Hannah Howell (36 page)

“Would he still do this if he knew she is with child?” Royal tensed, waiting for Oro to deny what Tomás had said.

“I do not know. If Raoul guesses that she carries a baby he will know that it is yours. A
gringo
baby? It could go badly for her. Also, it would make him see her too clearly as a woman and less as Juan's
niña
and an old enemy. That could bring its own troubles."

“It would have been nice if someone had told me about the child,” Royal snarled.

“Antonie only told me moments before she left. We thought you had chosen
Señorita
Collins."

“I never would have played that game if I'd known Antonie was carrying my child. I'd at least have warned Antonie what was going on. Hell, by the time I reached her in Mexico, she and Tomás would've been married."

“That was a plan I did not know about. It was Tomás's.” Oro's face tautened with pain as he said his twin's name.

Cole grasped his shoulder. “Tomás'll be fine. Anyone who can drink that poison like water won't be laid low by a little lead."

“Here, lads, something's about,” O'Neill warned.

“They bring her out. Ah, my poor little sister,” Oro whispered, “it must be hard to be brave when she thinks of the child she carries."

“Justin, you're staying with the horses. Someone has to,” Royal said when Justin got ready to argue. “A watch must be kept as well. You're the one with the least fighting experience. The choice is obvious.” Justin nodded, unable to fight that logic.

“How do we play it, lads?” O'Neill clearly felt a need for action as he watched Antonie being brought out of the cabin.

Oro glanced at Royal, then said quietly, “We wait."

“Wait?” Royal demanded even while common sense told him that it was the only effective tactic to use.

"Sí.
Wait. When Raoul begins, his men will watch."

“All of them?” Cole asked as he checked his weapon.

“Raoul strips his victims,” Oro said, sighing even as Antonie was roughly undressed.

“All of them.” Cole winced at the black fury on Royal's face. “Poor kid."

“If we wait too long, she could lose the child. The shock or pain could cause her to miscarry."

“The babe has survived much, Royal. It is four months along. Maybe longer. She did not say.” Oro clasped Royal's shoulder. “I, too, worry and hate to see this happen, but if we move too soon, both could be lost and we as well. We will do her no good dead."

It was all true but, as they moved into position so that they could come up behind Raoul and his men in a semicircle, Royal found the waiting the hardest thing he had ever done.

Twenty-three

Antonie felt a strong sense of acceptance of her fate as she was led out into the dawn. Feeling removed from it all, she stood still as she was stripped of her clothes. Her emotional detachment wavered a little however, when she was tied to the rough wood, her feet several inches off the ground and her legs parted by lashing her ankles to small stakes in the ground. She struggled to eradicate the sudden clear memories of the remains of others Raoul had executed in the same manner.

“Easter already?” she murmured.

“Your blasphemy is ill-timed,” Raoul snapped.

“I think, Raoul, that you blaspheme when you use this style of scaffold."

He shrugged as he checked his branding iron, then placed it back in the fire. Antonie knew that where he put his brand would be the one part of her that would remain otherwise unblemished. Raoul liked to have any who found his victims know just who had left them. It was a successful way to breed fear and Raoul liked to be feared.

She tried to ignore that slowly heating branding iron, but even though she averted her eyes the image of it was clear in her mind. So, too, was the image of what it would do to her skin. It made her stomach churn, and reminding herself that it would be the least of the pains Raoul would inflict before death rescued her was no help at all. She stared at Raoul, hatred clearing the fear she suspected had shown briefly in her eyes.

Royal's body jerked violently when he saw the branding iron. The thought of how it would soon touch Antonie's creamy skin made him want to bellow with rage and challenge the beast who threatened her. Only a gray-faced Cole's grip on his arm stopped him from running to her. He watched Oro still inching down the rise but his face was white and a fine tremor ran through his slim frame. It was clearly as hard for Oro to continue cautiously as it was for him. The fear that they would not be in time to save her from all Raoul planned made caution a hard-won thing.

“You will last a long time, I think,” Raoul said as he tested the sharpness of his knife.

Praying that God would mercifully stop her heart before she suffered too much, she spat on him. A fierce rage blazed in his eyes but he fought it. That was not something she found encouraging. She wanted to drive him into such a fury that he killed her quickly, but it was clear that he had guessed her plan and was prepared to fight it.

“If the knife is hot when it slides through the flesh there will be not so great a loss of blood,” Raoul chatted amiably and tested the sharpness of his heated blade against her shoulder, breaking the smooth skin. “Do not think to escape by swooning. I will wake you and continue."

“When you die, as you surely must,” she said coldly, fighting to ignore the sting caused by the shallow cut, “Juan will be waiting for you in hell.” She smiled grimly when he paled. “Julio and Manuel will be at his side. Manuel owes you for Tomás."

She saw him fight to hide his fear from his men as he pressed his knife point to the inside of her arm. It was a shallow cut but it stung, making Antonie grit her teeth. She pulled herself together enough to glare at Raoul as he did the same to her other arm.

“The soles of the feet can be used to bring a person much pain,” Raoul murmured, his gaze on the blood that trickled from the cuts on her slim arms. “Marco, the coals."

She could not fully control the shudder that tore through her when Marco picked up a small shovelful of hot coals. The reasons for the hollows beneath her feet were now apparent. It would be a slow process, the heat of the coals gradually searing her tender feet, the agony slowly increasing and, because it was going to be a slow process, the pain would last a long time.

Just as Marco straightened up from filling the second hollow with coals and raking his gaze over her, a shot rang out. Antonie watched as Marco's look changed from a lustful grin to one of surprise. His body fell over the hollow, his blood flowing over the coals, cooling them before the heat had done any more than uncomfortably warm the soles of her feet.

Antonie realized that her fate had become of very little concern to Raoul. The surprise attack and four good shots had neatly lessened Raoul's strength by four. The four men left thought only of escape, although they fought fiercely in their futile attempt to flee. When a bullet tore through Raoul's chest, Antonie watched, the knowledge of his impending death showing clearly on his face. She tensed when he turned toward her, for he obviously thought of taking her with him. But even as he started to aim his pistol at her, another shot tore through him and he fell.

She stared at him, feeling almost weak with relief that he would never again threaten her. For one brief instant she bitterly resented the quickness of his death, but violently pushed that thought aside. She would not sink to his level.

It was Cole who reached Antonie first, the two men between him and her quickly dispatched. He kicked sand over the coals to further insure that they were no danger even as he bent to cut her feet loose. Sheltering her with his body, he cut loose one arm and caught her as she slumped. Cutting free her other arm, he lowered her gently to the ground, her back against the wooden scaffold.

Despite her aches, Antonie was feeling exhilarated. She was rescued. By some miracle, they had found her before Raoul had gone too far in his nefarious plans. The cuts on her arms and shoulder stung and her body ached all over, but she smiled brilliantly at Cole, thinking how beautiful he was.

“Honey, I don't know where the hell you get the strength to smile.” Cole shook his head.

“It is easy,” Antonie almost laughed, her relief was so strong. “I am alive."

He smiled back at her. “You are that.” He then sobered. “I'm no good at doctoring."

“It can wait. My hurts are small. May I have your shirt?"

“Sure thing, sweet."

The other three men arrived just as he was helping her into his shirt. Royal weakly returned her smile, aching to talk to her, but needing privacy. He knew there was a lot of explaining to do, his feeling enhanced when she blinked at him as if recalling something and hastily looked away. She still thought no doubt that he had chosen Marilyn over her.

“Tomás,” Antonie began, tears filling her eyes as she sought the words to tell Oro of his twin's death.

“Is alive. O'Neill brought him to the ranch. Our compadre was sent by fate, I think."

She briefly closed her eyes in relief, then looked at the big Irishman crouched at her side. “It is good to see you again."

“And you, lass. While you're getting better, I'll bore you with tales of what I've been doing this past year. Now,” he stood up, “I'll get our horses here. In my bags is something that might do for doctoring your wounds."

“Is there a bed in that shack?” Cole asked as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Sí,
Cole. Two. I ... I cannot walk. I have been tied too long."

“No one expected you to walk,” Royal said as he picked her up.

There was something in the way he held her that made Antonie's heart soar, letting her believe that he cared. So strong was the feeling that it was a struggle to remember the scene she had witnessed between him and Marilyn.

When the memory finally came, she felt her hopes die. She was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. If she said nothing, he would marry Marilyn and she would lose him, knowing what he would suffer. Yet, if she told him all she knew of Marilyn, even if he believed her, he would undoubtedly hold it against her. Few people can forgive the one who shattered their dreams. There would always be the question of how deeply her own rejection had motivated her.

“Do you want to sit or lie down?"

“I will sit, Royal. O'Neill will tell me how he wishes me to help in the doctoring."

“We had to wait to rescue you, little one,” he said, his voice hoarse with concern.

"Sí,
I know this. Surprise was your best weapon. There is nothing to be sorry for. Raoul did little to me."

Thinking of what had driven her from the safety of the ranch, Royal winced. “Antonie, we have to talk about—"

“Here we go, lass. I have all that's needed to fix you up as fine as ever.” O'Neill looked at Royal. “Why don't you go and send that fool Oro in here. He's clearing away signs of the fight, pushing his leg further than it should go. If the fool doesn't get off the bloody thing and rest it, it'll never heal right. Sure ‘n that is a pure fact."

Antonie watched as Royal left and then sighed. She had not gotten away and now knew that distance would never free her. Although she felt she had always known that, she had managed to ignore it for a while.

“Don't look so sad, lass,” O'Neill muttered as he gently sat down on the bed. “It'll turn out fine."

“No, it will not, O'Neill. He is a rich man or can be again, a man of property. Juan Ramirez's
niña
is not for him."

“Then he's a fool and not worth your grief. Ah, Oro, glad you saw reason."

“I had little choice,
amigo."
Oro limped toward the bed.

“Settle yourself with the lass. I'm going to be doctoring her soon and I might need her held still. Your arms are still useful."

“Your flattery humbles me,” Oro drawled as he settled himself on the bed with Antonie.

“How's the baby feeling?” O'Neill asked as he tended to her shoulder wound first.

Gasping a little from the sting of the whiskey O'Neill used to clean her wound, she finally asked, “You know?"

“Could see it clear enough when you were hanging out there buck-nekked but, also, Tomás kept babbling about it."

“Then Royal knows."

"Sí,"
Oro replied, holding her with a gentle firmness. “He was not pleased to hear of Tomás's plan, eh? Not when he was headed out after you."

“He was coming to find me? But why?"

“You did not say goodbye."

“Oro,” she hissed, then flinched as O'Neill touched her feet.

“Speak to him, little one. It is not for me to say. In the middle is not where I wish to be."

“He's right, lass,” O'Neill agreed. “Settle it yourself. Your wounds aren't bad, love. Still, you've had a shock and a bad knock on the head. Best to stay off these pretty little feet for a few days."

“Feet are not pretty,” she said weakly as she turned to lie on her side, her head on Oro's strong thigh.

“Depends on whether they are running to or from a body. They're real pretty when they're a woman's, bare and toe upwards, set either side of a man's, bare and toes down. Aye and when they start curling with delight."

“You're a rogue, Liam O'Neill."

“Sure ‘n don't we all know that."

“Are they all dead?” she asked.

“Not all,” Oro replied.

“Think some will talk?"

"Sí,
maybe, but I think the Bancrofts will find out very little."

“Ah, that will not please Royal."

Royal moved to help Cole drag one of the dead men around to the back of the building. Cole asked, “How's Antonie?"

“Damn hard to tell,” Royal answered. “She's so damn stoic. Have you talked yet to any of the ones who are alive?"

“Only one of those left. Best do that before he goes, too,” Cole moved to crouch before a man whose wound was slowly but definitely mortal. “Who hired you?"

“A
gringa."
The man's expression was a ghastly parody of a smile. “A fine-looking
puta
and hungry, eh?"

“That doesn't tell us a hell of a lot."