A Lady Bought with Rifles (40 page)

He desired me, but he also had visions of wealth. At this point I wasn't going to balk at hints that might swing the balance. “Yes,” I repeated. “The señor would be grateful. As would I, Colonel, though I would express my gratitude in a different manner.”

He caught his breath. Passion radiated from him. “Doña Miranda, if I could believe that—” His thin hawk face appeared to swell, and he touched his tongue to his lips. “Not that I doubt your word, but once your husband is released certain things might prove difficult.” He bowed over my hand, but turned up the palm and kissed it lingeringly. “Let me pursue my investigation this afternoon. Then if you will allow me to call this evening, we can discuss it thoroughly.”

He meant to collect in advance. And there was no way to ensure he'd keep the bargain. But I thought of the
burros
and Caguama and steeled myself to do whatever was required in order to leave with a clear conscience about Court. Strange, I was his wife, he was the only man who had ever had me except for that single time with Trace, yet it wasn't to him I felt unfaithful, but to Trace, when I thought of sleeping with Ruiz.

“May I see my husband?” I asked again.

Ruiz laughed. “There will be time for that when my investigation is complete. But in all other things, beautiful lady, I am at your orders.”

Stifling a rude one, I turned and walked back to the house. I had made a grand muddle, but at least Court's death wouldn't be on my head and I would tell the Seri to be ready to leave at any moment after dark, though the heavy doomed feeling weighing down on me made me admit Ruiz might not leave till morning.

I would ask him to write an order for Court's release and request that I might be allowed to surprise Court with it. That way I could leave the order with Dr. Trent and ask him to deliver it after I'd been gone at least eight hours.

Crossing to the patio, I found Caguama showing Jon and a friend how to make harpoon barbs of ironwood. “You killed a sea turtle as big as
you?
” Jon was asking, round-eyed.

“Tall as me and much fatter,” Caguama grinned. Leaving the boys to admire the sculptured prong, he rose and came to me.

I explained in a few words that Court was under military arrest, but that I hoped to arrange his freedom that evening with Colonel Ruiz and as soon as that was done, we would leave.

“Do not worry,” the young Indian said. “I have the
burros
in the stable, and everything ready. I will sleep at the door of Juanito's room, lady, and carry him out when you are ready.”

If he had any notion of what arranging I must do with Ruiz, he mercifully gave no hint, though his light brown eyes were concerned. “Try to sleep,” he urged. “You need to be strong tonight.”

More than he knew. But along with my dread of that interlude with Ruiz and anxieties about the arduous journey, exhilaration—a sense of life, returning freedom—was waking in me. It was as if after years of numbed existence with Court I was starting to breathe again, feel blood pulsing fresh and eager.

If only Trace were alive! But at least I had his son. And tonight or early tomorrow we would leave what had been a singular kind of prison. I filled my lungs with air, hugged Jon as he ran to show me the harpoon barb, and went to write one letter to Court and another to Dr. Trent.

In the message to Court I said that I was taking Jon to the United States and that he should no longer consider me his wife. In time my legal representative would contact him about divorce and a division of property. “You know Jon is not your son,” I wrote. “I believe this is really why you wish to send him away. The antipathy could only grow as he becomes older and embitter all our lives. You forced me to marriage but you've been kind to Jon. Let's cry quits and wish each other well.”

I asked Dr. Trent to try to reconcile Court to my permanent absence, thanked him for his friendship during the years at Mina Rara, and put Court's letter inside his for delivery.

Pausing, I checked preparations. In the armoire my divided leather riding skirt, copied after the one Tula had taken from me, hung with a cotton shirt above my oldest and most comfortable boots, wide-brimmed felt hat, and the pouch of jewelry and gold. Jon's travel clothes were ready on a shelf in his room. I could help him dress,' briefly explaining the journey, while Caguama got the
burros
loaded.

That left getting Court's release and the letters to Dr. Trent. I decided to entrust that trip to Raquel. No danger of her trying to stop my flight. She'd be delighted to have Court to herself and she could also be relied on to see that the doctor carried out his mission promptly, though again she wouldn't rush Court's freedom prematurely for fear of his overtaking me. How perfectly her interests and mine coincided! I could almost chuckle over it as I sought her out.

She assumed that I was riding to Hermosillo and from there would take a train to Arizona. That would be a useful impression for Court, so I didn't correct it. Her distress over Court's detention was slightly overbalanced by my assurances that he would be released and by my plans to go away. This she plainly considered lunacy, but it was not her duty to remonstrate with the mad.

Dr. Trent appeared late that afternoon, slightly disheveled, for he'd come straight from the cantina where rumors of Court's arrest were rife. He hadn't had time to drink to befuddlement, so I explained that I was sure the colonel would release Court by the next day.

“
La mordida
, hey?” rumbled the doctor. “A bribe? Disgusting, but a wonder it hasn't happened before, what with the mine working quite a few Yaquis.” His face clouded suddenly and his watery eyes fixed on me with unusual sharpness. “Ruiz has always fancied you, Miranda. Is that beggar—”

“He's not asking what I can't give.”

After six years with a man I didn't love, another night wouldn't kill me. I'd learned to handle the unthinkable by not thinking about it—not a good choice for free people, but a way for prisoners to at least endure.

I was tempted to tell this old man who'd shared his books and thoughts with me, much lightening my captivity, that I was going away, but I feared he'd never understand and might feel he had a responsibility either to stop me or to come along. So I gave him cakes and tea and kissed him affectionately on the cheek when he departed.

“Bless us!” he said in pleased confusion. “If having old Court off the scene gets me treats like that, I don't know why I'm worrying about it. But if you have any trouble with the colonel, Miranda, break a window or scream or something.”

I laughed and kissed him again. “There won't be any trouble, Doctor.”

That was more confident than I felt.

Court was often needed at the mine mealtimes so when Jon asked where he was, he accepted my answer that Court was busy. We had a simple meal of soup, chicken, and fruit in the patio, I read him a story, and by twilight he was rubbing his eyes and only put up a token argument when I tucked him in. Later, after Chepa and Raquel retired, Caguama would spread his mat by Jon's door.

I had believed myself stoically able to receive Ruiz, but as the house darkened and voices ceased, a kind of horror grew in me, dread of the colonel, fear that he might trick me, fear of the journey we faced even if everything else went smoothly; mounting irrational terror where night and Ruiz and the unknown all mingled in cold threatening darkness, surging against my intelligence and will. Each time I fought it back, a bit more of my strength crumbled, and before I could brace myself firmly, it overwhelmed me.

Lighting lamps in the
sala
, I poured myself a shot of straight whiskey, though usually I didn't drink except for wine, paced out on the veranda, and sipped it, welcoming the stinging warmth that spread from throat to belly.

Better, much better. I didn't feel so cold. How did Ruiz expect the tryst to go? I still wore my daytime dress, but a robe and some perfume might hasten the inevitable.

The only part of the impending call that I'd prepared for was pen and paper prominently laid out on a table near the decanters. If Ruiz was willing to blackmail his way into my bed, he'd hardly expect an air of high romance.

Still, appearing too much the bookkeeper might push him into reverting to his original gamble for higher stakes. I must give him enough without enflaming him to try for more by murdering Court. God, how I wished it were over, with Court's release signed and the colonel gone! Once the journey started, this last price of freedom would fade into the limbo of the last years, become a vague bad dream no worse than many others, not as bad as some.

Why didn't Ruiz appear? Tenseness building every second, I changed into a flowing robe of ivory satin and lace, took down my hair and brushed it. My anxiety was by now so great that I longed for the officer to come, end this suspense during which I could do nothing but waif.

Another drink might help. My hand shook as I poured the little glass half full and went back to the veranda. My eyes smarted as liquid fire burned down through my body, but by the time. I'd taken a couple of swallows my head felt ridiculously light and warmth dissolved some of the icy dread in the pit of my stomach. I felt slowed, fuzzy, almost comfortable, but my legs were treacherously refusing to support me.

Then a figure took on solidity against the shadows, wavering as I started, mind suddenly clear, though my head spun and my pace was unsteady as I moved toward the arch.

“Good evening, Colonel. May I offer you refreshment? Fruit, perhaps? Coffee, brandy?”

In the dim veranda his eyes glowed. “Your presence is refreshment enough, Doña Miranda, but I could enjoy savoring some brandy along with your beauty.”

With tremendous effort I managed to keep my balance as I preceded him into the
sala
, gestured to the array of decanters. “Have what you wish, Colonel.”

“Then I would wish that you call me Armando.” He smiled, glancing at the pen and paper as he poured brandy into a crystal snifter. Saluting me with his drink, he watched me as he took a slow sip. “Now let me prove, most lovely lady, that where you are concerned I am clairvoyant.”

My heart skipped, then thudded painfully. Could he have learned that I intended to vanish, that there would never be any repetition of this night? He picked up the pen, wrote, and handed the paper to me.

It was a note to Captain Ortega, ordering Court's release, since Ruiz's investigation had established innocence. “Does it content you, little dove?” asked the colonel. “See, your husband's freedom is guaranteed even if I should be sleeping late in the morning, even if I should die of joy this night.” Taking the order from me, he put it beneath a bowl on the bookcase and came to stand by me, noticing the glass in my hand.

“Whiskey?” he asked, frowning. “But surely that is not your usual drink.”

I had to laugh at his disapproval. “This is not my usual way to pass an evening, Colonel.”

“Armando,
por favor
.”

“Armando, Colonel, señor, Commandante, Excellence.” I curtsied shakily. “Have any name you desire.”

His breath sucked in. “You are drunk. Drunk, by God! So
that
is how you prepare for me.” He struck the glass from my hand. It shattered on the tiles. He caught me up with a brutal laugh. “Then let's find your bed,
querida
. Once I have you there, it won't matter if you are tipsy or sober.”

He tore the robe off my shoulder, burning my throat with his lips. I moaned and struggled involuntarily as his mouth settled on my breast and he ripped the satin from my body, caressing me with savagely questing hands.

“I will make you drunk indeed,” he whispered, laughing deep in his throat. “Fight if you like, Mirandita, it makes your honey sweeter. Ah, that honey! Soon I will have the taste of all of you—”

There was impact I heard and felt, a convulsion of his body, a tightening of his arms before he half-turned, dropped me, pitched forward on his face.

Caguama stood there, a rough ironwood mallet in his hand. Ruiz twitched forward, head lolling. Caguama struck him again at the base of the neck. The officer's whole body shuddered and went still.

“You are not hurt, lady?” asked Caguama.

“No.” And I couldn't be sorry Ruiz was dead. My thoughts flew past him to what must be done. “It would be well if Ruiz's death seems an accident. Put a bottle of whiskey in his hand and tumble him off the nearest slope. I'll dress and get Jon ready and we'll go as quickly as we can.”

“The señor?”

I took the release order from the bookcase. “In the morning Dr. Trent will take this to Captain Ortega, who, I imagine, will be glad to have Señor Sanders out of his custody so neatly.” I wondered that I felt no regret or horror as I passed Ruiz's corpse, but instead a trick of memory put me back in the crowd, unable to help, the day Cruz burned; he had made no sound, but the smell filled my nostrils till I forced that image away and tapped on Raquel's door.

Half an hour later, Caguama holding a drowsy Jon in Cascos Lindos' saddle, we struck northwest, avoiding the garrison and village, where a few lights and fires glowed.

Waterskins sloshed and I often got off and walked. We weren't trying for speed. Court would almost surely echo Raquel's assumption that we were bound for Hermosillo and then Arizona. By the time he cooled on that scent, I hoped to be in California. Caguama obliterated our tracks by dragging an acacia bough over them, a precaution I thought we could safely drop after we'd traveled ten miles.

It had been a problem, what to tell Jon. Court to him was an indulgent demigod but not involved in his intimate small-boy life. I certainly couldn't tell Jon, not for years if ever, the real story of my marriage, though I planned someday to tell him about his true father. It seemed best to stick to a few facts, answer questions honestly, and hope that Jon was so young that this flight would make sense to him.