The Heavenly Surrender (34 page)

And now—oh how she ached for Brevan’s strength again—longed for the security that only he could provide for her. She thought of the soft feel of his hair between her fingers—the feel of his whiskery face beneath her palms. She broke into goose bumps at the memory of the warm, sweet taste of his mouth when he kissed her. She thought of him dancing about in the rain weeks earlier—like a king of the little people happy in his trickery. She thought of him covered in cake batter—standing angry before her one moment and chuckling as he dragged her into the pond the next. She thought of him championing her before her father—his capable hand pressing firmly against her belly—and she smiled then, knowing that someday she would carry his child there. She thought of the story Brenna had told her about Brevan and his desire to grow tall and strong. He was tall and very, very strong, and she smiled at the thought of him up to his ankles in fresh cow manure. Yet in the next instant, her delight quickly changed to sobbing as tears of fear and despair flooded her cheeks.
She
was safe for the moment. Certainly she was imprisoned in a lightless cell of mildew and death, but she
was safe. Was he? She had tried to fight thoughts of harm coming to Brevan—for hours she’d fought them. But now, fatigue and despair won out, and she cried for him. Cried for him to help her, yes, but cried more over the anxiety of not knowing whether or not Cruz had murdered her husband in the hours since she had fallen.

Then, as if heaven itself had understood her fears, she heard him calling from above, “Genieva? Genieva? Do ya see anythin’, lads?”

“Brevan!” she cried, standing and looking toward the opening overhead.

“Genieva, where are ya, lass?”

“Brevan, down here.” Instantly a lantern appeared through the opening. She prayed thankfully and silently as it then illuminated the rugged features of her husband’s face.

“Are ya well, lass?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Brian, fetch the rope from yar saddle! Quickly, lad! Ya wait there, Genieva. I’ll be down in a minute. Ya just wait right there.”

Before his feet were on the ground, Brevan reached for Genieva, pulling her tightly into his powerful embrace and against his invincible body. “Genieva,” he whispered into her hair. “Genieva, Genieva, Genieva.”

“Mateo. I think there is some streak of conscience in a few members of that family, at least,” he explained. Brevan tilted Genieva’s face up in order to clearly see the wound at her cheek. “Are ya hurt otherwise?” he asked.

“I think I’ll have a nasty bruise on my hip, and every bone in me aches. But otherwise…” Genieva began to answer.

“Ya fell in here before…before Cruz laid his hands on ya and…”

“I did. Thank the heavens. I fell instead of his catching me,” Genieva assured him, touched deeply by the expression of intense concern on his face—the excess moisture in his eyes.

Taking her face between his hands, Brevan whispered, “I thought…I thought…” Without finishing what he had begun to tell her, however, he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs—kissing her mouth tenderly. As Brevan let his forehead rest on Genieva’s for a moment, the love she felt for him swelled so profoundly that she could not endure it, and she favored him with a fully fierce and fervent kiss. Again Genieva experienced Brevan’s kiss unleashed—powerfully impassioned—and she marveled at its addictive essence.

“Ya’re far too warm, ya are,” he said, breaking from her suddenly. “Quickly, Brian! She’s fevered.”



“’Twas the dampness and cold,” Brian told Brevan some time later as they watched Genieva resting quietly at last. “But I’ll wager she’ll be fine when mornin’ comes. Then we should take her into town to be safe with Brenna, Lita, and the baby.”

Brevan nodded, caressing Genieva’s cheek one last time with the back of his hand before rising and following Brian out of the room.

When he’d closed the door securely, Brian said, “’Tis quite the turnabout ya’ve made where she’s concerned in the last twenty-four hours.” Brevan scowled at his brother, but Brian only chuckled and added, “Ya’ve admitted to yarself that ya love her finally. I thought ya’d never give in to it, Brevan.”

Brevan nodded, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Ya were right all the time, brother Brian. I thought she saw me only as a way to escape whatever it was she was runnin’ from. And then she saw me as her taskmaster. I-I think I feared she would reject me as her friend and as her lover. She’s so headstrong and proper…and I’m so headstrong and improper.”

“A match made in heaven, brother Brevan,” Brian chuckled. “A true and heavenly match.”

“Travis,” Brevan greeted as he entered the kitchen. “I thank ya, too, I do. Brother,” and he shook the man’s extended hand.

“I’m only glad that we found her. That we found her well and alive,” Travis sighed. “But now one of us should be getting into town. Brenna and Lita will be sick with worry.”

“You go, Brian,” Brevan suggested. “Ya’ll be wantin’ to check on yar family. Travis can stay here with me, and we’ll meet ya in the mornin’. Did ya find out when Sheriff Dawson will be back?”

“Tomorrow evenin’, I was told,” Brian answered. “We’ll get help then, and Cruz will be run off for good.”

“Run off? Runnin’ him off won’t be payment enough for what he’s done to me wife, Brian,” Brevan growled. “He’s an animal and deserves less mercy than hangin’, he does.”

Brian nodded. “Juan Miguel is blind to his son’s evil deeds.”

“That he is. I’ve little compassion for his blindness…for he chooses to blind himself.”



Travis had offered to keep first watch. Yet when Brevan woke and raised his head from the table where he’d fallen asleep in his chair to be greeted by the first rays of sunshine and the rooster’s crow, he knew something was wrong. Travis should’ve awakened him long before daylight. Picking up his rifle, he slowly opened the front door. He saw Travis lying on the porch, apparently unconscious, as he felt the whip tighten about his throat. It choked him brutally, and Brevan dropped the rifle as his hands went to the mean strip of leather threatening to strangle the life from him. Brevan recognized Cruz’s voice—chuckling at his ear as he held the whip tightly around his throat.

“Enough, McLean,” Cruz growled. “This ends, now!” He shouted an angry order in Spanish. Mateo stood to one side as two other men loomed before Brevan. The triumphant grins apparent on the vaqueros’ faces angered Brevan further, causing the Irishman’s temper to flare more furiously than ever.

Genieva startled from her restful sleep when she heard a loud clatter from outside on the porch. When it was followed immediately by an angry, “Ándele!” she knew Cruz was in the house. Quickly she rolled from the bed and scooted beneath it the instant before the door to the bedroom burst open. She watched as two sets of boots stood just inside the room, the men obviously searching for her.

“Mateo!” came Cruz’s angry voice again, “Apúrate! Apúrate!” Genieva clamped her hand tightly over her mouth as she watched one of the men kneel down on the floor. They would find her! She could only watch, paralyzed with horror, as the quilt hanging from the bed was raised and the face of Mateo Archuleta appeared before her.

His eyes were intent upon Genieva, but his expression uncertain.

“She is not here, hermano!” he shouted, letting the quilt fall once more and leaving her safe in her hiding. The two men left the room, and Genieva exhaled. She waited until she heard the heavy tread of their boots leave the porch. Carefully, she crept from beneath the bed and into the kitchen.

She gasped, horrified, as she looked out the kitchen window to see Cruz and two other men dragging Brevan toward the orchard, Mateo following. Brevan’s neck was encircled by the lashing leather of a whip, and she knew Cruz meant to kill him. She heard moaning and peered out the front door to see Travis lying on the porch.

“Travis!” she called in a whisper. “Where’s Brian, Travis?” But he was unconscious once more and unable to respond.

Burying her face in her hands, she fought to win control of the fear gripping her. They would kill Brevan! She knew they would. She was his only chance at escaping. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the men entered the orchard. Quickly, she slipped out of the house, hiding behind anything concealing in her path and making her way to the orchards. When she found them, her heart begged her to scream as she heard the brutal snap of the whip as it tore into Brevan’s flesh. They had tied him between two trees, stretching his arms out painfully on either side of him—each arm tied to a tree parallel with another. His shirt had been stripped from his body. The lash met with the bareness of his flesh.

The repeat of another lashing caused Genieva to flinch—to nearly cry out. Two more strikes, and Genieva could bear it no longer. Cruz was chuckling lowly—speaking to his men as he pulled the weapon back and readied to administer another painful lash.

“Cruz,” Mateo interrupted. It was obvious he feared Cruz. Still, Genieva sensed his young conscience was stronger than his fear for a moment. “I have to speak. It is wrong. This…what you do. Papá gave McLean the land.”

“Cállate!” Cruz shouted. “I care nothing for mí padre’s land, coward! But McLean has made a fool of Papá. He has made a fool of me! Are you like Joaquin? Do you want to leave me? Leave the family?”

“No, mí hermano. No. But this…it is wrong. And what you did to McLean’s wife. It is more wrong.”

“What are you talking about, Mateo? Cruz told me he did nothing!” Juan Miguel suddenly appeared from the opposite side of the orchard. Both men stood silent for a moment as Cruz whipped Brevan again.

“He did, Papá. He tried to get her…to violate her…only yesterday. It is why McLean came to our land. I-I told McLean where the woman was because I was afraid she might die where we left her.” Juan Miguel took Mateo firmly by the shoulders. The look on his face was that of disbelief. “It is true what Joaquin told of his amor, Amy Wilburn. It was Cruz, Papá.”

Juan Miguel lowered his head in defeat. “It is as I feared then. I heard the horses leaving, and I followed you here.” Looking up at Cruz, he continued, “I don’t want to believe these things about you, Cruz, but how can I doubt when it is before my eyes?” Turning his attention to the two vaqueros who had accompanied Cruz, Juan Miguel ordered, “Leave here! You have betrayed me! I pay your wages, but no more. I will not pay men who disobey my orders. Never show your faces on my lands again!” The men nodded, turned, and simply rode away.

“
Your lands will only return to you when McLean is dead,
Papá
,” Cruz argued.

Seeing that Cruz and the others were distracted, Genieva rushed from the tree that had concealed her. Running to Brevan, she threw herself against him a moment before the lash of the whip struck her own back, causing her breath to abandon her lungs. Never had she known such pain! Yet, somehow, she managed to remain standing. She would protect Brevan from another stinging lash—protect him as long as she could.

“Híjole, Cruz! Stop! You are an animal to whip a woman!” Juan Miguel shouted, grabbing his son’s arm.

Cruz wrenched his arm from his father’s grasp and laughed. “Ella es tan dulce…she is so sweet to try and protect him. But I don’t mind whipping a woman, especially her!”

“Let go, Genieva,” Brevan panted. “Run. Run for a horse!”

“No,” she gasped. Then, sliding her hands from his back to his stomach, she reached quickly into his trouser’s front pocket, retrieving the pocketknife she knew he kept there.

“No, Cruz!” Mateo shouted as the man readied to strike again. The back of Cruz’s hand met violently with his brother’s face, knocking Mateo to the ground. Genieva nearly dropped the knife as the pain of another whip’s lash cut into the flesh of her own back. Trembling, she raised the knife to the rope binding Brevan’s right arm, anchoring his strength to the tree. With every shred left of her own strength, she cut it. Though beaten and bleeding profusely, Brevan acted quickly. Snatching the knife from Genieva’s hand and pushing her to the safety of the ground, he cut the rope binding his left arm and turned to face Cruz. Genieva looked up to see the powerful man that was her husband shake his head and point an index finger at Cruz.

“You’ll die now,” Brevan growled.

Genieva looked to Juan Miguel and Mateo, letting her eyes plead with them. They seemed stunned by Cruz’s actions, unable to react. Their disbelief, their inability to comprehend, was manifest in their eyes and expressions.

“Idioto! It will be you that dies now! Like a coward in front of your wife!” Cruz threatened, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. “There are three of us and only one Brevan McLean.”

“No, Cruz, you are only one. You are not my son,” Juan Miguel said in bitter despair. “You face McLean alone.”

Cruz drew back his whip, sending it violently at Brevan. Brevan caught the lash in his hand as he allowed it to wrap painfully around his arm. With the intense, concentrated strength of his strong body, Brevan ripped the whip from Cruz’s hand, tossing it the ground.

Genieva tried to stand, but the wounds on her back weakened her. She could only watch helplessly as Cruz lunged forward, knocking Brevan to the ground with the force of his fury.

“You bleed like a butchered cow, McLean,” Cruz growled as he labored to wrestle Brevan to a disadvantage. Brevan gave no response but kicked the villain fiercely in his midsection, rendering him immobile for a moment.