Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (10 page)

Without thinking, without meaning to, he crossed the carpet, took the frail woman in his arms.
“Madre! Madre!”
He kissed the top of her silver hair while she collapsed, sobbing, in his arms.

“Tony! Oh, my Tony! We have waited so very long for you, my son! I have prayed and prayed for a miracle!”

And how had God answered her prayers? Bandit pulled away from her in shame. She had begged for her kin to be returned and God had sent her an impostor. Bandit swallowed hard, deeply ashamed.

Behind him, he heard Señor Falcon take out his handkerchief and blow his nose loudly. “
Sí, Mamá
. I told you we’d get him back someday.” His voice betrayed how much he loved the woman.

What would the powerful don do to Bandit and Romeros for hurting the
señora
if he ever found out the truth? But there was no reason they must ever know the secret, Bandit told himself.

The
señora
gripped his arm, holding his left hand tightly. She stared down at the design on the back of his hand, ran one finger over it. Bandit felt her delicate hands tremble while holding his big one, the heat of her tears dropping on his knuckles.

“Mamá, it’s all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I’m back where I belong.”

And it was true, he thought in bewilderment. He did feel at home in this big house, as if some part of him remembered it, and yet he knew he had never been here before.

“Son”—she wept, looking up at him—“all these years, I’ve come here every morning. I’ve felt close to you that way. And nothing has been touched since the night you disappeared. Your little clothes still lay as the maid laid them out for the next morning.”

“It’s all right, Mamá,” he said again, patting her hand, “everything is all right now.” Bandit looked at the pitiful, faded little clothing, feeling both anger and sorrow.
What sonofabitch could have done such a thing? It would have involved a maid or an employee familiar with the house, someone the boy knew so he could be taken away without crying. But surely the old man had interrogated all the servants.

“Tony, do you remember?” She gripped his arm. “I saved your favorite toy. It belonged to your uncle, Antonio, first.”

“Of course, Mama, I couldn’t forget.” Bandit turned to look at the shelves and shelves of dusty toys. A beloved only child of parents already too old to have a son, he thought, looking around. How they must have adored the boy. Now just what toy was it? Romeros had forgotten to tell him. He looked around at the shelves and shelves of toys, then over at the foreman. Romeros’s eyes looked stricken, but he dare not speak to give the answer. The toy was old, because it had first belonged to Falcon’s beloved younger brother, Antonio, the one for whom little Tony had been named. But then, all the toys were faded, old.

While the others watched, Bandit crossed the nursery, studied the shelves. Balls, and tops, and stuffed animals. A jack in the box, a hoop, the big rocking horse, the wagon. He glanced back at Romeros and the man looked stricken. Which one was it? He hadn’t expected so many toys to choose from, had never seen so many toys in his life. And Romeros could make no gestures, do nothing to help.

Bandit turned and looked at the shelves again. In all his life, he had never owned a real toy. His gaze traveled across one shelf, down to another. Why in blue blazes hadn’t Romeros remembered to tell him?

And then somehow, the worn rocking horse seemed to call out to him as if somewhere in his past, it knew him. He would have sworn it called out silently:
I belonged to Antonio first, then little Tony. Don’t you remember me? Doesn’t something in your past tell you I am the beloved toy?

Lucky guess, Bandit thought, knowing the wooden toy could not speak to him. Very slowly, Bandit walked over, bent to run his hands over it. Strange, he had never seen this thing before, yet it called out to him, seemed to feel familiar to his big hands as if somewhere in another life, he had stroked it many, many times. “This,” he said softly.
“Sí
. This is mine.”

The old lady cried out, put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Tony, of course it’s yours!
Sí
, that was your favorite toy as it was your uncle’s!”

He heard Romeros let out the breath he had been holding.

“I don’t know why I had the slightest doubt. . . .” The don’s voice trailed off, and he ran one shaking hand through his silver hair. “Oh, Tony, welcome home!”

And then the three of them were wet-eyed, hugging each other, suddenly embarrassed and shy due to the depths of their feelings. Bandit was so ashamed of his deception he could hardly look these two old people in the face. If they only knew . . .

Even the worn rocking horse seemed to stare up at him, accusation in its painted eyes as if it knew his secret.

But the
señora
gripped his arm again, smiling up at him, tears in her eyes. “Tony, what must I be thinking! You must be hungry! We’ll have breakfast together out on the veranda!”

Romeros cleared his throat.

The
señor
turned to him almost reluctantly. “Of course, I had almost forgotten! My dear, it is our good foreman here who found our boy, saved him from being hanged!”

“What?” Her hand flew to her mouth and she looked from Bandit to the lean, dark foreman. “Romeros, we are forever in your debt. I want to hear all about it, and of course you will join us for breakfast.”

Romeros looked modestly at the floor, shuffled his boots. “I only did my duty for my beloved employer,
señora
, and I would not dare to intrude on a family—”

“But of course you must join us—I insist!” So saying, the spirited old lady took his arm and Bandit’s. Then the four of them went out onto the veranda to breakfast.

It was pleasant on the veranda under the bougainvillea vines, Bandit thought as they all sat down while maids came running with rich chocolate in the finest porcelain cups. When he looked up, Romeros caught his eye and smiled in satisfaction. There was something basically evil about the man. Bandit was no saint himself, but he had a sudden feeling that Romeros would be willing to do things for money that he himself would balk at. How in blue blazes had he gotten into this? And now what in the hell could he do about it?

The old man leaned close. “Son, I always hoped when we found you, you’d tell us the details of the kidnapping. I always thought one of our own employees might be involved. Tell us what you remember.”

Bandit shrugged, acted disconcerted. “I—I don’t remember,
señor
, I was so young and—”

“Tony, call me
Papá
.” Don Enrique smiled warmly.

The
señora
frowned at her husband. “It has no doubt been terrible for him. Gradually, it will all come out.”

That’s just what I’m afraid of, Bandit thought, sipping his chocolate.

“I suppose we shouldn’t press you for the details,” the old man agreed. “Was it such a terrible life?”

“Sí,”
Bandit nodded, remembering his lonely childhood.

Romeros said, “He told me a little,
señor
, two men you didn’t recognize stole you from the house, isn’t that what you said?” he prompted.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bandit quickly replied, then again sipped the rich chocolate afloat with thick cream. “They said you would pay much money to get me back.”

The old man frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Well, they never got the money, although we tried to deliver the ransom. The delivery was botched. We figured they had killed you when they didn’t pick up the ransom with Romeros and I watching for them.”

“That’s true.” Romeros nodded. “Señor Falcon insisted I wait with him to shoot the devils when they showed up, but they never came.” He frowned, shook his head. “Then we searched every ditch and creek for miles around, looking for a small body. Remember,
Patrón
, how angry I was, how I led the search parties for days?”

“That’s true.” Señor Falcon nodded, “Romeros here was in such a rage! I never realized he had cared so much for my little son.”

“As I care about his father.” Romeros ducked his head modestly.

Bandit suddenly couldn’t control his curiosity. Without thinking, he asked, “You’ve been with the family a long time?”

“Has he!” Señor Falcon emphasized the words. “Why, Romeros showed up on this ranch as a scared, hungry boy after my beloved brother was killed in the Mexican-American War in ’forty-seven.” He grimaced. There was obviously still pain associated with that story.

Romeros explained. “
El patrón’s
brother died in his arms at Chapultepec castle in the September Mexico City siege.”

’Forty-seven, Bandit thought automatically, such a long time ago. The young brother died a few months before I was even born.

Sadness crossed the old man’s features. “Romeros here came along and almost took my little brother’s place. He was a great comfort to us in our sadness. And then, of course, we found we would have a child long after we had given up hope. So you, Tony, took Antonio’s place as my heir.”

Romeros stuck a fresh match in the corner of his mouth. “I was so happy that the Falcons weren’t left without family to inherit this fine empire.”

Bandit thought the foreman didn’t look very happy, but he didn’t say anything.

The
Señora
smiled and sipped her chocolate. Her gaze had never left Bandit’s face. “But let us not talk of those sad times. God sent you, Tony, a couple of years later, when we were really too old to have children and had long since given up hope. But maybe you remember some of these details even though you were only eight when you were kidnapped?”

“I—I remember a little,” Bandit lied. “The memories have become hazy over the years.” What tragedy these two had endured, he thought with both sympathy and guilt. First the beloved brother being killed, then the cherished only son disappearing, never to be seen again. And if they only knew. Even Romeros didn’t know. . . .

Señora Falcon interrupted his thoughts with a question.

“Perdôneme?”
Bandit asked in Spanish.

“I asked if you could give us any clues as to the kidnappers?” She leaned forward. “Was it some maid, some servant? I always thought it had to be someone who knew you well to get you out of the house in the dead of night without you screaming.”

Bandit pretended to roll it over in his mind. “I was so small, the memory is hazy.” What story had he and Romeros rehearsed? “I don’t think I ever saw the two men before. They tied me up, threw me across a horse, took me far away. One night, I untied myself, got away.”

“Why didn’t you try to come home, son?” Falcon said.

He was prepared for this question. “I think at first I tried, Papa. But it was a very long way. Then I fell and hit my head.”

Romeros broke in. “
Sí
, hitting the head would erase many memories. I’ve heard that.”

The old lady clucked in sympathy.

Bandit didn’t look at the old couple. He was too ashamed to do so as he continued his lie. “At any rate, my memories are hazy until I ended up helping around a saloon, polishing spittoons and sweeping up until I was big enough to handle a gun, make myself a living.”

He was suddenly ashamed of how he’d lived by his gun and his wits, of his questionable past. It seemed very important to him somehow that these two fine people think well of him.

The dignified
señora
put her wrinkled hand over his. “We’ll talk no more of it, my son,” she whispered. “However sad your life has been, God has restored you to us and we’ll start life fresh and forget the past.”

Romeros sighed, visibly relieved, and looked up from his cup. “
Señora
, you are a very wise woman. After all, the mark proves he really is our missing Falcon heir, and the past must be painful to him.”

“I forgot about Gomez!” The old don straightened in his chair, his face wreathed with smiles. “He’ll be so glad he can keep our vow now! I must send word to my old friend at once!”

He stood up, rushed back into the house.

Bandit looked over at the
señora
, raised his eyebrows.

She laughed. “Your
papá’s
best friend. Surely you remember Gomez and his pretty little daughter; the one you were betrothed to as a child?”

Bandit felt sudden alarm, set down his cup so hard, the chocolate splashed into the saucer. “Betrothed? You mean I’m engaged to marry some girl from my childhood?”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Romeros coughed. “Search your memory, señor Tony; don’t you remember? The plump gentleman who is your father’s closest friend? The daughter he brought to visit?

Bandit felt stricken. This was a complication Romeros had conveniently forgotten to mention. He had a sudden vision of some simpering, ugly spinster.

“I didn’t know a girl had been chosen for me,” he said unhappily to the
señora
. Bandit thought of the girl at the stage station, the one with the violet eyes. “I was planning to pick out my own wife, thank you.”

He glared at Romeros who looked away. He’d taken on this whole masquerade just to have the money and the power to reclaim a feisty girl from a convent. “I don’t think I want to marry some girl Papa picked out for me when I was a little boy.”

Romeros kicked him under the table. “You just don’t remember how pretty the señorita is, Tony. Don’t make your decision ’til you see her.”

The señora laughed. “That’s right, my son. Both the fathers would be brokenhearted if you two didn’t wed after they’ve waited so long to join our two families together. Why, I think she’s had other chances and her
papá
is so honorable, he wouldn’t break the agreement.”

Now what in blue blazes was he going to do? He certainly wasn’t going to marry some dull Spanish girl because he was betrothed to her. There had to be a way out of this.

Señor Falcon came through the French doors onto the veranda, flopped down in his chair with a happy sigh. “I’ve sent the messenger. But now I wish I had waited until I could ride over and tell Gomez myself.”