Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (31 page)

“And you know she was half-Apache. Her mama was raped during a raid. I guess a little dark, half-Indian child was never really welcome in that family of blond people. I suppose she always reminded them all of her mother’s shame.”

“Like I did,” he said without thinking. For a moment, he saw Lidah Anson in a different light, as the unwanted girl who had gotten mixed up with the first man who’d offered her a little affection. Then her lover had deserted her and her family had thrown her out. “I wish I had known. I wish . . .”

Hell, what did it matter now? It was too late for all the words that had been unspoken between mother and son. At the very last, she had tried to tell him as she’d died. Only then did he know it wasn’t dysentery.
A smell almost like garlic, the telltale scent of poisonous lucifer matches.

At the last moment, Lidah had pressed the coin into his hands, whispered only that one word, ‘sokol.’ Then she had smiled as if she’d seen something, someone, waiting on the other side of the life she was exiting, someone who waited for her alone.

“Handsome, your mama did what she did to survive, always hoping he would come back for both of you. At the end, she sort of gave up hope, figured she’d been a fool, only a moment’s pleasure for a man.”

He clenched his fist, slammed it hard against the buggy until his flesh stung. “If I knew who he was, where he was, I’d hunt him down!”

“Maybe he’s dead. You ever think of that? The Mexican War, the Civil War. Maybe he was a Texas Ranger or a soldier who got killed before he could come back.”

Bandit looked away, imagining a big blond Texan riding off with the Rangers never to return, while his mother waited for a dead man. And that made him feel a little better, to think that he and his mother might not have been deliberately deserted by a man without honor—a man who would take advantage of a very young, very unhappy girl and never mean a word he said.

“I got one more thing to tell you, Handsome.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “My God, there’s more? Mona, you are full of surprises!” He took out the small coin, flipping it over and over in his palm.

“You . . . you’re gonna hate me for this.” She ran her tongue across her lips nervously.

“Try me.” He stopped flipping the coin, stared down at her.

“Bandit, have you ever thought about how Lidah found out about the lucifer matches?”

He cocked his head. What was she trying to tell him? “Really never gave it much thought.”

“I—that is, did you know my old man was a druggist in New Orleans?”

“So?”

She wrung her hands together. “When I mentioned to Lidah—we were just talking—about yellow phosphorus being used in fireworks, rat poison, and matches, I never realized what she would do with that knowledge. If I’d only known . . .”

He stared down at her, the coin clenched tightly in his hand. He was not quite sure what he felt. Then he shook his head. “If that’s been worryin’ you, forget it. If she wanted to die, she’d have found some other way. It was her decision. God, she must have been so unhappy!”

“But if I hadn’t told her about the matches, she’d be alive now.”

“Would she?” He reached out, patted her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Mona. Maybe she was just tired of living, tired of what she had to do to eat, tired of waiting for him.” He turned away, swallowed hard. Until he had met Amethyst, he could not have imagined a love that could last that long, make one suffer so.

What difference did it all make now? “You’ve got to get back, Mona. Someone will be looking for you, and it’d be bad for us to be found together. I’m gonna ride over and see Amethyst, then finish up at Falcon’s Lair.”

Tears ran down Mona’s face and she chewed her lip in a seeming agony of indecision. “Bandit, about the matches, there’s something else I should tell—”

“God damn it! I said forget it!”

She cringed before his anger, swallowed hard. “Will I ever see you again, Handsome?”

He shook his head, dropped the coin back into his pocket. “Reckon not. You be a good girl, you hear? Make that old man a good wife, be kind to Amethyst. You got a good life ahead of you, and no one knows your past.”

“There’s something I should tell you about Ro-eros—”

“I know what a villain he is. I’ll take care of things.” Would he? Just what was he going to do about the gaunt foreman?

“Handsome, would you kiss me good-bye, for all we’ve meant to each other, for old times’ sake?”

“For old times’ sake, Mona.” And he took her in his arms, kissed her. She clung to him, sobbing.

“Now, now.” He stroked her shaking shoulders. “None of that. You’re finally going to get to be a
real
lady.”

“A
real
lady.” She was shaking in his arms, pressing her face against his shirt. “Who’d ever believe poor little Mona Dulaney from the slums of New Orleans would get to be a real lady? But oh, Handsome, I’d give it all up for you!”

He kissed her eyelids gently. “Good-bye, Mona. Think of me sometimes in the years to come. And if you believe in that sort of thing, light a candle for me now and then.”

“If you’ll do the same for me.” She clung to him.

Firmly, he turned her around, steered her to the buggy, and lifted her onto the seat. “Good-bye, Mona.” He slapped the dozing bay horse lightly with his hand and it started away at a trot.

She didn’t look back, but he stared after her as the buggy grew smaller, smaller. Her shoulders still shook as she disappeared over the rim of the horizon.

Now what? He went over to the big pinto tied at the edge of the mesquite grove. “Well, old hoss, now all that’s left is to find Amethyst, tell her—”

“Tell her what?” Glaring at him, Amethyst led her
Paso Fino
mare out of the brush.

His heart plummeted with despair. “How long you been sneaking around in the brush like an armadillo?”

“Sneaking!” Her face went livid. “You’re meeting my papa’s fiancee for lovemaking in the woods and you want to talk about sneaking!”

“Never mind.” He sighed and disgustedly waved his hand. “I reckon that answers my question. Aimée, it’s not what you think—”

“Do you take me for a complete fool?” Standing on tiptoe, she looked right up into his face. “I was awake that night you climbed her balcony after the fiesta, and—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went to bed right after the fiesta.”

“Dammit, I know that!” she screamed up at him. “The question is, whose bed? You’re telling me there’s more than one horse like that stallion?”

Now Bandit really was baffled. He remembered the morning after the fiesta, his puzzlement over finding that the pinto had been put away without proper care.
What was it Romeros had said about the horse and that bull?

“Answer me!” Amethyst shrieked, pounding on his chest in her fury. “I saw you kiss her just now! Do you deny you know that girl?”

He tried to shy away, caught her flaying fists, pulled her against him. “Dammit, Aimée, listen to me!”

“I’m tired of listening to you!” She struggled to break free. “I keep trying to believe you, trust you; and you keep lying to me! Do you deny that Monique or Mona, or whoever the hell she is, is part of your past?”

“No.” He said it so softly she paused, looked surprised. “I don’t deny it. But I’ll tell you this, sweet, since the first moment I saw you, I’ve had eyes for no other. I’ve never been unfaithful to you.”

For a moment, she seemed to hesitate as he clasped her hands so she couldn’t hit him, then her face hardened. “I just can’t trust you anymore, not after what I just saw.”

He had all the trouble he needed, and what difference did it make what she thought of him now that he was leaving? He let go of her hands. “I was coming to tell you that I’m going away.”

“And taking that redhead with you?”

“Will you never stop?” he snapped, glaring down into her eyes. “No, she’s not going with me. I met with her to make sure she didn’t try to send you back to that convent again.”

Amethyst looked up at him, her emotions in confusion. What she’d felt when she’d seen him kissing Monique was jealousy—she was willing to admit it—sheer jealousy. “You know, I hoped at one time you two would run away together.”

“Well, sweet, you’re getting half your wish.” He stuck his thumbs in his gun belt. “Tell everyone you broke the engagement. That way, there’s no humiliation for you. Mona will fix it with your papa, and I’ll straighten everything out with Señor Falcon before I go.”

She felt her heart lurch. “I—I thought you were bluffing. You really are going away? Why?”

His jaw worked and the cleft in his chin deepened. “It don’t make no never mind, Aimée. You said yourself we come from two different worlds, that we don’t belong together.”

“Is that why you’re leaving?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have time for explanations. That trio of pistoleros Señor Muñoz mentioned at the dinner is lookin’ for me. I’d hoped they’d never track me this far but it looks like they did. So I’m movin’ on.”

“But my papa has many vaqueros, so does Señor Falcon, we could—”

“I think we’ve been through this before, sweet. My mind’s made up. I’ve got things to take care of back at Falcon’s Lair; then I’ll be riding out.”

She saw all the long, empty years ahead of her. “Oh, Texas, will you ever come back?”

“I reckon I’d be lyin’ if I said
sí
. You find another man, someone from your own class, with wealth and family position. But I’ll never forget you, Aimée. Whenever I see little wild violets, I’ll think of you.”

She forgot her anger, her jealousy, forgot everything but the fact that she was about to lose him forever. She threw herself into his arms, clung to him. “But the old Falcons, I thought you loved them.”

He smiled, rumpled her hair. No longer was he the swaggering, cocky pistolero. The façade dropped away and she saw the hurt, the regret in his eyes. “I always dreamed that someday I would find my family, Aimée, and I love that old couple as if they were my own blood. What I’ve done to them is rotten. There’s more to the story, much more. If you knew the whole truth—”

She cut off his words with her kiss. “Whatever it is, I don’t care, you hear me? I don’t care! I love you, Texas! Take me with you.”

For a moment as his lips brushed her face, he seemed to weaken. “Oh, if I only could! No.” He shook his head, held her at arm’s length. “I couldn’t do that to you, Aimée. I’m a man on the run. I won’t expose you to danger.”

“But it isn’t fair.” She clung to him, sobbing. “All these years I’ve waited for you, not even knowing who you were or when you would come along. Then, like a miracle, you drop into my life, and now you drop out again! It isn’t fair!”

She felt his lips brush her hair. “Life isn’t always fair, Aimée. But we’ve had almost three weeks of the deepest kind of love. Most people never even experience that.” He kissed her again. “Don’t cry, sweet. I can’t stand to hear you cry.”

“Where will you go? What will you do?” She would not let him escape from her embrace so he could leave.

But he caught her hands, pulled them away. “I’m a survivor, sweet, I’ll make out.” He bent to kiss her one more time, then turned away resolutely, swung upon the big pinto.

She looked up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “I hate you for doing this.”

“I don’t hate you.” He leaned on his saddle horn. “I love you, Aimée. That’s what gives me the strength to, finally, do the honorable thing.”

Her chest hurt so, she thought she must be dying. She felt torn between love and anger. “My heart is breaking and you speak of honor?”

“Sweet, my heart is already broken,” he said, and then he turned his horse, cantered away. She stared after him, thinking that his shoulders shook as if he were crying.

For a long time after he was gone, she looked at the empty horizon, feeling drained, too drained even to hurt. Dully, she mounted Heartaches, rode along the edge of the mesquite grove.

Ringo held his finger before his lips to warn the other two to keep quiet as they watched the girl riding closer.

“Dagnab it,” Petty whispered, “why didn’t we go ahead and gun him down ‘stead of just watchin’ him kiss the little old gal?”

Big ’Un growled, “You filthy Reb! He’s the only one who knows where he’s hid our money. He ain’t stupid enough to have it on him.”

Ringo again gestured for silence. The girl was close now. Her head was down, but a blind man could see she was a classy gal, pretty, too. He ran the back of his shaking hand over his unshaven face. A few years ago, he would have given that little gal the ride of her life, but now she’d laugh at his vain attempts. All he really wanted was a drink. “I got me an idea.”

Big ’Un laughed softly. “I hope it includes that purty gal.”

Petty pulled out his watch. “We gonna hide here like a pack of skulking wolves all day, Ringo?”

“No.” Ringo smiled, keeping his eyes on the girl. “What we’re gonna do is catch his woman, hold her for ransom until he gives our money back!”

Big ’Un clapped him on the shoulder. “Ringo, you are sure a smart one! And while we’re waitin’ for him to bring the money, do you suppose we could enjoy that gal a little?”

Ringo watched her riding closer. “Maybe,” he said. “Now let’s move, and don’t nobody fire a shot! We don’t want that Texan turnin’ around and comin’ back to stop us!”

Amethyst was lost in thought as she walked Heartaches toward the edge of the mesquite grove. Her emotions were in turmoil. After having spent the last few days trying to discourage him, trying to convince him she’d never marry him, why was her heart in such pain now that Bandit was finally leaving? Wasn’t that what she wanted?

She turned in the saddle, looked after him; but the big pistolero had already disappeared over the rise, heading toward the Falcon ranch. Should she turn and gallop after him? Should she go home, throw a few things together, and intercept him as he rode out?

Face it, Amethyst, she thought, if he’d wanted you tagging along, he would have insisted—no, demanded—that you go with him. All his talk about how much he’d cared about her was just that: talk. She looked down at her small ring, turned it over and over as she rode. Every time she looked at it now, every time she smelled or saw wild violets, she would think of him.

Her mare’s ears went up, and the animal whinnied as she walked. Amethyst patted her blood bay neck absently. “It won’t do you any good to protest either, girl,” she whispered. “I’m afraid he’s taking Blue Eyes with him.”

But up in the brush ahead, a horse answered the whinny and Amethyst started, reined in, looked around. She wasn’t used to going anywhere alone, but today she’d managed to give grumpy Mrs. Wentworth the slip. The dour chaperone thought she was up in her room, quietly doing needlework. Amethyst had been in such a rush to follow Monique and see where the redhead was going, she hadn’t told anyone she was leaving. It was probably just some of the ranch horses grazing somewhere up ahead. This morning, the vaqueros had moved the old fighting bull to a pen next to the barn, so it couldn’t be him grazing in the undergrowth.

Nudging the dainty
Paso Fino
in the sides, she continued on through the brush, heading back toward the hacienda. It was foolish to be nervous, she thought, brushing a stray curl back under her jaunty riding hat. As powerful as her papa was, anyone who bothered her would be risking his life.

The mare started again; her dainty ears went up.

Santa María!
There ahead on the ground lay a man, groaning softly, a horse grazing near his prone form.
What had happened? Was he hurt?

She reined in, dismounted, grabbed her canteen. “Hombre, are you hurt? I’m coming!”

He was a short, heavy man in a worn Confederate gray jacket. She knelt beside him, struggled to turn him over. An
americano
. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

He only groaned again. She checked for blood, didn’t see any. Holding his bearded face in her lap, she struggled to get the top off her canteen. She’d give him a drink and then ride for help. Maybe bandidos had waylaid him and—

Two big shadows loomed over her suddenly, blocking out the bright sunlight. She jerked her head up, saw their grinning faces, opened her mouth to cry out.

“No you don’t, sister!” The big one in a Union blue jacket grabbed her, clapped a dirty hand over her mouth as she fought and bit.

The squat one in gray leaped up, crowing with triumph. “Ringo, I do declare you’re a smart one, you are! Just like you said, it was like luring a pigeon into a baited trap!”

Terror made Amethyst’s heart pound hard as she struggled. If she could just get that filthy hand off her mouth and scream, Bandit might still be close enough to hear her and come galloping back. She bit the dirty fingers.

The big Yankee swore violently, cuffed her across the face until her ears rang, then clamped his hand over her mouth again even as she tried to scream. She tasted blood from her cut lip.

“Be careful, Big ’Un,” the aging gunfighter snapped. “You might really hurt her! The Texan might not pay to get her back if she’s all bruised up.”

The short Rebel leered and winked. “Ringo, ah’d like to bruise her up some, right between those slim, purty legs!”

“Oh hell, Petty,” Ringo snarled, “I swear you don’t never think of anything else!”

Big ’Un laughed. “Sounds good to me!”

Petty pulled out a gold watch, looked at it. “We need to get a move on.”

Amethyst renewed her struggles, her pulse pounding so hard in her ears, she could hardly hear what the men said. What was it they wanted? What did they intend to do with her? The leer on the short one’s face left no doubt as to what he was thinking. The big one holding her ran his hands across her breasts, over the lilac-colored corded silk riding outfit.

She was an aristocrat! How dare they treat her this way! No man had ever put his hands on her breasts except the Texan. She managed to work her mouth free. “Bandit will kill you Tor touching—”

But before she could scream for help, the aging gunfighter tore off part of her hem, stuffed it in her mouth. Amethyst looked back at him with wide, frightened eyes. He leaned over, picked up her perky hat, and put it back on her head.

“We need to get outa here,” he grumbled to the others, and the big one forced her hands behind her, tied her wrists together. “If a bunch of vaqueros come after us—or that big Texan—we want to’ve picked the place to fight. Don’t forget we’re in their territory where they can get plenty of help!”

Big ’Un easily lifted her from the ground, ran his hands over her breasts, down between her legs. “Let’s just have a quick one, Ringo,” he pleaded, “We could all be finished with her in ten minutes.”

Ringo swore at him, pulled the girl from her grasp. “I swear you carry most of your brains between your legs, both of you! We got no time for that now. We’ll head back north where he’ll have to come to us!”

Amethyst tried to get the gag from her mouth so she could tell them she had no money with her to steal. Then it occurred to her that they were speaking of Papa, knew he was rich. They were going to hold her for ransom. She thought of poor little Tony Falcon, kidnapped and held for ransom sixteen years ago and never seen again.

But, with the gag in her mouth, she could only mumble as Ringo threw her across her horse and reached beneath its belly to tie her hands and feet together. The saddle cut into her soft body.

“Mount up,” Ringo commanded.

As Petty passed her horse, he reached out and ran his hand up under her riding outfit to pinch her bottom. “How long you figure we got to ride, Ringo, before we’re safe enough to stop and sample this little hot tamale?”

Amethyst had never felt such fury. Her papa was a rich and powerful man, as was Señor Falcon. The two Spanish patróns could torture these three men to death, shoot them, extract any justice they chose, and no Federales would interfere. Yet they had patted and pinched her as if she were the cheapest prostitute. She imagined the anger on Bandit’s face if he’d seen them pawing her. Amethyst tried to kick Petty even with her hands and feet tied.

Big ’Un swore. “Hell, ain’t seen such spirit since the Mescalero Apache girl.”

“I swear, aren’t you two ever gonna hush about that?” Ringo said, taking off his hat, scratching his head. “I get sick of hearing it!”

“Nagnab it,” Petty patted the hilt of the rusty butcher knife stuck in his belt, then swung up on his horse. “We can think up ways to take some of that fight out of her when we camp tonight.”

Big ’Un leaned on his saddle horn, turning his bayonet over and over in his hands. “I’ll bet we can, too, Petty.”

Ringo mounted a gray gelding. “As far as we got to go, I don’t imagine either of you two will be interested in riding her tonight.”

Petty ran his fingers through his tangled beard. “With a sweet little saddle like she’s got? Speak for yourself, Ringo.”

Where were they taking her? What did they want? Amethyst had never been so frightened in her whole, protected life.

Ringo led the procession, holding her mare’s reins. “Quit thinking about that, you two. We gotta clear outa this area before she’s missed and the Federales or a hundred vaqueros start combing the countryside for her. When we get farther north, back to our camp, we’ll send a message to the Texan that we got her and are open to bargain.”

Dangling down the side of her horse, Amethyst, miserably uncomfortable, was still trying to figure out what they wanted. And then it dawned on her. This was the trio of renegades Bandit had been worried about.

Petty guided his horse in behind hers as they rode through the brush single file. “What if he don’t care enough about her to come?”

Big ’Un snorted. “Did you see how he was holding her, closer than his skin? You better believe he cares about her. And the way she was all over him, I reckon she cares about him, too.”

Petty drawled, “Maybe she’s just hot for a man.”

“Then I’ll take care of that tonight, Reb,” the big outlaw said.

“You damned Yankee!” Petty bellowed. “I get her first!”

“I swear,” Ringo said, “if you two don’t stop fussin’, someday I’m just gonna let you fight it out until one of you kills the other!”

“Nagnab it,” Petty mused, “you suppose that Texan really wants her back bad enough to pay twenty-five thousand dollars for her?”

Ringo shrugged. “If she was your’n, wouldn’t you pay?”

Petty laughed. “I’ll let you know after I try a little sample tonight!”

Amethyst hung dizzily, her head flopping down the side of her horse. She had lost her hat, and it had been squashed flat by her horse’s hooves. Then her hair pins had gradually come loose as they rode along and now her long, black hair almost dragged the ground. The blood seemed to pound and roar in her ears so that she barely heard the jibes and innuendos of the three desperadoes. What on earth did they want? How was Bandit involved? And what was this about twenty-five thousand dollars? They were going to try to use her to trap him, that she knew, and she was scared for both of them. Oh, Texas, she thought, you didn’t move fast enough!

She had never been so miserable in her life. The saddle cut into her, and she soon developed a headache from dangling over the side of her horse. She could only be thankful that when her mare broke into its smooth,
paso largo
gait, it was much more comfortable than any other horse’s lope. Still Heartaches’ hooves churned up dust that smothered her when she breathed, and the gag choked her. As the sun beat down on her back, she began fantasizing about cold, clean water—big pitchers full.

Hours passed as the four of them rode north. The May sun seemed to cook Amethyst even through her clothes, and she wondered if the back of her neck was sunburned. Finally, she didn’t think or care about anything except getting out of the position she was in.

Once they stopped, gave her a bite to eat, let her relieve herself in the bushes, and then tied her back on the horse even though she begged for mercy. She didn’t care if they raped or killed her anymore, she just didn’t want to be tied like a sack of potatoes across Heartaches’ saddle horn. The trio had only laughed at her pleas, and only the Paso Fino’s unusual gait kept her from being bruised black.

Once when they stopped to eat, Petty looked at her again, reached for a dip of snuff. “Ringo, you think we’re far enough away so’s we might take a minute out to enjoy this gal?”

Amethyst stiffened with fear, tried to look haughty. “You will be sorry if you touch me!”

“Ain’t she a feisty one, though!” The big Yankee scratched himself. “Reb, I’ll play you a hand of cards to see who gets her first tonight.”

Petty swore. “You damned Yankee. You think I don’t remember how the Kid taught you to cheat at cards? Anyone who’d cheat at cards would steal the butter off a sick nigger’s buscuit!”

Big ’Un put his hand on the hilt of the bayonet in his belt. “You take that back, you poor white trash!”

“Well, ain’t it the truth? You seen what his cheatin’ got him. You wanta see what it’d get you?” Petty pulled out the butcher knife.

Ringo stepped in between them. “I swear I’m damned tired of this constant wrangling. You know what? I think you’re both a pair of cowards! I don’t think I could melt either of you and pour you on the other!”

The two men circled each other like fighting dogs while Amethyst watched. As long as they were concentrating on their hate for each other and the third one was trying to keep them from fighting, maybe they’d forget about her.

Ringo reached into his saddlebags, got out a flask of whiskey, his hand shaking as he tipped it back, took a gulp. “We go no time for this,” he scolded the others. “When we get up to our camp, then you two can fuss. I wanta be able to hightail it across the border if anything goes wrong.”

Petty smiled at Amethyst, snuff dripping down his chin, turning his dirty beard dark. “Ringo, you ain’t gonna make us give her back, are you?”

She tried not to show fear as she listened.

Ringo rolled a cigarette with a shaking hand, spilled a lot of tobacco. “Haven’t decided yet. Mostly I want that payroll and that Texan’s hide.”

Big ’Un stuck his face close to hers, grinned. “I figure we can trick him out of the money, kill him, and keep the girl, too. Woman’s mighty handy around a camp, washin’ and cookin’.”

Petty laughed and slapped his thigh. “That ain’t what I had in mind! But sure, she can do them things, too. We can keep her ’til we get tired of her, then trade her off to the Comanchero. Pedro got the Kid the horse, I imagine he’d have a customer for a pretty girl, too.”

Amethyst was determined not to let them know how frightened she was. She didn’t understand what they’d said about a payroll, or most of the rest of their talk. What she did understand was that she was to become their slave, and that she might be traded off to the dreaded Comanchero, those mixed-breed renegades who’d do anything for money. Worse than that, these men obviously intended to ambush and kill Bandit if he tried to rescue her. She stopped worrying about her own safety, began to think of what she could do to help him.

Ringo took another drink. “I think I remember a few peons’ huts up there ahead where we can get some hot food, find a messenger. I’m gonna untie her, make her sit up in her saddle like she was just riding along with us so as not to arouse suspicion.”

At that point, Amethyst was so sore and bruised, she felt grateful for the smallest favor.