Golden Roses (26 page)

“We have. We are in the mountains of Sierra Madre Occidental, just south of the Yaqui River. Nogales is about a two days’ ride. Valdis and his men will not look for us here.”

Puetas went inside the cave first to make sure there were no animals there. Cord lowered himself gingerly from the saddle and turned to help Amber, who said, “No. I can take care of myself. Let me help you inside. I want to look at that wound, and then we need to see about Dolita.”

Puetas hurried to gather twigs and scraps of dry brush lying just inside the mouth of the cave. Everything outside was soaked. He built a fire and then, placing Dolita nearby so she would be warm, he went to Cord, slumped against a wall. Slipping a knife from its hiding place inside his pants, he sliced through the leather of Cord’s left boot.

“I should have searched you,” Cord said tartly when he saw the weapon.

Puetas grinned. “I could have killed you any time I chose. It was my pleasure to know this.”

Cord raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?”

Puetas shrugged as he tugged gently at the boot. “I felt sorry for the women, and I thought I could help, then go back to my life. Now I am running with you.”

“I’m not running, and neither are you. I’ll take care of Valdis in my own good time. All I wanted to do was get Amber out of there.” Cord winced with pain as the boot was removed from his injured foot.

Amber knelt beside him, using the hem of his shirt against the wound. She had been wearing it and now she was naked again. Puetas averted his gaze. “I think the bullet did go all the way through,” she said, lifting worried eyes to meet his in the glow from the fire, “but you’re still bleeding. We need a tight bandage to stop it.”

“I will get my saddle blanket and tear it into strips.” Puetas hurried to the horses, tethered just inside the cave.

Cord reached out to cup Amber’s face in his hands. He gazed at her, pushing his pain from his mind. “Are you all right?” he asked, eyes searching hers. “Did the bastards hurt you, my Amber?”

“No,” she murmured, stirred. “I’m not sure what happened, but I think Valdis was too drunk to bother me. I’m afraid Dolita wasn’t as fortunate…” She saw the way he was looking at her and fell silent, then reached for what was left of the shirt and put it on.

They heard Dolita moaning and turned to look in her direction. Cord urged, “Go see to her.”

Both Amber and Puetas moved to the girl’s side, and she stared up at them with wide, frightened eyes. Amber clutched her hand and told her they were safe, but Dolita looked from Amber to the man beside her, then shrank back and cried, “It is you! Puetas!”

“No, no! He helped us,” Amber explained quickly. “He carried you on his shoulder through the brush and thorns and rain. He’s our friend now, Dolita. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“It is true.” He nodded, eyes twinkling. “It is my shirt you are wearing.” He tugged at the sleeve, baggy on her thin arm. “I will look after you while Amber looks after Señor Hayden. He was wounded. I must bandage him now.” He did so, quickly.

“I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” Amber gave Dolita what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back to Cord.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep. She brushed a dark tendril back from his forehead and kissed him, then lay down close beside him, in case he should need her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was late in the day when Amber awoke, groggy and sore throughout her body. Lifting her head from Cord’s shoulder, she looked around, disoriented. Slowly, it all came back. The capture…Valdis. Thank God for Cord. She smiled down at him, saw that he was sleeping peacefully. Checking the bandage on his foot, she was satisfied that it had stopped bleeding at last. She stood and stretched, uncomfortably damp in the rain-soaked remnants of Cord’s shirt. The fire Puetas had built was out, so she began gathering more twigs and scraps of wood to light it again. Then, since everyone still slept soundly, she removed the ragged shirt and propped it on a stick near the fire to dry.

Checking on Dolita, she smiled to see that she was asleep with Puetas’s arms protectively about her. Moving away, she tiptoed to the cave entrance. It was, she guessed, midafternoon, for the sun was beginning to make its descent behind the surrounding mountains. The landscape that greeted her was painted in a golden haze, fringed by fertile green grasses of the valley below. Hills and gullies and rock formations spread as far as she could see, and great whitecaps of clouds floated by in the cerulean-blue sky as though directed by an unseen pulley. Amber felt as peaceful as she had in a long time.

Stepping outside, she found a flat rock, warmed by the sun, and sat down, pulling her knees up to hold her chin as she wrapped her arms around her legs. The sun felt wonderful. She thought about returning to retrieve her shirt, then decided not to risk waking the others. Besides, she wanted the time alone for reverie. She sat there, still for a long time, going over all that had befallen her since she’d left the States. By the time Cord spoke, she was so lost in her daydreaming that she jumped, startled. “A true sun goddess,” he said.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you!” she gasped, covering her bare breasts with her arms and pulling her legs up against her even tighter. She stammered, “I…I left your shirt to dry. It was still wet.”

He limped over and sat down beside her. His face was shadowed by beard stubble, but he seemed without pain despite his wound. “Naked you came into my arms, and naked you shall leave,” he murmured, reaching out for her.

She pulled away and cried, “No, Cord. We mustn’t. And your foot—you shouldn’t even be walking on it. You’re going to start it bleeding again.”

“It’s fine,” he said evenly. Suddenly he gripped her arms. “Why did you run away?” he demanded fiercely, eyes devouring hers. “You did run, didn’t you? Don’t you know I’m trying like hell to love you? I want us to make a future together. I thought you cared for me—until I woke up to find you gone.”

“It’s the boy.” She began to cry, looking up, beseeching his understanding. “My heart went out to him before I even knew he was Armand’s. I can’t abandon him to the kind of miserable life I know he’s living.”

Without replying to her statement, he informed her, “I’m taking you back to the States with me and leaving you somewhere safe. One day, I’ll come back and find you. If you’ve met another man, I’ll have to accept it. But by God, I’m going to get you out of Mexico.”

“You can force me to go with you, but you can’t make me stay. I’ll find a way to get back.”

He leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Woman, why do you have to be so stubborn? I told you. Those Indians won’t
let
the boy go.” He shook his head slowly. “You beautiful, stubborn little fool.”

Ignoring her protests and the pain of his wound, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to a grassy knoll conveniently hidden by thick shrubs. He lowered her to the ground, and they gazed into each other’s eyes, the magic beginning. With a deep moan, he pulled her over him, taking turns fastening his lips to each nipple. Amber sighed deliciously, thrusting her bosom in offering.

He devoured each nipple to rosy hardness, then slipped his hand between her legs, moving gently. She was ready for him, he knew, but instead of taking her, he teased, teased until she was writhing, begging for fulfillment.

“I will love you forever,” he whispered. “Say you love me, Amber. Say it!” he commanded.

“Cord, I do love you,” she whimpered, clinging to him. “But—”

He kissed her, long, hard, as he turned her over and lay on top of her. He gave a hard thrust, and she cried out, but the cry quickly turned to sighs and moans as he cupped her buttocks and rocked her to and fro.

He waited until she had reached her pinnacle of ecstasy, then took himself to his own crest. He felt tears falling from Amber’s eyes, and knew they were tears of rapture.

They held each other close, gazing into each other’s eyes with adoration. Finally Cord whispered, “Can you say you don’t want to go with me, Amber?”

She started to speak, to attempt to convince him about the boy, but he held his fingertips to her lips and said, “Let me talk. There’s something you need to know, something that might make you understand me.”

And he told her of Christina, and then about Major Powell’s expedition.

She listened to every word, and she did understand him better. But that did not change how she felt about the boy, and she tried to tell him that. He frowned and stood up and walked away. When he returned, having found a long stick to use for a cane, and having fetched her shirt, he tossed the shirt at her. “It’s still a bit damp. Stay out here in the sun, and it will dry.”

He walked back to the cave, shoulders stooped, head down. She called to him, but he kept right on going. Quickly putting on the shirt, she hurried after him. He had to understand about the boy.

Before she could talk to him, she found Dolita and they hugged. “He wants me to go home with him, but I can’t leave the boy,” Amber cried. “Even if I hadn’t found out he’s Armand’s, I still couldn’t have deserted the child. If Cord won’t help me, then I’ll just find a way to do it alone.”

Dolita looked downcast. “I hope you are not angry with me for not telling you the truth about the boy. I felt I shouldn’t.”

“No, I understand. I just hope you understand the way I feel about him.”

“No, I don’t,” Dolita said bluntly, looking directly at Amber. “I think you are making a mistake. But I will not refuse to help you. I will take you back to the village, but I do not plan to stay there for long. I have another uncle in Soinota, and I want to go there and make a new life—far from here and that fiend Valdis.”

“Neither of us will be staying long. Just help me get the boy’s trust, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Amber gave her a hug, tears of gratitude stinging her eyes. She could not have come so far without Dolita’s help, and the poor girl had suffered so much because of Amber.

Cord approached, eyeing them suspiciously, and asked in a tight voice, “Are you discussing plans to go back to the village?”

“Yes.” Amber would not lie to him. If he was too stubborn to understand, then he didn’t really love her. “I am going. If you won’t come with me, then I will go alone. My mind is made up.”

“Fine.” Cord picked up a bottle of tequila and sat down, taking a drink. He had already had several.

Nervous, Dolita got up and went outside, leaving them alone together.

Cord stared at Amber with stormy eyes. “Both of you do whatever you want. I’m sick of worrying about you. I’ve kept my promise to Armand. I’ve offered to take you to the States, maybe make a life together one day, but you have to be so goddamned stubborn. You won’t listen to reason. Fine, get yourself killed by the Indians or Valdis. I’m not going to ride herd on you till you come to your senses.”

“No one is asking you to ride herd on me!” Amber stood up.

“I’ll get on with my life,” she said furiously, “and you can get on with yours.” For long moments, silence crackled between them.

“I guess we’re not going to agree, are we?” she finally asked hoarsely, and when he did not answer, she walked away.

Cord watched her go as he reached once more for the bottle. The most beautiful woman he had ever known, and also the most impossible. Maybe she was right. Maybe they just weren’t going to agree.

As night crept upon them, Cord took his bedroll and went outside the cave, while Amber bedded down near the fire. She pretended not to notice when Puetas drew Dolita into the shadows; tried to block out the sound of their whispered giggles.

Outside, Cord sat very still, listening to the lonely whisper of the wind as it rustled through the trees. At last, quietly, he gathered his things. He mounted his horse, anger keeping him from telling Amber good-bye. Maybe, he thought bitterly, he should have kept the vow he’d made never to give a damn about another woman.

Cord rode into the night. He did not look back.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amber sat on the hard ground, the Indian children gathered about her. Spring had arrived, and they were grouped beneath the newly leafed branches of a cottonwood tree. Round-eyed, brown-skinned faces watched her with curious interest. They understood no Spanish, and, of course, no English. The days passed quickly, and as Amber devoted her every waking hour to little Armand, as she called him, the other children and the adults had begun treating her like an exotic pet.

Puetas had offered to go after Cord, to talk to him, but Amber had dully told him not to bother. He had looked at her strangely but said nothing more, and he, Dolita, and Amber then had made their way to the Indian village.

The Indians were wary when they saw Amber and Dolita again, accompanied by yet another stranger, but Cuelo decreed that they be tolerated as long as they did their share of work in the village. That meant helping in the fields. Cuelo warned the strangers and his niece not to interfere with local customs.

Amber did not object to the work. It gave her time to be with the little boy. She learned that the name he answered to, when anyone bothered to speak to him at all, was “Malo,” meaning “bad.” Amber bristled and declared, “Not anymore! Since he has no name of his own, I’ll christen him ‘Armand.’”

Dolita shook her head and wandered away. Amber was going to face a big disappointment, for the boy was hopelessly hostile.