Heart of Thunder (17 page)

Serape didn’t flinch. He simply caught her hands and brought them together, then whipped the red scarf from around his neck and began tying her wrists.

“No!” she protested, trying to pull away, but his fingers were quick, and the knot was tied.

“It is not rope,
señorita
. That would cut your pretty skin,” he said softly. “You will thank me for that?”

“I will thank you for nothing!” she spat.

“But it is you who made this necessary,” he reminded her.

“Do you plan to tie my feet, too, coward?” she hissed, thoroughly enraged.

“Now that you mention it…” He grinned. “That is a very good idea. We have little enough time left to sleep. I would not like to be awakened again to find you attacking poor Inigo.”

Samantha glared at his back murderously as he left to get a rope. He returned, and, after her futile efforts at kicking at him to keep him away, he caught her feet and wrapped the rope around her boots.

“Damn you!” she cried in frustration. “Tell me your name so I can curse you properly!”

He sat back on his haunches beside her, a bemused look on his face. “Why do you wish to curse me,
señorita?
I only follow orders. I am paid to do a job. I do it. Save your curses for El Carnicero.”

At the mention of the dreaded name, she lost some of her anger. He saw this and smiled knowingly.

“You do not wish to meet him?”

“No,” Samantha replied. When he stood up, she pleaded. “Wait. Tell me what is going to happen to me when we get where we’re going.”

“You will be
el jefe
’s guest for a time.”

“His prisoner! Can’t you give me some idea what to expect?”

“You will not be harmed, if that is what worries you,” he said kindly.

But Samantha mistook his tone for condescension. “How would you feel if I had kidnapped you? You’d damn well be asking questions, too!”

He laughed. “I do not think I would mind being kidnapped by you, little one,” he said softly.

Samantha blushed. “Can you at least tell me what was in the message you left for my father?”

“That I do not know.”

“You’re lying.”

He frowned. “And you are a bother,
señorita
. Go to sleep.”

He moved away. He had told her nothing, and she couldn’t believe his assurance that she wouldn’t be harmed. But he was most congenial, this
bandido
. He had tied her up, but she grudgingly admitted that she
had brought that on herself. He was friendly, and he looked at her with admiration. Perhaps she could make use of that, somehow. It wouldn’t hurt to be less hostile toward him now.

Chapter 18

T
HEY reached the foothills of the Sierras late that next day, having stopped to rest in the early afternoon. Apparently they no longer worried about pursuit but were just eager to return to their camp. They rode hard after their rest, traveling until they left the flat lands.

Late that night, camping by a mountain stream near a small plateau, Samantha looked longingly at the water, wanting desperately to wash off all the grime that had accumulated on her. Her hair was the only thing not matted with dirt, for she had kept it pinned tightly under her hat, but it was still sticky. She knew she looked a mess. But she wouldn’t attempt a bath. She didn’t trust the men, not even Serape. She settled for washing her face and hands in the cool mountain water.

There were trees here, and it was a little colder. They hadn’t been heading up into the mountains after all, but were just skirting the lower edges and, surprisingly, riding north. Samantha didn’t question the new direction. She was just glad to be heading back toward her home, whatever the reason. But the bandits had only been looking for a particular trail, she soon discovered, and they found it the next day. The sun had yet to rise when they found the path and turned southwest, making a gradual yet steady upward climb.

Samantha had a new worry. Why didn’t the men try
to hide the trail from her? Didn’t they care if she knew where their camp was? Either they had no permanent camp…or it didn’t matter because she would not be leaving it. Ever.

The air grew colder that evening as they continued to move the horses along, up a narrow path on the side of a steep canyon. She grew nervous glancing down the side of the cliff. They were close enough to the edge that she could see the long drop below.

Once it was full night, Diego, in the lead, held a torch high. Even so, it was dark, and the path was treacherous. El Rey was exhausted, but still he held up better than the other mounts. It was cruel to treat the animals that way. Three and a half days of constant hard riding! She supposed the other horses were from her father’s herd and considered expendable.

Soon the path widened considerably, and Samantha sighed with relief. But then they took a sharp turn around the side of the canyon wall, and what lay ahead turned her blood cold.

It was another canyon, wide enough to be a valley, which stretched into the center of the mountain. To the right on the flat, barren land between the cliffs was a small village, a half dozen old houses spread around the ruins of a church. Was this their destination?

Lights shone in several of the houses, but the place was quiet. Not a soul stirred—until Diego, ahead of them, began shouting and whooping, calling out that they had returned. Soon lights brightened more windows. Doors opened. She tensed, fearful.

She didn’t want to face the Butcher, but the unknown was terrifying, as well.

She nudged El Rey, forcing him up alongside Serape. “Is this it, then,
señor?
”

“Sí.”

“Will—will he be here?” she asked hesitantly.

He glanced at her, raising the brim of his hat so he could see her better in the faint moonlight. “If you mean
el jefe
, I cannot think why he would not be here.”

“Is there any reason why I
have
to meet him? I mean, if I’m to be held for ransom, then I don’t really—”

“He will want to talk to you, to learn certain things,” Serape replied.

“What things?”

He shrugged. “He will want your opinion on whether your father will agree to his demands.”

“My father will agree to anything to get me back,” Samantha assured him.

“El Carnicero will be glad to hear that. But you do not know what was in the message. You cannot know for sure if your father will agree, not until you hear the demands yourself.”

“Someone else could tell me about it,” she said brightly, but he cut her off. “Why do you still have fear?” he asked. “I hear fear in your voice. I have told you that you will not be harmed here. He has sworn this to me.”

“And you believe him?”

“
Sí
, I believe him,” he answered without hesitation. “If I did not, I would never have brought you here. Do you understand me,
señorita?
I do not hurt women.”

Samantha let the declaration sink in. Then she spoke up. “You must not have ridden with this bunch very long.” She was remembering Manuel’s story of the massacre of women and children.

“No, I have not,” he replied honestly, thereby dashing her hopes all over again.

“Lorenzo!” called someone from inside the camp. “We are waiting. Bring in the prize!”

Samantha stiffened. The man was speaking Spanish. They wouldn’t know that she understood Spanish, and she decided not to let them know. It might be useful to her if they talked freely in front of her.

“Was that man calling to you?” she asked innocently.

“
Sí
. They wait for us.”

“Your name is Lorenzo? I liked Serape better.” At his bewildered look, she added, “Never mind. I’ll explain another time. But tell me, what do you call your boss besides
el jefe?
”

“Rufino.”

“Is that his real name?”

“Not likely. Not many who choose this life use their true names. But it is the only name I know him by.”

“And your real name?”

“Is not Lorenzo,” he acknowledged.

“Lorenzo!” The call was impatient this time, making Samantha wince.

“Come, Señorita Kingsley.” Lorenzo started up their horses, heading toward one of the houses. Many men were gathered in front of the house, and torches had been placed on the narrow porch. “There will be hot food and a comfortable bed for you. And it will be better to meet Rufino now. You will see for yourself that you need not fear him.”

Lorenzo dismounted as he reached the porch steps, and Samantha did the same reluctantly and nervously. Inigo led their horses away. The other men all gathered around her and stared openly.

A few men were sitting on the steps, and there were at least ten in the yard. Samantha felt surrounded, suffocated, and terrified. They were too close, and she was weaponless. She was not used to feeling so helpless.

Someone reached out and touched the embroidery on her vest, and Samantha swung around to slap away the offending hand. She stood, her back to the house, cringing from their leering, grinning expressions, hoping her fear didn’t show.

“
La gringa es muy bella!
” she heard. “
Magnífica
,” said another, and there were whispers that made her more and more uncomfortable. And then they were
talking about her outfit, how mannish it was, about the empty gunbelt on her hips. They threw rapid questions at Lorenzo while she stood there in their midst, not knowing what to do, waiting. Waiting for what? Was El Carnicero there? she wondered. Which of these dark, rough-looking men was the cold-blooded killer she so dreaded facing?

She grew more and more frightened, standing there under inspection. She was about to turn away when a deep voice boomed above all the other voices, coming from behind her.

“Are you sure you have brought his daughter. Lorenzo, and not his son?”

Samantha turned to face the speaker, as the question brought a chorus of laughter from the men. As she swung around, she expected to see El Carnicero, a short, barrel-chested man. But the owner of the mocking voice was tall, his lean figure silhouetted in the doorway of the house. He was entirely in shadows because the torches lit only the yard, and only a little of it.

Samantha was grateful that the brim of her large hat hid her face. At least no one could see the fear in her eyes. But she found the fear giving way to temper. She was exhausted. She was hungry. She hadn’t had a real meal in days. She was being kept out here in the cold, suffering humiliating examination by a bunch of ragtag bandits. And now one of the bandits was mocking her, as well.

Samantha dismissed the man on the porch and turned to Lorenzo. “You promised me food and a bed,” she reminded him. “Must I stand out here until every man in your camp has had a look at me? Where is your leader? I wish to get this over with.”

“So you have lost your fear, eh?” He grinned.

Samantha bristled. “There are limits to what I will stand for,
señor
. I am reaching—”

“Oh,
shit!
” The curse exploded from the porch. Everyone else went silent.

Samantha was jolted by the vehemence of the voice and turned slowly back to the porch. But the tall man was gone, probably back into the house. She stared at the empty doorway, her eyes widening as memories echoed. The voice…no! It couldn’t be.

There were curses and shouting from inside the house, and Lorenzo shook his head. “
Por Dios!
What has caused this temper?”

But Samantha didn’t hear him. She was listening to the voice raging inside the house. That voice, first mocking, then angry…But it couldn’t be!

She started up the porch steps, drawn like a magnet, but Lorenzo caught her arm. “No,
señorita
. Something is wrong. I do not understand it. Come, I will take you to another house.”

But Samantha shook his hand away without even looking at him and moved to the doorway. She went no farther than that. She didn’t have to. The room was brightly lit, and she could see everything clearly. The man was stalking back and forth like a caged angry beast.

“
Señorita, por favor
,” Lorenzo whispered urgently at her ear. “Come away quickly. For some reason, the sight of you has angered him.”

Samantha turned to Lorenzo suddenly and surprised him by putting her arms around his waist. Before he could get over his surprise, she pulled back, his gun gripped firmly in her hand.

“
Madre de Dios!
” he gasped.

But even as he spoke, Samantha was leveling the gun at the man in the room. The gun exploded, smoke curling in the air, but the bullet hit the ceiling because Lorenzo had knocked her arm upward as she fired. He caught her wrist and tried to pry the gun away.

“No!” she screamed wildly, fighting him with all she
had. “Damn you, let go! I’ll kill you if you don’t let me finish this!”

Quickly the gun was yanked from her hand—but not by Lorenzo. Hank Chavez stood before her, his eyes a dark, turbulent storm. But Samantha didn’t care how angry he might be. He couldn’t possibly be as furious as she was with herself for failing to shoot him.

Samantha twisted in Lorenzo’s grip and kicked him squarely on the shin, freeing herself. She struck Hank’s cheek, but his head was turned and the damage was slight. He caught her wrists and twisted them behind her back. The pain shooting through her shoulders effectively stopped her from kicking at him, and she went still.

“Damn you!” she cried.

“Shut up!” Hank hissed. Then he called furiously to Lorenzo, who was still standing in the doorway looking utterly amazed, “You have brought the wrong woman! How could this happen?”

Lorenzo was utterly lost by then. “The wrong woman?”

Hank could barely contain his fury. “Can you not see for yourself that she and I are acquainted? She is Samantha
Blackstone!
”

“
Sí
,” Lorenzo agreed, speaking slowly now. “Samantha…Blackstone
…Kingsley
.”

Hank whirled Samantha around, his fingers biting into her shoulders. “Is this true?”

“Go to hell!”