Emmy's Equal (27 page)

Diego shot upright on his bunkhouse cot, his mind searching for the source of his heightened unease. Any rest the brief few hours of sleep afforded him slid away as the crushing burden of the last few days shifted onto his shoulders. Swinging his feet to the floor, he kneaded his face like a lump of dough, trying to rub out the need for sleep along with the memory of Emmy’s disappointed eyes.

He’d made the decision not to take her while they were still in Catarina. Hopefully, one day she’d understand how hard it was for him to deny her, but he had to for her sake. Eagle Pass could be a rowdy town, and something told him the next ride held danger. Perhaps he might’ve used less force in delivering the message, but he’d yet to learn how to sway her determined heart.

One glance at the shade told him he’d slept too long. The jarring knowledge chasing the last bit of fog from his head, he hurriedly pulled on his boots. Where was Little Pete? He’d sent word by his mother that Pete was to awaken him at three thirty. If the shadowy corners of the bunkhouse meant anything, it was closer to five.

The door creaked open and Diego reached for his shirt, cross words of rebuke ready on his tongue.

Instead of Pete, his mother stood on the threshold. She smiled. “I was coming to wake you.”

“Where’s Pete?”

She ducked her head. “I never told Pete, Isi. I decided to rouse you myself.”

Sliding one arm in his sleeve, he paused. “Why?”

Staring at the floor, she bit her bottom lip. “I wanted you to rest as long as possible.”

Gritting his teeth, he shoved his other arm in the shirt. “Mother! This was too important for you to interfere.”

She calmly approached to straighten his collar. “It’s all right, son. While you slept, I had the men make every preparation for the trip. What they couldn’t do, I tended to myself.” She patted his shoulder. “Faron’s waiting in the yard. All you have to do is get on him and ride.”

Diego wilted in the warmth of her selfless love. He pulled her close for a hug. “Come here, meddling woman.”

She hugged him back with a shuddering sigh. “I worry, Isi. You’ll be careful?”

He patted the top of her head. “What need do I have to be careful? I know you’ve spent the last few hours praying for my safety.”

She turned her face up and grinned. “This is true, so tread lightly. Try not to overturn a treaty between your mother and God.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Outside, his eyes lit on Rosita standing near Faron’s head and the merry mood lifted. She had the fingers of one hand curled on her hip, and a cross scowl hardened her features. The other hand she used to drive home a point to Little Pete with waves and jabs to his chest.

As Diego approached, Little Pete swatted her finger away. “It’s not my place,” he growled in Spanish. “Tell him yourself. Diego needs to know.”

“What do I need to know?”

Rosita jumped and squealed, holding her heart. “Diego! You startled me.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You have information for me?”

Guilty eyes told him she wasn’t meant to tell. Her breathless words confirmed it. “Señor Cuddy counts on my silence. But I feel you should know.” She lifted a haughty chin. “Besides, it’s the fault of that girl. If not for the spell of the white-haired witch, Cuddy would never think to go against your decision.”

Cold dread rushed to Diego’s belly. “What decision?” Even as he asked, he knew. Cuddy would ride up behind him a few yards from the house with Emmy in tow and expect him to relent. Well, he wouldn’t give in so easily this time. Cuddy could do what he blasted well pleased. Emmy would go straight back to the house.

Diego’s mother slid her arm around Rosita. “Your opinion of Emily may be too harsh, Rosita. I feel responsible.”

Rosita withdrew. “She’s bewitched you, too?”

His mother laughed. “Not at all. Perhaps the only dark magic was my unforgiving attitude toward the girl. I should’ve taken the time to know Emily’s heart before I judged her.”

Diego smiled to himself. He’d have to congratulate Emmy on how skillfully she’d won over his mother.

Unconvinced, Rosita turned flashing eyes to Diego. “If her heart is pure, why did she offer herself to Cuddy in exchange for taking her to Eagle Pass?”

His stomach lurched and he felt turned to stone. “What are you saying?”

“It’s true,” she spat.

He caught Rosita’s wrist and shook her.

Fear and pain registered in her eyes. “I watched her throw herself at Cuddy under the front portico, away from prying eyes. I saw everything from the window. The girl knew I caught them, but she felt no shame.” She looked over her shoulder at his mother. “Melatha, I swear it happened. She pranced into the house like a jezebel, flaunting her dishonor in my face.”

Struggling for a calming breath, Diego released her. “You are mistaken. I don’t know what you saw, but you must have misunderstood.”

Rubbing her wrist and shaking her head, Rosita stood in silent testimony of Emmy’s betrayal.

With more calm than he felt inside, Diego slid his boot in the stirrup and swung onto Faron’s back. Bobbing his head, the horse danced impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever Emmy enticed Cuddy with, her efforts were wasted. She won’t be riding with us to Eagle Pass.”

Little Pete mounted his horse then cleared his throat. “You are correct, señor. She won’t be riding with us because she and young Cuddy, they already left.”

Diego’s bulging eyes swung to Rosita. She solemnly nodded. “I packed their provisions myself, Diego. I watched them leave the gate.”

“How long ago?”

She shrugged. “A long time. Hours.”

With the barest nod to his mother, Diego spurred the eager horse into a run for the gate. Little Pete could catch up in El Indio.

Melatha stood on the porch of her jacal, clutching the rail and peering past the big house to the east. Fear seeped into her bones as the blanket of black stretching along the horizon grew darker and wider, inching closer to her son with every tick of the clock.

Isi raced toward the storm on the back of a horse that may have killed John Rawson, his mind on nothing but protecting White Hair.

“She’s bewitched you, too?”
Rosita’s question echoed in Melatha’s mind, and she shivered.

Steeling her resolve, she fled to the only solid ground. “I have no trust in Emily Dane, Lord. I trust only what You’ve shown me of her heart.”

From the moment Emily stepped across the threshold two days ago, God began to whisper in Melatha’s ear. His assurance grew louder each time she saw the girl.

Emily spoke that day of Isi’s love for her. Signs deeper than mere words could convey—her glowing eyes and trembling smile, the way she spoke his name—told Melatha she loved Isi, too.

These things alone did not sway Melatha or melt her stony heart. Only when Emily began to speak of the Father did the spiritual bond they shared come to light. The passion Melatha sensed while Emily spoke of Isi was but a flickering ember in comparison.

A brisk wind stirred the high grass and rattled the empty baskets in the corner. Melatha lifted her chin to the cool breeze and swallowed her fear. She determined to trust Chihowa Palami in all matters pertaining to Isi and White Hair, no matter how threatening the storm.

Emmy watched the churning wall of clouds on the horizon, more menacing by far than the patchy canopy overhead. They’d been grateful since they left the ranch for the overcast sky that blocked the sun, and the cool, brisk wind coming off the approaching storm caught Emmy’s breath.

The closer the wall advanced, the more dangerous it appeared. A gust caught her whispered prayer for safety and carried it away, she hoped, toward heaven. She thanked God that for the last few miles, the angry swirl had seemed stagnant, a faraway puffed-up bully, blowing hard but harmless.

She turned her attention to Cuddy. Obviously deep in thought, he rode quietly, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

“It’s getting dark,” Emmy said, and he jumped. She laughed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shrugged and grinned. “I’m afraid it’ll be very gloomy tonight with the weather so foul. Makes it better on the horses, though. Cooler.” He rolled his head to study the twilight sky. “New moon, too. If you don’t like the dark, you’ll be glad to see El Indio.”

She shuddered, but he didn’t seem to notice. Before long, he’d retreated into his thoughts again. Ducking her head, she peered closer. “You know what they say? A penny for your thoughts?”

He shot her a sideways glance. “There’s not a thought in my head worth that much.”

She gave him a mock frown. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

He raised his brows. “Oh, it’s true.”

Emmy giggled, her lilting laugh out of place in the murky setting.

Cuddy crossed his hands over the saddle horn. “Since you asked, I’ll tell you my thoughts. Free of charge.”

She twisted to see him better. “All right. I never could pass up a bargain.”

A flush crept up from his collar, visible even in the meager light. “I was wondering...” His gaze flickered to her face then down. “Well ... I heard you praying back there.”

It was her turn to blush. “Yes, I was.”

As if determined to finish something he’d started, he met her eyes. “Do you actually think someone heard you?”

At first, the strain in his voice made her think he was mocking her. After searching his face, she realized he desperately needed to know. “Yes, I do. In fact, I’m convinced.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How?”

Cuddy’s question brought the past flooding back, the emptiness Emmy had felt before the day she’d whispered a tortured prayer, asking herself the same question: Did someone hear?

The evidence that God Himself heard came later in startling bits and pieces. First, the calm that settled over her soul like a comforting quilt after that prayer, blocking out the darkness and filling the empty places. Where once her eyes in the mirror had darted, guilty and ashamed, now they gazed back at her, clear and unflinching, in a way they’d never done before. The day she awoke knowing God was there, so present she felt compelled to bid Him good morning, she knew her life had forever changed.

She related these proofs and more to Cuddy as they rode.

He listened quietly, thoughtfully chewing the inside of his cheek. When she finished, he whistled softly. “When we first met I said you weren’t the sort of girl I expected to say such things.”

She nodded, remembering.

“I was wrong.”

His attempt to compliment her warmed her heart. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say so.” She paused. “But Cuddy, I don’t want you harboring the wrong idea. There is no particular ‘sort’ of person that prays to God.” She smiled. “He takes all comers.”

He clutched his chest and pretended to wince with pain. “Except someone like me.”

She gave her head a vigorous shake. “Especially someone like you.”

Cuddy threw back his head and laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the saddle.

Emmy watched him, amazed and a little frightened. “Stop it! Why are you howling? You’ll attract a pack of coyotes.”

Holding his middle, he pointed. “Didn’t you hear yourself? You just confirmed that I’m a special case. I always thought I was such a mess that God would go out of his way to snag a trophy like me for His belt.” He roared again. “Now you’ve confirmed it.”

She fought a smile. “Oh, shush.”

He wiped his eyes, controlling his snickers with effort. Gazing warmly at her, he smiled. “Seriously, I appreciate your honesty, and I think I’d like to know more.”

She let her jaw drop dramatically then winked. “Why, Cuddy Rawson, I believe you’re sincere. What do you want to know?”

His head jerked around and he held up his hand. “Shh! Wait a second.” He leaned forward in the saddle and stared. “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, I see a campfire up ahead.”

Emmy whirled to look and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Cuddy. Could it possibly be them?”

His teeth flashed in the dimness. “There’s only one way to find out.” He tapped his horse with his heels. “Let’s ride.”

The wind howled around the wagon, flapping the tarps tied over the crates and threatening to lift Magda’s hat right off her head. She clung to it with her free hand while the brim battered her forehead. With her other hand, she held a cloth over Willem’s mouth to try to keep out the swirling dust.

In one way, the coming rain would be a relief. Magda planned to open her mouth and turn her face to the sky. She’d never been thirstier in her life. It amazed her that Bertha, already parched when they discovered the empty canteens, hadn’t asked for a drop to cool her tongue.

“It’s coming a right rowdy blow,” Bertha shouted.

Magda looked behind her. “You don’t say? What are we going to do when it starts to rain?”

“I suppose we’ll get mighty wet.” Bertha seemed a fount of pointless information. She tipped her head and stared at the sky. “It’s the lightning that’s got me worried. Getting worse, too.”

Her words struck fear in Magda. She hadn’t even considered the lightning. “We need to find shelter, Bert.”

“I know it’s dark out, but have you forgot what this country looks like? There ain’t no shelter. This here is wide-open plain.” She cackled. “I suppose we could crawl under the wagon.”

Tired of bawling back and forth like a cow and her weaning calf, Magda got up on all fours. “Have you forgot about Willem? What do you propose we do, drag him off this rig by his heels?”

It seemed foolish to her to ride along pretending there wasn’t a monster chasing them. They needed to come up with a plan for weathering the storm. Before she could holler for Bert to pull over, Bertha hauled on the reins so hard Magda slammed forward and bumped her head. Falling on her bottom, she rubbed the swelling on her forehead. “For pity’s sake! What’d you do that for?”

Bertha scrambled over the front seat, knelt on the rear, and leaned over the wooden slats.

Magda scooted closer and peered up at her. “What’s wrong? You cracked my head and joggled Willem something fierce.”