San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (13 page)

"Well, now, don't she talk American all fancy
like. A looker, and she's got schooling, too." His foul breath fanned her face, and when she
turned her head away from him, he wheezed
with laughter. "You're gonna like me, little
senorita."

"I don't think so." A cold, steely voice spoke
from the shadows. "Let her go," Ian warned.

Both men whirled around to see a tall man
just behind them. "Who'd you be?" the man
called Gip asked, noticing with satisfaction
that the stranger didn't have a gun.

"I'm the man who's about to end your miserable life, you bastard. Take your hands off
her!"

"Now I don't 'zackly see it like that," Burt
said, displaying the rifle. "There's two of us,
and only one of you, and this here must be
your gun." He chuckled. "What're you gonna
do, throw rocks at us, scare us to death?"

"You're wasting time," Ian said coolly. "You
can either drop the guns-both of you-and
ride away, or die. It is of little matter to me either way. You decide."

There was something unsettling about the
calmness with which Ian spoke, and Gip
laughed nervously. Still, he put on a face of
bravado for his companion-after all, he was
holding a gun on the stranger. He elbowed Burt
in the ribs. "Tell him we done killed us five
Mexicans, down to the creek this morning."

"Back-shot, no doubt," Ian said, glancing at
the stars as if he were gauging time. "You have
ten seconds to release her and ride away."

"I'll just shoot ya dead now and have done
with it," Burt replied, cocking the rifle and aiming it at Ian's head. "Don't worry 'bout the little
senorita here, 'cause when you're dead, Gip
and me'll take care of her."

In that moment, Ian leaped forward so
swiftly that both men were taken by surprise.
He grabbed Gip's arm and slammed him into
Burt with such force that both men lost their
balance and tumbled to the ground, their arms
and legs entangled.

Unfortunately, Emerada went down with
them. Ian stepped across them, kicked their
guns out of their reach, and picked up his rifle.
He then extended his hand to Emerada and
pulled her up, pushing her behind him, all the
while keeping the rifle trained on the two men.

"While you're down there, take your boots
off," Ian said.

"What! You want our boots?"

"Take them off, I said!"

Both men scrambled to comply, first one
boot and then the other. They knew by the tone
of his voice that he'd shoot them dead if they
didn't do as he ordered.

"Get their guns and put them in the saddlebags, Emerada. Then saddle the horse and lead
it up here."

After she had retrieved the guns and rushed
down the hill to the horse, he spoke to Burt and
Gip. "Kick your boots over here."

Again, both men did as he asked. But Gip found his voice. "What're you gonna do with
us?"

"I thought about shooting you bastards after
what you tried to do to the lady, but you just
aren't worth the trouble. So I've decided to take
your horses, guns, and boots."

Burt glared at Ian. "Then you'd better just
shoot us. Without our guns, we're as good as
dead."

"That's about the way I figure it," Ian agreed-
"If hostile Indians, Mexican soldiers, or wild
animals don't get you, you will have a long,
hard walk to civilization without boots."

"You son of a-"

"Yes, I know," Ian interrupted Gip. "I don't
care that much for you either."

Burt was looking Ian over carefully, as if
memorizing his face. I'd kinda like to know
your name, stranger, so I'll know who to come
looking for if I live through this."

By now Emerada had ridden up, leading the
two other horses.

Ian nodded. "I won't be hard to find. Name's
Ian McCain."

Both men gaped at him. "The Raven's Claw!"

"Some have called me that."

"We're real sorry, Colonel. We'd never have
touched your woman if'n we'd knowed it was
you. Hell, we was on our way to join up with
General Houston and give him a hand."

"Don't trouble about that," Ian warned them.
"Houston doesn't want your cut of man in his army. If you do get out of these hills alive, I'll
make certain that he hears about tonight."

"But we was just funning. We didn't really
mean-"

Ian turned away and mounted one of the
mens horses. "I'd walk to the west, if I were
you. Its of no matter to me, but the Mexican
army is swarming all over the place. They will
kill any Americans they find."

He nudged the horse in the flanks, and he
and Emerada rode over the hill. It was some
time before distance and the wind drowned out
the curses howled by Gip and Burt.

They rode until sunrise, then stopped to rest
the horses.

"Ian," Emerada said, sliding off her horse.
"Thank you."

"Forget it," he said.

She trembled with revulsion. "I thought they
were going to...to..."

He looked at her with compassion and concern. "I know. Its over-put it behind you."

She was shivering, and her teeth chattered.
"Could we have a fire to make coffee? I would
love something hot to drink."

Ian looked about him to estimate the safety
of their position. They were on a rise, and he
could see the valley for miles around. "I think
we can chance it. If you would gather wood for
a fire, I'll tend to the horses. Make certain the
wood is dry so it won't smoke much."

She nodded.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Do I
have your word that you won't try to escape?"

"That is a promise I will never give." She removed the saddlebag containing the food.
"You have my word that I will not try to escape until I have had something to eat and
drink."

He laughed and led the horses away. Then he
went through the possessions of the two men
to see if there was anything they could use.
They were a long way from Houston's compound, and the Indians he'd warned Gip and
Burt about would also be a danger to him and
Emerada. He discarded everything except
foodstuff and guns. He then unsaddled one of
the horses, hit it on the rump, and sent it galloping down the hill. They would be traveling
fast and didn't need the extra horse.

Soon he smelled the aroma of fresh coffee
and found Emerada humming as she presided
over several slices of fatback that sizzled in an
iron skillet. He rubbed his hands together and
held them over the campfire to warm. "So you
cook. I would not have numbered domestic
chores among your accomplishments."

She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face
and smiled at him as she turned the meat. "Perhaps it would be better if you withheld judgment until you have tasted the food."

"We had better eat fast and find shelter." He nodded toward the eastern horizon. "There's a
storm brewing."

Dark storm clouds were gathering to the
east, and the weather fit Emerada's mood. She
found Ian staring at her, and her cheeks
flushed. She focused on pouring him a cup of
coffee to hide her sudden shyness.

When Ian reached for the coffee, he accidentally brushed her hand. She felt as if her heart
were going to jump through the wall of her
chest.

She wished for her Aunt Dilena. She would
know why Ian stirred all these unwelcome
emotions within her.

The rain pelted down with a stinging force.
Although it was the middle of the afternoon, it
was almost dark as Emerada and Ian rode single-file down a steep embankment.

Emerada pulled her shawl over her head and
hunched her shoulders to avoid getting wet, but
nothing helped-she was soaked through. At
times the rain was so hard that she couldn't see
past her horse's head. They couldn't go much
longer in this weather, so when she reached the
bottom of the hill, she halted her mount and
waited for Ian to draw even with her.

"I know a place where we can find shelter."
She had to shout to be heard above the wind.
"It's no more than two hours away."

Ian nodded. "Lead on."

"Stay close to me so we won't be separated. There will be treacherous water crossings and
perilous quagmires that must be avoided at all
costs. They will be even worse with this rain."

"I will try to keep up," he said, nodding. "You
know this country better than I do."

Because of the constant rain and the wind
gusts, it took more than the two hours that
Emerada had predicted to reach shelter. Both
were relieved when their horses' hooves clattered over cobbled stones.

Emerada seemed to know where she was
going-she guided them toward some kind of
brick structure. She dismounted, shoved open
the wide double doors, and led her horse into
the shadowy interior.

Even though it was dark inside, she had no
trouble feeling her way. She took the reins of
both horses and led them into a stall. She unfastened her horse's cinch, and Ian, following
her lead, unsaddled his horse.

Next she lit a lantern that hung on a rusted
nail, and a ring of light encircled them.

"You seem to be familiar with this place," he
said, throwing his saddle over a railing.

Emerada seemed to be struggling with her
saddle, but when Ian reached out to help her,
she glared at him and lifted it onto the railing
herself. "I have been here before," she answered.

Ian glanced about the building. It had seen
better days, but it had been well constructed.
"This must have been grand in its day," he said,
looking at the finished walls and the stone
floors.

"I am afraid that neglect has taken its toll.
But si, it was grand in its day." She looked
somewhat sad as she ran her hand over a
rusted pitchfork that leaned against the wall.
"It is as if no one ever lived here."

"What is this place?" Ian asked, noticing the
rusty nails that protruded from the decaying
wooden stalls.

"This is all merely a ghostly reminder of
what once was a ranch where a family lived,
laughed, and loved."

He looked about for a suitable place to build
a fire. He saw a rusted pitchfork, a broken
shovel, and a corroded curry comb. "No one
had been here for some time."

"No, they have not," she answered abruptly.
"The family is all gone."

"You have to get out of these wet clothes, or
you'll catch a chill," he warned. He saw Emerada wince when he broke off some of the rotted
wood to build a fire. "You don't think the owners will mind, do you?"

"No. They will not mind." She placed her
hands on her hips in a defiant stance. "But I
will not take my clothing off for you!"

He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't be
worried about your virtue where I am concerned. I just don't want a sick woman to slow
me down."

She glared at him as he removed the blanket
from the saddlebags and threw it at her. "It's a
little damp around the edges, but not as wet as
your clothing. You can undress in one of those
stalls." He nodded toward the back of the stable. "Don't worry. I won't look."

She took the blanket from him, seeing the
wisdom in his suggestion. "What about you?"

"Are you worried about me?" he asked, grinning.

She stomped away, wishing him outside in
the storm. "Your health is no concern of mine."

"No?"

"No!"

"Then why did you help me escape Santa
Anna?"

Emerada ignored his question because she
didn't really know the answer to that. Her fingers were numb from cold, and she fumbled to
unhook her gown. She hung her clothing over the stall and draped the blanket about her like a
serape.

When she returned to Ian, he had a fire
going, and she moved close to warm herself.
He bent down beside her and tossed more
wood on the flames, sending sparks flying.

"Ian, would you like to hear something
amusing, if anything can be amusing about the
deaths at the Alamo?"

"Suppose you enlighten me," he said grimly.
"I found nothing humorous about it."

"You will this. Santa Anna called the battle of
the Alamo a small affair, and Colonel Navarro
remarked that another such victory would cost
them the war."

"I doubt that would be much comfort to
Travis and the others who died at the mission."

"Travis knew he was going to die; he chose
death over dishonor."

Ian shivered and moved close to the fire,
warming his hands. "I hope the folks who own
this spread won't care that we are burning it
down for firewood."

She stared into the fire as if she saw something he couldn't. "No, they would not mind."

"Do you know the family?"

"Si. I knew them." She shook her head, overcome with melancholy. "I knew them very well.
Talavera is the name of the ranch. The horse I
ride was born and trained here."

They had both settled near the fire and
stared into the flames. Finally Ian spoke. "Tell me about the family-where are they now?" He
wasn't really interested in who had once lived
there. He just liked listening to the sound of
Emerada's voice. He had always been intrigued
by her soft accent.