Heart of Thunder (15 page)

Why did she have to be so damned—different? But how he loved her, this unique child of his. Even with her temper and stubbornness, she meant the world to him. He hadn’t seen Sheldon since he was a baby. It had caused him years of heartache, but now he consid
ered that he didn’t have a son. Samantha was all he had.

She was riding away as he reached his horse. Hamilton mounted and, having selected ten of the best riders to follow, set off after her.

He couldn’t afford to take all his men with him, couldn’t take the chance that this wasn’t a trap, a fire meant to lure them away from the house. He might return to find the house in flames, too. It was just as well that Samantha was with him. He could keep an eye on her. He knew he would die if anything ever happened to that girl.

Since receiving the first message, Hamilton had known for certain that El Carnicero was responsible for everything. That miserable bastard! The audacity, ordering Hamilton to leave Mexico! It was absurd, yet the bandit was making certain that Hamilton seriously considered the ultimatum. No outlaw was going to dictate to him, however. He’d bring in his own army of mercenaries before he’d leave. He’d blow The Butcher right out of those mountains. And now, with this attack, it was time to think of doing just that.

They were drawing close to the field camp, and smoke was heavy. Samantha had been right—it was too late to save the fields. The earth was scarred black and no longer burning, but the small camp of thatched huts where the workers stayed during harvest and planting was still roaring, black smoke belching skyward.

Samantha rode straight to the huts before Hamilton could stop her. She was the first to see Juan, beyond the camp, leaning back under a gnarled tree and holding his head in his hands. His small son knelt beside him, staring up at his father.

“Juan!” cried Samantha as she slid from her horse and bent over the two.

The child, no more than seven, was wide-eyed with terror. Juan himself was crying, holding his hands to his forehead where a deep gash bled.

“
Patrona?
” he looked up in a daze. “I tried to stop them.”

“Of course you did, Juan,” she replied gently.

“There were too many of them.” He was mumbling now. “One of them hit me with a rifle, but I still tried—until they said they would kill my
hijo
.”

“It is not your fault, Juan. Your life and the boy’s are more important.”

He seemed to understand. But he was gripped by a sudden fear just then and grabbed her arm, his fingers clenching painfully.

“You are not alone,
patrona?
Please! Say you did not come here alone!”

“Do not worry, Juan. My father is here. We will get you back to the ranch safely.”

“No! You must go—quickly. They are still here. They have not gone!”

Before the Mexican’s frantic words could sink in fully, Samantha’s father was behind her, pulling her out from under the tree.

“Did—did you hear what Juan said?”

“Yes,” Hamilton growled. “But I didn’t need to. Look.”

She followed his hard gaze to a small hill on the other side of the field. Now that the smoke was not so heavy, she could see clearly. There were fifteen men on horses spread out across the hill. Samantha had never seen such a menacing-looking group. They sat watching, sunlight glinting off crossed bandoliers and long knives. Wide sombreros hid dark faces.

Her father pulled her to her horse and helped her to mount quickly. She had never seen him look the way he did.

“Ride, Sam,” he ordered firmly. “Get back to the ranch
now
.”

“No.” Her voice held defiance, but was as firm as his.

He scowled darkly. “Get out of here!”

“I’m not going without you.”

“For God’s sake, will you do as I say for once?” His voice rose. “We’re outnumbered here.”

“Exactly. You’ll need every gun.”

Hamilton stared, incredulous. “You can just bury that bravado right now, little girl. There could be more men behind that hill. We’re not riding into any trap.”

She saw the wisdom of it. “Let’s go, then.”

“You start out now. We’ll catch up with you as soon as we get Juan and the boy on horses.” He signaled Manuel and Luis to do just that. “Go on now, Sam.”

“I’ll wait.”

Hamilton grew furious. “Don’t you realize that every second is precious right now? This is the first time the bandits haven’t run from their crime. They’re feeling bold, Sam. They could attack at any moment.”

“I’ll wait,” she said again, her mouth set firmly. “I’m not going to leave you here alone, father.”

He glared at her, shaking his head, then turned to help the injured Juan onto a horse.

Across the blackened field, the bandits held their ground. They had not moved. They seemed to be waiting for something. But what? To be attacked, or to attack? Samantha could kill six of them before she had to load her gun again, and another six before they came close enough to do her any damage. In a good position, she could pick off every one of them.

She hated to turn tail and run, and was glad that they didn’t race away from the area like cowards. Through caution and in deference to Juan’s injury, they moved slowly, rifles in hand, prepared to shoot if attacked. The bandits didn’t follow. Samantha looked back once and saw that they had not moved from the hill. Was this all just for show?

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the ranch. Juan was taken away to have his injury tended, and Samantha followed her father into the house. He was stiff-backed as he marched across the patio and into the
sala
, and as they entered the room, he turned
on her. “That’s it!” he shouted. “That—is—it! That’s the last time you will defy me!”

“Calm down, father.” Samantha spoke gently. “We can discuss this reasonably, you know.”

“Now you want to be reasonable? Why couldn’t you have been reasonable out there? You risked your life!”

“I didn’t see it that way.”

“You never do!” he said sharply. “But you’re too old to be acting like a child.”

“Then don’t treat me like one!” she snapped back, adding more calmly, “I was aware of the situation, father. I know very well we could have been attacked at any moment. But I could have taken care of myself—better than you, in fact. I would have shot three men with my Colt before you hit even one.”

“That is not the point. You’re my daughter, Samantha, not my son. You shouldn’t have been in danger at all. I wanted to protect you, to get you away from danger.”

“Father, those protective feelings run in me, as well. I couldn’t leave you. I just couldn’t.”

He sighed and sank into a chair. “You just don’t understand, Sam. I’m an old man, I’ve lived my life. But yours is all ahead of you. You’re all I have. If anything happened to you…I wouldn’t have any reason to go on living. You must not take chances.”

“Now stop it!” she said hoarsely, uncomfortable with the way he was talking. “You’re all I have, too, you know.”

“No, Sam. You’ll have a husband and children. You will have others to love. God, I should never have let you leave the house this morning, but I never dreamed they would still be there. When I think of what might have happened…”

“Now don’t start blaming yourself.”

“I’ll blame myself if I damn well please!” He sat up sharply and glared at her. “But that’s the last time
you’ll be placed in danger, my girl. You’re not leaving this house again until the trouble is over!”

“You’re going too far!” she protested.

“No, I’m not. I’m quite serious, Sam. There will be no more morning rides, not even with an escort.”

“I won’t stand for it,” she warned, her temper on the rise.

“Yes you will, or, by God, I’ll put bars on your windows and lock you in your room.”

Emerald sparks shot from her eyes as she realized that he meant it. “For how long?” she demanded coldly. “Just how long do you intend to keep me a prisoner?”

“You needn’t sound so offended. I’m only denying you your morning ride, and only for the sake of safety.”

“How long?”

“A week, maybe. I’ll send for the authorities today. But if they can’t help, then I’ll get my own army in here. We’ll see how El Carnicero likes having the tables turned on him.”

“At least you’re admitting the truth now,” Samantha said bitterly. She took satisfaction from her father’s expression. He actually flinched. “I’ll agree to a week on one condition.”

“What?” he asked wearily, suspicious.

“You tell me what was in those messages The Butcher left for you.”

To her surprise, he looked relieved. “I’ll do better than that.” He got up and left the room, returning a moment later with two dirty, crumpled sheets of paper. “Here, read them.”

They were written in a crude scrawl, and each was signed with a large “C.” One said: “
Go home, Gringo
.” The other was clearer. “
Mexico hates you, Gringo. You will die if you stay here. Go home
.”

“Manuel told me he hates
gringos
passionately,” she said after a moment.

“He hasn’t given up trying to evict me. He’s grown
bolder. But the last straw was seeing you in danger. The
bandido
will get the war he wants now.”

“I’ll wait a week, father, I promise. But no more than a week.”

He knew she meant it.

Chapter 16

T
HAT next week was the slowest of Samantha’s life. But the trouble seemed to be over.
Soldados
had charged into the mountains. Reports came back slowly. Evidence was found in an old abandoned village that pointed to many men having stayed there. But they were gone. The Mexican soldiers then went deeper into the mountains, but there were no tracks to follow, and no sign of the bandits. It was the general consensus that El Carnicero had returned to his southern territory. Samantha was quick to agree, and soon the week was over.

She was ready to ride again, but her father insisted that she take four
vaqueros
with her.

“But the trouble is over,” she protested. “The Butcher has gone.”

“We won’t know that for sure until more time passes,” Hamilton insisted. “Four men, Sam, and you’ll stay close to the ranch, as well.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about all these conditions last week?” she stormed. “You were afraid to, weren’t you?”

“Be reasonable. I would really rather you didn’t go out at all. Not yet. At least give me the peace of mind of knowing that you’re well protected.”

Samantha gritted her teeth. “All right, I’ll give you one more week—but no more. After that I have my freedom back completely and you stop treating me like a child.”

“Agreed—as long as nothing happens in the mean
time.” She turned to stalk away, but Hamilton added, “And these conditions include your staying with your escort, not racing ahead of them, Sam.”

“Oh!”

Samantha was still furious when she stormed into the stable to get El Cid, but Ramón was waiting, and he tried to coax her out of her mood. She had forgotten that he had promised to join her for a ride. Now she would have five men along to protect her—though she would most likely end up protecting them if anything happened.

She waited while her escort readied their horses, and Ramón sat his horse, smiling at her vexation. So much trouble for just a few hours’ ride!

Ramón and Samantha had returned to their old camaraderie, and she was grateful for his company, but there was often a difference in his behavior toward her, and she was disturbed by it. There was sometimes a dark passion in Ramón’s eyes. Surely he was not falling in love with her, she told herself. She hoped not, for her feelings did not run that way.

He looked exceptionally handsome today in his black leather waist-length jacket and black pants that flared out at the knees. Samantha was wearing soft leather herself, a dark-chocolate-brown skirt and vest embroidered along the hems with fancy gold thread. Her blouse was brown-and-beige-striped moiré silk, with cuffs on the long sleeves and a wide collar opened only discreetly. She wore her hair pinned up under a wide-brimmed brown hat.

She sighed. She had planned to give El Cid a vigorous workout. Now she would have to go slowly, to allow her escort to keep up with her—or would she? As they rode away from the ranch at a leisurely pace, Samantha kept looking at Ramón’s gray stallion. It was a powerful horse, nearly as spirited as El Cid. They were riding abreast, heading south, the four
vaqueros
a good twenty
yards behind Ramón and Samantha. She looked sideways at Ramón, her lips curling in a mischievous grin.

“Ramón, race me to that far hill at the end of the south range. You know the one.”

But he shook his head firmly. “No, Samantha. We are no longer children.”

“What does that have to do with it? I want to race.”

“No. Your father would not like it.”

Samantha’s grin deepened. “I’ll wager you,” she bribed. “If I lose, I’ll dance the
jarabe
for you. But, of course, I won’t lose.”

Ramón’s eyes brightened. Only once had he seen her dance the passionate Mexican dances that Froilana had taught her. She had set his blood afire that time, when he was seventeen. He would give anything to see her wear the loose, deep-necked
camisa
and the full red skirt that sparkled with bangles, to see her hair cascading down her back like a cloak of fire, to have her dance, only for him, a dance of passion.

Samantha knew by his sudden change of expression that she had won. As he nodded, she dug her heels into El Cid and shot off ahead of Ramón. But Ramón caught up with her quickly. One mile passed, then two. She pushed El Cid to his limit. She did not look back to see how far behind her escort was trailing. She bent down against the wind, her hat whipping off to bounce on her shoulders, caught by the cord around her neck. She was flying. She was free. She had never felt better.

The hill was just ahead, and she sensed Ramón falling back. The hill sloped gently at least twenty feet upward, and Samantha charged to the top, laughing in delight. She had won. At the top she turned sharply and slid off El Cid to look down the hill. Ramón was only halfway up. She could not even see the
vaqueros
.