Chapter Twenty #2
And illegal methods had not worked. The raiding they had done had not begun to weaken Fletcher Austin’s power or that of the other Anglos in the area. Though Andreas had believed they had a chance, Ramon had known from the start they could never defeat their enemies that way.
The past was over. One way or another, El Dragón’s days were at an end.
Just one last foray into the night, one last raid to free his men, and his outlaw days were finished.
If he could survive one more night—and if Angel had not betrayed him again—he had a chance to put all of this behind him.
He could fetch his wife home and make a life for them at Las Almas.
It wasn’t the life they would have had at del Robles, but Carly didn’t seem to mind and if she could be happy, then so could he.
Together they would build a future, have children, be content.
One more raid, he told himself as he swung up on the saddle of the big blood bay that would carry him to Arroyo Aguajes where his tall black stallion stood waiting.
Just one more raid.
If he could somehow manage to stay alive.
* * *
Carly barely slept that night. She was too worried about Ramon.
He would be riding into San Juan Bautista, confronting the sheriff, risking his life to save his men.
She had not tried to stop him. She knew him too well for that.
He loved Pedro Sanchez like a father, and the other men were his responsibility as well. At least that was how he would see it.
She dressed in the sapphire blue riding habit that came with the things Two Hawks had returned, but much of her clothing and personal items remained at Las Almas.
Why Ramon kept them she wasn’t sure. For herself, she had left them there on purpose, unable to sever her ties with him completely.
It was a small thing, yet it gave her some connection with the place she still thought of as home.
Thinking of the people she missed at Las Almas, Carly left the house and made her way to the stables. She needed some time to herself and riding had become the means to that end.
“Jose, are you in here?” she called out, and the tall vaquero who worked with the horses stuck his head out of one of the stalls.
“Si, senora. I am here.”
“I wish to go riding. Would you saddle me a horse?”
He grinned so wide, she could see the white of his teeth even in the shadows of the barn. “Si, senora, I have just the one.”
She eyed him with some speculation, following him back toward the stall he’d just come from. Carly’s breath caught as he opened the door and led out the most beautiful palomino mare she had ever seen.
“For you, senora, from your husband, Don Ramon. Mariano brought her here only this morning.”
A hard ache swelled in her throat. Ramon had done this for her. Ramon. “She’s beautiful, Jose. The most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen.”
“She is Andalusian,” he said. “Don Diego, Don Ramon’s father, used to raise them by the hundreds when he lived at Rancho del Robles. They were sold when the rancho went to sale. Don Ramon bought back a few. His stallion, Rey del Sol, was among them.”
‘I knew about Rey, but not the mare. I’ve never seen her before.”
“It was to be a surprise. A wedding present, Mariano said. The don has been raising her somewhere in the mountains. One of the vaqueros has been training her for you.”
Pedro Sanchez, most likely. Perhaps at Llano Mirada. “She’s beautiful,” Carly said again, stroking the mare’s velvet nose. “What’s her name?”
“Sunflower.”
Carly blinked hard. Still, the tears collected behind her eyes and several spilled over onto her cheeks.
“Mariano said the don meant to give her to you himself, but yesterday he changed his mind. He said this way, no matter what happened, you would always remember him.”
Carly bit hard on her lip. Dear God, he wanted her to have the mare in case he was killed in San Juan. She had to get out of there before she started crying in earnest. “Saddle her for me, will you, Jose?”
He smiled. “Si, senora.”
Carly brushed the wetness from her cheeks and waited outside while her sidesaddle was placed on the prancing golden mare with the snowy mane and tail.
She looked exactly like Rey del Sol, only smaller, more petite.
It occurred to her suddenly that she had seen the horse before, that this was the mare she had seen in the meadow, mating with Rey del Sol.
Even now, the little mare must be carrying the stallion’s colt.
It was a gift without measure, a gift that could come only from love.
Thinking of Ramon, of how much she loved him and how worried she was for his safety, Carly climbed up on the mounting block and settled herself in her sidesaddle atop the little mare.
She rode all morning, appreciating the horse’s perfect gait, the way the animal obeyed her commands without question.
Unconsciously, she made her way deeper into the hills and eventually wound up at the pool where she and Ramon had made love.
As worried for him as she was, she found herself smiling. When he came for her again, she would go with him and gladly. She loved him and he loved her. She had never really been a coward—only for just a short time. And she would risk anything for the love of a man like Ramon.
She dismounted from the mare and let the horse drink from the mirror-smooth surface of the pool, nostrils flaring, muzzle sinking deeply. Stroking the horse’s sleek golden neck, she ignored the terrible barb of fear that Ramon would be killed in San Juan and never return to take her home.
* * *
Miranda Aguilar knocked on the door to the cocina at Rancho del Robles, and buxom Rita Salazar pulled it open.
“Dios mio!” Rita’s black eyes misted with tears. “Mi hija, where have you been?”
Miranda hugged the mother she hadn’t seen in the last three years. “Many places, Mama. I did not know that you were here.”
Rita slid a stout arm around her daughter’s slender waist, urging her into the kitchen, and they sat down on a bench in front of a roughhewn table.
“I only came to del Robles a few months ago,” Rita said. “Before that I was in San Miguel. Your father is dead. That is why I left Monterey, where we had been working.”
“I am sorry, Mama, I did not know.” Miranda swallowed and glanced away.
“I tried to find you, but Inocente was never in one place long enough. You were right about him, Mama. I never should have married him. He was a hard man, often he was cruel. Sometimes he even beat me. I was not sorry when he was killed.”
“Pobrecita,” her mother crooned, smoothing the thick black hair away from her daughter’s pretty face.
“His family was nice, though. I went to visit them at a rancho called El Tejon at the end of the great central valley. They wanted me to stay, but I decided not to. I learned you were here from one of the vaqueros. That is why I returned to Llano Mirada, the place where Inocente took me before he was killed. That is where I met El Dragón.” Miranda didn’t mention she had slept with Ramon de la Guerra, or with Ruiz Dominguez, after Ramon had gone.
Rita crossed herself. “Senor Austin and the others, they have finally captured the outlaws.”
“Si, I was there. I am lucky I escaped.”
“Por Dios, how did you get away?”
Miranda sighed heavily. The journey from Arroyo Aguajes was a long one, but she’d felt she had to come. She wasn’t sure when she would see her mother again.
“When the shooting started, one of the vaqueros, a man named Ruiz Dominguez, led the women and children deeper into the mountains. Always we had planned that if anything should happen, we would meet at a cave in the hills. The men are gathered there now. They plan to ride into San Juan the night before the hanging and free those who were captured. I heard them talking.”
“Por Dios—they will all be killed!”
“I do not think so. They will go in quietly, break into the jail, then ride out to the south through an old dry arroyo that circles the town. The plan is a good one, I think.”
Rita hugged her daughter, her pendulous breasts in contrast to Miranda’s slender form. “You must say nothing more of this. Senor Austin would be angry.”
“I told you only because I cannot stay. I am returning to the mountains.” Beneath her dark skin, her cheeks grew slightly flushed. “I am going away with Ruiz. He is a fine vaquero, Mama, and I have come to care for him.”
Rita’s plump hands cradled her daughter’s face. “I am glad you came. Once you are settled, you can visit me again, no?”
“Si, Mama. That is what I am hoping.”
“You must eat before you leave. You are too skinny.” Rita squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I have just made tamales and a batch of fresh tortillas. You will have time for that, no?”
Miranda smiled. “Si, but I must hurry. I am told Senor Austin’s niece is here. If she discovers I am also here, I will no longer be welcome.”
Rita frowned but said nothing more. She was worried about her daughter.
She wished her child could stay for a visit, but for now it was not safe.
She was only glad Senor Fletcher would not hear of these things.
If he did, he would be waiting the night of the raid.
Her daughter’s novio might not live to return to the hills.
* * *
Angel de la Guerra sat alone in his cell in the small uncomfortable jail in San Juan Bautista.
In another cell at the opposite end, Pedro Sanchez and three of El Dragón’s vaqueros curled up on the thin corn husk mattress or sprawled on the hard wooden floor.
Sheriff Jeremy Layton sat in his office in a separate building a dozen yards away.
In the square across from the mission, a makeshift gallows held four lengths of rope, each of them looped with a thirteen-coil knot. A hangman’s noose. And one of them was waiting for Angel de la Guerra.