San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (18 page)

"Do you want me to find out, sir?"

"No, I don't. From now on I want you at my
right hand. Even though we're undermanned
and untrained, those men out there have got
the taste of freedom in their gullets, and that's
the best reason I know to get a man to fight."
Houston rolled up the parchment and shoved it
in a leather satchel. "By the way, what do you
think about our independence and our new
president?"

Ian wearily ran his hand through his hair.
"I'm reserving judgment until I find out if we
can keep the new country and the new president," he answered impassively.

"Tell me, what did you find out about the
woman, Ian?"

"I discovered that Emerada de la Rosa is her
real name." He drew in a deep breath that expanded his chest. "She claims she's willing to
die to bring Santa Anna to his knees. She's
braver than most men I know, and she'll probably get herself killed."

"I see she got under your skin."

"You can't imagine."

Houston scratched his chin. "I had a feeling
she might be genuine. She can still be of help
to us if she keeps us informed of Santa Anna's
movements. Is that her intention?"

"I believe so, sir." Ian walked toward the
door. "I need to wash the dust off."

"Catch yourself some sleep. Looks like you
haven't seen a bed in days."

Ian walked through the camp, where husbands, fathers, and old men were being
trained in the finer points of war. Most of them
couldn't even march in step. One man looked
to be in his eighties and shouldered a battered
old flintlock musket. Ian had seen Santa
Anna's power up close, and he wondered how
in the hell this slovenly force could hope to
win against the well-trained, battle-hardened
Mexican army.

He found an empty cot in the officers' tent.
Not even bothering to remove his mud-splattered clothing, he lay down and immediately
fell asleep.

His sleep was dreamless; even Emerada didn't
visit him in the shadowy, peaceful world
where-for a time-he found forgetfulness.

A warm breeze swept the high-flying clouds
across an azure sky as Emerada and Domingo
reached the outskirts of San Antonio de Bexar.
She had learned that Santa Anna still lingered
there.

Emerada had decided not to approach Santa
Anna, but to allow him to find her.

She felt sickened by the gruesome sight that
greeted them as they entered the town, or what
was left of it. She avoided looking at the ruins
of the Alamo, where vivid memories of death
still haunted her. She saw the remnants of
houses that had been destroyed; those that
were still standing had either been blown apart
by cannons or had been burned. Where there had once been orchards and vegetable gardens,
there were now toppled fences, trampled gardens, and uprooted trees.

Emerada stared straight ahead, no longer
able to look at the devastation all around her.

"What kind of a world is it, Domingo, when
the simple people are made to suffer the
most?" She felt a sorrow so infinite, so deep, it
tore at her heart. "Why must it be this way?"

"Give the people time and they will rebuild,"
the big man assured her. "Life goes on-it always has; it always will."

"This was once a lovely market town with
vendors selling their wares. People laughed, and
children played in the shadow of the mission."

"It will be again."

"I hope so. Oh, I do hope so!"

Emerada had been asked by Juan Seguin's aide
to dance at La Villita where most of the rundown huts had been burned by the Alamo defenders during the siege. She had readily
agreed, wanting to help the people. All she
could give them was the gift of her dance.

Emerada had another reason for agreeing to
dance. Santa Anna would surely hear about it
and seek her out.

She wondered if he'd be angry and shoot her
on sight, or if she could make him believe that
she'd been taken away against her will and had
managed to escape. After all, as far as it went,
it was the truth.

A bright moon seemed to be suspended in the
sky, and its light blended with the many lanterns
that had been placed in a circle in the courtyard,
where the San Antonio Rose was to dance.

People pressed forward to get a glimpse of
the legendary beauty. Children sat cross-legged
upon the cobbles under the watchful eyes of
their mothers. Soldiers, officers and enlisted
men, stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a wide circle-many were battle-worn, some wounded,
but still they came to witness the dance of the
adored one.

A guitar strummed and a trumpet blared,
drawing everyone's attention to the circle of
light where the dancer appeared. Emerada did
not come among the poor people dressed in
splendor, but barefoot, and wearing a plain
black ruffled skirt and a white peasant
blouse-and they loved her for it. Across her
head, and covering the lower half of her face,
she was swathed in a black silk shawl decorated with velvet roses and long silk fringe.

She rose to the balls of her feet with the
grace of a ballerina, then spun around with
her arms weaving artfully upward. With a loud
strum of the guitar, she allowed the shawl to
fall away from her face, and the audience
gasped at the sight of her beauty.

With wild abandon, she waved the shawl
about her, like the movements of a matador advancing into a bullring.

The crowd followed her every move adoringly. Young girls imagined they could grow
into a beauty like the San Antonio Rose, and
every man wondered what it would feel like
just to touch her soft skin, or have her look at
him with those brilliant eyes.

Her movements were pure, like poetry of the
body, and many cried as they watched her. She
was offering them a moment of forgetfulness
in this time of war and death, a moment she
shared with them alone.

The moment Emerada had dreaded came
halfway through her dance. Santa Anna's aidede-camp was shoving people aside and making
a path for the president general.

His hands on his hips, Santa Anna showed
his displeasure at Emerada's dance by his stiff
stance.

Emerada gathered her gown to her knees
and moved toward Santa Anna, her eyes staring into his. She tossed her long hair and
snapped her fingers.

When she was almost even with Santa Anna,
she saw movement beside him, and she looked
into the wistful eyes of a small girl who could
be no more than ten years old.

Laughing, Emerada bent and draped the
shawl across the child's shoulder and was rewarded by the girl throwing her arms around
her neck and placing a kiss on her cheek.

The crowd cheered and nodded their approval-all but one. Santa Anna stood ramrod straight, his arms now folded across his chest,
his gaze hard and unyielding.

Emerada knew she had to act fast. She sauntered up to him, her gaze unwavering, her
smile seductive as she reached forward and
withdrew his sword from its scabbard.

Santa Anna did not blink.

Emerada swashed the sword several times
near his face, but Santa Anna still didn't blink.
And when his aide stepped forward to protect
him from what looked like an attack, the dictator waved him aside.

The audience tingled with excitement when
Emerada leaped with effortless grace and
landed, slicing the sword artfully through the
air.

She put everything she had into the dance. In
a fluid motion, she was airborne. Bringing in
her training as a ballerina, she spun on the
balls of her feet, then charged like a warrior.

At last she stood in front of Santa Anna, extending his sword to him across her arm, and
when he took it, she knelt before him and
bowed her head. If he was going to take her
life, let it be now.

Santa Anna took her arm and pulled her to
her feet, while the crowd remained silent.
When the dictator finally smiled and cried out
"Bravisima," the audience joined in a deafening
chorus of approval.

Emerada looked at him inquiringly, and he
drew her into the circle of his arms and cried in a loud voice, "Let us celebrate, my people. The
San Antonio Rose has returned to us."

There was music and dancing in the streets
as Santa Anna led Emerada away from the
crowd. She had to steel herself to keep from
drawing away from the touch of his hand. This
man with personal magnetism and great power
could draw other people to him, but not her.
There had been a moment while she had been
dancing with his sword that she'd been
tempted to bury it in his black heart.

Santa Anna's aides fell back a few paces as he
approached his living quarters, and when he led
Emerada inside, he closed the door, and they
were alone for the first time since her return.

She tried not to show her fear, but he must
have sensed it, because he seated her on a folding chair with a cushion of green velvet and
smiled kindly. "I know what happened to you.
Some of my men saw the Raven's Claw take
you away by force. They tried to follow you,
but lost your trail in the darkness." He touched
her cheek. "Did that man hurt you?"

She shook her head, unable to speak for a
moment. She knew Santa Anna, and she knew
that he was testing her in some way. "I must be
honest with you. I cut his ropes and set him
free. Our soldiers were killing every American
they could find. I did not think you wanted that
man to die. Nor did I expect him to take me as
his prisoner."

Santa Anna's eyes closed, and when he opened them, she could see relief in the dark
depths. "We saw that Ian McCains ropes had
been cut, and I suspected that you had freed
him. If you had not told me the truth, it would
have gone hard with you tonight. As much as I
admire you, I would not hesitate to condemn a
traitor to death-not even you."

She almost shouted that she knew how ruthless he could be, but she averted her glance. "If
I had betrayed you, would I have returned?"

He went down on his knees before her and
raised her head, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"He did not hurt you, did he?"

"No. He did not harm me."

"I do not like to think about what could have
happened to you while you were in that man's
hands. How did you escape?"

"I waited until he was asleep and slipped
away. I do not think he was happy when he
awoke and found me gone."

"What man would want to lose you?"

"He did not want me for himself. He wets taking me to General Houston. I do not know
wy.

"I believe it is as you first suspected-to humiliate me."

He sat across from her and watched her
closely, and from the gleam in his eyes, she
knew he was still not through testing her.

"When you escaped from Ian McCain, did
you come straight here?"

"No, I did not. I knew my maid, Josifina, would be worried about me. So I rode to Presidio del Rio Grande to comfort her."

"Why did you not bring your maid here with
you, if she was so worried about you?"

He watched her with the expression of a marauding hawk, and Emerada knew that he was
waiting for her to make a mistake. She suspected he already knew about her movements
in Presidio del Rio Grande.

A sudden rush of tears took her by surprise
and startled Santa Anna.

"I was too late. I am always too late to help
those I love. Josifina was dead when I reached
Presidio del Rio Grande."

Santa Anna was beside her, tucking her into
his arms to console her. "I am so sorry. I knew
about this, of course, but I did not know that
she meant so much to you. After all, she was
only a servant."

Emerada ground her teeth at his graceless
attempt to soothe her, and she wanted to fling
his arms away from her. Instead she bit her lip
and laid her head against his shoulder, while
his stiff epaulets cut into her cheek.

"Josifina was more than a servant."

His hand moved up and down her arm as he
pressed her closer. "I understand, beautiful
one. But these are difficult times for everyone."

She wanted to cry out in protest when she
felt his hot lips on her neck, but she suffered in
silence. He mistook the shudder that racked her body for one of ecstasy, not knowing that it
was from revulsion.

"I will take care of you, Emerada. After
tonight, you will dance only for me. I was jealous of all the eyes that watched you tonight. I
was even jealous of the small girl who embraced you."

Emerada wondered how she would ever be
able to let him make love to her when the time
came. She couldn't even endure his hands on
her. She shoved him away and stood on shaky
legs. "No, I cannot do this."

He looked puzzled. Women seldom repelled
his amorous advances. He imagined that
Emerada was still grieving over the death of
her maid.

"There is no rush." He patted her hand.
"There is always tomorrow."

Suddenly there was the sound of heavy footsteps, and someone pounded on the door.
"Senor Presidente! Our glorious men have
killed the foreigners at Goliad. Fort Defiance is
in our hands!"