Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (30 page)

“Well!” Mrs. Bosner exclaimed. “Arrogant devil, ain’t he? And his mother the town whore!”

The boy turned then and confronted her. “She must be nicer than you! Mr. Bosner comes to see her or Mona every time you think he’s at a town meeting!”

The woman’s fat face turned brick red, and the people around her whooped with laughter.

The child ambled out the door, closed it behind him, leaned against it. When the tears came, they burned his eyes but left cold trails down his face in the chill wind. He ran all the way back to the Ace High.

Before he entered the back door, he wiped his face on his sleeve, swaggered in.

His mother looked up anxiously, sadly. She was more than a little drunk. “What happened over there? You all right?”

A whore, he thought, they called you a whore. It must be terrible, the way they say it. When I’m a grown man, I’ll beat up any man who makes a woman cry by calling her that. He wouldn’t tell her, she would only weep and drink more. He forced himself to yawn. “You were right, it wasn’t any fun.”

Mona came in, stared down at him. “They treat you bad, Handsome?”

He made a face. “Naw. It was just dull. I left early because there was nothin’ interestin’ going on.”

Out in the saloon, the professor struck up a song on the out-of-tune piano and the drunken cowboys sang along: “Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright . . .”

The barkeeper stuck his bald head around the corner. “Hey, Lidah, Mona, get a move on! Get out here and encourage these guys to buy a few rounds, and for God’s sake, look a little more cheerful! It’s Christmas!”

Bandit sighed now as he rode into the Falcon corral, dismounted. He’d never gone back to the school after that day. The old professor had tutored him . . . when he wasn’t drunk. He thought about Junior Bosner as he unsaddled, fed the pinto, and threw extra straw in its stall. Junior. The school bully had been killed at Gettysburg, some said hit in the back by a miniball as he fled the field of combat in terror.

Bandit thought about his own problem as he left the stable, entered the house. Just what in blue blazes was he gonna do?

He heard a noise from the library as he passed it, saw the light under the door. Curious, he opened it. Old Don Enrique sat at his desk, staring at a scrap of newspaper.

“Papá? You are still up?” The word came easily to his lips because it came from within his heart.

The patriarch started at the sound, raised his silver head. “Ah, Tony, was it a good party?”

“
Sí
.” He nodded. “How is Mamá?”

A shadow crossed the lined, noble face. “Feeling better. She has improved so much the last few days, I almost dare hope. . .” He looked at the news item, then at Bandit’s face. “Tony, your return has given her something to live for.”

Bandit wondered just what in blue blazes he was going to do. He went over to the sideboard, poured himself a whiskey. “Papá, I—I might have to go away for a little while.”

Eyes as pale blue as his own seemed to bore into him. “You’re not in some kind of trouble, are you?” Falcon put the scrap of paper in the desk drawer, locked it, and stuck the key in his pocket.

Trouble. It followed on his heels like a dog. “No, Papa,” he lied, sipping the drink, savoring the taste. “I just have business to attend to, things I left unfinished behind me. Then I’ll come back.”

“But so soon after you just got home . . .”

Home
. He sat down in a soft leather chair, ran his hand over the leather, sniffed the scent of it, looked into the fire. Even though it was a warm night in the middle of May, the old man kept a fire going. Bandit really did feel like he’d come home, as if all his life he’d been searching for this place. “Please don’t question me, Papá. I’ll . . . I’ll be back when I can.” He knew in his heart that was a forlorn hope.

“What about the wedding?”

There isn’t going to be any wedding, Bandit thought ruefully. Aimée was like the rocking horse. He’d been a fool to hunger for something that belonged to someone else. “Oh, I won’t be gone long,” he lied. “I’ll write. But in case I run into delay gettin’ back, I want you to ask Gomez Durango to free her from her betrothal. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Don Enrique’s lined face looked old, and he seemed very weary. He seemed to be about to ask a question, decided against it. His expression grew troubled. But he only shrugged, yawned. “
Sí
, we’ll talk about it
mañana
.” He stood up, went to the door, turned, and looked back. “Are you coming, Tony?”

Bandit took out a cigarillo, went over to the fire, and took up a small burning branch to light it. “No, Papa. You go on. I want to finish my drink.”

He heard the door close behind him, returned to his leather chair, sank down with a sigh. He hadn’t realized he was so very weary. He sipped the drink, savored the scent and taste of the smoke. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, the fire crackled. Bandit closed his eyes.
Sí
, he had to get out of here before that trio of outlaws showed up, maybe even on the Falcon’s own veranda as he shared breakfast with the old couple.

In his mind’s eye, he imagined the trio stepping out of the shrubbery, standing under the bougainvillea. “All right, Texan, reach for the sky! We’ve come for our money!”

The old couple would look at each other in bewilderment, then at Bandit. “Tony, what is this all about? What money are they speaking of?”

Though Bandit would try desperately to explain, no words would come from his mouth when he struggled to tell Señor Falcon the trio had stolen the money first.

The robber who looked like a used-up gunfighter would laugh and nod to the old man. “See,
señor
? He does not answer! He is a thief, and more than that, he is a mongrel! His mother was the town whore!”

When Bandit tried to speak in his own defense, no words came. He fought to get to his feet, but his body seemed made of iron. He couldn’t rise from his chair.

The señor and señora looked at him, horror and disbelief in their eyes. “Is this true?”

Bandit struggled to say something, but no words came.

The outlaw laughed again. “More than that,
señor
, you are not his father. Why, he doesn’t even know who his father is! All he has is a coin, a cougar-claw necklace, and a word.‘sokol.’”

The three outlaws threw back their heads and laughed and laughed. Bandit struggled to get up, to say something in his own defense but he had no words, no defense.

Now the old Falcons stared at Bandit in mounting horror. Then Don Enrique said, “You know how important bloodlines are to me, how important is honor! You have disgraced my family name! You are nothing but a bastard . . . bastard . . . bastard. . . .”

The outlaw in the Union blue jacket turned to his cohorts, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And now let’s tell the most terrible thing of all!”

The secret
. They were going to tell the Falcons what he had not told anyone, even Romeros. He had tried not to think of it, and when it had come to his mind, he’d always pushed it away.

The aging gunfighter leered at the Falcons, then turned to Bandit. “I’m going to tell them,” he said, “and then they’ll hate you! Amethyst will hate you!”

He must stop the outlaw from telling what he knew
. Bandit struggled to rise from his chair, tried to reach his gun, but his body seemed made of lead. He must shoot the man or at least scream out to stop him from telling, but he could not move or speak.

The old Falcons looked at the grinning gunfighter, then at Bandit. “What is this all about, Tony?”

Bandit fought to rise from his chair, struggled to scream out. He must protest, must stop the outlaws from exposing his secret.

The evil trio grinned at him. The gunfighter had his hand on his pistol. “Let us tell you what he’s been hiding—”

“No!” Bandit suddenly found his voice. “No!” he shouted. “No, don’t tell! It’s too terrible! Don’t tell!”

Bandit jerked up in the library chair as he heard footsteps run down the hall.

“Tony! Are you all right?” The door swung open, revealing old Don Enrique.

Puzzled, Bandit looked around. Why was the light so dim? What had happened to the patio, the bougainvillea vines?

“Tony?” Señor Falcon stood in the library door. “Are you all right?”

Bandit sat up straight, looked around. The library. It was night. He still sat in the library with a drink in one hand, a long ash on his cigarillo. He smiled with relief, feeling a bit foolish.

“Tony?” The old man came into the room. “What happened?”

The knowledge was still safe. Bandit waved him away with a sigh. “I’m all right. Nightmare. I—I dozed off, I think. Sorry to disturb you.”

The old man hesitated, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight, sympathy on his furrowed face. “You have had a very terrifying, very bad life, haven’t you?”

“Sí
. I . . . I do not want to talk about it.”

The old man peered at him as if looking into his very soul. “But you’re safe now, Tony. You’re home at last. No one will ever hurt you again. You have social position, wealth, family.”

Bandit thought of the trio already searching the area for him. He’d been a fool to think he could close the door on his past, make a fresh start, step into Tony Falcon’s boots. “Sometimes, Papá,” he said softly, setting his drink on the chair-side table, “sometimes a man can’t run from his past, from what he is.”

Señor Falcon hesitated, looking puzzled. “You know, in this light, Tony, it’s almost eerie, how much you look like . . . Well, but of course, he was your uncle.” His voice trailed off in confusion, and then he said briskly, “What can I do to help you, my son?”

My son
. Bandit flinched, looked away; too ashamed to look the old man in the face. If you knew, you would hate me, maybe even kill me, he thought. “Thank you, Papa, but this is something I must do myself.”

“Unfinished business?”

He thought of the trio of outlaws. “You might call it that. I must go away for a while. I’ll write,” he lied. Because of the secret, he must disappear forever. He would always live in fear that someone would tell it.

The old man distractedly ran a hand through his hair. “I had hoped you didn’t mean that. Now I see you are serious. What of your mother? What of the wedding?”

The wedding. He pictured Amethyst’s delicate face. More than anything in the world, he wanted her. But it was not to be. “I . . . I told you I want you and Señor Durango to release her from her vow, let her do whatever makes her happy.”

The old man looked baffled, shrugged. “I think we should continue this discussion later when we have both had some sleep.”

He thinks me drunk or loco, Bandit thought, but he only nodded. “
Sí, Papá
. The middle of the night is no time for serious talk. Go to bed. I’ll be up in a minute. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Only after Señor Falcon closed the door and went down the hall did Bandit put the drink down, snub out the cigarillo, and then take a handkerchief and wipe the cold sweat from his face.

But he had made his decision. Tomorrow would not change it. He would not endanger the two families he loved because he knew the trio of outlaws would eventually track him to this place. Tomorrow he would make what excuses he could to everyone, would ride out of here with the payroll and go back to Texas. He would return the payroll to the army, and then wait for the outlaws to find him. No, maybe he would go looking for them. If it must come to a showdown, he wanted that to take place far from the two families he cared about.

They must never know the secret. It was all so ironic. He had prayed for a miracle, but the devil must have stepped in. No matter. Bandit was going to pay for his sins by giving up everything that was dear to him. He sat staring into the fire until it had cooled to gray ashes.

At dawn Bandit shaved, cleaned up, had a quick breakfast alone. He didn’t want to talk to the elderly Falcons until the very last. Even then he wasn’t sure what he was going to tell them. First he would tell Romeros; later he would take care of the other details.

He went to the barn, climbed up in the loft, checked to make sure the saddlebags holding the payroll were still hidden safely beneath the straw. Then he descended the ladder.

Romeros entered the barn. “Oh, there you are. How was the fancy dinner party at the Durangos?” There was a touch of envy in his voice.

Bandit shrugged, his mind on other things. “I survived it, if that’s what you mean. The
señorita
offered to teach me proper manners so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of elegant society.”

“
Bueno
, good.” The lean foreman stuck a match between his teeth, chewed it idly. “I’ve got an idea for this afternoon. You care anything about bullfighting? There’s one today in the village.”

“Only if they give the bull a sword, too, so he’ll have a fair chance.”

Romeros laughed. “There’s a bull on the Durango spread with a pair of horns that’d make you think swords! When I got nothin’ to do, I like to tease it a little, make it charge the fence.”

Bandit felt a sudden chill. “You ever do that on the pinto stallion?”

The swarthy half-breed hesitated, his expression guarded. “Maybe once or twice. Why?”

Bandit swore. “You damned near got me killed by that black bull! Señorita Durango swore that old beast wasn’t dangerous, but he took in after the pinto, I ended up on the ground! ”

“I’d like to have seen that.” The foreman smiled. “Bet it was exciting.”

“Excitement like that, I don’t need, Romeros. Leave the old bull alone! I don’t think much of people who mistreat animals.”

Romeros looked like he might argue the point; then he shrugged. “Well, anyway, everything’s working out better than we expected.”

“Not quite, hombre.” Bandit pushed his Stetson back. “I’m going to have to go away. All plans are changed.”

The man’s dark eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open, the match falling to the barn floor. “Go away? Have you gone loco? We are so close to having all that money, all that power, I can just taste it and that’s a fact!” He rubbed his hands together.

“I can’t help it. There’s a trio of outlaws lookin’ for me.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. “It don’t make no never mind.
Americanos
. If they should show up here, tell them they can find me in Bandera.”

Romeros put his foot up on a box, touched the hilt of the knife in his boot. “You need help against them, no?”

“No. I’ll deal with them myself but I wanna be able to pick the time and place. So if they turn up, just send them back to Texas. That’s all.”

Anger and frustration filled Romeros’s dark face. “That’s all. Just like that, hey? After all this plotting, all my dreams, you just ride out and say ‘Forget it, Romeros. You’re not ever gonna see any money, no power, nothing. You’re gonna be just what you’ve always been, the lowly foreman.’”

Bandit hadn’t realized how ambitious, how driven the man was. He looked at him, really seeing him for the first time. He began to suspect this man was more ruthless than he realized. “
Caporal
of the Falcon spread is a respected position; most men would be pleased to have it.”

“Foreman! ” Romeros sneered, “
Sí
, foreman. For almost a quarter of a century, I have served the Falcons faithfully. I came here only months after Don Enrique’s younger brother was killed. Young and stupid as I was, I dreamed of taking Antonio’s place, becoming the heir. A few months later, my hopes were dashed forever when they had their own child.”

The stallion whinnied, and Bandit went over, stroked Blue Eyes’ nose. “Bad luck for you, good luck for them.”

Romeros scowled. “For the next several years, I watched them dote on that little boy, watched their anguish when the child was kidnapped. I thought then Don Enrique might turn to me, think again of adopting me. It never happened.”

“I suppose he never gave up hope that someday the boy might return,” Bandit said aloud. “The human heart lives on hope after all.”

“Sí
, doesn’t it?” Romeros sounded bitter. “I have given my life to the Falcon family, to this ranch; and he has always taken me for granted, never shown any gratitude.”

“I seem to recall you get a very fine salary for your work.”

“Salary!
Sí
, a paid employee, that’s all I am! Twenty-five years I have spent slaving on this ranch, always hoping to be made part of this family, to have as my own the Falcon wealth and power. No one deserves it more than me!”

“Maybe,” Bandit said, “the old man sensed your ambition, realized you worked not from loyalty but out of your own greed and ambition. Anyway, I can’t help any of that. As I said, I’m going to leave and return to Texas.”

Romeros caught his arm. “Just as we were about to get control of the money? I have gambling debts to pay! Don’t do something you’ll regret, hombre.”

“I already have.” Bandit looked at him. “Some of it I can’t change, no matter how sorry I am. But I can keep my showdown from happening here. So don’t stand in my way or argue with me about it.”

Romeros took the knife from his boot, cleaned his fingernails. “Let us not quarrel,
amigo
.” He smiled. “We both stand to lose if you walk away from all this when, in the long run, you will control both these big ranches, the wealth of both these families.”

Bandit looked at him, disliking Romeros for the villain he was. “And you will control all that because you control me?”

“
Amigo
, let us not speak of us.” Romeros smiled and shrugged. “You don’t know how much trouble I have gone to to insure success. You can’t just walk away.”

Bandit smiled his lopsided grin. “You just watch me.”

A swarthy vaquero entered the barn. “Señor Romeros, the men are waiting. Aren’t we supposed to round up cattle in the south pasture this morning?”

Romeros looked from one man to the other. Obviously no more could be said at the moment. “Don’t do anything rash, Señor Tony,” he said politely. “Let us talk again later about this.”

Bandit nodded, then watched him turn and walk away with the vaquero, swing up on his bay horse and leave.

What was he going to do about that foreman? He cared too much about the old don to leave an untrustworthy thief in charge here. An
untrustworthy thief
. He had just described himself.

A young boy walked past the barn, leading a horse. Bandit signaled him. “
Niño
, would you take a message?”

“
Sí, Señor Tony
. I am yours to command.”

“Go to the Durango spread, seek out the señorita Monique Dupre. Tell her I wish to meet her in the grove of mesquite trees between the two ranches at high noon.”

The boy’s face mirrored curiosity.
“Sí, señor.”
He mounted up, rode away.

Bandit had decided he must talk to Mona, then to Amethyst before he left. He still hadn’t decided what to do about Romeros and the old Falcons.

At high noon, he saddled up Blue Eyes and rode out to the meeting place. Mona sat in a buggy under the shade of an elegant parasol that matched an exquisite dress of delicate pale green lace and dotted Swiss.

“Bandit! I’ve been worried sick! ” She closed the parasol with a snap. “I knew something important was up or you wouldn’t take a chance askin’ me to meet you!”

He swung down off his horse, went over, and held out his hand to assist her from the buggy. “Something has come up, Mona. I’ve got to go back to Texas.”

“To Texas?” She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. She wore a strongly scented gardenia perfume, and the wrinkles around her eyes showed through her face powder in the brightness of the pitiless sunlight. Mona definitely looked her age today.

He only nodded, weary already of the argument he knew was coming.

“Go back to Texas?” she repeated. “Handsome, have you lost your mind? We’ve both got a bird’s nest on the ground here, full of eggs to plunder! Old man Durango can’t live forever, and then I’ll have his fortune and you’ll have the Falcons’.”

He leaned against the buggy, fingered the cougar-claw nekclace. “I can’t help it, Mona. Some hombres are gunnin’ for me.”

She grinned and winked. “Ah, not again! Some rancher’s pretty daughter or sister, huh?”

Bandit laughed in spite of his mood. “It’s not what you think, Mona. I just wanted to say good-bye, wish you luck. We go back a long way and I care a lot for you.”

Tears came to her eyes, and he knew she was remembering that long-ago night when she had turned a half-grown boy into a man. “I care more than you, Handsome. I always cared too much.”

It was the truth, and he had no answer for the love in her voice. He looked away. “You’ve finally got a chance to close the door on your past, Mona. Make old Durango a good wife and you’ll be set, have money and social position forever—”

“Oh.” She ducked her head. “I guess maybe I thought you wanted to ask me to go with you.”

He fumbled for a cigarillo, struck a match on the sole of his boot. “Don’t be loco, Mona. You know what my life has always been like, will always be like—gambling halls and dirty hotel rooms, a rotten life even for you. Don’t be a fool. Make the most of this chance.”

She moved close enough so that her breasts brushed against his arm and the strong scent of her perfume mingled with tobacco. “Things like that don’t mean nothin’ to a woman if she’s really in love. If you’d ask me, Handsome, I’d leave with you right this minute with nothin’ but the clothes on my back.”

If only Amethyst would say those words of commitment, he thought. Wealthy, privileged Amethyst. His thoughts must have showed in his eyes.

“It’s the Durango girl, isn’t it?” Mona said, jealous fire flashing in her green eyes. “I’m too old anymore. You’re taking that young beauty with you!”

He felt suddenly weary from little sleep. He didn’t want to fuss with her. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not taking Amethyst. But she’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Mona bristled. “That little snip has tried to keep her father from marrying me. What she doesn’t know, she suspects!”

“Mona, this is your chance, your
only
chance for a new life.” He blew pungent smoke into the midday heat. “I want you to back off, promise you’ll stop tryin’ to get Señor Durango to ship her off to school. Let her do whatever makes her happy.”

“I see.” Her voice dripped ice as she turned away. “You didn’t invite me here to talk about us, you invited me here to talk about her.”

“I love her, Mona. I’ve loved her from the very first moment I ever laid eyes on her. I don’t suppose you could understand that.”

She looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “Couldn’t I? You think I’ve ever really cared for anyone but you?”

“Mona, you’re old enough to be my mother—”

“Damn you for saying that!” She slapped him hard, his head snapping back, his cheek stinging. “You think every day I don’t look in the mirror, count the lines? The fact I’ve got fifteen years on you doesn’t make me an old hag, doesn’t stop me from lovin’ you!”

He reached up to rub his cheek. “I reckon I never realized, Mona, all these years. . . .”

In the silence, he heard her swallow hard. “All these years. And now I offer to throw away my one chance to be a real lady to go with you. But you turn me down. That hurts, Handsome; it really hurts.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, unsure of what to do in the face of such devotion. “I’m in trouble, Mona. I wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in it.”

She dabbed at her eyes. The makeup smeared and she looked even older. “I guess I was fool enough to hope you’d found out I was in Mexico, followed me here. Here we was finally going to have each other and both fortunes.”

“Had you forgotten Amethyst and her father?”

“Well, maybe I’d get lucky and they’d both have an accident or come down with something and die like that governess did.”

Bandit shook his head, studied the tip of his cigar. “What a scheming filly you are, Mona. Still I wouldn’t count on having that much luck twice. Gomez Durango might have married Miss Callie if she hadn’t died suddenly while you were here.”

“Luck, yes. I guess some would call it that.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but he had run out of time for this quibbling. He glanced up at the sun, threw away his cigar. “Mona, I love Amethyst. I’d trade the whole Falcon fortune to have her love me, too.”

“You really mean that, don’t you? You finally got a chance to be something more than a saddle tramp and you’d toss it all away for that violet-eyed girl if you had to?”

“That’s right.” He laughed, raised one sardonic eyebrow. “The bastard who doesn’t even know who sired him would throw away respect, money, everything, for the love of an elegant, blue-blooded girl if he could have her.”

Mona looked up at him. “Bandit, before I got Lidah into my line of work, she was a shy, sweet type. I’d swear she’d had no other man but your father when I urged her into this business. They really loved each other, I think.”

Bandit shrugged. “Then why the hell didn’t he come back for her?” Somehow he knew the answer. The man had heard about the child and didn’t want it. That was nothing new. His mother didn’t want him most of the time either, especially after she began to drink.

“Didn’t she ever tell you about him?”

Bandit shook his head. “If I’d have known who the sonovabitch was, I might have searched him out, killed him like a dog in the street for deserting her.” But in his mind he thought, for deserting me. He didn’t want me either.

Mona looked up at him. “Then maybe that’s why she didn’t tell you.”

Even though he didn’t want to ask, he’d always wanted to know. “What?”

“Not much, I suppose. Her family were Czech cedar cutters. You know, those Gypsy types who make charcoal.”

He nodded. The Texas hill country was full of the drifting breed.