Mexican Fire (37 page)

Reece muttered a “thank God,” but Erasmo covered a scowl.

A sound turned her head. A figure appeared on the hilly, moonlit horizon. Cisario had returned with a trio of horses. Good, sturdy mounts capable of taking them to a rendezvous in Vera Cruz with all haste.

“Let's round up and get going,” Reece said tersely.

Erasmo yawned. “I think we should get a few hours of sleep before leaving. We missed siesta, we've had an arduous day. We should leave rested.”

“I agree,” Alejandra said.

Determination in each syllable, Reece demanded, “I say we leave now.”

But her pleas coerced him into backing down.

Leading the three into his house, Cisario spread the pallets. Each took a separate one. Alejandra closed her eyes to pray.
Please let my decision be the right one.
As soon as she heard Reece's soft snores, she stole out of her bedroll. After penning a note to Reece, asking his understanding and promising to meet him in Vera Cruz, she nudged Erasmo's shoulder.

 

 

His neck cramped, Reece awoke. Cisario snored in a corner of the house, but that was the only sound. Reece scanned the room. Where the hell was Alejandra? Where the hell was she!

“Erasmo. She's left with Erasmo. Damn her to hell,” he yelled, hoping he was wrong and jumping up and out of the door. He was not wrong.

Two horses were missing.

Reece jerked back his head and screamed to the heavens. Damn her! She, who spouted principles. She, who demanded strict behavior of others. With no thought to him, without a care for her own fate, Alejandra bent ethics to her own priorities.

To hell with her.

The sun rose over the highway leading to Mexico City. Any moment now the cortege would approach this stretch of road. The morning was warm, yet Alejandra shivered as she and Erasmo hid behind a boulder and waited for the honor guard. Had Reece found her note yet? she wondered. How would he react?

By the Lady of Guadalupe, what was the matter with her? It wasn't as if she had abandoned Reece and their future. This was but a slight change in their plans. He would
have
to understand.

Stealing the casket wouldn't take too long. Surely she and Erasmo would be on their way to the port city in no time. The plan was to divert the pallbearers. There were only three of them. She intended to flag them down, using the woman-in-distress ploy. Erasmo, with her help, would overpower them. Her accomplice didn't see any need in killing the soldiers. Tying them up would be good enough.

Yet Erasmo had a cache of loaded pistols at the ready, back with the hidden horses. The more she thought about it, though, the less enchanted Alejandra became with the scheme. Someone might get killed. And was it worth it, a death to bring Santa Anna to his knees?

Whose death would it be? It might be hers, perhaps Erasmo's, maybe the pallbearers. Additional thought brought cognizance: their plan was ludicrous, just as Reece had warned. She should have given it more thought before she had ridden away from her beloved.

Reece. Her impetuous decision to go on with Erasmo would have him furious, she decided, though she had known this for hours but hadn't accepted it. Recalling their past disagreements, she knew Reece wouldn't get over his brooding fury in a short length of time. And that was all they had, a short length of time! He would meet Garth and the rest tonight, and they would sail on to Texas. Probably without Alejandra!

Terrorized by the thought, she trembled.

Erasmo's cackling turned her head. Gone was his calm of yesterday. “What is the matter with you?” she asked.

“Such a perfect, perfect plan. I will save Mexico, and then Mercedes will take me to husband.”

An eerie feeling crept up Alejandra's spine. She stood and looked down at Erasmo. Spittle seeped from the corner of his mouth as he patted the gun shoved behind his belt. Why, he was mad. As mad as a rabid dog!

“Amigo,”
she said patiently, “Mercedes plans to marry another. You must reconcile—”

“She married once before, yet she spread her legs for me!” Glassy-eyed, Erasmo scoffed and lumbered to stand. “She will be mine again, as soon as we steal that leg and I become a hero to our country. And to Mercedes.”

“I—I don't think it's such a good idea, your plan.” She stepped backward, but there was no place to flee. Boulders surrounded her back and sides, and they were only a few feet away; Erasmo hindered a forward escape. “My s-sister would be more impressed if you would just—”

“¡Silencio!”
He lunged forward, his meaty hand grasping her blouse and ripping the sleeve. “You are wrong, Alejandra Sierra. Mercedes will be very impressed with my scheme. Her head is turned by great deeds, is it not?”

Mother in heaven, she didn't know how to handle a madman. If only she could get that gun away from him, maybe she could scare him into reason. Or at least frighten him enough where she could get away !

“I'm hungry, 'Rasmo. And I think I saw a rabbit a moment ago. Loan me your gun, and I will shoot it for our breakfast.”

“I'm not hungry. I want to talk about Mercedes.”

“Think clearly, 'Rasmo. Great deeds don't charm my sister. She wants nothing more than a man's devotion.”
Edward's devotion.

Erasmo's mouth further slackened. “Oh. That's right. You are the one impressed by great deeds and noble character.” He stumbled in a half circle, yet Alejandra's path continued to be blocked. “It's all mixing up in my mind.” His eyes rolled. “Yes, yes, it's all clear now. Just like Tio Humberto told me. He laughed at me,” Erasmo admitted, crying now. “He jeered my causes and ridiculed my mixed blood.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Believe me, it is true! He told me Mercedes would never have a
mestizo.
And that you—” a hand tried to clutch Alejandra; she deflected his grasp “—wanted me away from the palace. But he paid for his roguery.” Erasmo curled back his lips. “I strangled him.”

“My God, no!” Tears coursed down her face, but she couldn't pause to mourn her dear uncle, not with a killer having her cornered. Fright skittered through Alejandra. Since Erasmo had murdered the friend who had given him shelter as well as political aid, what would he do to her once he realized she wouldn't go on with his macabre scheme?

Erasmo shook a finger at her. “You chose your Tejano over our cause, Alejandra. Why? Why! You are a traitor. No, no. I will not allow that to happen. You and I will steal the casket. You will prove you are a good Mexicana. I will be lauded all over the world as the greatest of Federalists! Mercedes will be proud. ”

He sounded like the madman Santa Anna! She shivered again. Was she mad, too? For years she had blamed Santa Anna for everything bad in this country. But Mexico was in turmoil before him, and probably would be long after he was gone. So divided, the nation had become a country of ambition and greed, with many persons seeking to glorify themselves. Such as did Erasmo. Such as she had done by trying to bring glory to Miguel's death.

A strange calm came over her. Miguel had died for his principles, and they were decent and good. May he rest in peace. No one deserved it more than her departed husband.

With her inner calm, surrounded by the terror of this situation, Alejandra had another realization. No longer did she hate the despotic Santa Anna. He would do himself in, with or without the casket, but what would happen to him?

And what was going to happen to Alejandra?

If she died, she would go with her principles intact. Her head lifted, her shoulders squared, she said forcefully, “I am not going to steal that casket.”

Erasmo lunged for her, his massive weight thrusting her to the ground. Luckily she didn't hit one of the boulders, but she landed hard, twigs and pebbles biting her back as he fell atop her. She tried to fight him, but he overwhelmed her, then yanked the bandanna from his neck to wrap around her wrists. The bonds dug at her flesh. Her knee came up to strike him, but he shoved her leg down with his knee.

His hand arced; he slapped her. Hard. Pain ricocheted through her face as he yelled, “You will go along with my perfect plan!”

Her life flashed through her mind. Childhood, parents, sister. Miguel. The lonely years. The political zeal. Reece. Reece! Once, he had accused her of taking him for granted. How right he had been, and now she had jeopardized their future for a ridiculous ploy with a man driven to insanity by that same kind of fervor, both in love and in principles.

Erasmo pulled his pistol, pointing it at the space between her eyes. The cold, cold barrel bit into her skin. Her eyes closed as she waited for death. It was then she heard a whirring noise. Erasmo jerked, screamed. Her eyes flew open as the gun dropped, striking her chin. Blood spurted across her chest. She eyed Erasmo's arm. A knife was stuck through his wrist!

With a ferocious cry, Reece rushed forward. Thank God—
Reece
! He grabbed Erasmo by the shoulders, hauling him off Alejandra. She scrambled for the pistol as Erasmo grappled to stand. Blood spurted from his wound. He lunged at Reece, but Reece plowed his fist into Erasmo's face.

“Get to my horse,” Reece shouted to her.

“I have my own—”

She ran toward the road. Reece was behind her. But Erasmo was giving chase. Slowed by his weight and by his bleeding wrist, he staggered. Just as Alejandra and Reece reached Rayo, they heard a horrendous bellow. Then the sound of Erasmo falling.

She turned to the sound. Ten feet behind them, in the roadside culvert, Erasmo lay crumpled. She rushed back to him. Face down on the ground, he didn't move. Blood poured from his head. He had struck it on a sharp rock. Reece crouching on his heels beside her, she leaned to touch poor, poor Erasmo. A quiver went through him.

Undone by the inequities of his life and the measures he had taken to compensate for them, he died.

She turned to Reece . . . and cried for the man Erasmo used to be.

Reece folded an arm around her shoulders. He dried her cheek with his thumb. She looked up into his unreadable blue eyes. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“My intention was to kidnap you to safety. That's all. Once we reach Vera Cruz, you've seen the last of me.”

Fearing he was lost to her forever, she said, “I changed my mind about stealing the casket. That was why 'Rasmo attacked me, because I refused to help him.”

“Hindsight is always clear sight.”

“There's something else you should know, Reece. I have searched my soul, and I no longer want vengeance on Santa Anna. He is to be pitied. And I was foolish. Very, very foolish not to understand this long ago.”

Reece stepped back to pat Rayo's neck, and she railed against the emotional gulf separating her from the man she loved.

“My beloved, my adored Reece, I've made a lot of mistakes and the biggest ones were with you. I am truly remorseful for the gambles I've taken, especially the last one, but I want you to know something.” Her heart raced, both in apprehension and in great emotion. She stepped over to him, and leaning her cheek against his rigid back, she wound her arms around his waist. “I love you with all my heart. You above anything or anyone. Please give us another chance.”

“Excuse me if I'm wary of your words.”

“I made a mistake. And if you've never made one, then maybe we should be parting ways.” She didn't mean the last part, but she had to try to shock him into another chance. “Have you never been guilty of going against your word?”

“Beyond with you? Yes.” Grimacing, he rubbed his brow. “I've been guilty of bending my principles, too. If I had been thinking clearly, I wouldn't have had that boy arrested.”

“You thought your decision right at the time. That's all anyone can do.”

“Then you and I both need to work on giving more thought to our decisions before we act on them.”

Perhaps a quarter mile away on the horizon, down the highway leading from Vera Cruz to the capital, horses approached. Horses and what looked to be a hearse.

“That's the honor guard,” Reece said, his voice as unreadable as his eyes had been. “You have two choices, Alejandra. You can get on Rayo with me and we can cut through the woods for Vera Cruz before the soldiers see us. Or you can go on with your plans to hijack that cortege. Which do you choose?” he asked, needing reassurance.

“There's no need to think on my decision, I assure you. The only plans I have are with you, Reece Montgomery.”

A slow smile spread across his rugged face as he turned to face her. “I hope I heard you right.”

“I didn't stutter,” Alejandra replied, elevating her chin.

He grabbed her into his arms, lifting her from the ground, as his lips descended in a long and toe-tingling kiss. “Don't ever forget that.”

And she didn't.

He had gone full circle. The son of a bourgeois mortgage broker devoid of ambitions for his son, Antonio López de Santa Anna de Lebron had come into this world unimportant. And he—the great Santa Anna himself!—would leave life unimportant. And reviled. He stood at the ship's bow, his fingers clamping the rail as his beloved Mexico faded from sight . . . and he cried.

Trade winds puffed the schooner's sails, ruffled the passenger's white-streaked black hair, but the gusts couldn't dry his tears. The ship swayed to port, nearly knocking him from his single foot.

A hand reached to steady him.

He turned his swollen face. “It's you. Why? Why are you here? Have you come to mock me?”

“No. I am on this schooner as your friend.”

“You are not my friend.”

“Antonio, my wife and I have worried over you.”

“But the last night I saw her, I would have had my way with her.”

“No one has their way with my Jandra, unless she grants it. And she understands more about you, Antonio, than you probably know yourself.” A half grin had lifted one corner of the Tejano's mouth, but he turned serious again. “When word reached San Antonio that you fled the capital and were in dire straits, we decided that I must come to you. I will see you safely to Havana.”

“Why would you do that, Cazador?”

The Tejano reached into his coat and extracted a handkerchief. “Dry your eyes, Antonio. Then let's go into a cabin for a talk.”

He should tell this traitor to leave him be, but so much he had missed Cazador! And Alejandra. Santa Anna had trusted them with his friendship and confidences. They had betrayed him. But Cazador, with his wife's blessing, had returned. At least to see him out of the country that had exiled him. For the second time.

Santa Anna needed a friend.

He nodded, then allowed Cazador to help him down the swaying deck.

“I do not want you to see my cabin,” Santa Anna said. “Its modesty shames me. And Doloras will be there. She is my new wife,” he explained. “Did you know Doña Ines passed on?”

“We keep up with you and yours—and your activities—through the newspapers,” Cazador replied, nodding, and opened the hatchway to his spacious accommodations. “You have my deepest condolences. I know the doña Ines was a devoted wife and mother.”

Santa Anna eased onto a chair before bending to rub his painful stump. “Yes, the children and I miss her. Little Doloras has helped ease my pain, though.”

Cazador poured drinks, then handed one over. “Frankly speaking, Antonio, your young wife was the last straw for the Mexican people. Didn't you marry her less than thirty days after Doña Ines expired?”

“Poor dear. So young and innocent.” Santa Anna had never been fallacious with the Tejano, so why start now? “Of course my troubles started way before I married Dolaras.” It felt good to talk. It had been so long since he had had someone to talk with. “Burying my leg with full military honors probably wasn't a smart idea. Not so much as a president or a prince attended. It was just paupers. Thousands and thousands of paupers. And some of them laughed at me. The newspapers even called me imbalanced.” Even now, after all these months, that pained him as deeply as his maimed limb. “When I married Doloras, it outraged the people. They stormed Santa Paula Cemetery and—” Again tears ran down his cheeks. “They destroyed the casket and dragged my leg bone through the streets!”

Cazador imparted a look of something that resembled sympathy. “And you were impeached from office.”

“Yes.” Santa Anna swirled his drink, then downed it. It burned to his stomach. “Do you know what happened after that?”

“You spent four months in Perote Prison before being exiled from the country.”

The schooner wobbled a starboard, and Santa Anna clutched at the chair arms before saying, “That wasn't the worst of it. During my journey to Vera Cruz, I was abducted in the village of Coatlpoala. The natives threatened to boil me—they intended to prepare me as a giant tamale to be presented to the people of Mexico! They even went so far as to gather banana leaves for the husk!”

“Now that would've made a sight to behold,” Cazador came back with a chuckle.

“Maybe I can laugh about it, someday.” But he doubted it. “I would have been a tamale if not for the intercession of the kindly priest Ximinez.”

“I have heard of this godly—”

Santa Anna interrupted. “I don't want to talk about my troubles anymore. Tell me about you and Alejandra, Cazador,” he requested with genuine interest. His eyes took in the well-cut waistcoat, the expensive beaver hat, the gold watch chain. “You've done well for yourself in Tejas, I see.”

“Yes. Jandra and I have a ranch close to San Antonio.”

“Isn't that dangerous country?”

“Only when you Mexicans raid it,” Cazador replied with irony.

“Well, that could be so.” Santa Anna lifted his palm and laughed. “But what about the beautiful Alejandra? How is she?”

“Healthy and happy. Busy. Our home teems with life. We have a son. He's just beginning to walk, and he finds much satisfaction in grabbing the tail of a certain limping poodle. We expect another child this winter.” A grin. “I'm hoping for a girl.”

“No doubt you'll have several chances for one. You were always the lusty sort.”

“It takes a lusty sort to recognize another.”

“I suppose,” Santa Anna said and shrugged companionably. “By the way, I understand the lady Mercedes and her husband are quite well and living in New York City.”

“Quite well. Their adopted son, though they refuse to have anyone refer to the boy as anything but their own, brings them much happiness.”

“What about you, Cazador? Are you really, truly happy?”

A smile of contentment broke across the angular, Nordic features. “There is no way that I could be happier. ”

Sometimes it wasn't so heinous to be . . . unimportant. Perhaps the life awaiting Santa Anna, inconsequential to be sure, would bring gratification. Maychance I am luckier than I imagined, Santa Anna decided.

He looked at the happiest man he had ever known. “Tell me, Cazador, what about the beauteous Alejandra? Is she too tired from the bustle of family to enjoy her life?”

“She is as happy as I am.” Decanter in hand, Cazador walked across the rolling cabin deck. “I said she was busy, not tired. We have ample servants to see to her needs. Why do you think I work so hard at my success? With a woman like Jandra, I must make sure of her comforts. I damned sure can't trust her in the kitchen.” Cazador inhaled a big breath of air, blowing it out as he shook his head. “I wouldn't dare trust her in the kitchen.”

“She's that bad, eh?”

“Worse than bad. The woman burned everything before I put a stop to her efforts!”

Santa Anna laughed, and it was a good belly roll. He felt better, better than he had felt in a long, long time. Rejuvenated, perhaps.
¡Maldicíon!
If he could have Cazador back at his side, he could conquer the world. But his friend had another life, and Santa Anna wouldn't begrudge it.

But he did think about one of the reasons the Tejano had courted favor in the first place.

A forefinger going to his upper lip, Santa Anna said, “You haven't mentioned Señor Colby. What happened to him?”

Cazador's eyes went sad. He turned his back to refill the drinks, then said, “He is another story.”