cannonballs flying through the air. What if something went wrong? Would you want the blood of an innocent child on your hands?” Kingston caught himself. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Emmet spat on the ground. “I know what you meant.”
Neither man spoke for several minutes, listening instead to the soft squeak of saddle leather and the hollow clop of hooves on hardpan. Emmet caught the sweet scent of purple wisteria and took a deep breath just as a cottontail raced across the trail.
Kingston broke the silence. “Every man has a madness of his own. Reno told me that for Salazar, it’s money.”
“Reno told you that, huh? And what if he’s wrong. What if Salazar is about power or lust or something else?”
“I need to try and ransom Faith. It’s the safest way to free her.”
“You’re going in with no weapon. That’s suicide.”
“Listen, Emmet. I have to make this deal. Once I get Faith out of harm’s way, we’ll attack Salazar and rescue the rest of the girls. Let me share with you my battle plan for doing just that.”
For the next twenty minutes, Emmet listened as Kingston described his strategy to attack the estate and free the girls. He marveled at the King’s attention to detail, and his sense of timing and positioning. When he finished, Kingston asked, “Got it?”
The idea of attacking the estate quickened Emmet’s pulse. He harbored a burning ache to go to battle, free all the girls, crush the cousins’ operation, kill Garza, and, to top it, avenge Mariana. “Got it,” he replied.
The men reached the fork. Kingston’s southern trail continued forward to Salazar’s hacienda; Emmet’s western trail veered to the right. Kingston slid his spyglass out of a saddlebag, handed it to Emmet, and said, “I’ll meet you back at Reno’s after Salazar and I conclude our business—with or without Faith. As my dear departed sister would say, hope for a miracle.” Kingston doffed his black Stetson as he rode away.
“I’ll hope for a miracle,” Emmet yelled back, “but I ain’t gonna rely on one.” He stuffed the spyglass into his saddlebag, reined Ruby Red onto the high trail, and began his climb into the hills.
CHAPTER 19 AT FAITH’S BEDSIDE
Salazar stood outside the guest bedroom and rapped the door twice with his knuckle.
“Come in.”
He eased the door open and saw Faith sleeping, with Juanita perched beside the bed in an elbowed armchair. Sunlight flooded the room, and a vase of fresh roses occupied the windowsill. Salazar winced when he saw the strips of fresh gauze across the girl’s cheek. He noticed her bloody smock had been replaced.
“How is she?” he asked, as he closed the door and stood next to Juanita.
“The bleeding’s stopped, but the cuts are deep. She will always have a nasty scar.”
Salazar detected the acrid smell of carbolic acid in the air before he noticed the bottle of crystals on the bed stand. “Did you also put aloe vera on the bandages?”
Juanita nodded.
“Is there anything else we can do?”
“The wounds will take time to heal. Once the scabs form, I’ll treat them with mimosa extract. It’s supposed to promote healthy scar tissue.”
“How is your arm?”
The chair creaked when Juanita slid back in it. “That vicious animal took a bite out of me,” she said without looking up.
“I’m sorry. You saw the girl save the dog when he was choking. I think Viper was only trying to protect her.”
“I’ll be all right,” Juanita said, but Salazar still detected irritation in her voice. He moved to the foot of the bed.
“The girl will be all right, too,” Juanita said. “She’ll heal. She’s strong. The difficult part will be looking at her face.”
He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, sighed. “Why did she do it?”
“To hurt you.”
“But I would never harm her.”
“She doesn’t know that. Her parents are dead because of . . .”
“Garza.” Salazar interjected the word before Juanita could finish the sentence. He twisted his body to look at the older woman. “Do you think I’d ever harm her?”
Juanita rubbed her hands across her apron and lifted her tired eyes. “You’d never harm her. In fact, I believe you care for her.”
Salazar turned back to the sleeping girl. “I do,” he said. “I have big plans for her. I believe she has a gift for healing.”
“I’m not sure she wants to be part of your plans.”
Salazar glared at Juanita but then softened his look. “My grandmother was a curandero,” he said. “She knew much about natural medicine, although she’d be treating those cuts with spider webs instead of aloe vera.”
“Medicine has changed since your grandmother’s time.”
“And this girl knows a lot about the modern ways, and it’s not just what her mother taught her. She has a sympathy that I marvel at. It’s like she understands pain—physical and mental—and how to relieve it.”
“Yet she disfigures herself,” Juanita said sweeping her right hand over the girl.
“The bandages don’t bother me,” Salazar said, “and neither will the scar. Different kinds of power exist in the world: physical strength, wealth, knowledge. But it’s the power inside her I desire the most. It’s the power my grandmother had—a type of fearlessness.”
Juanita stroked the girl’s hair. “I met your grandmother once,” she said. “My mother brought me to her when I was a child.”
‘What was wrong with you?”
“Fever. I remember entering her house. It was dark and cluttered and smelled of orange blossoms and rosemary sprigs. She gave me something to drink. I fell asleep, and when I woke, the fever was gone.”<
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“I remember her gnarled hands,” Salazar said. “She never let the rheumatism get the best of her. Her fingers may have been curled and knobbed, but they gave off warmth, and I could feel the healing begin as soon as she touched me. Other people said the same thing.”
“She was good to everybody, Señor, just like you.”
Salazar smiled at the compliment.
“I’ll always be grateful to you,” Juanita continued, “for taking me in when I lost my family.”
“I had money and was able to help you,” Salazar answered, “although you may disagree with how I make my money.”
“It’s none of my business how you make your money.”
“You’ve always been a good servant, Juanita. You tend this place with great care.”
“I had once hoped to be more than just a good servant to you.”
He shook his head. “I never thought of you that way.”
Her face went dark. She bowed her head, and her shoulders sagged. Salazar knew his words hurt her and decided to shift the subject.
“Any advice on how I can win Miss Wheeler over?”
Juanita’s face went darker still. “Release the rest of the girls,” she said in a cold, snow-crusted voice.
Salazar shook his head. “Impossible. Too much money at stake.”
“Must you make money that way?”
Her comment triggered Salazar’s temper. He leaned into the woman and said, “You were right the first time. It’s none of your business how I make my money.”
Juanita clasped her hands and looked away. “Then treat her kindly,” she whispered. “Her family is dead, and she’s all alone.”
Salazar straightened and looked down at the older woman, her eyes now brimming with tears, her skin paper thin, her hair pulled tight against her skull. He let her squirm under his gaze for several more moments. The quiet broke when the girl began to stir.
“I’m going now,” he said. “I’m sure Miss Wheeler doesn’t want to wake up to a crowd.”
Salazar maneuvered around Juanita without touching her. He opened the door but swiveled his head back. “She’s not completely alone, you know. She has an uncle, and, as it turns out, I’m going to meet with him right now.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
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