Authors: Jeanne Williams

A Lady Bought with Rifles (46 page)

“I didn't know he was alive,” I returned dully. “I just went to warn Sewa and the others. I hoped if Ortega knew they were alerted, he'd call off his attack.”

“He wanted to,” Court said contemptuously. “But I happen to know that he's been flirting with ObregÃ³n's revolutionaries. Since I had proof enough to land him in front of a firing squad, he decided to take his chances. I didn't dream you knew my little plan, but when I had to go home at noon yesterday for some equipment I'd forgotten, I found you gone and Roberto had noticed you riding up the mountain. I got Ortega on the move as quickly as possible, wouldn't let him wait till morning.”

“You found the passage into the stronghold?”

“Yes, but we were using lanterns, picked up all those tracks coming out, heading south. We camped till first light. As soon as we could follow your trail, we did.”

“Didn't Ortega suspect a trap?”

“Eighty soldiers should be able to beat a score of Yaquis.” Court's mouth twisted in self-mockery. “Funny. Those men you bought out of YucatÃ¡n made the difference. Without them, we'd have had Winslade and your precious Sewa.”

His voice was weary.

“Itâit's inhuman,” I burst out. “Awful that in this time you cling to hatred.”

“And my love, too,” he reminded inexorably. “If my love has seemed your doom, Miranda, remember it has been mine, too.”

He bent his head and kissed me. The taste of his mouth was blood salt. The sound of hooves came faint, then louder. Court raised to peer over me. I writhed my head about, saw Trace at the mouth of the arroyo.

“Sanders, I'm here.”

“Get off your horse. Walk this way. One shot will be better for us all.”

Trace came forward, weaponless, arms loose at his sides. Court's revolver pressed against my ear, his body clamped mine down till I couldn't stir.

It was too, wretched. I heard myself moaning, pleading. “Kill me,” I begged. “Oh, please, kill me.” My head was the only part of me that could move. I thrashed it back and forth, tried to sink my teeth into Court but was frustrated by his clothing.

“That's good, Winslade.”

I heard the words, muffled by Court's body, a rising frenzy that blotted out reason. It wasn't reason or any conscious process that told me Court was lifting himself slightly, readying his aim, but instinct triggered me into a sudden upward paroxysm, a violent wrenching of head and arms, upper body just slightly freer with Court's changed position.

The shot exploded. I felt terrific impact, desperate force spasming above me, and there was another shot. Trace must have turned Court's own revolver on him. The hard-muscled body that had so often collapsed on me after love now sagged with finality, drained of all that power and will, hate and desire, soaking me with its blood. But Trace pulled me free, carried me into the sunlight, and lay with me there.

The Yaquis returned to their mountain refuge, though Sewa and Domingo promised to visit Las Coronas. “And we shall invite you to our wedding,” Domingo said, standing tall and proud by Sewa as they said good-bye.

“We will have a feast and
pascolas
dancing,” she added and I knew we were all remembering what Cruz had foretold back in those miserable days while she recovered from the loss of her foot.

“Remember,” I said, holding her slim brown hand, admiring the way she had let Trace go, though her heart still showed in her eyes when she looked toward him, “if any Yaquis wish to settle at Las Coronas or Mina Rara, it can be managed.”

“Thank you. Some of the widows may.” She shrugged and her face matched Domingo's. They were Yaqui warriors, able now to replace LÃo, lead without tutelage. Sewa was still a flower, but one armed with thorns. “I think it will be a long time before there is peace for the rest of us.”

“Send if you need me,” said Trace. He gave me a troubled look. “I may have to fight, Miranda, if a revolution comesâ”

My heart contracted with dread, but I managed to smile. “We will all do what we must, but that needn't ruin the time between. Come to us, Sewa, as soon as you can.”

We embraced. She mounted her horse, our gift, and led away her fighters.

The soldiers, dead from Ortega to the newest conscript, had been rolled by the Yaquis into a ravine. Rocks and earth had been tumbled over them and the place was known from then on as Soldados Muertos, Dead Soldiers.

With Trace's help, I composed an outraged letter to the general-in-chief. Since it proved, indeed, that Ortega had been negotiating with revolutionaries, the general believed my story and, as Trace had predicted, sent apologies.

My solicitor, fussy, old, bearded SeÃ±or Otero, found a manager for Mina Rara. Trace and I settled With Jon at Las Coronas and were married quietly in the chapel, with Dr. Trent watching in vast content. Enemies who had known of Trace's sentence to YucatÃ¡n were dead and the government had a great deal more to worry about than one escaped gringo.

On October 4, 1910, DÃaz became president for the eighth time, with Corral, nicknamed Death, as his vice-president. A few days later, Francisco Madero escaped into Texas and began organizing support.

Mexico seethed; ObregÃ³n and Maytorena in Sonora, Zapata in Morelos, Villa in Chihuahua.

“The whirlwind is coming,” I whispered to Trace one night as I lay in his arms. “I'm afraid, darling, so afraid. Afraid it'll whirl us apart again.”

“What can I say, love?”

He kissed my eyes and mouth and throat till need for him, delight in his strength, glory in our closeness, swept away everything else.

“We have now,” he said.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It would be difficult to list all published and unpublished sources that provided background for this novel, but I wish to credit some that were especially helpful and that might interest readers who'd like to know more about the period.

Articles:
Evelyn Hu-Dehart, “Development and Rural Rebellion: Pacification of the Yaquis in the Late Porfiriato,”
Hispanic American Historical Review
(February, 1974); Edward H. Spicer, “Yaqui Villages, Past and Present,”
The Kiva
(Arizona Archaeological and Historical Society, November, 1947); Ronald L. Ives, “Kino's Exploration of the Pinacate Region,”
Arizona History
(Summer, 1966).

Books:
G. M. Trevelyan,
English Social History
(London: Reprint Society, 1948); Asa Briggs,
They Saw It Happen: 1897â1940
(Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1960); Ronald Pearsall,
The Victorian Scene
(London; Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1968), Nicolas Bentley,
The Worm in the Bud
(London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1969); William T. Hornaday,
Campfires on Desert and Lava
(New York: Scribners, 1908); Carl Lumholtz,
New Trails in Mexico
(New York: Scribners, 1912); Rosalio MoisÃ©s, Jane Holden Kelley, and William Curry Holden,
The Tall Candle
(Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press, 1971); Charles C. Cumberland,
Mexican Revolution, Genesis Under Madero
(Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press: 1952); Anita Brenner,
The Wind that Swept Mexico
(Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, 1971); Edward H. Spicer,
Cycles of Conquest
(Tucson, Arizona: University of Arizona Press, 1962); John Kenneth Turner,
Barbarous Mexico
(Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, 1969); C. L. Sonnichsen,
Colonel Greene and the Copper Skyrocket
(Tucson, Arizona: University of Arizona: University of Arizona Press, 1974).

Very special thanks go to Betty and Dana Smith and to Bill Broyles, who introduced me to the Sea of Cortez and shared so generously their love and knowledge of the region. Bill showed me the awesome Pinacates, lent me maps, suggested sources, and supplied much material from his private collection.

Dr. Don Worcester, expert on horses and Latin America, offered constant help and read and criticized the manuscript, as did my daughter, Kristin. Leila Madeheim, as always, did more than a typist should, pointing out snags in credibility.

The patience and faith of Claire Smith, agent and friend, are very much a part of this book.

Patricia Brehaut Soliman, my editor, has sensitively managed to excise detail that obscured the narrative and has developed a much better book than the one I sent her.

J
EANNE
W
ILLIAMS

About the Author

Born on the High Plains near the tracks of the Santa Fe Trail, Jeanne Williams's first memories are of dust storms, tumbleweeds, and cowboy songs. Her debut novel,
Tame the Wild Stallion
, was published in 1957. Since then, Williams has published sixty-eight more books, most with the theme of losing one's home and identity and beginning again with nothing but courage and hope, as in the Spur Awardâwinning
The Valiant Women
(1980). She was recently inducted into the Western Writers Hall of Fame, and has won four Western Writers of America Spur Awards and the Levi Strauss Saddleman Award. For over thirty years, Williams has lived in the Chiricahua Mountains of southeastern Arizona.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Connie Gabbert

ISBN: 978-1-5040-3637-5

This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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