The Barefoot Bride (58 page)

Sterling's eyes rolled for a split second before he focused on the group of men again. Aiming for the one who had the strange hair, he squeezed the trigger.

The man's gun flew out of his hand. All four of the ruffians screamed as they turned their horses and fled.

Chimera watched them leave, then turned toward where the gunshot had come from.

Sterling replaced his guns in his belt and stood there for a few seconds before he remembered his nakedness. Frantically, he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Chimera doubled over with laughter. "No wonder those men hightailed it out of here! You're a very menacing sight, Sterling Montoya! You've no need for sinister-looking clothing, do you? Why, I believe you're the scariest gunslinger alive!"

He spied a dirty towel hanging from a nail on the side of the creaking barn, yanked it off, and wrapped it around his waist. "Your monsters stole the only pair of breeches I own. What was I supposed to do, make a loincloth with leaves? And
you're
one to laugh! I've never heard anything as ridiculous as you threatening to make those men bark! What were you going to do? Turn them into dogs?"

She bristled. "I told you the spells have to rhyme."

"I'm no witch, Chimera, but my instincts tell me those incantations of yours should also make sense!" He joined her in the yard and picked up the now-screaming Venus.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Chimera snapped. "It made you shoot the gun out of that man's hand, didn't it?"

He frowned fiercely at this newest stab at his pride. "No, it did not! I thought to shoot his gun out of his—Listen, Chimera, not every single thing that happens to or for you is a direct result of your magic. You—"

"I chanted the spell, you shot at the man, the outlaws rode away. Put two and two together, Sterling. It's too much of a coincidence—"

"All right, all right. You're the queen of witches. The most powerful sorceress in all the land! Your magic is mightier than—"

"And your sarcasm is the most aggravating—"

"Who were those men?" he demanded, in no mood to argue with her. "Have you ever seen them before?"

She sighed and looked toward the woods. "I've seen the one with the white stripe in his hair, but I've never seen the others. I imagine Everett Sprague has a whole army of them and can pick and choose whomever he wants to do his dirty work. Anyway, they saw your horse and wanted to know if the man who owned it was still here before they began."

"Who's this Sprague character?" Sterling asked, then spun around when he felt something nudge his back. His eyes widened, and his head fell back as he looked up.

The strangest, foulest-smelling beast he'd ever encountered stood staring down at him. It was a light brown, had huge black eyes, a long snout, hairy stilts for legs... and a hump on its back.

If it didn't seem so ludicrous, Sterling could have sworn the huge animal was a camel.

"Pegasus," Chimera said, taking hold of his halter, "how did you get loose?"

"Pegasus?" Sterling repeated, still leaning back as he stared at the odd animal.

"Pegasus is the winged horse in Greek mythology," Chimera explained, and led the animal back into the sway-roofed barn, Sterling following. "When I was a little girl, my fondest fantasy was to have a white horse named Pegasus. Well, I got a brown camel instead."

She led Pegasus back into his dilapidated stall and tied the door more securely. "I found him and couldn't for the life of me figure out where he'd come from. I asked anyone who would listen to me if they knew anything about him. One man finally told me the whole story."

Sterling waited for her to continue, but when she offered no more information he asked, "Well, what's the story?"

"A while back, men were having an awful time getting goods from Texas to California," she explained. "The deserts nearly killed the mules and horses, and there was hardly any water or food for them either. The men had to take feed along for them, but that took up space on the pack animals' backs. It was a real bad problem until Jefferson Davis decided camels were the answer. Congress soon imported camels to Texas from Asia."

Chimera took her time in finishing. "The camels did well," she finally enlightened him. "They could carry almost a thousand pounds of weight, were happy with desert scrub for food, and didn't need much water. But in the end, the camel program just didn't work out. Most of the drivers hated them for their nasty dispositions, the herds of mules, horses, and cattle were scared to death of them, and the mule market in St. Louis had been against the program from the start anyway. Also, the drivers couldn't speak Arabic, and the camels didn't understand English. Then—"

"You speak Arabic to him?"

"No, but with a lot of time and patience, I taught him English," she informed him proudly, and took Venus from him. "Anyway, before long, some of the camels were auctioned off in California. Some went to the Nevada mines, and others, like Pegasus, were simply let loose to fend for themselves."

Sterling, lost in the wild story she'd told him, failed to notice Pegasus stretch out his long neck toward him. But he did feel the camel's painful bite when its teeth nipped at his shoulder. "Damn!" he yelled, and swiped at Pegasus. "He bit the hell—"

"Honestly, Sterling," Chimera said, heading out of the barn. "You're in sad shape. Your ribs are bruised, your chest is slashed to pieces, your bottom is scalded, and now you have a camel bite on your shoulder. If you don't take better care of yourself, you'll never be able to do your duties."

Sterling was relieved to see the skin wasn't broken. He threw Pegasus a nasty look and followed Chimera into the cabin. He had no intention of being her hero, and now was the time to tell her. Of course, he'd wait until she'd fed him first, he decided.

Once inside, Chimera laid Venus on Archibald's cot, stirred the vegetables Archibald had started, and took a small bag of flour from her pantry. "To answer your question, Sterling," she said, and dumped a measure of flour into a bowl, "Everett Sprague is a nearby land baron who wants to buy my land. I politely refused to sell, so now he sends his henchmen to threaten me into selling. But I wouldn't sell it for all the gold in the world." She bustled back to the pantry.

"Sentimental value, huh?" Sterling ventured absently, and rubbed his throbbing shoulder. "You don't really
ride
that vicious beast out there, do you?"

"Well, of course I ride him! He's the only mount I have. I trained him to pull a wagon too. He doesn't like it much, but—"

"Fine, fine," he cut in, realizing she was about to launch into another of her annoying stories. "Why is this land worth more than all the gold—"

"It's the gnomes," she answered, and started working on biscuit dough. "If I sold this land, where would they go? They certainly wouldn't want to live here with Everett. The man is positively evil!"

Sterling tried to restrain his irritation, but failed. "Chimera, we're talking about something serious. Those men who came out here today meant business.
Dangerous
business. Gnomes are—"

"Very real," she said with a smile, and began cutting out biscuits. "Do you see any of that sugar you made me drop yesterday?"

He looked at the floor and saw it was clean.

"The gnomes swept it," she informed him.

His brow creased. "You really expect me to believe—"

"Yes, I do," she said firmly. "You—"

"Fine," he snapped. "Gnomes are real. So real that I'm sure you've nothing at all to worry about. After all, gnomes swept the floor, didn't they? Surely they can handle guns as well as they can brooms! I've no doubt they'll arm themselves and protect you from this Sprague person who—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sterling," she said, putting the biscuits in the oven.

"Aha!" he yelled, and pointed at her. "Then you admit gnomes are just fantasies! That they—"

"Archibald," Chimera called to the boy, who was reading in the corner, "go through your clothes and see if you have anything that will fit Sterling. I've no intention of sitting down to eat with a half-naked man, and until I can make him some clothes, he'll just have to squeeze himself into something of yours. Now, what was I saying to you, Sterling?"

"What? Uh..."he said, trying in vain to remember the subject she'd changed so quickly. Dammit, he'd forgotten! Her aggravating habit of veering away from the topic of conversation was making him absent-minded.

"Oh, yes, now I remember," she said. "Don't be ridiculous. The gnomes have no reason to put themselves into danger for my sake when that's what
you're
here to do."

"Me?"

"You're the hero, remember?" She crossed her hands over her heart. "My knight! As such, you will come up with a brilliant plan to defeat Everett. And while you're busy devising it, you may as well make good use of the time by rebuilding my cabin, helping me plant another garden, securing some more livestock, constructing fences, fixing the barn—I told you last night I needed a man." She noticed his shocked expression. "Don't worry, I'll help you. You—"

"Now, wait just a damn-blasted minute, Chimera!" he yelled, and yanked up the towel, which had begun to slip from his waist. "I'm not staying!"

"Sterling." She sighed. "You really must learn not to fight my magic. I conjured you up, here you are, and here you will stay. You'll do everything you're supposed to do. But first you're going to eat lunch. I hope you don't mind not having any meat. We ate the last of the rabbit last night, and there's nothing in the way of meat here but a large rat Snug killed this morning. You don't eat rat, do you?"

Sterling couldn't even speak past his frustration.

"Well, you
are
part Mexican," she said, and placed a plate of fried potatoes on the table. "And I've heard that Mexicans eat all sorts of strange things. Have you ever eaten iguana? You know, that giant lizard creature—"

"I know what an iguana is, Chimera. Now, getting back to the subject of staying—"

"Do you eat it?" she asked again, and turned to take the biscuits out of the oven.

"Chimera—"

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?" he asked, totally confused and utterly fit to be tied.

"Eat iguana!"

He stared at her, disbelieving. "Why are we talking about iguana?"

"Because—"

"Oh, hell! No! I don't eat iguana! I don't believe in gnomes, I don't play the role of knight in shining armor, but most of all I don't believe you're for real!"

"Here," Archibald intervened, and handed Sterling a pair of trousers.

Sterling jammed his legs into the yellow pants and yanked the waistband up beneath the towel he wore. "They won't close."

"It's all that iguana you've been eating," Chimera said. "It must be fattening."

"I told you I don't eat—"

"Take this," she said, and threw him a shawl that had been lying on the back of a chair. "Wrap it around your waist. It'll cover the part of you the pants won't, and," she giggled, "it's much prettier than that dirty towel you're wearing."

"Very amusing, Chimera." Sterling tied the fuchsia-colored shawl around himself, and frowned at the long grass-green fringe hanging from it. "Real amusing. Now—uh..." What had he been going to say? Dammit, he'd forgotten again!

"Is lunch ready, Chimera?" Snag asked as he and his brothers stormed into the cabin.

Sterling grabbed him by his bright turquoise shirt and lifted him off the floor. "What did you do with my pants, you little—"

"Put him down, Sterling." Chimera ordered.

Sterling dropped the boy, feeling a small measure of satisfaction when the youngster hit the floor with a thud. "Don't cross me again, Snig," he warned.

"I'm Snag," the boy snarled back.

"Snig, Snag, Snug, what the hell difference does it make?" Sterling demanded. "You look the same, act the same—"

"Oh, but they aren't the same," Chimera joined in, and put a bowl of steaming carrots on the table. "Snig has more freckles than either Snag or Snug. Snag's left ear is lower than his right. And Snug always has a snake in his pocket. Right, Snug?" she asked, and pointed at the door.

Snug rose, pulled the skinny black snake out of his pocket, and went to release it outside. As he walked back into the room, he stuck his tongue out at Sterling.

Sterling reached out and grabbed it, eliciting a piercing shriek from the small boy. "Stick this dirty thing out at me one more time, Snag, and I'll rip it out of your—"

"I'm 'Nug!" the boy slurred angrily.

"Nug?" Sterling repeated.

"If you'd let go of his tongue, you'd understand he's trying to tell you he's Snug," Chimera said. "There's really no need for such violence anyway, Sterling."

"These kids need discipline," he grumbled, and released Snug's tongue. "It's obvious to me they've never had any."

Chimera calmly sat down at her place at the table. "Then we'll add disciplining the children to your list of heroic duties. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. Of course you must temper the discipline with affection, Sterling. I won't let you hurt—"

"Snig got more potatoes than me!"

"I did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Enough!" Sterling bellowed, and slammed his fist down to the table. "Any more arguing, and I'll take all three of you out to the woodshed!"

"We ain't got no woodshed," Snig countered.

"You don't have a woodshed," Sterling corrected.

"That's what I said," Snig argued. "We ain't got no woodshed. If you already knew that, then why'd you say—"

"Quiet!" Sterling exploded.

The triplets hushed at once and began to eat, the only noise they made the quiet smacking of their lips. When the meal was finished and Archibald and the triplets had gone outside, Sterling rose from his chair and paced the room.

"I'm going to Tucson, Chimera. I told you that last night."

Chimera saw a restless look in his eyes. "What's so important in Tucson?"

"It's not what, it's who."

"A woman?" She tried to understand the sharp stab of dismay she felt.

Sterling stopped at the window. "Yes." His breath fogged the cracked pane. "A woman."