Hannah Howell (35 page)

She winced as she heard him spit a vicious curse, then the sound of a blow striking flesh. By the sounds of it Marilyn was putting up a valiant defense. It did not surprise Antonie at all when the rough fight she could overhear soon became something else. It seemed a natural extension of the sickness that Marilyn and Raoul had already displayed.

When Raoul bellowed for one of his men to bring tequila, Marilyn protested, “I don't have time for frivolity, Raoul."

“We must celebrate,
gringa."

“The job's not done yet. She's still alive. I want to see her dead."

“You will. I told you when I would do it. You can come and see your proof then. And bring the rest of the money, eh?"

“You expect a lot for killing one girl."

“She is Juan's
niña."

Antonie almost smiled, but her humor was bitter. There was really nothing funny about the fact that two people whose sanity she seriously questioned were discussing her death. It was costing Marilyn a lot, but Antonie knew that Marilyn would feel her money well spent when she found out exactly how Raoul killed his enemies.

She was almost glad when the tequila arrived along with a couple of Raoul's men. It became evident that Marilyn was to entertain them again, but this time Antonie ignored the woman's protests. Within moments those protests turned to words of enjoyment and encouragement as a rowdy, lewd celebration ensued.

For a while Antonie listened to the proceedings in an almost horrified fascination, but then closed her eyes. By action and sound, Marilyn gave herself away. Sudden insight told Antonie that the touch of honest panic she had heard in the woman's voice at first had not been because of a fear of what would happen, but the knowledge that she would thoroughly enjoy it. Marilyn was plainly one of those women who could not get enough of men, any man, and, Antonie suspected, the rougher the better. She cared little about the man's looks, cleanliness, or character as long as he had the right equipment. Marilyn was a whore, and her actions with Raoul and his men made it hard for even Marilyn to deny that. By taking this woman as his wife, Royal would be dooming himself to a lengthy hell on earth. Antonie wondered sleepily why Marilyn and Royal were not lovers, and decided it was probably because Royal was not crude enough to really stir her passions.

“You did not like the entertainment provided?” A coarse voice disrupted Antonie's rest.

Antonie opened her eyes, blinked, and looked at Raoul. She could not believe she had fallen asleep during the raucous and decidedly crude goings-on in the other room. Wincing over the continued throbbing in her head, she decided that the wound probably had a lot to do with it.

“Such things grow tedious,” she replied. “I have no interest in whores."

"Sí,
the
gringa
is a whore,” Raoul agreed. “She will marry Royal Bancroft, and you will die knowing that your lover takes a whore as his wife,” he said with blatant satisfaction. “She will cause much trouble for him and his family.” He stood up and untied the end of the rope that bound her hands to the bed. “It is time that you eat."

“My last meal?” She struggled to eat the beans set before her while her hands were still bound together.

Raoul nodded. “If the day is fine, we will kill you at dawn."

Thinking of the new life she carried within her, Antonie wanted to cry. She held back her tears for several reasons. The main one was simply not wanting to give Raoul the pleasure of seeing her weakness. She also knew that such a feminine weakness would work to make him see her less as an equal, perhaps even lessen his fear of Juan's specter. No good would come of crying, not even in easing her pain. There were not enough tears for that, not in the whole world.

“If the weather is not fine?"

“Then the next day. I have thought long on this. It will be dramatic and very painful. Juan's child will die slowly."

“Dead is dead.” She refused to let him see her fear.

He shrugged. “We will see how you think when I begin. I hope Juan's child proves worthy of my talent."

“I'll do my best,” she drawled. “Marilyn stays to watch?"

“The
gringa
has gone home. She will return, for she is eager to see you dead."

When he had left her again, she found that death was not an easy thing to face. She was only twenty and carrying the child of the man she loved. They were the strongest reasons to live.

There was so much pain to ignore, but to let it free would weaken her and she needed her strength. Tomás lay dead and Oro would suffer the loss of his twin and the sister of his heart. That knowledge deeply hurt her, as well as knowing that Royal would give his name to a woman who would destroy him and those he loved.

Hope would have helped, but she had none. By the time anyone suspected that anything was wrong, it would be too late. Even if Tomás's body was found, there would be no way for anyone to know where she was. When sleep again claimed her, she welcomed it as an escape from her despair.

Rain greeted her when she woke up and she was almost disappointed. It would mean another day of waiting. She could see no way to work up the hope that it was buying her valuable time.

Royal stared out at the rain and cursed. He had wanted to get an early start in trailing Antonie. The rain made it impossible, for he was sure that she and Tomás would have sought shelter and it would be too easy to pass them by. The road would soon be a quagmire, making travel nearly impossible.

Oro had just hobbled into the dining room with Patricia's solicitous help when there came a thunderous knocking at the front door. Wondering who would be fool enough to come out in such weather, Royal hastened to the door. He did not take much notice of how curiosity brought Oro and Patricia along behind him.

At the door stood a huge man wearing a voluminous coat. He held a well-wrapped bundle and, without a word, Royal motioned the man inside. One look at Oro's face told Royal that this man was an acquaintance and one Oro was pleased to see.

“O'Neill,” Oro breathed as he hurried closer.

“Sure and that's just who it is,” the man answered in a voice as big as he was, “although your brother here thought I was of a higher calling. After riding with me he ought to know better."

“Tomás?” Oro paled as he saw how still the bundle O'Neill held was. “He is hurt, old
amigo?"

“Sorely, lad, I'm sorry to say. Got two bullets in him, though I'm thinking I stopped the bleeding right enough. Heard the sad news about my compadre Juan and I've been looking for you three for a time now, but I would've been pleased not to find you at all rather than find this."

“Bring him in here. Pattie, get Cole and Justin out of bed and call Maria,” Royal ordered.

O'Neill laid Tomás down on a carpet before the fire. With Oro hovering close by, he unwrapped the young man, revealing a bandage at the shoulder and waist. Miraculously, Tomás had stayed dry.

His blue eyes dark with concern, Liam O'Neill said, “I would have stopped to take the bullets out, but he was having none of it. Said he had to get here quickly as possible. Something has happened to Juan's wee lass."

Royal felt his blood chill and had to clench his hands to keep from shaking Tomás awake, demanding to know what had happened. She had been returning to Mexico. He had thought she would be safe at least, if only because she would no longer be working for him. Looking at how badly Tomás was injured, he knew a numbing fear for Antonie's safety.

“Oro?” Tomás croaked, even as Patricia was returning with her still-dressing brothers in tow.

Clasping his twin's hand, Oro rasped,
"Sí,
Tomás. I am here."

“Raoul's got Toni. Set on us on the road. Knew where we'd be."

“Is she hurt?” Royal asked, dreading the answer.

“No, I think not.” Tomás closed his eyes for a moment as pain washed over him.

“Do you know where they took her?” Oro pressed, paling when he saw the shadow of delirium in Tomás's eyes.

“Devil's Hollow. Raoul will hurt her. They hit her, Oro."

“They will pay, brother. I will make them pay."

“So little. Could lose the baby. She was worried about the baby.” He gave a parody of a smile. “Decided she'd better have a husband. I would have been a good father to her baby.
Cristo,
Oro, it hurts. It burns."

For a moment Royal could not catch his breath. He felt as if he had been hit squarely in the stomach by a powerful blow. The way Oro looked at him, even though it was a brief glance, made Royal feel sure that he looked as completely stunned as he felt. Royal suspected that he had gone a little gray around the edges.

“Did I see that devil O'Neill?"

“You did, Tomás,” Oro replied. “Our old compadre has come at a good time, eh?"

"Sí.
I think we have much need of him."

It was a tremendous battle for Royal not to try and force Tomás to speak to him. Only the terrible pain he knew Tomás was in, a pain so clearly shared by Oro, kept Royal from demanding information. He wished there was some way to get Tomás to simply repeat what he had said, but Royal could not bring himself to ask it.

“Get my guns, Patricia,” Oro said in a voice that made her turn ghost white.

“Your leg, Oro,” she protested shakily even as she stood up.

“My guns.” He watched her run from the room and then looked at Royal. “I am going after Antonie."

Buckling on the gun belt Justin had just fetched, Royal said, “Not alone."

“All of us?” Oro's lips moved in a slight smile when the three brothers nodded.

“Sure, and don't be forgetting O'Neill.” He set down the glass of whiskey he had been served after tending to Tomás's wounds and reached for his coat. “I came this way thinking to visit a bit with the lass and visit I will, even if I must fetch her first."

“It will be good to ride with you again,
amigo."
Oro took the guns a trembling, Patricia held out and buckled them on. “Antonie will be glad to see you, too. We will owe you much."

“Not a thing, Oro. I've had my scarred hide saved by you three more times than I can count."

“Oro,” Patricia ventured, “your leg has barely healed. Must you?"

"Sí.
It is what I must do."

“Well, take some more men. I'm sure there are many who would want to go."

“I am sure, too.” He kissed her. “They must stay behind. In this a few is best. Take care of Tomás,
querida."

Patricia grabbed him, holding on tightly for a moment. “Good luck and take care."

Looking at the grim-faced men he would be riding with, Royal knew he could find none better. He did not know O'Neill, but he trusted Oro's and Tomás's judgment. If nothing else, they were good judges of whether a man would be an asset in a fight. At the moment, that was the only aspect of the man's character that Royal cared about.

Seeing the way that Oro gritted his teeth and paled slightly as he mounted, Royal said carefully, “Pattie is right. Your leg is barely healed."

“Raoul tried to kill my brother, may have succeeded, for I am not foolish enough not to see how badly wounded Tomás is. The dog also holds Antonie. My leg is of no matter. You understand, eh?"

“Yes."

“Then let us ride,” Oro said even as he spurred his mount on.

Royal was deeply afraid for Antonie. Try as he would to block his fears from his mind, thoughts of all that could happen to her preyed on him. She was strong, but she was so small.

He wished he had acted on his suspicions, not worried so about having facts before moving against a neighbor. There was little doubt in his mind who told Raoul where to find Antonie. Marilyn would pay dearly for that.

Tomás's words kept reverberating in his head. Antonie carried their child. He now understood why she had not waited when she thought that he had chosen Marilyn. Depending upon how far along she was, time was something she might not have much of. Thinking that he was set to be married, she would not want him to know of the baby.

The rain had eased by the time they reached the spot where O'Neill had found Tomás. Royal suspected that thinking of how his twin could easily have bled to death in such a barren, muddy place made Oro eager to leave it. They moved further down the road before pausing to talk about what they should do next.

“Devil's Hollow is two hours’ ride from here,” Oro said, pointing the way. “To the east."

“That'll put us there close to dawn, Oro,” Cole observed. “Is there cover to be had?"

"Sí,
but it is also hard to reach the cabin without being seen. This is why Raoul chose it."

“Well, let's get to the point where there is no more cover to be had and then decide,” Royal said curtly.

“Aye,” Liam agreed. “See what they're up to and what men they got. We can't plan blind."

Devil's Hollow was little more than a depression in the ground. A rough cabin sat in the middle just far enough from the few shrubs and rocks that provided cover on the encircling rise. A man would have to expose himself to get a good shot at anyone in the cabin. Without artillery, the best that Royal thought could be accomplished without a lot of casualties was a standoff.

Two men, unfortunately alert, stood guard. If the number of horses was any real indication, Royal figured that there were at least six more men inside, if not eight. The odds could be as much as two to one.

“What's that thing? Looks like a cross.” Justin looked as if he wished he had not asked when he saw Oro's face.

“It is Raoul's gallows,” Oro replied. “He has it built for Antonie. Raoul honors her. He intends her to die slowly. Raoul takes too seriously the drop of Apache blood his mother's rape gave him. Since nothing hangs there, then we know that Antonie still lives."

“He would torture a woman?” Cole hissed, casting a worried look at a decidedly gray Royal.

"Sí,
but he sees Juan in Antonie, I think. Antonie is not just a woman to him, but an old enemy."

“What if we rush the place?” Royal asked.

“If we live?” Oro shrugged. “Raoul might kill her before we got to the cabin. He might not. He is a onethought man. He has decided to test her strength, so he might not want to see her harmed in any other way, would not think of any other way."