Hannah Howell (30 page)

“Hell of a thing to happen to a man on his wedding night,” Dr. Fowler said as he strode into the parlor, the Bancrofts at his heels, Royal moving quickly to get the doctor a drink.

“Will he be all right?” Patricia asked shakily.

“He will be,” the doctor replied. “Just be sure he takes it easy on that leg. It's a bad wound, no mistake about it, but he'll live. I can't promise he won't have a limp but, if he's real careful, he might not."

“I'll go sit with him."

“If you could wait just a minute, Pattie,” Royal asked. “The doctor gave him something. He's sleeping and Tomás is with him. I want you to tell me what happened."

Antonie, with Maria's help, tried to keep Patricia's impatience curbed as the doctor gave his instructions for Oro's care while savoring his drink. Despite the lateness of the hour, the doctor had come quickly and Antonie was grateful. She was also as happy as Patricia so obviously was when he left.

“I'm sorry, Pattie. I know you want to go sit with Oro,” Royal apologized as he returned from showing the doctor out.

“It's all right, Royal,” Patricia replied, her voice made unsteady by her lingering fear.

“Look,
chica,
maybe you should take a potion, too. Get some rest,” Antonie suggested.

Patricia shook her head. “No. I don't think even a potion would help me sleep tonight. I'd rather go sit with Oro."

“Can you tell me anything that happened?” Royal asked. “Did you see anyone?"

“Not really, Royal. I woke up when the shooting started. Oro shoved Chance into the house, then dragged himself in. He was wounded outside the door. He tried to get me to go under the bed, but I wouldn't. When we started to fight back, they tried to burn us out. That's when you arrived. Did Tomás really feel something warn him?"

"Sí,"
Antonie replied. “He burst into our room and tried to convince Royal and me to go with him to check on you. We thought he was still drunk, eh? Especially since he was naked. Only a few minutes later we got word of the attack."

“They knew we were there. They had come to kill us."

“Are you sure of that, Pattie?” Royal pressed.

“Yes, I am, Royal. One of them even called to Oro."

“What did he say?” Antonie asked.

Blushing deeply, Patricia replied, “He said, well, something about hoping Oro had enjoyed his Anglo bride, for it would be for the last time. They knew about the wedding, and that's strange."

“I reckon it's been talked about a lot around here,” Cole said.

“Perhaps,” Patricia agreed. “Oh, there was one other thing. Someone watched. From the rise. There was a lone horseman there until just before you came."

“The one who hired them?” Antonie looked at Royal.

“Most likely,” Royal softly cursed then looked at his sister again. “You didn't see anything recognizable about the horseman?"

Patricia shook her head. “No, Royal. I'm sorry. He was too far away and in the shadows."

“It's all right. If nothing else, at least we know it was the same ones we've been fighting all along. Go on up to Oro, honey.” He gave Patricia a quick kiss and frowned as he watched her leave. “It seems our surprise was no surprise and nearly killed them."

“No,” Antonie said. “It was a surprise. It should have been safe because one cannot plan around surprises."

Royal nodded slowly. “You're right, Antonie. This was a hastily put-together attack."

“Do you think it was people who did not like the marriage?"

“For a little while, I did, darlin'."

“But not now?” Antonie asked.

“Nope. For one thing, our people wouldn't call Pattie an Anglo."

“And they wouldn't call Oro by name. Not that name anyway,” Cole added.

“No. It would have been ‘bean-eater’ or ‘half-breed,'.” Antonie agreed tiredly, fighting a yawn.

Smiling faintly, Royal helped her stand and urged her toward the door. “Get some sleep, honey.” He kissed her briefly. “Oro's going to need a lot of care. I'll be along soon."

“Think our enemies are getting a little desperate?” Cole asked as soon as Antonie had gone.

“This did seem a little rash,” Justin agreed. “If they knew about the wedding and the cabin, they must've known about the extra guard. Hell, according to Henry, they just missed running into him and Tom."

Royal nodded. “Whoever planned this was in a hurry and didn't wait to get all the information."

“Do you have any idea, Royal?” Cole asked.

“Some,” Royal replied, “but I want to think about it some more, Cole."

“Well, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to do that thinking alone,” Cole said as he stood up. “I'm dog-tired."

“Me, too, I'm afraid,” Justin said. “Don't need me for anything, do you?"

“No, Justin. Go on to bed, you two.” Royal smiled at a yawning Maria. “You, too, woman. Pattie'll need you in the next few days."

Pausing as she followed Cole and Justin out of the room, Maria said quietly, “It was one of the guests."

“Yes, I'm afraid it was,” agreed Royal. “Well, that narrows it some."

“Someone who left early, eh?"

“Early enough to contact their hired guns and mount an attack, and too early to know that the cabin was guarded. I should've kept a closer watch on my guests’ comings and goings."

“I will think on it."

“Thanks, Maria. Go on. Off to bed. Oh, and by the way, you have my full permission to yell at Marilyn and boot her out of your kitchen.” He smiled when she flushed, then giggled, and hurried away.

Sighing wearily, he went to sit down. He still had to wait for Tom to report in. Royal doubted that the sheriff would find out anything except that the dead men were
bandidos,
but there was always that chance. He needed some hard proof.

Sipping his brandy, he tried to push away the suspicion that was rapidly gaining strength. He did not want to face the truth that was fighting to be accepted. It would make him look like a complete fool, and he was certainly beginning to feel like one.

“Marilyn,” he hissed, making the name sound like a curse.

Forcing his anger aside, he tried to examine the proof he did have. It was all circumstantial, but it fell into place too neatly to be ignored. If he had only once thought of the Collinses it would have been clear a lot earlier.

The Collinses lived right next to him. If they got his ranch they would have the biggest stretch of land in the county. They would also have control over most of the water in the area. Even they had to turn to his land when there was a dry spell. They would also be the greatest power in the area, controlling almost everyone, if they had a mind to. It was an arrangement that could tempt many a man, and that was enough motive for mayhem and murder. It had provided one often enough.

Marilyn might be the informant, the insider who gathered all the needed information. She had been around and privy to all sorts of information for a long time. Juan had said it was someone close to him, and Marilyn was the closest of all their friends. She had known when his parents would be traveling to San Antonio. She had known about Pattie's planned trip, even to the number of men riding with her and Justin and the route taken. Marilyn had known about the cattle drive when it was only an idea, then when it was definitely planned and even his route, for he had wanted someone at home to be able to reach him if there was trouble.

He shook his head. All these facts made a strong case but he had not seen it, not until tonight. Marilyn's attempt to seduce him was a small part. She had seen her place in his life, vital to the plan, slipping away. The incident in the garden had been a desperate attempt to reestablish her intimate role with him. He had sensed that she had been acting a part. The really incriminating thing was that she and her father had left immediately after the surprise for Oro and Patricia had been revealed. They had left in plenty of time to contact their hired guns and arrange the attack. In fact, they were the only ones who could have.

It was frustrating for, while everything pointed toward Marilyn and her father, he had not one piece of hard evidence. He was not sure there was any to be had. At least one of the hired men had to know who hired them. Certainly Raoul had, but so far none caught alive had had that information. Without proof he had no more than suspicions, and they were worth nothing against the Collinses.

Yet he still felt an inkling of doubt. He knew that it stemmed from not wanting to see what a fool he had been but, for whatever the reason, the doubt was there. There had to be a way to erase even that doubt or prove his suspicions were wrong.

“Sir?"

Shaking free of his thoughts, Royal waved Tom into the room. “Want a drink?"

“Won't say no."

“Help yourself. I'm too damned tired to play host,” Royal said, waving the man toward the brandy bottle.

“Had enough of it, huh?” Tom asked with a laugh as he poured himself a small brandy.

“For a few years anyway."

“Didn't find a thing, I'm afraid, boss."

“I'm not surprised, although I had hoped to be."

“Well, the sheriff thinks he has seen one of the men in the saloon and he's going to ask around. Doesn't promise anything though,” Tom said tiredly.

“No. He'll probably only find out that he was right, that he had seen the man there."

“Yes, the people in the saloons don't much care who you are or about much else, so long as you pay and don't cause any trouble. Still, I got a feeling it can't go on much longer."

“What makes you say that?” Royal asked, surprised.

“Tonight. It was rash. Not thought out at all. A stupid move really. The kind that'll give them away."

“Or make them sit back, look close, and be even more careful."

Tom sighed and set down his empty glass. “Or that. Sorry, I wish I could've brought you something, boss."

“You did your best, Tom. Get some sleep. The morning's all yours to do what you want."

“Thanks, boss.” Tom paused in the doorway. “Oro's still all right?"

“Doc said he'll live and, if he's real careful, he might not limp either."

“That's good. He's a good man. ‘Night, boss."

“ ‘Night, Tom."

As soon as Tom had gone, Royal indulged in a long bout of swearing. It left him feeling only somewhat better. He was still left with only a pile of suspicions and no proof. There was also a vast unorganized collection of half-formed ideas about how to finalize those wavering suspicions, and some of those were almost laughably wild.

Finishing off another brandy, he decided he was too tired and probably too drunk to think straight. If there was a solution he would have to look for it another day. Checking the house for any smoldering fires and making sure everything was secured, he decided to go to bed.

Quietly, he entered the room where Oro had been put to bed. Patricia barely glanced at him, her gaze fixed on the restlessly sleeping Oro. Moving next to the bed, Royal studied his new brother-in-law and was a little surprised at how young he was. Stripped of all his
bandido
paraphernalia, most of his hardness had disappeared, but Royal suspected it was still there. The life Oro had led made sure of that. Royal felt certain that, in some ways, Oro was older than him.

His gaze moved to Patricia. Inwardly he laughed when he found himself trying to see some difference in her. All he could see was a young woman who was worried sick about her husband and hating to see his pain.

“Well, at least you'll never forget your anniversary,” Royal finally said.

Patricia looked at him in shock, then laughed. “What a terrible thing to say."

“I know but, well, you looked so lost. I just wanted to take that look away."

“You did. I do feel a little lost. I was there with Oro feeling warm and happy, thinking it was the first night of the rest of our lives together, and suddenly everything changed horribly. It was as if God had thought I had forgotten about such things as mortality and wanted to remind me. I had gone to sleep,” she blushed, “well, you know, and woke up to Oro's cursing and yelling at me to get down, his leg bleeding so badly and bullets flying everywhere. I'm surprised I didn't faint."

“You're stronger than that, Pattie."

“Yes, I guess I am. Funny, it wasn't until it was all over that I fell apart."

“That's when it doesn't matter."

“Antonie lied to me,” Patricia said with a slight edge in her voice.

“What?"

“That day at the rocks. I am not a bad shot. I did kill that man."

“She was trying to save your feelings,” Royal said gently.

“I know. I took it hard that day, but this time it wasn't so bad. Oh, it's not easy, even though they were trying to kill us, but some of the horror was gone. Maybe it's because Oro was there bleeding, and that kept it all clear in my head. I knew that this was a fight for our lives.” She smiled faintly. “But you know all that. You've been through it."

“Sadly, yes. Look, Pattie, don't wear yourself out sitting here. If you feel tired, get some sleep. There're plenty of us to take a turn, and he'll need you strong."

“I know. Just tonight. Go to bed, Royal. I'll be fine. You need your sleep, too."

After giving her a brief kiss, he left. Standing in the hall, he wondered for a moment which bed he should crawl into. He ached with weariness and knew he would not be making love to Antonie tonight. They still maintained separate rooms, even though they never slept apart. He knew he should probably go to his own bed rather than disturb her, for she was tired, too, and needed her rest. Even as he thought that, he moved toward Antonie's door, his need to hold her overcoming his good intentions.

Slipping quietly into Antonie's room, he glanced at the bed and smiled. The arrangement of the pillows and the way she had fallen asleep partially sitting up told him that she had tried to wait up for him. He felt something melt inside him as he stripped off his clothes. He slipped into bed beside her and she murmured his name, turning toward him.

Antonie struggled to awaken as she felt Royal gently pull her into his arms. However, she was simply too exhausted to do more than partially rouse herself. The difficulty she had waking up in the morning evidently affected her any time she slept. Yet, as she snuggled up against Royal's warmth, she continued to try to wake up.