Twenty-nine
“Patricia, what are you doing here? Is your house all done?” Antonie asked as Patricia entered the parlor.
“No, but I volunteered to come and help you.” Patricia eagerly relieved Antonie of Ram. “Oh, he’s so pretty. Your hair and Royal’s eyes. I’ve always thought Royal has the finest eyes out of all of us.”
“Sí, they are very fine eyes.” Antonie grinned and Patricia laughed. “What have you volunteered for?”
“To watch the babies. Royal wants to take you on a picnic.”
“But what about your house?”
“They don’t really need me underfoot. Besides, I think Oro just as soon prefers I am not there to gawk at O’Neill when the man takes his shirt off. My goodness, there’s a lot of man.”
“Sí. I thought that when I saw him naked.”
“When the hell did you see O’Neill naked?” Royal demanded as he strode into the room.
“Oops.” Antonie sent her scowling husband a sweet smile as he strode over to her. “When I had the baby.”
“He wasn’t naked when I saw him.”
“He was only that way for a moment while he washed up and put on clean clothes. Very startling, all that red hair. He wasn’t as pale as I thought redheads were supposed to be either.”
“I don’t really want to hear about this.” He grasped her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. “Now, if I’ve timed this right, you’ve just fed Ram.”
“Sí, just finished.”
“That gives us a couple of hours.”
“Where are we going for this picnic?” she asked as he pulled her along.
“To the swimming hole.”
“In the buggy?” she exclaimed even as he helped her into the seat.
“We’re going in style today, ma’am.”
She smiled and looked away. The idea of a picnic was very nice, but she knew what he was really whisking her off for. Only yesterday she had been declared fully healed by O’Neill. When Royal had not made love to her last night, she had been hurt, not really believing him when he had talked of wanting to wait a little longer to be sure she was totally healed. This was what he was planning even then. Something a little special to celebrate the resumption of the physical side of their marriage. Whenever she felt doubtful about her assumptions, she just had to glance his way. The correctness of her guess was easily seen on his face and in his eyes.
“Here we are, m’lady,” he said as he pulled to a halt at a shady glade near a creek.
Royal played the gallant lover as they ate the food Maria had packed. Antonie loved it. She felt as if she were being wooed. There was also a gentle seduction hidden in his words and actions. It was totally unnecessary, but she loved that too.
“A very pretty dress. The little flowers in the print match your eyes.” He touched her shoulder and felt her tremble.
“Maria and I made it. Well, Maria mostly. She is trying to teach me how to sew.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Not too well.” She laughed and shook her head. “I can mend a little and stitch a wound, but dresses? No, I think not.”
“Well, you don’t really need to.”
“I will keep trying. It is a good thing to know, I think.”
“I’ve got the money to buy you dresses, to have them made for you.”
“Sí. Now.”
“Always, I hope.”
“I hope, too, but?” she shrugged. “It is good to know how to do things if the money is not there. Money is fickle. You do not even have to do anything wrong for it to leave your hands. From what I have heard, you are lucky to have escaped the war with some money.”
“And then came Marilyn. I see your point.” He refilled her glass with wine. “Is that why you’re learning to cook, too?”
“I could cook, but not Anglo food. That is what I learn.”
“You’re becoming very domesticated,” he teased, moving closer to her and starting to take down her hair.
She began to feel a little breathless. “It is not as I thought. There is always something to do. There is a lot of doing the same thing over and over, but that is there in every job, eh? Even in ranching.”
“Oh, yes. Raise them, round them up, and sell them. Year after year. Antonie,” he murmured and then gave into the overwhelming urge to kiss her wine-dampened lips.
With a soft sound of delight, she tossed aside her glass and wrapped her arms around his neck. She met his kiss with a hunger that equalled his. There was not an ounce of resistance in her body when he urged her down onto her back, but then he suddenly pulled away. She stared at him in confusion as he propped himself up on one elbow and ran a hand over his face as he fought to regain control. It was clear that he wanted her as badly as she did him, but he held back. It did not make any sense to her, and she was sure that her utter confusion showed clearly on her face.
“Antonie, we have to talk first,” he finally said quietly.
“Talk about what? I am all better. O’Neill said so. I have felt better for a while now. Why do you wish to wait longer? I didn’t understand last night and I understand less now.”
“I know. I don’t want to wait. You should be able to tell when I’m aching for you by now.”
“I thought I could.”
“Well, you can and I am. Last night I hesitated, even though it was killing me, because I wanted our reunion, shall we say, to be a little special. Right now, I’m hesitating because we need to talk about having babies, or, rather, not having babies.”
“Oh,” she breathed in sudden understanding.
“I talked to O’Neill.”
“Sí. So did I.”
“You did?”
“In a way. He started it. Told me about growing up a good Catholic boy who believed implicitly in the Lord’s order to go forth and multiply, that you didn’t fool around with that but had as many babies as you could. His mother seemed to be constantly pregnant and, when he left, his sisters were doing the same.”
“But that’s just what I don’t want for you.”
“Neither does O’Neill. He said I am strong and can have many babies, but that many babies can be five as easily as it can be ten. When he went into doctoring he began to learn a few things, things that changed his mind. He saw that maybe his mother didn’t have to die before she was forty, that maybe there need not have been any dead babies. He said he was glad that you had seen that it wasn’t really good for a woman to birth every spring like some bit of farm stock.”
“And he told you what you can do? What we can do?” Royal wondered if there was a method he did not know of.
“Sí. He said I have many years to have babies. I can rest between births so my body will be strong, which is good for me and good for the baby. You do not need to do anything. I will do it.”
“I’m willing to do my share,” he said quietly. “Hell, you wouldn’t have to worry about it at all if it weren’t for me.”
“True. It would be very hard to make babies by myself,” she said with a gentle laugh as she began to undo his shirt. “I do not want you to leave me quickly, and I do not want something between you and me when we join. So, I will do it. As O’Neill says, the sponge is the least disruptive. Only a little less—how did he say it?—spontaneity.”
Shivering slightly when she smoothed her hand over his chest, he asked, “Hadn’t you better get ready then?”
“I am. I did not go to the bushes a little while ago to answer nature’s call.”
He smiled slowly as he began to undo her dress. “Taking a lot for granted, weren’t you?”
As she eased his shirt off his broad shoulders, she asked huskily, “Was I?”
“No,” he whispered against her mouth as he gently cupped her breast in his hand. “God, how I want you.”
Antonie was left in no doubt of that. She let him know that the need was fully returned. Later, as she lay sprawled beneath him, their breathing still not back to normal, she had to smile. They were going to have to do something about the way they could lose control when they had been apart for a while. The romantic interlude had turned into a frantic scramble to sate pent-up desire. They had not even finished disrobing.
“So much for a slow, easy session of lovemaking,” Royal said with a laugh.
“I was just thinking about that.”
“We-ell,” he said as he rolled off her and adjusted his pants, then looked at his watch, “we still have about two hours.”
Sitting up, she hastily pulled on her pantaloons and then did up a few buttons on her camisole. “Greedy. I have to wash up.”
She blushed slightly and ignored his grin as she hurried to a spot by the swimming hole where she could tend to herself without him seeing her. Grimacing a little, she decided that contraception had its drawbacks. After a few times of watching Camden and Ram at the same time, however, she knew that insuring that she did not have one baby right after another was not only for the good of her body. It was for her sanity, too, she thought with a grin, recalling how harassed she had felt.
Still smiling as she recalled one of those frantic times, she started back to Royal, then froze, unable to believe her eyes. A filthy, ragged Marilyn stood before Royal, a gun pointed at his heart.
Don’t panic, chica, a well-remembered voice said in her head. Time is important. Use it well. Think, chica. Plan.
Her gaze went to her knife. It still lay where Royal had tossed it after he had untied the sheath from her thigh. If she moved carefully, she could get it without being seen. Slipping back into the full concealment of the bushes she had almost left, she started toward the knife and tried not to think of how she might not get there in time.
“So, you married the little bitch,” Marilyn said.
Royal gaped at the woman before him, a woman who should have been miles away and securely locked up. She did not look anything like the Marilyn he had known. The dull prison dress she wore had probably not been very flattering even when it had been clean and new. Her hair was a dirty tangle. Her eyes held a wild, vicious look that chilled his blood. He fought his fear and tried to speak calmly. There was always the small chance that he could talk her out of what she so clearly planned to do. Marilyn had been responsible for a lot of deaths and had planned to see a lot more people die, but she had hired men to do it. There was a very small chance that she could not kill anyone herself.
“How did you get free?” he asked quietly as he hoped that Antonie would not try anything foolish.
“My dear stupid Royal, I learned long ago that most men think with what dangles between their legs. I also learned how to use it. To put it quite simply, darling, I humped my way out of prison. I was clean and I was new and of a better class than the trash they usually get in that place. I played coy for a while until I saw what route to take out of that sty. After that it was easy.”
Thinking to use her obvious pride in that accomplishment to buy himself time, even if he wasn’t sure how he would use that gain, he said, “It was hardly easy to come this far.”
“Easy enough. Men think they’re so strong, so smart, but all I have to do is open my legs or my mouth and I have them. And that’s what I did all the way here. Guards, drifters, cowhands. It was only after I got within the last fifty miles of this place that I had any trouble. I didn’t want to be seen, of course. I wanted to be sure to get here and make you pay. I could not believe my luck when I came here for water and saw you.”
“You’ll never get away with it, Marilyn. This time they will hang you for sure.”
“Oh, no. They’ll never catch me this time. I’ve learned quite a lot about how to hide and survive. I’ve also learned how easy it is to kill a man. Oh, I knew you bastards were weak once a woman got hold of your sex, but not how weak, not until I killed that drifter.” She smiled. “It added something you know, to cut his throat just as he was spilling his seed into me. Of course, I won’t bother to give you any pleasure. I’m going to simply shoot you. But, first, you will tell me where that little blond slut is.”
“No.” Royal tensed, ready to move in the faint hope of avoiding her shot.
Marilyn shrugged. “I’ll find her, you know. I know she was here with you. She’s probably just hiding. This might bring her out.” Marilyn smiled as she fired her gun.
Antonie cried out when Royal’s attempt to move out of the way failed. She stilled what horror she felt when he cried out, his hand going to his head as he collapsed. Even as she grabbed her knife and started to move, Marilyn fired again and Royal’s body jerked. With a scream of fury, Antonie threw her knife.
A surprised look came over Marilyn’s face as the knife buried itself in her chest. To Antonie’s horror, the woman pulled it out and then looked at her. Blood poured from the wound, but Marilyn did not fall, simply aimed her gun. As the shot rang out, Antonie threw herself to the ground, rolling toward Marilyn, hitting the woman’s legs, and bringing her down. Instantly, she leapt on her and fought to get the gun Marilyn still gripped.
As they wrestled in the dirt, Antonie was amazed at the strength Marilyn still had. She had to be bleeding to death, yet Marilyn fought like a tigress. When Antonie finally managed to turn the barrel of the gun away from herself and toward Marilyn, she did not hesitate to fire. The force of the bullet’s contact sent Marilyn flying backward. Unsteadily, Antonie stood up and knew that the woman was really dead this time. The bullet had entered right in the middle of Marilyn’s forehead. After wrestling with the urge to empty the chamber into her, Antonie tossed away the gun and raced to Royal’s side.
Forcing herself to be calm, even though her heart threatened to beat its way through her chest, she did what she could to clean and bind his wounds. The head wound was only a graze, but the wound in his chest made her blood run cold. The bullet was still in there and she feared it would be difficult to remove.
She briefly wondered about racing home and getting someone to come after him, but she could not think of leaving him alone. Grasping him under the arms, she dragged him to the buggy, then balked. Although she was strong, she did not think she could lift the weight of a full-grown man.
Using the side of the buggy she propped him against it. Then she got him upright and pushed the top half of his body in. Whispering heartfelt apologies for her rough handling, she got in on the other side and dragged him into the buggy. Then, using the blanket they had so recently made love on, she tied his body to hers to insure that he would not slide or fall out while she drove.
Even as she started toward the ranch at a gallop, she realized that she had on only her bloodstained undergarments. “To hell with it. Forgive me for the roughness, querido.”
Careening to a stop before the house, she untied Royal, and leapt down as people appeared from the house and the yard. “Help me with him, please. Por favor, he is bad hurt.”
Hands gently moved her aside and reached for Royal, as a gruff voice demanded, “What’s happened?”
“Sheriff? What are you doing here?” she asked absently, her eyes only flicking his way once before her gaze returned to Royal.
“I came to tell you that Miss Collins has escaped.”
“Sí. She has. She is dead now. By the swimming hole. Is O’Neill here?”
“I’ll get him, chica,” Tomás said as he looked her over. “Are you hurt? There is a lot of blood.”
“Marilyn’s. Maybe Royal’s. Por favor, get O’Neill quickly, Tomás.” She hurried into the house after the men who were carrying Royal up to his room. “Someone must take the sheriff to the swimming hole,” she called over her shoulder.
Maria caught up with her at the door of her room. Between her urgings and those of Jed and Tom who were tending to Royal, Antonie went to her old room to clean up. Once she got a good look at herself, she was glad she had let them persuade her to change her clothes. O’Neill would never have let her near Royal with the dirt and blood she had on her.
As she cleaned herself, she struggled to keep her fears for Royal under control. She knew she would not do anybody any good if she gave in to the hysteria she could feel struggling within her. Screaming and wailing would change little. She would upset people, distract them from Royal, who desperately needed all the help he could get, and probably do herself little good as well. Antonie just wished that she did not feel so afraid.
Just as she came out of her old room, she saw O’Neill going into Royal’s but Antonie was held back yet again. Ram did not understand how badly his father was hurt. He only understood that he was hungry. Taking her son from a pale Patricia’s arms, she hurried back into her room.
Sitting in the chair and nursing her son helped her gain a little calm. It was an action so removed from the violence she had just endured that she was able to distance herself somewhat from the event. That newly gained control slipped a little when, just as she finished and was ready to go to Royal, the sheriff asked to see her.
“Please, I want to go to my husband,” she protested.
“This’ll only take a moment, ma’am,” the sheriff said.
“Perhaps it’s just as well if you wait until O’Neill is done,” Patricia said gently as she took Ram into her arms.
“I have seen bullets dug out before,” Antonie informed them.
“But not out of Royal.”
“No, not him All right, Sheriff. What do you want to know?”
“Nothing much, ma’am. Just a quick telling of what happened out there.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand how she got away and why I was only told about it today.”
“Perhaps it was her method of escape or, well, the way she even got a chance at it.”
“You know something about that?”
“She told Royal about it. Sex, Sheriff,” she said flatly, too worried about Royal to be even slightly embarrassed by the subject. “She seduced her way out.”
“Oh, hell, I warned them about that.”
“Perhaps that is why they didn’t tell you right away. I think you may find a few bodies littering her trail here, although she only talked of one. She cut some drifter’s throat.”
“What happened by the swimming hole, ma’am?”
“I wasn’t with Royal when she arrived, but I saw her holding a gun on him. As she talked I crept toward my knife. I was not fast enough. She shot him and creased his head when he tried to move out of the way. While he was helpless, she shot him again. That’s when I threw my knife. It was a good throw, but she did not die. She pulled the knife out and tried to shoot me. Then we fought over the weapon. I won. That’s it, Sheriff. Now it is really over.”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon it is.”
Antonie did not say another word but rushed off to Royal’s room. As she hurried in, Jed and Tom were just leaving. They each murmured a few well-meant words of hope and sympathy as they went. Antonie shut the door behind them and turned to look at Royal.
Very slowly, she approached the bed where O’Neill was just finishing bandaging Royal. She thought it a little strange that the clean white bandages should make it look worse. It was chilling to see how pale he was and how still he lay in the bed. She took a deep breath and then another as she felt herself begin to shake.
“Oh, hell,” O’Neill swore as he pushed her into a seat he had placed near the bed, then forced a brandy into her hands. “Drink it all, lass, and while you’re drinking, you can tell me all that happened.”
Between the talking and the brandy, Antonie felt herself growing a little calmer. “I am sorry, amigo.”
“Don’t be. By the sound of it, it was one hell of an experience. You kept your head when it was needed. That’s what matters.”
“I wanted to empty the gun into her,” Antonie whispered. “She was dead, but I wanted to shoot her again and again.”
“Darlin’, that’s not so strange. You saw her shoot down your man. You were dealing with madness and violence. The important thing is that you didn’t do that. Hell, she didn’t die when she should have. That might’ve had something to do with it.”
“Perhaps.” She reached out to take Royal’s hand. “She was loco and she shot him so coldly, almost with pleasure.”
“It just might’ve been a pleasure for her.”
“You can tell me about his injuries now. I am ready to hear about them.”
“I wish I had more to tell you than I do. It’s bad darlin’, but I think you know that.”
“Sí. The chest wound,” she whispered.
“Actually that’s not what’s got me worried the most,” O’Neill confessed. “A clean shot, and the bullet was easy enough to get out. He’s strong and you got him here fast, got the bleeding slowed. It is a bad wound, but I think he’ll recover from that. It’s that head wound that troubles me.”
“It’s just a graze,” she said fretfully.
“Ye-es, a graze, and I didn’t see that it’s cracked the bone or anything. Look, honey, I’ll be honest with you. They haven’t learned too much about head wounds, about the head and its innards at all. He’s out cold, darlin’. That made it real easy to take the bullet out of him, but that’s the only good in it. It’s a graze but a deep one, the bullet gave him a bad knock and it’s close to the temple.”
“He will wake up, sí?”
“He might wake up in a few minutes, a few hours, a few days.”
She froze as she heard the words he did not say. “Or not at all. Is that what you tell me?”
“What I tell you, sweetheart, is that I don’t know. All I know is that he’s out, he’s sunk deep, if you know what I mean. I can clean the wound, help it heal, but that’s it, short of praying that he wakes up soon with nothing more than a hell of a headache. It’s wait and see, darlin’.” He briefly clasped her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, then started out of the room. “I’ll go talk to Doc Fowler. He might have some information I don’t have.”
As soon as O’Neill left, Antonie indulged in the release of tears for a while. When she finally stopped crying, she felt weak physically but stronger emotionally. Fear for Royal still ate at her, but she now found the fortitude to handle it, to even reach for hope. He was badly hurt, but he was still alive. O’Neill admitted to little knowledge about head wounds, about those sleeps so deep that nothing seemed to reach the patient. Royal could wake up within hours. Whenever he did come back, she was going to be there.
Antonie found the following days a torture. Her hopes for his recovery were raised when he would reach a semiconscious state, allowing Maria and her to get some nourishment into him, then they would plummet when he would slip back into a deep unresponsive sleep. The others tried to cheer her, to ease her fears, but they found it hard to hide their own worry.
One night as she sat by his bed and kissed the limp hand she held, she briefly faced the fact that he could die, and shuddered. She knew she would go on, but feared that she would never fully recover from the loss. There would be an emptiness within her that nothing could fill.
Suddenly all the words she had held back crowded into her mouth. It did not matter that he might not have the same feelings for her that she did for him. Now that she may have lost the chance to speak what was in her heart, she saw that pride that had kept her silent as a foolish thing. If—she took a deep breath and firmly changed that to when—when he came back to her, she would tell him all that she felt. To never have told him of her love was a regret she could not bear.