Bed of Roses (11 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Paisley

Tags: #victorian romance, #western romance, #cowboy romance, #gunslinger, #witch

BOOK: Bed of Roses
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With a wave of her hand she brushed away his words as if they were nothing but bothersome insects. “You are making hills out of mountains of moles.”

“Making mountains out of molehills is exactly what it would be like to turn your gang back into able-bodied—”

“You will make us all ready. Not only the men, but Tia, Azucar, and myself, too. There is no reason I can think of why the women and I cannot learn to protect ourselves. Oh, Sawyer,” she whispered, holding out her hands in a gesture of extreme gratitude, “you will take care of us. Finally, at last long, someone is here to make sure that no harm comes to us.”

For many moments he merely gawked at her. No words would come to him, not a one.

He was too busy concentrating on what she’d told him.

Finally, at last long, someone is here to make sure that no harm comes to us.

From deep, deep within him rose a vehement aversion to the idea. He almost felt sickened by it. Indeed, his stomach pitched, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his pulse quickened.

“No. I can’t take care of anyone, do you understand? I can’t…can’t keep any of you from harm.” Battling to quell the horrible and incomprehensible emotions that festered inside him, Sawyer returned to the trail in the woods that led to the cabin.

Zafiro traipsed along right at his heels. “You would disobey God?” she demanded, speaking to his back. “He sent you to—”

“Look,” Sawyer said, spinning around and stopping so quickly that Zafiro ran straight into him. He grasped her shoulders and aimed his gaze straight down into hers. “I—”

“You are a heathen, Sawyer Donovan, that is what you are! To ignore heavenly orders—”

“Heavenly orders?” Sawyer rolled his eyes.

“You are a sinner of the worst sort!”

“And only last month
you
were going to commit coldblooded murder.”

For a moment, she felt taken aback, unable to dispute his reminder. “Well… Horses come in different colors.”

He had to think for a second. “That was a horse of a different color?”

“Si.
That is what I said. I was going to kill you for good reason. I believed you were going to hurt us. But your refusal to help us is selfish and mean. You have been chosen by the highest power to—”

“Chosen? For God’s sake, all I did was chase you from the convent when I thought you’d stolen—”

“Meeting and chasing me was meant to be!”

“Really? And did God also mean for me to be half-killed by Mariposa?”

“I am sure that is the only way He could think of to get you inside La Escondida. And do not forget that He did not allow you to die.”

“Oh, of all the…” Sawyer rammed his fingers through his hair. “All right, fine. Okay. If I get a sign from heaven…some sort of holy proof that I’m your …your
knight in shining armor,
then I’ll stay and perform every chivalrous and valorous deed you ask of me.”

“How long will you wait for the sign?” She prayed for God to hurry up. He could be so slow sometimes in her opinion.

“Five minutes.”

“What? But—”

“God made the whole world in only six days. Do you think He can’t get some silly little sign to me in five minutes? Actually, He could probably give me my sign within the next few seconds, but seeing as how it’s God I’m dealing with, I’ll be generous and give Him the full five minutes. After all, He might be busy right now, sending more knights in shining armor to other damsels in distress.”

When Zafiro fell into silence he realized he’d finally beaten her. She knew as well as he did that no heavenly sign was going to arrive within the next five minutes. Assured of his victory, Sawyer turned back around and quickly followed the trail out of the forest.

He’d leave that very afternoon, he decided. True, his leg continued to ache and he wasn’t strong enough to ride a great distance, but surely he could make it to some small town or village.

Because there was no way in hell that he was going to stay at La Escondida and take care of Zafiro and her feeble-minded friends.

That thought in mind, he quickened his pace through the forest. As soon as he stepped out of the glade, he stopped.

Stared.

And couldn’t believe what he was seeing.


Santa
Maria,”
Zafiro whispered, she too, stopping and staring at the sight in the yard. “Your sign. There it is. You are my warrior dressed in sparkling steel, and there is your weapon to prove it! What do you say now, Sawyer Donovan?”

Hoping the vision would disappear, Sawyer blinked his eyes several times.

But the dazzling apparition remained.

Its tip stuck in the ground, its jewel-studded hilt pointing toward heaven, a magnificent silver sword shone in the bright sunlight.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

“I
don’t care what you
say, that dumb sword is not a I sign from God.” Sitting in a rickety chair at the table in the kitchen area of the great room, Sawyer threw Jengibre off his lap and glared at the ancient blade in Zafiro’s hands. “You act like it fell straight out of heaven and landed in the yard.”

“It—”

“Look, Zafiro, you said yourself that that blade is one of the convent’s treasures, some sword used in the Holy Crusades—”

“It is also the sign you asked for.” Smiling, Zafiro leaned over in her chair and placed the gleaming weapon on the table. “Your heaven-sent sign.”

“It is not!” Sawyer slammed his fist down on the table. “Tia said that Sister Carmelita and Sister Pilar brought the sword while you and I were still at the stream! The nuns told her they thought I might be able to figure out a way to use it bring down fresh meat.”

“Yes, that is what Tia said the nuns told her.”

“I can just see myself running through the mountains chasing animals with a sword.”

“Sawyer,
who
do you think made the nuns think of bringing a warrior’s weapon?”

“What?”

Zafiro smiled more broadly. “God told them to bring it.”

“That’s stupid!”

Zafiro gasped and clutched at her sapphire. “Do you say that God is stupid?”

“I didn’t say God was stupid, and stop twisting around my words!”

“He is yelling at you, Zafiro,” Maclovio slurred from across the room, so drunk that his eyes were crossed. “Do you want me to smash his face?”

“Grace?” Lorenzo asked. He looked up and watched Tia remove a fried lamb chop from a pan of hot grease. “Yes, let’s say grace so we can eat. I am hungry for the lamb the good sisters brought to us.” He bowed his head, but instead of praying, he fell asleep and would have fallen out of his chair had Sawyer not reached out and pulled the old man into his lap.

“Hold him, Sawyer,” Zafiro entreated when Sawyer began to put Lorenzo back into the chair. “He will wake up in only a minute. If you sit him back up now, he will only fall out again.”

Sighing with irritation, Sawyer leaned back in his chair, holding the frail Lorenzo in his arms like a baby. Just when he’d adjusted himself comfortably, he saw Azucar leave her chair and walk around the table toward him. The satin-garbed hag ran her bony fingers across her sagging breasts then lifted her gown to show Sawyer her sticklike leg.

Dammit, there was no way in hell he could hold Lorenzo and fend off Azucar at the same time. “Get her away from me, Zafiro,” he demanded.

Zafiro quickly complied, taking hold of Azucar’s arm and leading the old woman back to her chair. “Sawyer does not have any money, Azucar. Would you give yourself to him for free?”

Azucar frowned fiercely. “No. Men pay me with full bags of gold.”

Listening to their exchange, Sawyer wondered why he hadn’t thought of the poverty-stricken idea. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m fresh out of gold.”

“Tomorrow you will have some gold,” she told him. “Then you will be able to afford the pleasure you will find in my arms.” To make sure that he understood her promise of sexual ecstasy, she closed her eyes and slowly ran her tongue across her bottom lip.

“Tomorrow it is.” Sawyer went along with her because, after all, he wouldn’t be here tomorrow.

“I am ready for my lamb chop,” Lorenzo said, twitching while he awakened and yawned. “Ready for…” His voice trailed away when he realized he was in Sawyer’s lap. “Why are you holding me, Sawyer?”

"Because you—”

“Dinner,” Tia announced, placing a platter of sizzling meat on the table. Roasted potatoes, black beans, a stack of hot corn tortillas, and a bowl of green chili-laden sauce accompanied the succulent lamb. “We must remember the good sisters in our prayers tonight,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Not only did they bring us the fresh meat, but they also brought tea and a big batch of apple tarts that they baked this morning. We should enjoy this wonderful meal because no one knows when we will get another like it. Apple tarts, they are your favorite, aren’t they, my sweet Francisco?”

Sawyer didn’t bother to reply. Lifting Lorenzo from his lap, he placed the man back into his chair. “You almost fell on the floor!” he shouted into Lorenzo’s hairy ear. “Try not to go to sleep at the table anymore!”

“Any whore?” Lorenzo said. “No, Azucar is not just
any
whore. She is a whore with a heart of gold, Sawyer. Do you know that she sold her little pearl ring to buy me a birthday present? That was years and years ago, but I still have the pair of small scissors she gave to me. I use them to cut my toenails, and they are the best scissors—”

“Where is Pedro?” Tia asked, setting his plate on the table in front of his empty chair. “I told him only a little while ago that supper would soon be ready.”

Instantly alarmed, Zafiro crossed to the window and scanned the yard. When she didn’t see Pedro anywhere, her anxiety deepened, especially since the sun was sinking fast. “It is not like Pedro to wander out of the yard.”

“Maybe he ascended into heaven,” Sawyer quipped. “Or it could be you’ll find him at the stream walking on water.”

“You are in my chair, Sawyer,” Maclovio said, frowning. “If you do not get up and let me have my chair, I will smash—”

“Gladly.” Sawyer rose from his chair and assisted the intoxicated Maclovio into the seat.

“Francisco, sit down and eat your dinner,” Tia ordered.

He decided to indulge her fantasy just this once because, after all, he was leaving. “I’m not hungry, Mama. I promise I’ll eat later.”

She studied his face. “You do look tired, my son. Go to bed, and I will bring you your meal in a while, all right?”

“Yeah, all right.” He wondered how his departure would affect the old woman. After having finally “found” her long-lost son, she’d probably be devastated when she learned he’d left again.

He hoped she wouldn’t be too sad for too long. It wasn’t that she truly mattered to him, but…well, she
had
taken good care of him.

And what about Lorenzo? he thought, glancing at the old man who was happily and industriously gumming a piece of lamb. Would the day come when Lorenzo fell out of a chair and seriously hurt himself?

Sawyer hoped not, just as he hoped Maclovio would not systematically destroy what little of La Escondida was still standing.

He wondered if Maclovio would ever stop drinking, wondered if Azucar would ever have one last romp between the sheets before she withered away, and wondered, too, where Pedro was. Surely he’d come straggling home soon, none the worse from his jaunt away from the house. Then Zafiro could stop worrying about him.

Zafiro. Sawyer stared at her back, for she was still standing in front of the window looking for Pedro. She had such small, delicate shoulders.

How long would they be able to bear the weight of her worries? Another year? Six months? A few weeks?

A matter of days?

“I must go,” she said suddenly, whirling away from the window. “It is almost dark, and Pedro, he could be in trouble. I will lift every rock I see until I find him.”

“You’ll leave no stone unturned,” Sawyer corrected her.

“Yes, that is what I said. I will be back in a while, Sawyer, and then we will continue to discuss the sword.”

In a flurry of silky black hair and ragged cotton skirts, she disappeared through the front door. Sawyer had a mind to call her back and make her understand that he was leaving, but decided against the idea. She’d only try to talk him into staying.

What was the matter with him anyway? For a full five minutes he’d been standing here wondering about and worrying over the six people who had done their level best to drive him insane during the past four weeks!

He was leaving. Leaving, and that was that. Zafiro’s problems were not his own, dammit. He had his own troubles, for God’s sake, and possessed neither the time nor the inclination to solve hers or anyone else’s.

Cursing the ache in his leg, he left the great room, ascended the staircase, and soon reached his bedroom, where he quickly packed his belongings into his satchel. Once downstairs again, he saw that Maclovio and Lorenzo had both fallen asleep at the table and that Tia stood in front of the oven with her back turned to him.

Only Azucar saw him cross to the front door. He put a finger to his lips to ask for her silence, then blew her a kiss when she nodded. His gesture of affection so delighted her that a few tears appeared in her bleary eyes.

It sure didn’t take much to make the old woman happy, and for a few seconds Sawyer watched her tears slide over and disappear into the maze of wrinkles on her face. The sight compelled him to send her not just one more airy kiss, but three.

Her joyful giggle—which sounded more like a cackle—was the last thing he heard as he stepped outside and shut the door. In only moments he found his mule, Mister, and his trunk in the dim barn. After bridling the animal, he reached for the trunk.

Instantly, he drew his hands away. He didn’t want to touch the trunk.

Something horrible was inside. He knew it.

But he needed the trunk, he told himself. For some reason he knew he needed it.

Gritting his teeth against the almost overwhelming sense of dread that pounded through him, he lifted the trunk from the floor and attached it to Mister’s back. But many long moments passed before his emotions returned to normal.

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