Hannah Howell (18 page)

Standing up, Antonie pocketed the money, tossed the bandoleras over her shoulder and calmly continued to study the gold watch. “No. He has no need of them."

“That may be true but..."

“Besides, except for the bullets, none of these things are his. He is one of the Martinez brothers. This watch says, ‘To William Deeds, thanks for the chance. Joe.'” She patted her pants pocket. “The money he stole, too."

“That doesn't make it right to steal from a corpse."

“Better I take it than Raoul and his men. They will stop to pick over the dead. Besides, this pig is headed to hell and it would be a shame to have such a fine watch melt, eh?” She went to find her horse.

Royal frowned, his gaze lingering on her even as he moved toward his own horse. He could not figure her out. She lied to protect a young girl's feelings, then calmly robbed the dead.

When Cole rode up beside him, Royal was eager to be distracted from his thoughts.

“Where'd you get that knife?” he demanded when he saw Cole carefully polishing a blade he did not recognize.

“A fine one, isn't it?” Cole replied. “Off one of the dead Mexicans back there."

“You robbed the dead?” Royal asked, surprised.

“Such sensitivity. He's got no use for it now. Raoul and the rest of his men will be along soon, and they'll pick the bodies clean. Clothes and all. At least I won't use this to slit throats in the night."

“You're just making excuses,” Royal said, disgust in his voice.

Cole shrugged. “Maybe. I doubt I'll lose any sleep over relieving some dead
bandido
of his knife, however. Why are you all fired up?"

“I just don't like the idea of taking things off the dead. First Antonie, then you. Probably some of the others, too."

“No probably about it. Hey, it's not nice. I know it. Don't usually do it. Not even in the war. Sometimes you just can't let what the dead have be wasted and sometimes, with scum like this, you just don't give a damn. Especially when you can be pretty certain that what they've got is stolen goods anyway. Come on, we've got to get an exact tally of what damage was done."

Consigning the recent pilfering to obscurity, Royal set about the task of tabulating his losses. Considering all that had happened, he soon saw that they had come through it all miraculously unscathed. By the time he was able to sit down for a cup of strong coffee, he was exhausted. If Raoul kept harassing them as badly as today, Royal felt confident that they would all drop dead of exhaustion before the drive was over.

He watched Patricia wearily enter the wagon where she and Antonie slept. Royal suspected that Patricia had already begun to see through the lie Antonie had told, but she was holding up well. Part of him wished she had stayed home wrapped in blissful ignorance, but another part of him felt it might do her some good to see some of the harsher side of life. Texas was still young, wild, and rough. If Patricia was going to make her life in the growing state, she should get a little harder, a little more worldly.

When Antonie came over to the fire, sat down, and helped herself to some coffee, he gave her a tired smile. He almost laughed when he realized that the tug of desire he always felt in her presence was a weak, halfhearted thing at the moment. Even that part of his body was just too tired to get too enthused. Nevertheless, he found himself wishing that, when he finally crawled into his bedroll, she would be there for him to curl up with.

Antonie felt him looking at her and finally gave in to the urge to return that look. He looked very tired and a little sad, which puzzled her for she could think of no reason for it. When she found herself longing to hold him close and smooth away the lines of exhaustion on his face, she decided that she had better leave or at least start up a conversation so as to distract herself. She opted for the latter as she was momentarily too lazy to rise and she wanted to finish her coffee.

“Well, at least we did not lose any miles today, eh?” she said and smiled at everyone. “The herd ran in the right direction."

Laughing softly, Royal nodded. “Fact is, I think we gained some miles. However, if the herd is too tired, we could lose that advantage tomorrow. Same with the horses and men. Well, we can only wait and see."

“Did you lose much?"

“About twenty head. Not as bad as I had figured it would be."

“But no men were lost?"

“No. The only dead man was one of the ones who started the stampede."

“Justice."

“Maybe so, but it's an ugly way to die."

“They were hoping many of us would die so."

“True."

“Any injuries amongst your men? I have been too busy to look and see."

“None during the stampede, which I figure is as close to a miracle as I'll ever get. Martin got shot, winged really, in the fight and Johnson fell off his horse during the charge."

“Oh, poor Johnson,” Antonie gasped as she stood up.

“Poor Johnson? He's only bruised up a mite. Martin's got a hole in his arm."

"Sí,
and I feel bad for him, but Johnson.” She shook her head. “To fall off your horse in the middle of a charge into battle? There is embarrassment. I will go see him."

Staring after her as she strode off, Royal had a feeling he was gaping. He shook his head and looked at Cole, who was bent double with laughter.

“I don't think I will ever understand that woman,” he declared, then joined Cole in his hearty enjoyment.

Watching Oro from where she sat by Tomás, Antonie could see his tension. She sighed, knowing it was not just the waiting for something to happen. He could not even ease the lustful part of his feelings for Patricia, his love and respect for her stopping him. Antonie understood what he was feeling, at least in part, and she ached for him.

Most of the time she could not really be angry at Patricia, although she felt the girl could have refrained from wheedling her way into joining the drive. She felt for the girl as well, even when she longed to slap her for torturing poor Oro by offering a love he could not take. It was amazing that Patricia's brothers had not noticed her longing looks toward Oro, but they might yet, and Antonie waited for that event with dread. Love was proving to be an extremely tiresome business.

“I will go on a watch,” Oro said abruptly and started for his horse.

“There's no need,” protested Cole. “Plenty of men out there."

“I will go."

Oro had just reached the remuda when shots rang out. Antonie saw him fall and felt her blood run cold. For a moment he lay ominously still, but then she saw what she had been waiting so tensely for. In a long-ago agreed signal, he put up his thumb to show her that he lived. Unable to go to him, she hoped that whatever wound he had suffered was not too serious.

Antonie threw Patricia to the ground just as the girl started to move toward Oro. “Stay down,” she hissed.

“But Oro,” Patricia choked out even as Antonie pinned her down so neatly that she could not move at all.

“See his thumb? It is up. That means that he lives. Stay down or you will not. Now, crawl. Under the supply wagon. Keep your backside down.” Antonie roughly pushed Patricia's gently rounded rump down as they started to crawl. “Want it shot off,
muchacha?"

This was the attack they had waited for, and Royal looked to see Antonie herding Patricia to safety. Only once did she shoot, neatly taking down the man who had spotted them. Her gun stayed at the ready but silent, so as not to draw any more attention to herself and her basically helpless charge, for this time Patricia was unarmed. He was glad he had assigned Antonie that chore, for it meant that she, too, had to stay under cover.

Raoul had clearly hoped that the element of surprise would be on his side, but it was failing him. Royal knew that seeing how his men were being slaughtered while few of the Bancroft crew fell, Raoul would realize that a full assault was plainly not the answer. It did not surprise Royal at all when, after a relatively brief if furious battle, Raoul rode off into the night, but the man left eight of his men behind, dead or nearly so.

As soon as the shooting had ended, Antonie leapt to her feet. “Stay here,” she ordered Patricia.

Patricia clearly had no intention of obeying, for Antonie heard the girl follow her. Antonie quickly ascertained that Royal and Tomás were in fine shape as she ran to Oro and knelt by his side. Easing his head onto her lap, she gently dabbed the blood away from what was only a graze on his forehead. She spared little more than a glance for Patricia as the girl knelt and touched Oro's arm. Oro groaned and turned his face into Antonie's abdomen to hide.

"Por Dios,
will you go away? I do not need you."

Even as a white-faced Patricia retreated, Oro staggered to his feet and stumbled away. Antonie signaled a hurriedly approaching Tomás that Oro was all right and then set out after him. She was worried about Oro stumbling around with a head wound, upset as he was.

Royal had sensed the tension between Oro and Patricia, but had thought that perhaps his sister was pestering the man with an infatuation. Hearing Oro's words and seeing the way they had devastated Patricia, he knew it ran deeper. Not sure what he intended to do, he followed Oro and Antonie.

Still dizzy, Oro collapsed to his knees just out of sight of the camp. Antonie feared that it was not really the pain in his head that troubled him most, but a deeper, perhaps incurable one. She sensed that he was turning away something he ached to grasp with both hands and hold onto tightly, and that he hated himself for hurting Patricia by turning her away. When Antonie knelt in front of him, thinking that she had not fully realized the depth of what she was involved in, he reached for her blindly.

“It hurts. God, it hurts."

She knew he was not referring to his head wound as she wrapped him in her arms, her cheek pressed against his hair. When his strong arms held her too tightly, she made no complaint but rocked him gently and wept for his pain. It all seemed so very unfair.

Turning away from the private and uncomfortably emotional scene, Royal slowly made his way back to camp. Suddenly the responsibility he carried seemed too much. Oro Degas was not a man he would have chosen for Patricia, but did he have a right to decide that? Seeing that everything was under control, he sought out Cole and Justin. If nothing else he needed a sounding board for his troubled thoughts.

Seeing Tomás grab a bottle of tequila and go to Patricia, Royal briefly postponed locating his brothers. He hated eavesdropping, but he needed to know what was going on. There was no way he could make any rational decision without knowing. Staying out of sight, he strained to hear what Tomás and Patricia were saying.

“Here. Have a drink.” Tomás offered Patricia the bottle of tequila and smiled a little when she took a sip from it, then grimaced.

“That stuff is disgusting,” she gasped. “I think it has done real damage to my throat."

“It is Mexican. An acquired taste. Not every
gringo
likes it.” He took a drink and offered her the bottle again.

“I'm supposed to read something in that, am I? By the way, it does get better, or maybe I just destroyed my throat and can't feel anything anymore."

"Sí
, it does get better and,
sí,
I am trying to tell you something.
Chica,
a
gringo
will laugh with a Mexican, drink with him, whore with him, and fight beside him. He will slap him on the back and call him friend. This does fine, but he does not want us to touch his sister or his daughter, eh? You are taking bigger sips now,
muchacha.
Now, did you listen to my words?"

“Royal isn't like that."

“No? You have asked him?"

“No,” she replied softly. “You three have made me doubt him and I'm scared to open my mouth."

“What will he do? Maybe send Oro away or send you away until Oro goes back to Mexico. What is that?"

“That is terrible, that's what this is. It'd mean I wouldn't see him anymore."

“This, now, makes you happy?” he asked incredulously.
"Por Dios,
you both walk around bleeding. This is no good."

“Haven't you ever been in love, Tomás? Haven't you ever loved anybody?"

"Sí
and no. I love, but I have never been in love. I love Oro. I love Antonie. I loved my father, Juan, and Julio. If I was making them hurt so, I would stop it. That is love. I would leave or I would let them go. I would not drag out the agony."

“I had hoped I could change his mind,” she said in a small voice.

“This would not make him happy,
pobrecita.
It would not make you happy either, not in the end."

“It's just his pride."

“A man must have his pride or he is no man,” Tomás stated firmly. “Pride is not ‘just’ a thing.
Chica,
he thinks of you, too. To be Oro's you could lose the brothers you love, eh? To have them against you and your man would hurt. You would give up too much. When men are set against each other and tempers run hot, somebody gets hurt. You would be in the middle. There would be no happiness there."

“I will talk to Royal and if he acts like you've said, I'll go visit my cousin for a while. At least I won't have to see him going to the saloon all the time or hanging around Antonie,” she grumbled and did not see Tomás wince. “My tongue feels funny.” She stuck it out.

“Looks fine,” Tomás said gravely and smiled a little when she giggled. “Can you touch your nose with it?"

There ensued a great deal of nonsense and Royal realized that Patricia was suffering the false euphoria of the inebriated. As he quietly moved away, he suspected that it would not be long before Patricia had to be helped to her bed.

He now felt that he understood the problem everyone had worked so hard to conceal. He just hoped he would be able to solve it to everyone's satisfaction.

Royal sat down with Cole and Justin and poured himself a strong cup of coffee. He was not sure of what to say. It was still hard to accept that his baby sister was a woman capable of loving. He had to keep reminding himself that she was eighteen now.