De Rivera Hacienda
Northern Mexico
Luis Martinez watched his mother when she exited the house and made her way toward the small building that served as a chapel for the mestizo people. It was a simple structure, but well maintained because of their faith in God. During the early morning and late evening hours there were many fieldworkers who came to pay homage to God for everything He bestowed on them.
"Luis, how is Pero?" Evita asked when he caught up to her. She dipped her fingers in the Holy Water and made the sign of the cross before entering the chapel.
"Camila is tending his wounds. He is sore, but he'll survive." Luis also made the sign of the cross before sitting beside his mother.
"Tell her to put this on his wounds," Evita ordered and passed her son a tin of salve.
"Will you get in trouble for taking this?"
"No one saw me, Luis," she assured her son and touched his cheek. "I am careful."
"If Don Garcia…"
"He won't. Don't worry, Luis, I can handle Don Garcia."
"He is not a man who forgives easily, Mama," Luis said, gently touching the scar on her cheek. He had witnessed the blow that had caused this mark and would always look at it in anger.
"He will not hit me again," Evita assured her son. Don Garcia had promised his wife that he would not hit her attendant and so far he had kept that promise to the pregnant woman. The Haciendada would do anything and promise anything if it meant his heir came into this world strong and healthy.
"I wish I could take you away from here," Luis said.
"This is the only life I have ever known, Luis, and I have but one regret and that is the lack of a true papa for you. Don Garcia provides well for us, but he will never admit who you are. I beg you do not do anything that would make him take his whip to you for I could not bear to watch."
"I know that, and I will respect him because of you," Martinez said.
"Thank you, Hijo," Evita said. The two grew quiet, both saying a silent prayer for the other's well-being. When she was finished, Evita pressed a kiss to her son's forehead, and made the sign of the cross on her chest before hurrying out of the chapel. She did not see the concern on her son's face when he too left the holy building with a final prayer that God keep his mother safe.
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Don Garcia entered his wife's room and watched the doctor tend his wife. Miguel Delgado jumped when he turned to see the man he knew as the Patron standing at the foot of the bed. He swallowed several times before speaking; his squeaky voice gave evidence of his skittishness.
"How is she?" De Rivera asked, standing tall and elegant in an immaculate white shirt and black pants.
"She is better," Delgado lied.
"She does not look better," the older man stated angrily.
"That is because I have only been with her a short time, Patron. She will need time to build up her strength and then she will give you a healthy son."
"For your sake I hope you are right," Don Garcia said and looked around the room. "Where is Evita?"
"She was not here when I arrived," Delgado answered. He did not like the woman who questioned his every move where De Rivera's wife and unborn child were concerned. Evita Martinez probably knew more about childbirth than he did, but he was not about to admit that to the Haciendada.
"I am here," Evita said upon entering the room with a basin of water and a bar of soap.
"Where were you?" Delgado asked indignantly. "Don Garcia was looking for you!"
"Evita, you are to watch over Maria…"
"Si, Patron, I was just in the chapel saying a prayer for her and the child," Martinez said. She had said a prayer and knew De Rivera believed in God, if only to try and buy a space in heaven for himself. She did not think one so cruel would ever know the reward of life after death. For Don Garcia and others like him there was a fiery hell awaiting them. She placed the basin on the table beside the bed and gently touched the ill woman's brow.
"Evita, from now on you will use the family chapel so that you are close by if Maria needs you. She seems to know when you are around."
"Si, thank you, Patron," Evita said, but did not miss the angered sneer from the physician. She busied herself preparing the bath water and turned to the men. "I will bathe her now, but she does not like when there are others around."
"I am a doctor…"
"My wife's wishes will be respected, Doctor," De Rivera warned and turned to walk out of the room. "Evita will let you know when she has completed her task."
Evita waited for the men to leave and then closed the door before returning to the young woman's side. There was no doubt in her mind that Delgado was an enemy she could ill afford, but there were times when one had little choice. She smiled when Maria's eyes opened and looked up at her.
"Thank you, Evita, I do not think I could stand his touch much longer."
"I am sorry, Maria, I wish there was more I could do," Martinez said and brushed back the sweat soaked hair.
"You're being here is a Godsend," the pretty woman vowed tiredly. "I know when I go to my grave my son will have someone to care for him and teach him."
"I will do all I can for him, but you will be a wonderful mother."
"You and I both know that is not true, Evita. I grow weary and find it hard to believe I will see my son born."
"God will protect you."
"God has always given me strength, Evita, but this is something that I can foresee. Bring my son up as you did Luis and I shall die happy knowing he is someone I can be proud of." Maria smiled when the other woman reached out and took her hand. That simple touch gave her strength when she needed it and somehow she would hold on to that and see her child born.
Evita Martinez knew Maria Elena De Montoya was right. The woman's health had always been fragile and there was nothing more she could do except keep her comfortable during the final weeks of her pregnancy. She would bathe her and see that her linens were changed and talk to her when she wanted. She wondered what this beautiful woman would have been like if she'd married a man who truly loved her. Would she have blossomed into a rose whose delicate beauty spoke of its inner strength? What would her life have been like if she'd married a nobleman from Spain and been pampered by his family? Folding back the blankets, Evita cared for the woman who had come to mean so much to her.
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Four Corners
Mid-Day
Chris sat with his feet on the rail and his chair leaning back against the wall. For all intents and purposes he looked like a man without a care in the world, yet nothing could be further from the truth. Under the brim of the dark hat, sea green eyes scanned the dusty street, watching and anticipating where trouble could come from. Larabee knew where five of the other six peacekeepers were, but Tanner had been gone when he woke up in the clinic. Yosemite told him the quiet Texan had left around dawn and would be patrolling the area until he wound up at the Wells farm at the end of the day.
Chris' mind turned to the reasons he was worried about the sharpshooter. Vin hadn't been himself over the last week and Chris knew there was something bothering him. The wound in his side was minor, but it irked him that he'd so easily fallen asleep in Jackson's bed the night before without speaking with Vin. He would correct that mistake when the other man returned.
"Hey, Chris, them fellas we put in jail last night are grumbling about being hot," Dunne said with a grin and sat on the rail next to Larabee's boots.
"Serves 'em right," Larabee replied softly.
"That's what I said," the Bostonian agreed. "Told them I'd let them out when I was good and ready."
"Good plan." Larabee tipped his hat when several women passed by.
JD shook his head and wondered if the blond knew just how much of an effect he had on the people of this town. It seemed whenever the ladies saw the dark clad gunslinger they watched him out of the corner of their eyes. He'd heard several eligible women talking about what Larabee would be like as a husband. Most times JD simply shook his head and walked away, but there were times when he listened to the conversations and knew that Buck was not the only ladies' man in town. Chris was one whether he realized it or not. It never dawned on JD that most of the women found the peacekeepers attractive and secretly yearned for the dangerous element that clung to the seven.
"Looks like Mrs. Travis is coming this way," Dunne said and saw the almost imperceptible move on Larabee's part. JD often wondered whether these two would ever see eye-to-eye and realize they had feelings for each other. It seemed pretty obvious to him.
"Morning, Mary." Larabee sat forward.
"Morning, Chris, JD," the blonde woman acknowledged and ruffled the paper in her hand.
"Morning, Ma'am," Dunne greeted the newcomer by tipping his hat respectively.
"Something wrong?" the gunman asked.
"I…Chris, I'm sorry, I know this has nothing to do with you, but I need to talk to someone."
"What's wrong?" Larabee queried.
"Did you read the story I ran about the raids south of here?" Mary anxiously inquired.
"The ones by the bandits?" Dunne asked. Truth was he'd read about them and the murderous rampages they'd been carrying out on the homesteads north of Purgatorio. Whole families had been slaughtered and it seemed that the bandits were staying close to the border in order to make a clean getaway.
"Yes," Mary replied, worrying her bottom lip as she handed Larabee a telegram she'd gotten that day. "This is the latest report I received from Orrin."
Chris could tell there was more to it than just a newspaperwoman looking into a story. Despite their first few meetings, Chris knew Mary was not the type to run a story just to sell a paper. She cared about the town and the people who lived there and it showed in the respect people gave her. He read the message and looked at the woman for an explanation.
"They were friends of Steven's," Mary explained. "I met them just before they married and we talked about where they wanted to settle down and start a family. Steven and Scott checked many of the homesteads before Scott settled on that piece of land. He built the house and they cleared the area. It took them a long time…but they were happy."
"I'm sorry, Mary," Larabee offered sincerely. Her voice was filled with raw emotion and he knew she was fighting to keep it in check.
"It's just…it seems so senseless," the newspaperwoman said and looked into Larabee's eyes.
"Murder usually is," the gunman told her.
"They didn't just murder them, Chris," Mary told him. "They raped Shannon and brutalized her body. The bandits seem to be moving further north and I'm afraid it'll get worse unless someone puts a stop to them."
"Does the judge want us to check them out?" Dunne asked.
"Not exactly, but he's requested that you expand the patrols to include the homesteads south of here," Mary said and handed Larabee a second missive.
Chris read the message and nodded to Dunne. "JD, tell the others to double up when they're on patrol."
"Sure, Chris," Dunne said and hurried off.
"Mary, it might be a good idea to run something about people taking precautions especially those near the border," Larabee suggested.
"I will," the blonde woman answered and watched a wagon coming toward them. She knew about the fight in the saloon the night before and asked. "How is your side?"
"Sore, but I've had worse," Larabee answered and stood up. His shadow fell across the floorboards, elongated by the sun, until it touched hers and the two seemed to be as one. He lifted his head and glanced into soft green eyes and was relieved that they'd been able to get past the events of their first meeting and the rocky relationship with Ella Gaines. "I'm going to ride out to the Wells place and make sure they take precautions."
"Just be careful."
"I will," the gunman assured her and strode toward the livery.
Mary watched the tall gunslinger move along the street. There was no sign that he'd been injured and no one could mistake the man's confident stride as anything but what it appeared to be. Chris Larabee had a checkered past, one wrought with grief and violence, but he was still a man who deserved the respect of his peers. Sighing heavily she pushed her feelings aside and hurried toward the Clarion office.
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The ride along the trail south of Four Corners had done very little to ease the jagged nerve endings in Vin's damaged tooth and he'd come to a decision. Resigned to the fact that he would have to see Nathan when he got back to town, the tracker had continued his trek to the Wells' homestead. The feisty woman had found her way into his heart and he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Nettie Wells often reminded him of his mother in spite of the fact that she'd died when he was only five years old. His last image of her was ingrained on his mind and one he would keep forever in his soul. She'd been sick for so long, yet in the final moments of her life there'd been the vibrant glow of youth to her as if God had taken pity on a five-year-old boy and given him something to hold on to. Vin spotted Nettie near the barn and quickly dismounted and tipped his hat.
"Afternoon, Miss Nettie." The Texan smiled at the elderly woman in spite of the throbbing pain in his jaw.
"Afternoon, Vin, is something wrong or is this a social call?"
"Little o'both," Tanner told her and looped Peso's reins over a post. "Wanted ta make sure ya had ever'thin' ya needed."
"Well now, Vin, I got everything I want right here," Nettie said, smiling when the younger man looked around.
"Guess ya do. Where's Casey?"
"She's in the house," the woman answered, frowning when she saw Tanner studying the landscape. "What's goin' on?"
"Don't want ta worry ya none, but them bandits that're raidin' down near Purgatorio are gettin' bolder."
"You telling me ta keep my carbine closer?"
"Somethin' like that," Tanner said. "Might be a good idea ta come inta town until they's stopped."
"Ain't no one gonna run me off my land, Vin. I know how to use that old gun and I ain't afraid ta shoot a man if he needs it. Comes with the life out here…and I ain't one ta go hide under my bed when trouble comes ta calling."
"No, Ma'am, I don't 'spect ya are," the Texan told her and realized this woman really could look after herself, but there were some things even a gun and a strong woman could not handle.
"Me and Casey'll be fine," Nettie assured him. "First sign of trouble or of them bandits comin' north we'll come into town…you have my word on that."
"Jest want'cha ta be careful," Tanner told her.
"Well now it seems ta me that it's you who needs ta be careful. Got some cider and apple pie if you're a mind ta sit a spell."
"Ya twisted m'arm." The Texan grinned and followed the woman inside.
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De Rivera Hacienda
Northern Mexico
Evening
Hernando Lopez was not a man who feared anything…except this man. Don Garcia De Rivera stood before him, his cane raised high above his head and the long, bloodied, red braid clutched tightly in the fingers of his left hand. There was no doubt in Lopez's mind that he had overstepped his bounds, but he fought for something, anything that could save him from this man's wraith. When the patron had found out what his banditos had done, he'd ordered him stripped to the waist and made him kneel before him. Now he knew exactly what his punishment would be and his fear was very real for a man who'd raped and murdered so many men, women, and children.
"You were not to go so far north!" De Rivera spat, his nostrils flaring in rage. "You will bring the fucking gringos here and they will try to take what belongs to me!"
"They can't cross the border, Patron…"
"Why the hell not?" The Haciendada snapped and brought the cane down across Lopez's bare shoulders, leaving a fiery red welt in its wake. "What makes you think they are any more bound by borders than you are?"
"I am sorry, Patron…it will not happen again."
"No, it will not because I am going to…"
"Please, Patron…listen to me…"
"Silencio!" De Rivera ordered and felt the urge to strike the insolent man down. He struck him twice more before the man's words got through to him and his chest heaved with the force of his labored breathing. "What did you say?"
"I know who murdered your son, Patron. I know the man's name!"
"Who is the bastardo?"
"His name is Chris Larabee." Lopez eased back on his heels until he was looking up at the older man. There was a ferocity in the eyes that put fear in his heart and he was glad he'd deflected the man's attention.
"Chris Larabee. Who is he?"
"A gunslinger, Patron." Lopez said, suddenly feeling some of his terseness returning.
"He will die for what he did…"
"Si, Patron, I am sure I will be able to take him…"
"You are not worthy of killing the man who murdered my son. No, he will die at Luis' hand," De Rivera said and paced along the small pathway. Yes, that would be the best revenge for Alonzo's murderer. Chris Larabee would die by De Rivera's bastard son's hand, he would see to that.
Hernando Lopez noticed the change in the older man and breathed softly in an effort to keep the man from seeing him again. The Haciendada played with the tip of his mustache and pressed his lips together, but his attention seemed elsewhere as he stroked the cane in his hand. Lopez could see the hatred in the man's eyes and the flaring of his nostrils and suddenly he felt very glad he wasn't Chris Larabee. He could tell by the patron's actions that the pain he'd suffered at the man's hands would be nothing compared to what he would do to the gringo if he caught him.
Don Garcia let his imagination run wild and for now it was running toward dark revenge. For the first time since his son's body had been brought to him he had his killer's name. That name he damned to a thousand deaths, each one more excruciating than the one before. By the time he was finished with the gringo he would be begging for death, but death would not come easy.
"Chris Larabee," he whispered the name and felt something akin to superiority enter his veins. He was stronger than any gringo and he would lord that power over him. He would use this cane and strip the skin from Larabee's back and feed it to the dogs while the man was still alive. Alonzo's death would be avenged and the chains that twisted around his heart would finally be cut.
"Hernando, find out everything you can about Chris Larabee! I want to know where he lives and who he loves! I want to know how many friends he has and I want him brought to me…unharmed!"
"Si, Patron," Lopez said, but remained where he was. De Rivera had not yet released him and he did not want to bring the man's anger back on him.
"Take your men and go across the border…kill anyone who stands in your way and bring that black hearted bastardo to me!"
"Si, Patron," the bandito agreed and stood on shaky legs. He stayed where he was when De Rivera's hand clutched his shoulder.
"He is to be brought to me alive, Lopez, or I will cut your heart from your chest and feed it to the pigs!"
"I will see to it, Patron," the dark haired man agreed and breathed a sigh of relief when the man's gnarled fingers released him. The elderly man turned and walked quickly back toward the main house. He knew he'd barely escaped the Haciendada's anger and he reached for his hat. He brushed off the dust and smiled at the thought of bringing the gunslinger here. De Rivera had said he wanted him alive, but he did not say he could not be marked. There were many ways to bring Larabee down, and the best way to do that was through the people he cared about. From what he'd gathered about Larabee, he was a 'lawman', but without a badge. His bandits had been going further north and would continue to do so until the gunman and his fellow 'lawmen' formed a posse and came after them.
"Hernando, you are okay?" Rodrigo Marquiz asked.
"I am fine, Rodrigo, but we must head north again tonight."
"I thought we were to stay out of the gringos' way?"
"No, our patron wants us to step up our raids and bring Chris Larabee to him!"
"Chris Larabee is not a man to fuck with!" Marquiz said, a hint of awe in his voice. He'd heard stories about the dark gunslinger and the notches he was supposed to have on his gun. If even half of what he heard was true, then he had no desire to face the notorious blond.
"Neither am I, Rodrigo!" Lopez said and eased into his shirt. "Get the men together! We leave in half an hour!"
"Si, Hernando," Marquiz said and hurried off. Within half an hour the banditos, now numbering twenty were headed north with only one thing in mind, the pillaging of the homesteads on the other side of the Rio Grande.
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Wells Homestead
Outside Four Corners
Late Evening
Vin stood looking out over the land and unconsciously ran his tongue over the sizable lump on the inside of his mouth. The apple pie had been so good, but he'd barely touched it because the sweet dessert produced throbbing pain in his mouth. He'd felt Nettie watching him and managed to finish the piece she'd placed before him, but he'd refused the extra helping he usually indulged in.
"So, when are you gonna see Mr. Jackson?"
"Huh? Sorry, Miss Nettie, didn't hear ya come out," the Texan said and stood straighter when a dark speck appeared near the edge of her property. It didn't take long for him to pick out the figure and he turned his attention back to his hostess. "What did ya say?"
"Asked when you're gonna see Mr. Jackson?"
"Ain't nothin' wrong with me," Tanner answered simply and smiled at the look of disbelief the woman sent his way.
"In that case there must've been somethin' wrong with the pie. Guess I'd best throw it out!"
"No!" the young man assured her and shook his head when she laughed. "The pie's great…jest not hungry…"
"Since when?"
"Chris' comin'," Tanner observed in hopes of deflecting her attention.
"I see that…maybe I should tell him you're ailin'," Wells stated.
"No…I'm fine, Miss Nettie. I'll see Nate when I get inta town," Tanner told her.
"Sure you will…evening, Mr. Larabee."
"Evening, Mrs. Wells," the gunman greeted and dismounted with an air of stiffness in his body.
"Somethin' wrong, Mr. Larabee?" the older woman asked.
"Chris got cut last night, must be feelin' okay if'n Nate's let 'im ride out," Tanner told her, leaning against the railing in a relaxed manner.
"I hope it's nothin' serious," Nettie said.
"It's fine," the blond assured her and turned his attention to the sharpshooter. "You all right?"
"I'm okay, Chris, was just headin' in. Everythin' okay in town?" the tracker asked.
"Everything's fine. Might be trouble heading this way."
"That bunch of bandits?" Nettie asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," Larabee answered. "They're getting bolder and hit a homestead north of the border."
"How far north?" Tanner asked.
"Too far. This wasn't a mistake, Vin. They killed a man and woman and burned their place to the ground."
"Oh my Lord," Nettie said.
"Might not be a bad idea for you and Casey to stay in town until we catch them," Larabee explained.
"Is that necessary, Mr. Larabee?"
"Maybe not yet, but if they decide to raid even further north we might not be able to get a warning out." Chris knew if anyone could convince the elderly woman to stay in town until the danger was over it was the Texan, and he looked to him now.
"Think it's fer the best," Tanner suggested and saw the woman nod once.
"I'll get some things together," Nettie assured them.
The peacekeepers watched her enter the house and sat back to wait for the two women. They knew it was probably not needed, but for now they would escort them into town.
"Anyone we know?" Tanner asked.
"No, but Mary did. They were friends of Steven Travis…Mary met them a couple of times."
"We gonna go after them?"
"Might not be a bad idea," Larabee told him.
"Are ya up fer it?"
"Hell, Vin, cut myself worse shaving," the blond answered with a grin and suddenly remembered the reason he wanted to talk to the quiet man beside him. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
Chris didn't say a word, didn't have to. A single sandy brow arched and he leaned over the pommel. The silent message of 'you're kidding me, right?' came through loud and clear.
"Nothin' I can't take care of," the Texan lied.
"You sure, Vin?" the gunman asked. "Gonna need to know you're watching my back out there. These bandits are hitting too close to home and something tells me this bunch is not gonna be happy with the homesteads."
"Ya think they'll come inta town?"
"Might…just no way of knowing for sure."
"Ya figurin' on goin after 'em?"
"Was thinking it might be a good idea. Figured we'd start at the Doherty place…"
"Doherty?"
"The homesteaders that were killed the other night."
"Cold trail," Tanner observed.
"I know…but there's someone can read sign better than anyone I know," Larabee stated with confidence and clapped the younger man's shoulder.
"Ain't many men I trust, Chris," the Texan said and saw the belief in Larabee's eyes. He'd given the blond a part of himself when he'd told him about the bounty on his head. That was not something he talked about lightly and very few people knew about that part of his past. Someday he was going back to Texas to clear his name and there was no doubt in his mind that this man would be riding beside him.
"Goes both ways, Vin," Larabee assured him. He scrutinized the quiet man and knew there was something wrong and this time he was not letting him change the subject. "What's wrong, Vin?"
"We're ready," Nettie said and looked from one man to the other as if reading an unusual tension there.
"I'll hitch up the buggy," Tanner said and hurried away.
'This ain't over, Vin,' Larabee thought and smiled reassuringly at Casey before taking her bag. Whatever was ailing the sharpshooter would have to wait until they were back in town. Chris just hoped it was nothing serious.
"Aunt Nettie says trouble's comin'," Casey said while her aunt locked the door.
"Might be, Casey. It'd be best if you stayed in town for a while," Larabee explained and was glad the two women had packed light. It wasn't long before they were headed back to Four Corners and Chris knew they'd need to come up with a plan once they arrived. Pressing his hand against his side he waited for the throbbing ache to subside and watched the Texan's left hand rub against his jaw.
TBC