Heart of Thunder (25 page)

She was curious about this man who had become the focal point of her life. He had once wanted her to go to Mexico with him. What would it have been like if she had said yes? The circumstances all might have been different. If she had known about Adrien sooner. If Hank had asked her to marry him instead of just to live with him. Things might have been quite different. After all, he was an extremely attractive man
—muy guapo—
as Froilana would say. He had excited her from the first.
Nor would she deny the strange power he had over her when he took her in his arms. What would it be like to be his willing partner instead of having to fight herself.

She would never know. She would always fight him. It couldn’t be any other way, not after all that had happened.

But that didn’t stop her from wondering. There was that other side to him, the side she couldn’t understand. He could be the most winsome, likable man! When those gray eyes of his shone with laughter he could make anyone smile.

And then there was the Hank who was risking his life for his cousin. All of this, for his cousin. Hank would get nothing out of it. Why was he doing all this for Antonio Chavez? She would like to meet the man who inspired such devotion. Or was that, maybe, all lies, too? Perhaps Hank wasn’t really so selfless. Perhaps he
would
be getting something out of it, after all. But what?

Samantha leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out on the porch steps. The morning sun had yet to find its way over the roof to the steps, and it was cool there, but it promised to be a hot day, even at this altitude. She looked around. Her beautiful mountains. She had never thought she would be living in them, tucked away in a hidden valley. And for how much longer?

Times like this, she didn’t mind the waiting. She could sit on the porch alone and think. It gave her the only sense of freedom she had. She knew she couldn’t wander off. She knew that even now Hank’s eyes were on her. He was inside, sitting at the table with his morning coffee, watching her through the open door. But she didn’t mind.

She could feel his eyes on her back. He would be scowling. She laughed softly to herself. Yes, he would definitely be scowling. She had burned his breakfast that morning. Not on purpose, but of course he thought
it was intentional and blew up about it. Such a grouch! But then she knew what was really eating at him—her and the doubts she had planted in his mind.

Stretching lazily, Samantha rose and crossed to the open door. She stopped there, leaning against the frame, staring boldly at Hank. He caught her eye, and his face darkened. It was amusing to see how easily she could upset him.

“You have something on your mind, Sam?” he asked curtly. She didn’t look away.

“Nothing in particular.” She shrugged. “I was just wondering about you.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me something. If I had agreed to be your woman, just supposing, would you still have taken up your cousin’s cause?”

Hank leaned back and, for the first time in two days, grinned. “If you were my woman, Sam, my first loyalty would be to you.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me think I brought this whole thing on myself by refusing you?”

Now he shrugged. “Think whatever you like.”

Samantha frowned. “Would you have brought me here, to live in this shack? Is this the kind of life you were offering me?”

Hank laughed humorlessly. “Believe me, things would have been very different. But it is pointless to speculate. You refused. We are here now under quite different circumstances.”

“Of course,” she said offhandedly. She sighed. “Don’t you get bored, sitting around here doing nothing?”

“There is nothing to be done until I know the last message has reached your father. It is a waiting game we all play. I do not like it any more than you do.”

Samantha walked slowly into the room, stopping across the table from him. “You could give it up, you know,” she said casually.

“Why? Because you say you will win in the end? You
are not guaranteed a long life, Sam. People die. Your father could outlive you, and then it would be my cousin who won.”

“That’s a long shot, and you know it.”

“Possible though.”

“Go right ahead and hope for that if it makes you happy.” She smiled.

Hank cleared his throat and went on. “There are two things I can do yet,
niña
, to assure that the land stays in the Chavez family. But you will not like them.”

She looked at him warily. “What?”

“Well, you and I could make a baby—if we have not already done so.”

Samantha gasped.

His eyes danced with laughter. “I have not given it much thought, but the fact is that you have sworn your sons will inherit that land, and if one of your sons should be mine—”

“Never!” Samantha shrieked, planting her hands squarely on the table to lean forward and glare at him. “Do you hear? Never!”

“It was…just a thought.” He grinned.

Her eyes gleamed like emerald fire. “I would never bear you a son!”

“You may not have a choice.”

“Don’t even think about it!” she warned furiously. “Of all the insane ideas. It’s your cousin who wants the land, not you. Why would you think of such a thing?”

She turned away from the table in anger, but she was too upset to leave it alone and turned back to look at him narrowly. “What makes you even think I would keep a son of yours? You know how much I hate you.”

“
Sí
, I know your heart is cold where I am concerned. But we speak of a baby—your baby. I do not think you would hate your baby simply because I was the father.”

“I can’t believe I’m even discussing this with you.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I will
not
have
your baby! I didn’t conceive the first time you…raped me. This last time will be no different!”

“It only takes once,
querida
,” he said softly. “The possibility is there.”

“The odds are against it!” she snapped, hating his confident tone.

“I could improve the odds.”

Her eyes widened. She understood all too well.

“You really are crazy,” she whispered. “Your lust is one thing. But wanting to create an innocent child for such a despicable reason….”

Hank rose, and Samantha backed away slowly. “Don’t you come near me, damn you. I’ll tell you right now that if I had your child, I might raise it, but I would disinherit it anyhow. Do you understand? You still won’t win! I won’t let you!”

“I will gamble, Sam, that when the time comes, you will not do so. You will have forgotten me by then, and you will love your child. You will never disown it.”

He took a step toward her, and she screamed “No,” shaking her head and backing away. “No!”

She was out the door and down the steps before Hank could stop her, running without direction. She wanted only to outrun him, to hide, anywhere.

“Whoa,
muchacha
.”

Samantha’s feet left the ground as an arm gripped her waist and she was spun around.

“
Caramba!
What has come over you, woman?”

She stopped, recognizing the voice, and nearly cried with relief. “Thank God it’s you, Lorenzo. I thought—” And then she stiffened and grasped his shirt. “Don’t let him catch me! Please! Don’t let him take me back into that house!”

“Rufino?”

“Of course Rufino!” she shouted, wanting to shake him. “Who else would be chasing me?”

“But he is not chasing you.”

Samantha looked behind her to see Hank on the
porch, leaning lazily against a post, watching her. She stared at him hard, damning him for making her so frightened, and he stood there as if nothing had happened, making her seem ridiculous.

“Where were you running to,
señorita?
”

She sighed irritably, letting go of him. “I don’t know. And don’t call me
señorita
anymore. Formality is out of place here. Call me Sam.
He
does.”

“Sam! No, no—”

“You call me Samina and I swear I’ll break your nose!”

Lorenzo stepped back, his dark eyes confused, and Samantha groaned. What was the matter with her, taking her anger out on him?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no call to snap at you like that. He’s got me to where I don’t know what I’m doing or saying anymore.”

“What has happened…Sam?”

“He…”

She looked at the house again. Hank was still there on the porch, waiting confidently, knowing she would have to come back.

“I can’t be alone with him anymore, Lorenzo,” she said softly, and she turned pleading eyes on him. “He…he’s crazy.”

“What has he done?”

“What hasn’t he done!” She gripped his arms. “Please, Lorenzo, let me stay with you.”

“But he has said you must stay with him,” Lorenzo reminded her gently. “We have already been through this, little one. I will not go against him simply because you do not wish to be near him.”

“It’s more than that, damn it!”

“Come. We will straighten this out.”

He took her arm, holding tightly when she tried to jerk away. “Lorenzo, for God’s sake, don’t take me back to him!”

“You are being silly,” he said impatiently.

“Silly!” At that point, Samantha lost her temper completely. “He raped me!” she shouted, not caring that her voice carried to Hank. “And he would have again, just now, if I hadn’t run away!”

Lorenzo’s fingers bit into her arm painfully, making her wince. “That is a harsh accusation,
mujer!
If you lie, to have me fight your battles—”

“Do you think I would admit such a degrading thing unless it was true?”

Lorenzo’s grip tightened more, and then, abruptly, Samantha held her breath, watching rage taking over his expression. He swore vehemently and started toward the house with an angry stride.

Samantha stayed where he had left her, staring after him. Lorenzo was going to fight for her! She hadn’t expected that. Nor was she relieved. Could he win? If he couldn’t, she would still have Hank to deal with, and he would be furious with her for turning his man against him.

Hank was ready for Lorenzo, standing on the porch with his legs apart, braced and waiting. Lorenzo charged up the steps, swinging furiously at Hank, but Hank ducked and threw himself at Lorenzo. They landed in the dust at the foot of the steps, Hank on top, straddling Lorenzo, but throwing no punches.

Samantha stared. Nothing else happened. Where was the fight for her honor? Hank was saying something to Lorenzo, and she moved toward them to find out what lies he was telling. But when she reached them, they were standing up, dusting off their clothes, and she heard only the last of it.

“She will agree?” Lorenzo asked Hank.

“She will.”

“She will what?” Samantha demanded, hands on hips, her emerald eyes shooting daggers at Hank.

“Ah, so you have come back on your own, eh?” Hank said. He spoke calmly enough, but there was a message in his eyes.

Samantha saw the anger he couldn’t hide. She didn’t care. “What lies did you tell him, Hank?”

“No lies.”

“You denied raping me?” she yelled.

“Rufino did not deny it.” Lorenzo spoke up, uncomfortable. “But he will make it right.”

She stared at Lorenzo, aghast. “Would you explain
that
ridiculous remark?”

But Lorenzo said nothing further. He couldn’t meet her angry gaze any longer and moved off quickly, leaving her with Hank.

“What the hell did you tell him, Hank?”

“You will find out soon enough,” he replied curtly.

“I want—”

“
Silencio!
” He cut her off brusquely. “We leave this place now. There is no time for your questions, nor do I wish to appease your curiosity.”

“Leave?” she gasped. “But you said we had to wait until—”

“I have changed my mind.”

“You’re taking me to my father, then?”

“
Más adelante se lo explicaré
,” he snapped impatiently.

Samantha stared angrily at his retreating back as Hank bounded up the steps and entered the house, apparently expecting her to follow. He wasn’t going to answer any questions.

She knew she ought to be delighted to leave, but instead she was worried. This was too sudden, and Hank’s refusal to explain anything made her wary.

What was the man up to now?

Chapter 28

T
HEY camped out on the open plains that night, making no attempt to conceal their presence. Not even the large boulder they stopped near could hide all of them and the horses too, and Hank seemed not to care.

Over the fire, Inigo cooked a delicious meal of roasted chicken with
frijoles
and
quesadillas
, good enough to rival Maria’s fare. Samantha sat near the fire, feeling more secure close to the light. The same three men who had brought her to the mountains were with her again, but Hank was there, too. It made a big difference. Even with the others around, she didn’t feel safe with Hank.

He hadn’t spoken a word to her since going into the house that morning to gather his gear. She had, heaven knew, little to gather. She wore the peasant blouse and skirt he had provided for her and left her ruined leather skirt and vest behind. Her empty gunbelt was strapped to her hip now—useless, but she wouldn’t leave it. Above the holster the gold buckle of her belt worn over the blouse gleamed in the firelight. Fine leather boots poked out from beneath her skirt, and she had put on her silk blouse to use as a jacket. It would provide little warmth if a strong wind picked up, but it was better than wearing the short-sleeved, low-necked cotton blouse alone.

She had been forced to ride El Rey with Hank all day, since no horse was provided for her. Her body was stiff and sore. Hank had made her sit before him in the saddle, and she had determined not to relax against him, for which she was paying already.

She looked at him. He sat across the fire, finishing his meal. He had never got around to telling her the second alternative, but she wouldn’t ask, not when his first idea was so shocking. Of course, he might have been bluffing, meaning only to scare her.