The Outlaws (23 page)

Tessa stared at him fearfully, trying to gather her wits. “Let me go!” she cried.

The other six men rode up just as Vincente reached across and lifted the hat from her head. Insecurely pinned strands of hair fell to her shoulders.

“By God, it’s a filly!” the bearded man exclaimed. “Old Vince has caught us a prize, after all.”

“You are wrong, Ed.” Vincente didn’t actually point her Colt at the bearded man, but there was no mistaking the threat underlying his words.

“The senorita and I are old friends,” Vincente went on. “I do not think you wish to interrupt our reunion, no es verdad?” ?”

“If you mean you get to go first,” Ed said, “I ain’t got no objection.”

Tessa, the import of his words suddenly clear to her, tried to conceal her involuntary shudder.

Vincente put the hat back on her head and kicked his sorrel into a trot, pulling her roan after him. Tessa swayed, balancing as best she could with her arms pinned by the rope tied to his saddle horn.

Dusk deepened into night. A sickle moon rode the sky. Tessa’s fear of what would happen to her was gradually replaced by weariness as they traveled on and on. When they finally pulled up by an old wooden building, she almost fell off the roan.

Vincente eased her down, catching her in his arms and setting her on her feet. He didn’t loosen the rope. Tessa stared at the dilapidated hut, probably an old line camp.

Were they all to sleep inside it? All of them forcing her, one at a time with the others looking on? Waiting for their turn? She bit her lip. No, she thought, no, oh, please, no.

She gagged, tasted the bitterness of bile.

Vincente pointed to a lean-to some yards behind the building. “The senorita and I will share that, I think. Alone.”

“Okay, but don’t take all night, Vince,” Ed warned him.

Vince brought the two horses with them as he led Tessa to the lean-to.

“Why do you do this to me?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “I’ve never caused you any harm.”

“You think not? Who was it, then, who encouraged my Violet to become a puta? Billy the Kid’s whore. Was it not your brother and yourself?”

“No! Ezra was in love with Violet. He still is. He wouldn’t hurt her. It was Violet who chose Billy instead. I tried to tell her--” Tessa broke off. What was the use? Vincente wouldn’t believe a word she said.

“You will discover for yourself what it is to be every man’s woman,” he said. “To be a whore.”

Tessa straightened her back. “You’re wrong. None of this is my choice. You mean to rape me, but that doesn’t make me a--whore. You’re the one that’s bad, maloso, not me.”

He said nothing. Clouds covered the thin moon and a cold wind started to blow from the north.

“Snow comes, I think,” Vincente said.

He gripped her arms and she stiffened. But he was only loosening the rope. He jerked it over her head, knocking off her hat.

“Pick up your hat,” he ordered. “You’ll need it.”

I’ll run, she thought. But where to? There was no cover for miles except a few stands of bare cottonwoods here and there. They’d find her easily.

“Aqua Negra,” Vincente muttered.

Black water? It didn’t make any sense.

He grasped both her wrists and drew her to him. “Listen carefully,” he whispered. “We will walk the horses. Stay with me. If you try to get away, they will recapture you. Do you understand?”

“Walk the horses,” she whispered back in agreement, her mind in a whirl. Was he helping her to escape? “I’ll stay with you.”

They walked endlessly, her legs stiff from the long ride. When he finally ordered her into the saddle, it was exchanging one discomfort for another, but she made no protest, asked no questions. Wherever he was taking her it was better than the line camp where six men waited to violate her.

On and on they rode. Vincente looked back once in a while, but they heard no pursuit. After a time Tessa went into a trance, half-asleep, half-awake. When Vincente spoke, she came to with a start.

“We are here. Stop. Dismount.”

Tessa reined in the roan and slid to the ground, chilled to the bone by the icy wind. He took her horse as well as his, leading them. She hurried along beside him, suddenly aware, when the wind diminished, that rock walls rose on either side of them.

The walls narrowed until there was scarcely room for the horses to walk side by side. Then they were scrambling up, up, stones rattling and falling behind them. The rock underneath her feet leveled, but they didn’t stop.

“Ah!” Vincente said at last. “I was not certain I could find it in the dark.”

“Where are we?” she asked, the first time she’d spoken since he’d led her away from the other men.

“Behind Black Water Spring. It is a cave the Comanches showed me.”

She’d heard of Black Water Spring. Remembered where she’d heard of it before. Capitan Mountain, in uninhabited country where the trees shadowed the pool formed by the spring water.

Agua Negra, where the Regulators had murdered Morton, Baker and McGloskey.

Tessa shuddered.

“We will stay here,” Vincente said. “Take care of your horse.”

She did what she could for the roan, hampered by the pitch darkness and her fatigue. As she stood back from the horse, light flickered to her right and she turned to look.

Vincente had started a fire. She moved toward it eagerly, holding out her hands. As she warmed herself, Vincente laid out their bedrolls. It took her a moment to understand he was combining them into one.

She made an involuntary sound of protest and he glanced up at her, half-smiling. “I am far too tired to rape you at the moment, senorita. We bed together for warmth.”

She was too exhausted to argue. They lay spoon-fashion, with the tiny fire giving off its slight warmth at their feet and the horses tethered to their left. Tessa held herself rigid for a few moments, relaxing only when she heard Vincente’s breathing change to the slower, deeper pattern of sleep.

The next thing she knew it was morning. The light was dim, but she saw they were around a bend of rock from the cave’s opening. She heard the wind whistling outside over the restless shifting of the horses. The fire was out.

She lay on her back with Vincente’s arm flung across her breasts. As she carefully tried to shift position, he opened his eyes. His hand moved so that he cupped one of her breasts. Apprehension, tinged with something else she couldn’t quite identify, shot through her.

He turned on his side, shifted her and pulled her closer. She felt his hardness against her. In horrified surprise she realized what the warmth in her loins meant. Her body was responding to his touch.

No!

Tessa twisted in his grasp, trying to pull away. His grip tightened.

“Do not fight me,” he murmured. “Ah, linda, my lovely one.” He stroked her hair, “So fine, like golden silk. Never have I seen such hair. And your eyes are as soft a gray as the breast of a dove. So beautiful.”

His voice was soothing and pleasant in her ear, his words mesmerized her. She lay still as his fingers touched her face, tracing her lips, trailing under her chin to her throat where he loosened her neckerchief.

“Skin finer than any satin, lips as tempting as the honeyed sweetness of a mango.” He unbuttoned her jacket, her shirt, bent his head to put his lips to her throat, then lower, lower. He pulled up her camisole to take her nipple into his mouth.

He was right, there was no point in fighting him—he was stronger, and there was no place to run to, there was nothing she could do…

The small glow in her loins spread, warming her. Upsetting her. How could she feel this way about Vincente? She had no love for him. What was happening to her?

He kissed her lips, her eyelids, her ears, while his hands deftly undressed her. “So lovely a woman, like a star, shining and beautiful,” he murmured.

His words excited her, as did his stroking hand touching and caressing her bare flesh. Her breath came faster.

She closed her eyes as he raised himself above her.

“Ah, you welcome me to you, flor de mi corazon,” he murmured as he touched the liquid warmth between her thighs.

Flower of my heart,” he’d called her. Unable to help herself, she opened to him, felt a stab of pleasure as he thrust deeply within her, moving slowly at first, then faster. Moving with him, her body apart from herself, her body needing what he was giving her, wanting it. Enjoying it.

At the same time, coiled in her brain, a part of her looked on appalled. She feared she might be a wanton. A whore.

But his maleness inside her, his fingers stroking her taut nipples made her body rise to meet him, a wildness in her, growing out of her control. She heard the animal noises she made deep in her throat as though they came from a stranger. Faster and faster he stroked.

“No!” she screamed as she felt herself dissolving in spasms of thrilling release. “No, no!” She heard him give a growling laugh and then he, too, peaked and subsided.

“I think we will get along very well together,” Vincente told her in a husky whisper.

Tessa turned away from him, tears in her eyes. How could she? With Vincente who’d cast off everything she believed in to become an outlaw. With Vincente whom she would never love.

With Mark there’d been the excitement, but there’d been more. As though they were giving themselves to one another to cherish. Her tears flowed faster.

Something prodded her in the back. She turned and saw Vincente’s boot.

“Get up,” he ordered.

He was fully dressed. He watched sardonically while she struggled to pull on her clothes under the cover of the blankets.

“Such modesty,” he said mockingly.

She finished dressing, stood to pull on her boots, then knelt to straighten and roll up the blankets.

“No need to separate them so carefully, mi linda,” he said. “We’re going to be traveling together for some time.”

She tightened her lips.

He handed her a strip of jerked beef. “We will eat better tonight. Now we must go to find food for the horses.”

Tessa, hungry, chewed on the beef without comment.

He helped her saddle up, then, with her following on foot, led the horses to the mouth of the cave. Tessa gasped.

A white blanket covered the rocks—it had snowed during the night. The sight was awe-inspiring, but depressed her. Especially since the sky was gray with the threat of more snow to come. She’d been assuring herself she’d escape from Vincente at the earliest opportunity, but it was clear she’d have to wait until the weather improved.

She had no idea which way to head and it would be risking death to be lost in these mountains in bad weather. Her heart sank as she thought how long it might be before the weather changed. November was a month of storms.

“I was right to take you away from those others,” Vincente said. “They would not appreciate your beauty. Now that you are mine, we will head for Mexico, I have a brother in

Chihuahua. It is a good plan, no?”

Tessa, appalled, said nothing, but he went on without seeming to notice.

“You please me very much. Perhaps I will even marry you and allow you to bear my sons.”

Chapter 16

Billy sold the Texas cattle, mostly Chisum’s to Pat Coughlin on the Tulerosa, but before he and his gang could head north to Sumner, a rider pounded into Coughlin’s camp. He was a hard-faced hombre who spoke only Spanish.

“My name is Miguel,” he said to Billy. “you don’t know me, but when I heard el Chivato was here, I came. My cousin, Jose Chavez, an old friend of yours, is in jail.” “Where?” Billy asked.

“In Texas. At San Elizario.”

Ezra, listening, nodded to himself. He knew the place, a small village on the Rid Grande, near El Paso.

“Jose wants out, is that it?

Miguel smiled. “No cabe duda. There is no doubt.”

“I think we might arrange something.”

“Muchas gracias, el Chivato.”

“Do you join us?”

After Miguel rode out of camp, Billy talked over his plans with the others. “No point in all of us heading for San Elizario. It won’t take more’n a couple of us to spring Jose. He looked around at the men and Ezra held his breath, hoping. Tom,” Billy went on, “you keep an eye on things here till we get back.” O’Folliard nodded.

“How about it, Ez,” Billy asked, “want to ride with me?” Ezra nearly burst with pride.

Billy had chosen him! He could hardly stammer out, “I’m ready.”

Billy and Ezra arrived in El Paso at dusk. San Elizario was a three hour ride down the river from here, Ezra knew. After they’d eaten, to his surprise, Billy showed no sign of getting ready to travel.

“Used to be a nice little tendejon in El Paso,” Billy said. “Might as well see if it’s still there.

“But I thought you meant to get to the jail tonight,” Ezra protested.

Billy smiled. “After midnight, compadre. “Haven’t you noticed that along about two or three in the morning most men ain’t got all their wits working? Specially if you wake ‘em up.”