Twenty-two
Burned into Antonie’s mind was the sight of Tomás sprawled in the road, his blood darkening the dirt. Her eyes flew open despite the blinding pain in her head. It was a moment before Antonie was truly aware of her surroundings and began to remember.
She was no longer on the trail, but secured by her wrists to a musty-smelling bed. A quick glance relieved her mind a little, for she was still dressed. Frowning as she struggled to guess where she was, she looked over the adobe wall, gray with dirt and pockmarked. Her gaze flew to the door of the room as it opened and widened in shock when she saw who entered.
“So, the little bitch has finally woken up,” Marilyn drawled as she strode into the room behind Raoul Mendez.
“Such a hard woman,” Raoul mourned dramatically as he sat down on the bed across from Antonie.
“Correct me if I am wrong, but are you not the woman who wanted to marry Royal?” Antonie asked blandly.
“Of course I want to marry him and I will, now that you are out of the way.”
“Then your association with this rabble escapes me.” Antonie winced when Raoul gave her an ungentle prod with his foot.
“Royal has no real need of a wife. He could yet change his mind about the wedding. He also has no need to sell his land—land my father wants.”
“Ah, I begin to see. If he is hurt badly enough, you will be sure to gain both. He will marry you for your fortune to save his land, and then the land will be nearer to your papa through you. You have forgotten his brothers and Patricia. They share in it.”
“I will see to that little problem in time,” Marilyn said coolly as she extracted Raoul’s money from the saddlebags she had tossed onto a rickety chair. “Count it if you must,” she said, as she handed it to him. “It’s all there.”
“Sí, the money is good.” Raoul’s dark eyes settled on Marilyn. “Now the rest, eh?”
“Raoul, we are not alone,” Marilyn hissed. “Why not use her?”
The panic that seized Antonie faded abruptly at the look that flashed through Raoul’s eyes. She could only describe it as terror. His next words gave her a good idea of why he was frightened, and she almost laughed.
“She is Juan’s niña.” He glanced around as if he expected Juan to suddenly appear. “No. I want the usual, gringa.” He pulled a knife, holding it menacingly aimed toward a wide-eyed Marilyn. “Move along, gringa,” he purred as he urged her back toward the door.
Marilyn began to obey, but protested, “I don’t like this, Raoul. The money should be enough.”
“We make a deal, gringa. I think it would be wise if you keep it, eh?”
“I made no such deal.”
“I say you did. Move.”
When Marilyn hesitated, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her through the door before him. The smile Raoul sent her way before he shut the door after them told Antonie what he intended to do with the struggling Marilyn. Despite her feelings about Marilyn, this form of humiliation touched Antonie and she engaged in a fruitless struggle to get her wrists free. She had to try to help her.
Just as she admitted that there was no chance of her aiding Marilyn, Antonie realized that she could hear everything through the battered thin door. She felt her stomach churn as she heard Marilyn give a heartrending cry. Her eyes widened with horror when she heard other men’s voices. The poor woman was being forced to serve more than Raoul’s animal lust.
After several moments of agonizing over the abused woman, Antonie suddenly tensed, listening to what she had just tried to deafen her ears to. There was no doubt in her mind that some very rough sexual activity was occurring in the other room. Raoul was highly vocal in his pleasure. What really caught her attention, however, was that Marilyn’s tone had changed.
Antonie gasped in shock when she could no longer deny what she heard. Marilyn was enjoying herself. Her cries of protest had become ones of undisguised passion. She no longer screamed for her assailants to leave her alone but urged them on.
It was clear that she was not the cool, poised lady she played for Royal. She liked her sex play rough and plentiful. They had played a game and Antonie realized that she had almost fallen for it. If she had not listened more closely, had not succeeded in blocking out what she had first thought was a vicious rape, she would never have guessed at Marilyn’s aberration. It was still hard to believe, even though the evidence kept beating away at her ears. She simply could not understand how any woman could subject herself to such treatment, let alone enjoy it.
Again Antonie’s stomach heaved, only it was not with horror but disgust. Knowing what could exist between a man and a woman, she felt sickened by the twisted example of the act that she could hear being performed. She felt sure that Royal would share her disgust, for he was a civilized man; what was going on in the other room was nothing less than barbaric.
Royal needed to know about this, she thought, and then sighed. Even if she got out of the mess she was in, Royal had made his choice. Antonie knew she could not tell him about Marilyn. He would not believe it. It sounded too much like a tale from a woman scorned. She wondered why she felt sorry for him and the trouble he was headed for, instead of consigning him to the devil.
“Well,” Marilyn snapped, her sharp voice easy to hear through the door. “Now that you have had your fun, why don’t you do what I paid you for? Kill her.”
Antonie tensed and strained to listen more carefully. She would worry about Royal later.
“Not now, gringa. At dawn. Sí, at dawn. If it rains? Mañana.” Raoul laughed. “She can go nowhere. You men go. I need you no more.”
Marilyn stomped her foot. “Damn you. I’ve paid you well. I want her killed now, so that I know it has been done.”
Antonie did not need to hear Raoul’s reaction to know that Marilyn had gone too far. Raoul took orders from no one. Despite his use of her body and the taking of her money, he saw Marilyn as a gringa, one of the race he hated.
She winced as she heard him spit a vicious curse, then the sound of a blow striking flesh. By the sounds of it Marilyn was putting up a valiant defense. It did not surprise Antonie at all when the rough fight she could overhear soon became something else. It seemed a natural extension of the sickness that Marilyn and Raoul had already displayed.
When Raoul bellowed for one of his men to bring tequila, Marilyn protested, “I don’t have time for frivolity, Raoul.”
“We must celebrate, gringa.”
“The job’s not done yet. She’s still alive. I want to see her dead.”
“You will. I told you when I would do it. You can come and see your proof then. And bring the rest of the money, eh?”
“You expect a lot for killing one girl.”
“She is Juan’s niña.”
Antonie almost smiled, but her humor was bitter. There was really nothing funny about the fact that two people whose sanity she seriously questioned were discussing her death. It was costing Marilyn a lot, but Antonie knew that Marilyn would feel her money well spent when she found out exactly how Raoul killed his enemies.
She was almost glad when the tequila arrived along with a couple of Raoul’s men. It became evident that Marilyn was to entertain them again, but this time Antonie ignored the woman’s protests. Within moments those protests turned to words of enjoyment and encouragement as a rowdy, lewd celebration ensued.
For a while Antonie listened to the proceedings in an almost horrified fascination, but then closed her eyes. By action and sound, Marilyn gave herself away. Sudden insight told Antonie that the touch of honest panic she had heard in the woman’s voice at first had not been because of a fear of what would happen, but the knowledge that she would thoroughly enjoy it. Marilyn was plainly one of those women who could not get enough of men, any man, and, Antonie suspected, the rougher the better. She cared little about the man’s looks, cleanliness, or character as long as he had the right equipment. Marilyn was a whore, and her actions with Raoul and his men made it hard for even Marilyn to deny that. By taking this woman as his wife, Royal would be dooming himself to a lengthy hell on earth. Antonie wondered sleepily why Marilyn and Royal were not lovers, and decided it was probably because Royal was not crude enough to really stir her passions.
“You did not like the entertainment provided?” A coarse voice disrupted Antonie’s rest.
Antonie opened her eyes, blinked, and looked at Raoul. She could not believe she had fallen asleep during the raucous and decidedly crude goings-on in the other room. Wincing over the continued throbbing in her head, she decided that the wound probably had a lot to do with it.
“Such things grow tedious,” she replied. “I have no interest in whores.”
“Sí, the gringa is a whore,” Raoul agreed. “She will marry Royal Bancroft, and you will die knowing that your lover takes a whore as his wife,” he said with blatant satisfaction. “She will cause much trouble for him and his family.” He stood up and untied the end of the rope that bound her hands to the bed. “It is time that you eat.”
“My last meal?” She struggled to eat the beans set before her while her hands were still bound together.
Raoul nodded. “If the day is fine, we will kill you at dawn.”
Thinking of the new life she carried within her, Antonie wanted to cry. She held back her tears for several reasons. The main one was simply not wanting to give Raoul the pleasure of seeing her weakness. She also knew that such a feminine weakness would work to make him see her less as an equal, perhaps even lessen his fear of Juan’s specter. No good would come of crying, not even in easing her pain. There were not enough tears for that, not in the whole world.
“If the weather is not fine?”
“Then the next day. I have thought long on this. It will be dramatic and very painful. Juan’s child will die slowly.”
“Dead is dead.” She refused to let him see her fear.
He shrugged. “We will see how you think when I begin. I hope Juan’s child proves worthy of my talent.”
“I’ll do my best,” she drawled. “Marilyn stays to watch?”
“The gringa has gone home. She will return, for she is eager to see you dead.”
When he had left her again, she found that death was not an easy thing to face. She was only twenty and carrying the child of the man she loved. They were the strongest reasons to live.
There was so much pain to ignore, but to let it free would weaken her and she needed her strength. Tomás lay dead and Oro would suffer the loss of his twin and the sister of his heart. That knowledge deeply hurt her, as well as knowing that Royal would give his name to a woman who would destroy him and those he loved.
Hope would have helped, but she had none. By the time anyone suspected that anything was wrong, it would be too late. Even if Tomás’s body was found, there would be no way for anyone to know where she was. When sleep again claimed her, she welcomed it as an escape from her despair.
Rain greeted her when she woke up and she was almost disappointed. It would mean another day of waiting. She could see no way to work up the hope that it was buying her valuable time.
* * *
Royal stared out at the rain and cursed. He had wanted to get an early start in trailing Antonie. The rain made it impossible, for he was sure that she and Tomás would have sought shelter and it would be too easy to pass them by. The road would soon be a quagmire, making travel nearly impossible.
Oro had just hobbled into the dining room with Patricia’s solicitous help when there came a thunderous knocking at the front door. Wondering who would be fool enough to come out in such weather, Royal hastened to the door. He did not take much notice of how curiosity brought Oro and Patricia along behind him.
At the door stood a huge man wearing a voluminous coat. He held a well-wrapped bundle and, without a word, Royal motioned the man inside. One look at Oro’s face told Royal that this man was an acquaintance and one Oro was pleased to see.
“O’Neill,” Oro breathed as he hurried closer.
“Sure and that’s just who it is,” the man answered in a voice as big as he was, “although your brother here thought I was of a higher calling. After riding with me he ought to know better.”
“Tomás?” Oro paled as he saw how still the bundle O’Neill held was. “He is hurt, old amigo?”
“Sorely, lad, I’m sorry to say. Got two bullets in him, though I’m thinking I stopped the bleeding right enough. Heard the sad news about my compadre Juan and I’ve been looking for you three for a time now, but I would’ve been pleased not to find you at all rather than find this.”
“Bring him in here. Pattie, get Cole and Justin out of bed and call Maria,” Royal ordered.
O’Neill laid Tomás down on a carpet before the fire. With Oro hovering close by, he unwrapped the young man, revealing a bandage at the shoulder and waist. Miraculously, Tomás had stayed dry.
His blue eyes dark with concern, Liam O’Neill said, “I would have stopped to take the bullets out, but he was having none of it. Said he had to get here quickly as possible. Something has happened to Juan’s wee lass.”
Royal felt his blood chill and had to clench his hands to keep from shaking Tomás awake, demanding to know what had happened. She had been returning to Mexico. He had thought she would be safe at least, if only because she would no longer be working for him. Looking at how badly Tomás was injured, he knew a numbing fear for Antonie’s safety.
“Oro?” Tomás croaked, even as Patricia was returning with her still-dressing brothers in tow.
Clasping his twin’s hand, Oro rasped, “Sí, Tomás. I am here.”
“Raoul’s got Toni. Set on us on the road. Knew where we’d be.”
“Is she hurt?” Royal asked, dreading the answer.
“No, I think not.” Tomás closed his eyes for a moment as pain washed over him.
“Do you know where they took her?” Oro pressed, paling when he saw the shadow of delirium in Tomás’s eyes.
“Devil’s Hollow. Raoul will hurt her. They hit her, Oro.”
“They will pay, brother. I will make them pay.”
“So little. Could lose the baby. She was worried about the baby.” He gave a parody of a smile. “Decided she’d better have a husband. I would have been a good father to her baby. Cristo, Oro, it hurts. It burns.”
For a moment Royal could not catch his breath. He felt as if he had been hit squarely in the stomach by a powerful blow. The way Oro looked at him, even though it was a brief glance, made Royal feel sure that he looked as completely stunned as he felt. Royal suspected that he had gone a little gray around the edges.
“Did I see that devil O’Neill?”
“You did, Tomás,” Oro replied. “Our old compadre has come at a good time, eh?”
“Sí. I think we have much need of him.”
It was a tremendous battle for Royal not to try and force Tomás to speak to him. Only the terrible pain he knew Tomás was in, a pain so clearly shared by Oro, kept Royal from demanding information. He wished there was some way to get Tomás to simply repeat what he had said, but Royal could not bring himself to ask it.
“Get my guns, Patricia,” Oro said in a voice that made her turn ghost white.
“Your leg, Oro,” she protested shakily even as she stood up.
“My guns.” He watched her run from the room and then looked at Royal. “I am going after Antonie.”
Buckling on the gun belt Justin had just fetched, Royal said, “Not alone.”
“All of us?” Oro’s lips moved in a slight smile when the three brothers nodded.
“Sure, and don’t be forgetting O’Neill.” He set down the glass of whiskey he had been served after tending to Tomás’s wounds and reached for his coat. “I came this way thinking to visit a bit with the lass and visit I will, even if I must fetch her first.”
“It will be good to ride with you again, amigo.” Oro took the guns a trembling, Patricia held out and buckled them on. “Antonie will be glad to see you, too. We will owe you much.”
“Not a thing, Oro. I’ve had my scarred hide saved by you three more times than I can count.”
“Oro,” Patricia ventured, “your leg has barely healed. Must you?”
“Sí. It is what I must do.”
“Well, take some more men. I’m sure there are many who would want to go.”
“I am sure, too.” He kissed her. “They must stay behind. In this a few is best. Take care of Tomás, querida.”
Patricia grabbed him, holding on tightly for a moment. “Good luck and take care.”
Looking at the grim-faced men he would be riding with, Royal knew he could find none better. He did not know O’Neill, but he trusted Oro’s and Tomás’s judgment. If nothing else, they were good judges of whether a man would be an asset in a fight. At the moment, that was the only aspect of the man’s character that Royal cared about.
Seeing the way that Oro gritted his teeth and paled slightly as he mounted, Royal said carefully, “Pattie is right. Your leg is barely healed.”
“Raoul tried to kill my brother, may have succeeded, for I am not foolish enough not to see how badly wounded Tomás is. The dog also holds Antonie. My leg is of no matter. You understand, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us ride,” Oro said even as he spurred his mount on.
Royal was deeply afraid for Antonie. Try as he would to block his fears from his mind, thoughts of all that could happen to her preyed on him. She was strong, but she was so small.
He wished he had acted on his suspicions, not worried so about having facts before moving against a neighbor. There was little doubt in his mind who told Raoul where to find Antonie. Marilyn would pay dearly for that.
Tomás’s words kept reverberating in his head. Antonie carried their child. He now understood why she had not waited when she thought that he had chosen Marilyn. Depending upon how far along she was, time was something she might not have much of. Thinking that he was set to be married, she would not want him to know of the baby.
The rain had eased by the time they reached the spot where O’Neill had found Tomás. Royal suspected that thinking of how his twin could easily have bled to death in such a barren, muddy place made Oro eager to leave it. They moved further down the road before pausing to talk about what they should do next.
“Devil’s Hollow is two hours’ ride from here,” Oro said, pointing the way. “To the east.”
“That’ll put us there close to dawn, Oro,” Cole observed. “Is there cover to be had?”
“Sí, but it is also hard to reach the cabin without being seen. This is why Raoul chose it.”
“Well, let’s get to the point where there is no more cover to be had and then decide,” Royal said curtly.
“Aye,” Liam agreed. “See what they’re up to and what men they got. We can’t plan blind.”
Devil’s Hollow was little more than a depression in the ground. A rough cabin sat in the middle just far enough from the few shrubs and rocks that provided cover on the encircling rise. A man would have to expose himself to get a good shot at anyone in the cabin. Without artillery, the best that Royal thought could be accomplished without a lot of casualties was a standoff.
Two men, unfortunately alert, stood guard. If the number of horses was any real indication, Royal figured that there were at least six more men inside, if not eight. The odds could be as much as two to one.
“What’s that thing? Looks like a cross.” Justin looked as if he wished he had not asked when he saw Oro’s face.
“It is Raoul’s gallows,” Oro replied. “He has it built for Antonie. Raoul honors her. He intends her to die slowly. Raoul takes too seriously the drop of Apache blood his mother’s rape gave him. Since nothing hangs there, then we know that Antonie still lives.”
“He would torture a woman?” Cole hissed, casting a worried look at a decidedly gray Royal.
“Sí, but he sees Juan in Antonie, I think. Antonie is not just a woman to him, but an old enemy.”
“What if we rush the place?” Royal asked.
“If we live?” Oro shrugged. “Raoul might kill her before we got to the cabin. He might not. He is a one-thought man. He has decided to test her strength, so he might not want to see her harmed in any other way, would not think of any other way.”
“Would he still do this if he knew she is with child?” Royal tensed, waiting for Oro to deny what Tomás had said.
“I do not know. If Raoul guesses that she carries a baby he will know that it is yours. A gringo baby? It could go badly for her. Also, it would make him see her too clearly as a woman and less as Juan’s niña and an old enemy. That could bring its own troubles.”
“It would have been nice if someone had told me about the child,” Royal snarled.
“Antonie only told me moments before she left. We thought you had chosen Señorita Collins.”
“I never would have played that game if I’d known Antonie was carrying my child. I’d at least have warned Antonie what was going on. Hell, by the time I reached her in Mexico, she and Tomás would’ve been married.”
“That was a plan I did not know about. It was Tomás’s.” Oro’s face tautened with pain as he said his twin’s name.
Cole grasped his shoulder. “Tomás’ll be fine. Anyone who can drink that poison like water won’t be laid low by a little lead.”
“Here, lads, something’s about,” O’Neill warned.
“They bring her out. Ah, my poor little sister,” Oro whispered, “it must be hard to be brave when she thinks of the child she carries.”
“Justin, you’re staying with the horses. Someone has to,” Royal said when Justin got ready to argue. “A watch must be kept as well. You’re the one with the least fighting experience. The choice is obvious.” Justin nodded, unable to fight that logic.
“How do we play it, lads?” O’Neill clearly felt a need for action as he watched Antonie being brought out of the cabin.
Oro glanced at Royal, then said quietly, “We wait.”
“Wait?” Royal demanded even while common sense told him that it was the only effective tactic to use.
“Sí. Wait. When Raoul begins, his men will watch.”
“All of them?” Cole asked as he checked his weapon.
“Raoul strips his victims,” Oro said, sighing even as Antonie was roughly undressed.
“All of them.” Cole winced at the black fury on Royal’s face. “Poor kid.”
“If we wait too long, she could lose the child. The shock or pain could cause her to miscarry.”
“The babe has survived much, Royal. It is four months along. Maybe longer. She did not say.” Oro clasped Royal’s shoulder. “I, too, worry and hate to see this happen, but if we move too soon, both could be lost and we as well. We will do her no good dead.”
It was all true but, as they moved into position so that they could come up behind Raoul and his men in a semicircle, Royal found the waiting the hardest thing he had ever done.