San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (34 page)

Emerada cringed, knowing these men had
been watching her for days. They had probably
waited to show themselves, thinking Ian might
come to Talavera. Santa Anna had a lot to hate
her for, and he neither forgot nor forgave a
grievance. "Shoot me then, because I will not
willingly come with you."

One man shrugged and smiled. "Then we
will have to take you by force."

At that moment Domingo made a dive for his
rifle. One of the men raised his gun and fired.
Emerada screamed as Domingo crumpled to
his knees and then tumbled forward.

Emerada cried out his name and ran to him,
going down on her knees and lifting his head.
She saw with horror that blood was soaking
through his shirtfront, and she ripped his shirt
open.

"Oh, Domingo, what have they done to you?" She pressed her hand against his wound, frantically attempting to stop the flow of blood.

His eyes were glazing over, and he was having trouble keeping them focused. "So weak...
need to help ...you."

She glared at the three men, who were now
standing in a circle around her. "You must help
him. Take the bullet out-bandage him!"

"Sorry, senorita, his life is not important to
me. You will come with us now."

The man named Chavira gripped her arm
and jerked her to her feet. "Santa Anna is impatient to see you."

She struggled to get back to Domingo as she
was being led away. "Please let me help
Domingo. I cannot leave him to die!"

With a laugh, the man forced her through the
door. "He is in no condition to follow us and will
probably be dead before we ride out of sight."

Ian halted his horse and glanced at the ruins of
Talavera in the distance. He saw no sign of life
and wondered if Emerada had moved on. It
would be just like her to do that.

With his jaw clamped shut at an angry angle,
he rode down the hill and dismounted in front
of the stable. He heard a horse whinny and felt
encouraged that Emerada was there after all.
The door was standing open, and he stepped
inside, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust
to the darkened stable.

A groan came from the shadows near the hayloft, and Ian eased his gun out of the holster. "Emerada?"

Again the groan, this time fainter than before.

Moving forward cautiously, and knowing
something was very wrong, Ian found
Domingo sprawled on the floor. He quickly
bent down to examine him. When Ian saw the
blood, fear for Emerada coiled inside him like
the tightening of a mainspring. "Domingo,
what happened here? Where's Emerada?"

Domingo was losing consciousness. "Sorry
... shot me. Could not... help Emerada-"

Ian raised Domingo's head. "Talk to mewhere is she? Don't pass out on me now. I have
to know about Emerada!"

But Domingo did not respond. Ian placed his
head on the big man's chest and was relieved to
hear a heartbeat. He laid his gun nearby and
rolled up his sleeves. Domingo couldn't tell him
anything if he didn't get that bullet out of him.

An hour later Ian tied a bandage across
Domingo's shoulder. The big man had lost a lot
of blood, and Ian wasn't sure if he would live.
He wasn't even sure if he'd regain consciousness. He willed him to wake up, so he could
find out about Emerada.

Desperate, Ian bathed the big man's face,
and Domingo stirred.

"Can you talk?"

"Emerada," Domingo said weakly. "Help...
her!"

"What happened to her?" Ian asked, fearing
Domingo would black out again before he
could tell him.

"Santa Anna sent men." Domingo licked his
dry lips. "They took her. I could not... stop
them."

"Santa Anna won't hurt her. Not when he
finds out she's carrying his child. I know he was
halfway in love with her. Perhaps he can forgive her for humiliating him at San Jacinto, if
she'll tell him about the baby."

Domingo rolled his head from side to side.
"You fool. He never touched..." He stopped to
catch his breath. "She never let him touch her."

Ian shook his head. "You don't know what
you're saying." He laid his hand on Domingo's
forehead. "It's the fever talking. You're confused."

"The child she carries is yours! That's why
she married you, so..." He paused again until
a spasm of pain passed. "She wanted the baby
to have its real father's name-your name!"

Ian closed his eyes as realization ripped
through him. He should have known-the
truth was there before him all the time. She
would never have allowed the man responsible
for her family's death to touch her.

"No time to...lose," Domingo said weakly.
"You must save her-I cannot."

Ian stood, removing his revolver and checking to make sure it was loaded. He had loaded
his rifle before he'd left San Antonio.

"Which way did they go, Domingo?"

"They would take the shortest way to the
border. You have the advantage-they think I
am dead, and they will not expect anyone to be
following them."

"Why would they not expect someone to follow them?"

Domingo pushed his pain aside so he could
help Ian. "Emerada told me that she thought
she was being watched for several days. Those
three men thought she was alone, but for me."

Ian was anxious to leave, but he had to make
sure Domingo was taken care of. He placed a
canteen of water and a pouch of dried meat
within Domingo's reach. He also laid his rifle
beside him. "I have to leave you, and I don't
have time to send help."

"Do not think about me. Go! Find her. And
be careful; those three men are as mean as they
come. Santa Anna wanted them to bring you."
Domingo paled as pain stabbed through him.
"Do not take chances-you must kill them, or
they will kill you."

"I'm going to take your horse, since it's
fresher than mine."

Domingo nodded and closed his eyes.

After circling the area for a few minutes, Ian
picked up the trail of four riders. Urgency
drove him, but good training kept him cautious. If the men discovered they were being
followed, they would probably kill Emerada. They didn't expect to be followed, so they
wouldn't be in any hurry, and he could overtake
them before morning. Chances were that
they'd make camp for the night.

Anger coiled inside him like a poisonous
snake. Sometimes he would lose the trail and
have to stop and retrace his tracks.

But always he pushed onward. The one
thought in his mind was to save the woman he
loved and his unborn child.

Emerada was tiring. For the last hour she'd felt
an occasional sharp pain in the lower part of
her back. She was relieved when they finally
stopped. She was so weary that when she dismounted, she dropped to her knees, rubbing
her back.

Ortega chose to make camp in a canyon that
was protected on two sides by high cliffs. It
would be an easy place to defend. By placing a
guard on one of the cliffs, they could observe
the whole valley.

Of course, the men knew, as she did, that no
one would come to her rescue. Grief and outrage numbed her-Domingo was dead-they
hadn't even given him a chance. They'd just
shot him down as if his life didn't matter!

Emerada was trembling violently when Ortega spread a blanket under an oak tree and
motioned for her to lie down. With her hands
bound in front of her, it was difficult for her to
accomplish, so he eased her down, his hand deliberately brushing against her breasts while
his gaze lingered on her lips.

Emerada fearfully watched him as he went
to his horse and got another blanket. When he
stood over her, she shuddered with revulsion.
"What are you going to do?"

"Do not fear me, senorita. It will mean my
death if you are not delivered to Santa Anna
unharmed." His eyes lingered on her lips.
"Have a care, though; some things are worth
dying for."

She was afraid to trust him, but she held her
hands up to him. "Please loosen the ropes.
They are cutting into my wrists."

"No, no, San Antonio Rose. I will take no
chances that you can escape. The ropes stay."

"If you will help me escape, I will see that
you are paid. I can make you a wealthy man."

He laughed and shook his head. "What good
is wealth to a dead man?"

One of the men laid a campfire, while Ortega
sent the other one to stand guard atop the cliff.
Emerada twisted and turned, attempting to
find a comfortable position. Being heavy with
child didn't help, and the hard ground bit into
her delicate skin. The pains had returned. They came in waves, and she sometimes had to bite
her lip to keep from crying out.

Later Ortega knelt beside her with a plate of
beans. "Since your hands are tied, I will have to
feed you, San Antonio Rose."

She shook her head. "I do not want anything."

"Santa Anna will not be happy if you become ill." He nodded at her swollen stomach.
"And I do not think he will be happy about that
either."

She met his gaze. "I hope you are not under
the mistaken assumption that I care what
Santa Anna is happy or unhappy about. I
loathe the man."

Ortega dipped the spoon into the beans and
held it to her mouth. He laughed when Emerada turned her head away. "I can see why you
have been so much on Santa Anna's mind. No
man could easily forget you." He took a bite of
the beans and smiled at her. "Take me, for instance. Perhaps I will change my mind and
keep you. We could hide, and Santa Anna
would never find us."

"That would not be wise, Senor Ortega. Because if Santa Anna did not kill you, I would,
the first chance I got."

He shot her a furious glance and stood up,
throwing down the plate of beans. "So be it.
You have just sealed your own fate."

Emerada was so miserable she wanted to cry,
but she would not give those men that satisfac tion. She watched the sunset until it was no
more than a splash of crimson that lingered
against the western sky.

Ian crept up the side of the hill, taking care
with each step. He didn't want to start a rock
slide that would alert the three men that he
was there. His gaze moved over the scrub
bushes until he spotted the man on guard. Ian
slowly moved back and flattened his body
against the cliff.

Domingo had said that there were three of
them, so the other two must be with Emerada.
He didn't think they would hurt her, since they
were taking her to Santa Anna, but he couldn't
be sure, so he had to act quickly.

Taking particular care where he placed each
foot, he inched closer to the guard. Suddenly
the man called down to the others, and Ian
crept back into the shadows.

"Hey, amigos, when do I eat? No one is following us-why do I have to stay up here?"

Ian heard the faint reply. "Martinez will take
his turn after he eats. Just keep watching,
Chavira."

He was within a few yards of the man now.
The most critical part was yet to come-to dispatch the man before he could alert the others.
Ian was within reach of the Mexican now, but
he waited until the man's attention settled on
the fading sunset.

Ian lunged forward, clamped his hand over
the man's mouth, and drove his knife into the
man's heart, all in one quick motion. Ian kept
his hand on the man's mouth until he crumpled to his knees and pitched forward on his
face. Then he wiped the blood off his knife before sliding it into the scabbard.

Good, he thought. There are only two now.

Ian knew that he must act fast, because time
was against him. Soon the other man would
climb the hill to take his turn at guarding the
camp. He dropped down on his stomach and
crawled to the edge of the cliff. Emerada was
there on a bedroll, apparently unhurt. His lips
thinned in anger when he saw that her hands
were tied. She was too far away for him to see
her face clearly, but he knew she was frightened.

The remaining two men would pay with
their lives for this, just as their companion had.

By now darkness had fallen, and that was to
Ian's advantage. He could stay in the shadows
while the campfire illuminated the two
Mexicans.

Carefully he shouldered his rifle and aimed it
squarely in the middle of one man's foreheadhe wasn't going to risk only wounding either of
them. With practiced accuracy, he pulled the
trigger. The man jerked backward, then crumpled in a heap.

He heard Emerada's muffled cry, and the
third man drew his gun and kicked dirt onto
the fire, casting the camp in darkness.

Emerada pressed her back against the tree,
thinking they were being attacked by Indians
or outlaws. The night was so dark. She could
see nothing but the smoldering ashes from the
campfire. A hand touched her shoulder-it was
Ortega.

"It seems I did not kill your watchdog, after
all. The fool comes for you."

"It is not Domingo," she whispered, wondering whom she feared the most-Ortega or the
unknown assailant.

Fearfully, Ortegas eyes searched the darkness. "Then who can it be?" He called out,
"Chavira, if you are there, answer me."