Authors: Johanna Lindsey
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Erotica
“It’s possible, of course. Our people say it is, that El Carnicero has declared war on me for some reason. I doubt it, though. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never even met the man. And besides, the Sierras are a good three, four days’ ride from here.”
“And that’s why you think he’s not the one causing you trouble?”
“Yes. There are other ranches closer to the mountains that he could prey on far more easily. It doesn’t make any sense for him to ride so far to forage for food and make mischief here. And then there is another good reason, which the
vaqueros
who insist it is him constantly ignore. This man is supposed to be a cold-blooded killer, yet in all the trouble we’ve been having, no one has been hurt. And no one has seen him or any of his band. They say that when El Carnicero rides, he rides with all his men, dozens of them. Yet whenever something happens here on the ranch, the tracks of only a few men are ever found.”
“Which would indicate drifters.” Samantha spoke her thoughts aloud.
“Yes.”
“Then why are people so convinced it is El Carnicero?”
Hamilton shrugged. “Having a famous bandit declare war on you is more exciting than drifters passing through. People love dramatic stories. Once it was learned that the famous bandit was in the area, every mishap was blamed on him. They gossip about him constantly, because he has brought excitement and danger, and they love it.”
“Is there any real danger?”
“Nonsense,” Hamilton scoffed. “Don’t you go believing any stories. That’s why I didn’t want you to hear about this bandit. I didn’t want you to be worrying.”
“I wouldn’t have worried a great deal, father. We’ve had bandits in the area before now.”
“I’m glad you’re being sensible about it.” He leaned forward again and looked her over carefully. “You’re wearing your riding outfit. Were you going out?”
She grinned impishly. “That was always my habit, wasn’t it? To ride in the mornings. I’m eager to get back to my old routine.”
“I hope your routine doesn’t still include going out to work the range with the men?”
Samantha laughed. “Do I detect a note of disapproval? No, father, I won’t be working the range anymore. My wild days are over,” she assured him.
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” He grinned. “I know you will have sense enough also to take an escort with you for your rides.”
“To ride on our own land?” Samantha laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, father.”
“Now, Sammy, you’re not a child any longer. A young woman shouldn’t go out without an escort.”
“Let’s not fight, father,” Samantha sighed. “I’m not giving up my freedom simply because I’m a few years older.”
“Sammy—”
“Why, you old faker.” She had heard the alarm in his voice. “You really are worried about this
bandido
, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t hurt to be careful, Sammy.”
Samantha hesitated, then stood up. “Very well, father, I’ll play it your way for a while,” she conceded. She turned to leave, then stopped and grinned mischievously at him. “But it won’t do any good, you know. The
vaqueros
can’t keep up with me. They never could.”
Samantha rode in the direction of the south range, racing as fast as she could, leaving her two-man escort far behind. El Cid was a gem. He seemed to fly through the air. Samantha was exhilarated. She hadn’t raced like that for years. Her saddle was magnificent, of the best Spanish leather, mounted with silver and fancy with fine carvings and gold braid. It suited El Cid.
She dismounted atop a small hill and stood waiting for the
vaqueros
. She could see for miles, miles of flat plains, with a few hills breaking the monotony. Flat land dotted with cactus and a few lonely trees. But to the west were the magnificent mountains—and smoke.
Samantha stared off into the distance at the spiral of black smoke, her brow furrowing. She mounted im
mediately and rode to join her escort, pointing out the smoke before she passed them, heading for it. She reached the burned-out line shack in only fifteen minutes, finding just a smoldering pile of rubble. She sat on her horse, looking off in all directions, but there was no sign of anybody nearby.
When the two
vaqueros
finally reached her, she asked, “What could have started this fire?”
“El Carnicero,” Luis answered promptly.
Luis, Manuel and Maria’s oldest son, should have had better sense, Samantha thought. “Look around, Luis. There is no one here. Do you see any tracks?”
“No, but it was El Carnicero,” he replied stubbornly. “The fire has burned out already. He has had plenty time to get away. And this is the second fire here in a week.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean this shack had just been built after another fire?”
“
Sí
. It was finished only yesterday.”
Samantha frowned. “How many fires have there been?”
“Nine in the last two weeks.”
“Nine!” she gasped. “The storehouse? Was that one of the fires?”
Luis nodded. “Such a waste, that fire. So much food and supplies burned to nothing. And so close to the
rancho
. El Carnicero, he dares much.”
Samantha said nothing further. She rode back to the ranch in a spirit of hurt and disappointment. Her father had lied to her. He had talked of repairs, when actually buildings had been burned down. Why had he lied to her? And what else, she asked herself, wasn’t he telling her?
W
HEN Samantha returned, she saw Ramón Baroja’s horse in the stable. She recognized the mustang and the rich silver-mounted saddle, emblazoned with the initials RMNB for Ramón Mateo Nuñez de Baroja.
Samantha was not interested in seeing Ramón just then. It was Manuel she wanted to talk to, the one man she knew would be honest with her, and she found him beyond the branding corrals, where the workers’ houses were all located. Manuel was sitting on the steps of his little house, eating a lunch of chili and fat enchiladas in the shade of a porch cluttered with potted plants and bright wicker chairs.
“
Hola
, Sam,” he called as she approached. “There is one waiting for you at the house. He came soon after you rode out. Did you not see him?”
“Ramón can wait,” she replied, sitting down on the steps beside him, removing her wide-brimmed hat. “It’s you I want to talk to, Manuel. You know my father as well as I—at least, as well as I
thought
I knew him. Perhaps you know him better.”
“What is wrong,
chica?
” he interrupted, understanding her troubled mood.
“Why would he lie to me?”
Manuel was amused, not shocked. “And what has he lied about?”
“All the trouble we’re having. He wasn’t even going to tell me about it at first. If Lana hadn’t mentioned—”
“Lana!” Manuel’s temper rose. “My
hija
, she has a big mouth. If
el patrón
did not want you to know, then you should not have found out.”
“Nonsense. With everyone talking about it, I would have found out soon enough. But that is beside the point. Last night, when we talked of the ranch, father told me that the line shacks had needed repairs. Today I found out that they were destroyed by fire and had to be rebuilt for that reason.”
“Wait, Sam. Your father did not lie to you. Many repairs were made while you were gone. What year does not pass without repairs?”
“I’ll grant you that. But why didn’t he tell me about the fires? Even the storehouse burned down. But he didn’t tell me that, only that he had built a new one.”
“Is this why you say he has lied?” Manuel chided her, grinning.
“He didn’t tell me the whole truth,” Samantha pointed out firmly. “That is the same as lying, Manuel.”
“If he did not tell you, perhaps it is only because he did not think to tell you. He has a lot on his mind lately.”
“I don’t wonder, with all these fires and thefts and God-only-knows-what-else he’s keeping from me.”
“But can you not see that he might only have forgotten these things?”
“Oh, I suppose,” she admitted grudgingly. “But tell me, what do you think is going on? Do you believe this Carnicero is responsible?”
Manuel shrugged. “How can I say,
niña
, when I have only just returned? There was no trouble when I left for New Mexico to bring you home. I learned of this
bandido
last night for the first time, when Maria filled my ears with all the news.”
“I’ll bet
you
learned everything,” she said bitterly. Maria always knew everything that went on at the ranch.
“Perhaps,” he chuckled, knowing her thoughts.
“Well? Is the bandit causing all the trouble, even though he is hiding out so far from here? Or is it just coincidence, so many things happening at once? My father says it could be drifters.”
“Drifters? No.” Manuel frowned. “For the cattle,
sí
. Maybe even a few of the fires. But for what reason would a man passing through destroy the mine?”
“Destroy?” Samantha gasped at this additional news. “What do you mean, destroy?”
“Luis said there was no doubt that dynamite caused the explosion that collapsed the mine.”
“Accidents, he told me. Accidents!” Samantha gasped. “Manuel, another shack was set on fire this morning. I saw it smoldering.”
“Dios!”
“Never mind calling on God. He’s too busy to bother with mischief going on here.”
“But you might have been closer to the area when the fire was started. You might even have come upon the men who set it.
Dios
, Sam!” Manuel exclaimed. “You might have been killed!”
“Nonsense. It was probably only one man or two who set that fire.”
He threw his arms up in frustration. “Certainly it takes only one man to set a fire, but there still might have been a dozen others with him.”
“There was no evidence of many men, Manuel,” she insisted. “In fact, I found no tracks at all.”
“Luis tells me there is never any sign,” Manuel said. “Yet others could have been nearby, watching. The men doing this always seem to know where our men are, and they strike when no one is nearby. But you,
niña
, you ride where you will—you never follow the same path.”
“What are you getting at, Manuel?”
“That you could come upon these men. They would not expect a
señorita
to be riding the range, and you never keep to a route.”
“So?”
“So? It is not safe for you to go out, even with an escort. I must speak to el
patrón
about this.”
Samantha bristled. “Before you do that, Manuel, I want you to tell me everything that Maria confided to you last night—everything. Let me be the judge of whether it’s safe or not.”
He did, in vivid detail. Samantha managed to hold her tongue, even as the news got worse and worse. Besides the mine explosion, the stolen chickens, the few dead cows, and the fires, there had been two dozen mustangs stolen, and not just a few cattle, but over a hundred head. That was rustling, pure and simple. That Samantha could understand. But the rest—a large initial “C” smeared one night with blood on every outside door of the ranch. Was this El Carnicero’s way of bragging over the deeds he had done? Or was it someone else pointing blame at the bandit?
And that was still not all of it. Two messages had been left, one stuck to the carcass of a dead cow, the other stabbed with a rusty dagger into the front door of the house.
“No wonder they say the
bandido
has declared war on my father,” Samantha gasped when Manuel was through. “What did those messages say?”
“Only
el patrón
knows, and he has told no one.”
“But were they signed by El Carnicero?”
“I do not know that either,” Manuel replied.
Samantha shook her head in disbelief. “I find it inconceivable that all of these things could have happened in only the last two weeks.”
“I felt the same way. But Maria says something happens every day. And now you tell me there has been a fire today.”
“It really does sound as if a war is going on—a one-sided war,” Samantha remarked. “Isn’t my father doing anything about it?”
“He has not notified the authorities, if that is what you mean. Not yet.”
“Don’t you think he should?”
“What can they do, Sam, that we cannot do?” Manuel said a little indignantly.
“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, remembering the last time the
soldados
were called when cattle were stolen. They had not been eager to help the
americano
, as they called her father. “But what exactly is my father doing?”
“He has had men follow the tracks left, but the tracks always vanish after a few miles. He has posted guards at night around the
rancho
since the last time they came here. The cattle and horses are being brought in off the range, closer to home, and men are left with them at all times now.”
“Is that all?”
“What else is there,
niña?
We are prepared, but the
rancho
is too large. The
bandidos
strike our weak points, when no one is there. They are never seen.”
“You just called them bandits. So you
do
think it is El Carnicero.”
“You mistake me, Sam,” Manuel said quickly. “There are many
bandidos—
not just this one.”
“I wish I could meet this one,” Samantha said impulsively.
“
Madre de Dios!
” Manuel exclaimed. “He is one man you must pray never to meet,
niña
. They say he hates
gringos
with a madness and kills them with more pleasure than he does his worst enemies.”
Samantha changed the subject. “What else do you know about this man?”
But Manuel stood up. “You keep an old man from his work,
niña
. Enough questions for one day.”
“Oh, no, Manuel.” She caught his arm and pulled him back down beside her. “You do know more, don’t you?”
“Sam—”
“Tell me!”