Arena De Muerte
Late Afternoon
Evita Martinez watched as Fernando Gores and the men he was with drank heavily from the bottles of whiskey they'd brought with them. She felt the men watching her and Juanita Perez and knew it wouldn't be long before they lost interest in the whiskey and turned their attention elsewhere. After cleaning up from the meal Gores had ordered his men to tie her and Juanita back to back in the middle of the Arena and she knew their only chance was to wait until they passed out. Unfortunately Gores and Delgado had stopped drinking and were watching them closely.
"Evita, we need to get out of here before they run out of whiskey," Juanita whispered.
"The ropes are tight, but I believe I can get free if there is enough time," the older woman said and continued to watch the men as she worked to free her hands. She stopped as Fernando Gores stood and staggered toward them. "Be still, Juanita, the animal is coming this way."
"So, Evita, what do you think Luis would say if I sent his puta back to him as a soiled woman?" Gores asked, lust evident in his slurred words.
"Touch her and I will castrate you, Fernando!" Evita warned.
"Why? Would it make you jealous, Evita? Would you rather I attend to your needs since it must be many years since Don Garcia placed his hands on your breast like this?" Gores said and roughly squeezed her right breast. "Do you like it rough, Evita? Perhaps I should give you to the men. Would you be able to satisfy them with that pretty mouth of yours?"
"No!" Juanita cried, unable to listen to the hated man's vulgarity any longer.
"Do not worry, Juanita, you and I will get to know each other very well, but for now I will leave you both alone. My men will soon deliver a message to Luis and we'll see if he has the balls to come alone," Gores told her and moved to kneel in front of the younger woman. He grabbed her head and forcefully pressed his mouth against hers.
"Luis will kill you!" Juanita managed and pulled away from the man.
"Luis will not get the chance, Puta…perhaps when I am done with you I will turn you over to my men. You and Evita will not be so pretty when they get through with you, but there are whore houses that will take anything so long as they are not diseased," Gores said and chuckled softly as he ripped a piece from her dress. "This should convince Don Rivera's bastardo son that I have you."
"He is disgusting," Juanita grimaced in distaste as tears filled her eyes when the former overseer walked away. She heard him tell one of his men to ride to the De Rivera Hacienda and deliver the news to Luis Martinez.
"Luis will make him pay," Evita said and returned her attention to loosening the ropes.
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De Rivera Hacienda
Late Afternoon
Luis Martinez pumped water from the well into a basin and washed the dirt from his face and hands. Pedro was not used to being allowed to make decisions on his own, but that was something he hoped to change. The older man understood the workings of the hacienda and someday he hoped to reward all the field workers who helped make it a success. Someday he would have to turn everything over to Santos, and by that time Luis hoped to have a family of his own with fine sons and beautiful daughters. It was a dream, one that now seemed possible as he thought about Juanita Perez.
She really was beautiful and the fact that she loved him was still something that took his breath away. He finished washing and went in search of the woman who would soon be his bride. He strode through the main doors and frowned when he heard Santos' cries from the upper floor. He hurried toward the stairs and took them two at a time before rushing into the nursery and finding Santos held in the arms of the wet nurse.
"Madre De Dios, Senor, I have tried everything to calm him," the woman said and wiped the sweat from her face as Luis took the baby from her arms.
"Where is mi madre?" Luis asked.
"I do not know. She was not here when I arrived to feed him."
"How long ago was that, Senora?"
"More than an hour. Senora Martinez was not here when I arrived and when I asked no one had seen her," the woman explained.
"Mi madre would not leave him alone for long," Luis said as Santos closed his eyes and stuffed his thumb into his mouth. He gently placed the baby in the cradle and rocked him as a frown marred his face. "Can you stay with him a little longer?"
"Si," the woman said and began gently rocking the cradle.
"Gracious," Luis said and hurried from the room as Nathan Jackson came to the top of the stairs. "Nathan, have you seen Mi Madre?"
"Not since she and Juanita went to the field for vegetables," Jackson answered. "Come to think of it I haven't seen either of them."
"Mi Madre would not leave Santos for so long…something is wrong," Martinez said.
"Let me check on Vin and I'll help ya look for her," Jackson said.
"Thank you, Nathan," Luis said and hurried toward the kitchen, silently praying that his mother and Juanita were there. "Consuela, have you seen mi madre or Juanita?"
"No, Senor, not since they went to the north field this morning," the older woman answered. "Is something wrong?"
"I am not sure. Ask the others if they have seen mi madre or Juanita since this morning," Martinez ordered and exited the kitchen. He checked with the other servants before going outside to speak with the field workers only to get the same answer as Consuela gave him.
"Luis, what is wrong?" Leon Velasquez asked upon seeing his friend searching for something. He listened as Martinez explained about the missing women and realized he had not seen them either. "I will gather the men and we will search the fields."
"Thank you, Leon," Luis said as Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez hurried out of the house.
"Did you find them?" Sanchez asked.
"No, we need to search the fields and nearby trails," Luis ordered and soon had several search parties organized. The hacienda was a large area and he knew they would need many people to cover every inch of it, but there were many volunteers and he couldn't help but feel the pride well up inside him.
"Can we help?" Raphael asked and was soon assigned an area to the west of the hacienda.
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Buck Wilmington was torn in four directions at once, and silently cursed Don Garcia De Rivera for his cruelty. He wanted to stay with JD, but knew that Carmella Covas would make sure the young man was well cared for. He wanted to check on Vin, yet he knew he was in good hands as Ezra would watch over him. He wanted to help in the search for the two women who had helped his friends, but right now he needed to be right where he was.
Buck turned back to the bed that held Chris Larabee and wished he could erase the lines of pain that marred the pale features even in sleep. Ever since they first met Chris had suffered from nightmares that had grown worse since Sarah and Adam were murdered. Now things were even worse with him believing he was responsible for JD's 'death'. Buck moved to the bed and sat down with a bone weary sigh as he dropped his hat on the floor next to the chair.
"Come on, Chris, stop beating yourself up over the things that ain't your fault," Wilmington said and touched Larabee's forehead. The fever was still there, but it was nowhere near what it had been and for that he was grateful. It tore him apart to see the damage Don Garcia had inflicted on the four men and he hoped the man burned in hell.
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Vin felt the dream slipping away and winced as he moved on the bed, but didn't open his eyes. He could hear someone in the room and didn't feel like talking, not while he felt like the other half of his soul had been torn away. Chris had suffered so much in his life and did not deserve to be called 'the bad element'. He'd helped so many people, and yet some of those 'good' people would turn and cross the street if they saw him coming. People like Conklin were a dime a dozen and couldn't hold a candle to Chris Larabee.
Vin tried to stifle a yawn, but could not quite hold it as his eyes popped open and he gazed at the window. The shadows seemed to dance across the floor, but with an unreal quality to them that made him frown. His gaze shifted to the empty bed and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. There was a stillness to the room and a chill swept over him in spite of the warmth provided by the sun streaming in through the window.
Vin forced his eyes away from the bed and closed his eyes, snapping them open again when it finally registered that someone was standing at the foot of his bed. The shadowy figure came into focus and he gasped when he realized it was Chris Larabee. He tried to speak, but there was something wrong with what he was seeing. The green eyes were filled with remorse, but Vin sensed the depth of their friendship sent through that single locked gaze. He waited for his friend to speak, but Chris did nothing but stare at him.
Vin frowned when something seemed out of focus and suddenly realized what was off about Chris Larabee. He could see right through the shadowy figure even as Chris turned and walked away dissolving as if there was nothing there.
He gasped for breath and tried to stand, but the weakness and pain left him unable to rise. His heart trip-hammered against his ribs with such force he thought it would burst from his chest. His eyes darted around the room as a cold sweat coursed through his body. He slid his legs over the bed despite the fact that the room was moving, and tried to follow his heart.
"What are you doing?"
"No…Vin fought off the arms that forced him back. "…he's jest here…I need ta…go."
"Who?" Standish asked
"Chris," Tanner whispered and closed his eyes as the pain of his loss washed over him. He felt a flush of embarrassment when he realized he'd not seen Chris at all, it was a dream. He slumped back exhausted as if his bones melted.
"It was a dream, Vin," the gambler said and placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.
"...fuckin' nightmare..." Vin rasped, swallowing hard. No matter what he did, the pain remained inside; a horrible throbbing ache that wouldn't leave him. His eyes shifted to the empty bed again. "...he's gone..."
"Gone?" Ezra repeated. Puzzled by the tracker's noticeable grief and the odd words, Ezra felt a pain himself as he looked into the sorrowful eyes that were now trained on the empty bed. Then the realization of the words coupled with the deep sorrow hit him like bullets. He wasn't sure how or why Vin made the assumption, but felt awful that he'd been grieving unnecessarily. He knew why his friend was consumed with anguish. He reached out and took the slumped shoulders, turning him so that he could help him lie back and forcing the Texan to look into his eyes.
"Vin, he's not dead. Is that what you thought?"
"Don't lie t'me..." Vin snarled, turning away.
"I would never jest about something so serious, My Friend," Standish vowed and waited for the other man to look at him again. The matted head rose slowly and the tortured eyes were burning with an odd fire. He rested his hand on Vin's shoulder and tried to restore hope to those stormy orbs. "Mister Larabee's fever had morphed into an ominous degree of delirium and Nathan feared he might be seized with convulsions. He was transported to the cavern below and bathed in a cistern that had been used for vinification..."
"Jesus, Ezra, I can barely keep up with yer prattle when I ain't fevered and hurt. Don't be spittin' a fuckin' dictionary at me!"
"He's alive, we moved him to the cellar," Josiah translated, coming in to the room with a tray of food. "We put him in an old wine tub, killed the fever."
Vin heard nothing after Josiah's proclamation of 'he's alive'. He felt a huge weight lift from his fatigued frame. He could barely contain his breathing. Chris was alive! He felt his soul shudder and reclaim it's wholeness. His stomach muscles clenched tightly at the thought of the dream and now the reality that it hadn't happened. He laid back against the pillow, eyes closed, as he tried to ride out the waves of mixed emotions running rampant through him. His hands began to shake and he reached down to pull the blanket up over his body in an effort to hide it.
Ezra easily read the turmoil in the injured man and reached out to grab the shaking hand by the wrist. "Don't hide that, My Friend, cherish it." Ezra said softly and watched as the Texan swallowed convulsively.
Josiah poured the juice from the pitcher into a glass and held it out to the younger man who took it with shaking hands. "Sorry, Brother...didn't realize you'd jump to that conclusion."
"I heard ya...in the hall...talkin' about it," Vin said and sipped at the sweet nectar before continuing. "Thought he was dead…heard ya say he fought ta the end."
"You were out of it, Vin, drugged up and only heard bits and pieces," Sanchez observed and watched as the Texan finished the juice. He knew the man was trying to come to terms with everything he'd been told and took the opportunity to refill the glass and place the tray on his lap.
Vin swallowed several times as a thin smile formed on his pale face. "He beat the devil again."
"That he did, Brother," the ex-preacher answered with a toothy grin. He knew the three injured men had a long road ahead of them, but there was no doubt in his mind that the number seven was still a Biblical number and leant strength to all of them.
TBC
