Authors: Kerry Newcomb
The Red Ripper (8 page)
“Not as âold' as you think,” Esperanza corrected, with a nervous laugh. She blushed and was grateful for the night shadows.
“Maybe not,” William said, bemused. “That is, if you played âhis' cards right.”
“Now you are making fun of me. But there is power in the cards. A man like you has no time for mystery. You think me a charlatan, a pretender.”
“No, ma'am. Folks are welcome to believe what they want.”
“But you doubt my skills?”
“Señora, I think if you said up was down and left was right I'd probably believe you to my grave.”
“Do you always put such trust in strangers?” Esperanza asked, unsettled by his response and what it might mean.
“No, ma'am.” he answered. “You're the first.”
“Why me?”
“I reckon the answer to that is also in the cards,” William said, resisting the forbidden urge to reach out to her in the night. What the hell was he thinking? Didn't he have enough enemies without making another in Don Murillo Saldevar? Wallace retreated a few steps back, as if distancing himself from a fierce blaze. “Watch your step, señora.” He opened the gate and led his two horses out of the corral. Beyond them, the waters of the bay rolled in upon the shore in unceasing cadence.
Esperanza was left momentarily bewildered, caught off guard by his candor. She had never met a man like him and doubted she ever would again. The curious affection she felt for this man confused her. It was as if she had known him in another time and place, when the world was young. She couldn't explain it away. There was a reason their paths had crossed. Perhaps they were children of fate. She feared what Wallace had awakened in her, but not enough for her to leave him alone.
Suddenly remembering the reason she had come to him in the first place, Esperanza lifted the hem of her dress and darted after Wallace, whose long-legged gait quickly covered the distance to the hacienda. He slowed his pace when she called him by name.
“Señor Wallace! This is for you,” Esperanza breathlessly said, removing a bulky leather bag from beneath the folds of her cape. “I packed tortillas and cheese and
dried beef for the ride back. Perhaps, after you have brought Captain Flambeau to his home you might think to join us in Texas?”
dried beef for the ride back. Perhaps, after you have brought Captain Flambeau to his home you might think to join us in Texas?”
William gratefully accepted the gift. “Mad Jack hates to ride on an empty belly. I'll pack it away with his gear. I still have business in Veracruz. But he'll be most appreciative.”
“You aren't going with him?” Esperanza's eyes widened with astonishment. “But what about Captain Flambeau?”
William shook his head. “He'll manage.”
Better to leave now and allow the pirate his chance to escape. As for Juan Diego, all William needed was a chance encounter in the street, a bold strike, and a reckless charge to scatter the lancers and bring him face-to-face with his brother's killer. Simple, yes, and possibly suicidal.
“You don't understand. Captain Flambeau cannot reach safety without you.”
“Don't let that salty sea dog fool you. He's tougher than he looks,” William chuckled.
“You don't know ⦠,” Esperanza said, realization slowly dawning.
“Madre mia,
you have not been told.”
“Madre mia,
you have not been told.”
The big man at her side slowed and turned to face her. He didn't like her tone. “What?”
“Your friend, the captain, his eyesight is rapidly failing. I think soon he will be completely blind and at the mercy of his enemies!”
Â
Juan Diego and his lancers arrived in the early hours of the morning. Don Murillo had been absent for the past hour. Only the two women and Chuy Montoya remained to greet them. Dorotea Saldevar v Marquez clung to the folds of her shawl and stared ruefully at the barred front door as Juan Diego shouted her brother's name.
“What do you see?” she asked as Esperanza peered through a crack in the shuttered windows.
“Soldiers with torches and guns and lances,” Don Murillo's young wife calmly described. “They have surrounded the house.”
The next time Guadiz spoke it was to demand the surrender of William Wallace for assaulting the governor's own guard. Mad Jack had been added as an afterthought.
“We have come for the
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and the Butcher of Barbados!” Juan Diego announced, after one of his subordinates had read the warrant aloud.
norte americano
and the Butcher of Barbados!” Juan Diego announced, after one of his subordinates had read the warrant aloud.
Esperanza watched with interest as Paloma Guadiz, dressed in black pants and a gold-stitched short coat, maneuvered alongside her brother. Juan Diego's twin sister was flushed with excitement. She handled her mount better than any of the troopers. A pair of pistols jutted from saddle scabbards on each side of the saddle pommel.
“I will take some of the men and search the barn,” Paloma told her brother, her voice carrying to the house.
Juan Diego nodded and dispatched a few of his lane-ers to follow her lead. Esperanza chose another vantage from which to observe the intruders. She could observe Paloma by the corral. On her orders her escort began to search the barn and surrounding area. Paloma waited astride her charger, hands folded upon her saddle's pommel glinting silver in the mist sweeping in from the bay.
“My brother's generosity has brought trouble to our door. I warned him! And this big gringo, your new friend. I saw you two. A man under warrant from the governorâ”
“Hush!” Esperanza snapped, stilling her sister-in-law's remarks. She walked across the room and unbarred the door. As an afterthought she took a quirt, a foot-long whip with a weighted handle that one of her husband's
vaqueros had left dangling from a wall peg.
vaqueros had left dangling from a wall peg.
“Señora?” Montoya warned, moving to intercept her.
“Stay here,” the young woman firmly ordered and stepped out onto the porch.
Juan Diego and the remainder of his command had arranged themselves in a half-circle in front of the hacienda. At his command, three of the troopers dismounted and started up the steps to the porch, only to be met by Esperanza, who emerged from the house and turned them back with several stinging blows from the braided rawhide. The soldiers yelped and retreated down the steps. Chuy Montoya revealed himself in a front window, his shotgun balanced on the windowsill.
“What is the meaning of this!?” Esperanza exclaimed.
“I am about my uncle's business,” Juan Diego replied. “We are looking for a pair of fugitives. It would be helpful if you did not interfere.” He motioned for his soldiers to remount. Juan Diego glanced aside at his sergeant. Cayetano Obregon was bandaged and had replaced his uniform. His features were bruised and he sat stiffly in the saddle, his close-set eyes narrow and full of malice. “Tell me, Sergeant Obregon, what kind of man chooses to hide behind his wife's skirts?”
“An âold' man, Captain.”
“Too old for such a pretty wife,” Juan Diego added, dismounting.
“Stephen Austin is no longer here. My husband had brought him to President Bustamente, who will be most displeased at the way you have treated one of his guests.”
“We have not come for Señor Austin. His arrest was a terrible mistake. My uncle has already conveyed his personal apology. Rest assured the soldiers who arrested señor Austin will be punished,” Juan Diego explained. “I have come for the
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and the pirate, Mad Jack Flambeau. I think you have seen them.” He
climbed the steps to the porch. Esperanza raised the quirt, but Juan Diego was too quick and caught her wrist. Then, try as she might to resist him, Guadiz forced her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fist. His tongue flicked across her knuckles. “Is this how that unwashed gringo kissed your hand? Did it excite you, senora? Maybe that is why you hide him.” He opened her fingers and took the riding whip from her hand. Juan Diego stepped past the woman and prodded open the front door with the quirt's wooden handle. Dorotea stood in the hallway, wrapped in her shawl, eyes wide with apprehension. The room was empty. But he noticed the basin and bloodstained bandages on the floor near the hearth.
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and the pirate, Mad Jack Flambeau. I think you have seen them.” He
climbed the steps to the porch. Esperanza raised the quirt, but Juan Diego was too quick and caught her wrist. Then, try as she might to resist him, Guadiz forced her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fist. His tongue flicked across her knuckles. “Is this how that unwashed gringo kissed your hand? Did it excite you, senora? Maybe that is why you hide him.” He opened her fingers and took the riding whip from her hand. Juan Diego stepped past the woman and prodded open the front door with the quirt's wooden handle. Dorotea stood in the hallway, wrapped in her shawl, eyes wide with apprehension. The room was empty. But he noticed the basin and bloodstained bandages on the floor near the hearth.
“Those whom you seek are no longer here,” Esperanza said, her voice trembling as she struggled to suppress her anger.
“Ah. Honesty at last.” Juan Diego turned back toward the woman. “Now we can be friends. And I make a much better friend than enemy.” He continued to crowd the woman, forcing her back until her shoulders were against the wall. A chorus of muted laughter rippled through the horsemen in the yard. Juan Diego brought his face close to Esperanza's and whispered, “Why don't we take a walk to the barn? You can personally show me you have nothing to hide. What do you say to that?”
Esperanza smiled; a flirting, come-hither expression brightened her features and fueled his hopes. She leaned forward, her breath fanning the captain's cheek. “I would rather lie with the pigs.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. It was as if a dark veil had been suddenly drawn across the captain's confident facade. His look of expectation soured into a cold, hard glare.
“Wallace is gone. Mad Jack has gone. And you will not catch them.”
Juan Diego nodded. “We'll see about that.” He started back toward the horses as Paloma rejoined the troops, then, as an afterthought, returned to Esperanza's side. “Until we meet again, señora.” He bowed quite graciously, but his words were more threat than farewell.
The captain remounted, smartly swung his horse about, and led his troops away from the hacienda. Paloma was the last to follow her brother onto the road. She lingered before the hacienda, a dimly glimpsed wraithlike figure wreathed in the mist and one with the shrouded moon and black water.
“You have no authority in Veracruz except by my uncle's good graces!” Paloma called out. “And my brother's whim. Be warned, little âbride.' Do not cross us. You aren't in Texas now.” A softfall of hooves in the moist earth and Juan Diego's sister disappeared in the gathering gloom.
“Fortunately for you!” Esperanza retorted. She remained in the doorway, bathed in the light that shone from within, unnerved perhaps, but defiant all the same.
Â
Two rode together along the Spanish road where it followed a ridge of low hills overlooking the moonlit city of Veracruz, shrouded in sea mist and low clouds driven landward on the silent wings of the wind. On the skyline, one of the men looked back upon the port below, where armed patrols prowled the streets.
The wind rushed upslope, caught the folds of his serape, sent his long white scarf and unruly red hair streaming as he leaned forward in the saddle and stretched forth his hand in a blessing of blood red vengeance. Eyes ablaze in the belly of the night, he directed his pride and his passion toward the torchlit silhouettes below. The wind moaned and mocked his silent litany: And there will come another day.
“WHO IS THIS WALLACE?”
A caved-in roof.
Fire-gutted walls.
Charred earth.
Juan Diego Guadiz, astride his winded gelding, slowly circled the remains of the house on the hill. The column of lancers, twenty men strong, fanned out to explore the clearing and search for tracks. They found plenty, leading off in every direction, too many to follow.
The gelding balked at entering the wreckage. Plumes of charcoal dust billowed up beneath his hooves. The animal tossed his head and fought the bit. Guadiz directed his wrath upon the poor beast, savagely whipping the steed with the reins and raking the animal's side with his spurs.
The gelding reared and bucked. Juan Diego lost his purchase astride the military saddle, tumbled from horseback, and landed in the ashes. Guadiz rose from the soot like a vengeful phoenix.
“Son of a bitch!” exclaimed the officer; his blue coat and cream-colored trousers were smeared black. Guadiz drew his saber and began to hack at the offending debris; misshapen hulks of furniture, the remains of books, a ruined bedstead bore the brunt of his wrath. His boot heels ground the skeletal wine racks and shattered bottles
of stolen wine underfoot. He slashed away at shipboard relics, kicked and crushed the brittle husks of sea chests. His sword blade clanged off the stone fireplace. The chimney, burned black by the savage blaze, made a fitting tombstone.
of stolen wine underfoot. He slashed away at shipboard relics, kicked and crushed the brittle husks of sea chests. His sword blade clanged off the stone fireplace. The chimney, burned black by the savage blaze, made a fitting tombstone.
He dragged his pistol from his belt and leveled the weapon at the treacherous mount that had thrown him.
Paloma rode across his line of fire, placing herself in harm's way. “Brother, it is a long walk back to Veracruz.”
“Get out of my sight!” he roared.
Paloma dismounted and strode toward him, keeping herself in front of the flintlock. Juan Diego's hand wavered as he sighted on his twin. Paloma remained calm. and continued up to him. She reached out and lovingly began to massage his temple and jawline, drawing his pain and fury into her hands. Juan Diego lowered his head until it touched her shoulder. She stroked the back of his neck. After a few moments of her tender mercy, he took control of himself, began to breathe easier, then straightened and walked from the ruins, dragging his saber in the dust.
Paloma surveyed the damage with regret. She had wanted to leave Veracruz the morning after the pirate's escape and take up the pursuit. But her brother and the other men had overruled her advice. They tarried in the port to conclude their search of the town and surrounding hills. The whole day had been wasted when it was plain to the woman that the freebooter would head directly to his lair. These ruins proved her point, but she knew better than to remind her brother of that fact. She did not want to instigate another outburst.
“It is done,” she sighed.
“The hell it is,” Juan Diego replied.
“For now,” she added.
“They mock me,” Guadiz said, gesturing to the blackened
site, “with this.”. He walked to the edge of the clearing, past the dueling ground, and across the narrow winding road until he overlooked the distant shore and the blue sea below. The breeze smelled of brine and moist sand and decaying shells washed ashore by the tides. Mad Jack was an old fool, but this gringo, Wallace, the big bastard, was trouble, a thorn in Guadiz's side. Paloma's shadow fell alongside his.
site, “with this.”. He walked to the edge of the clearing, past the dueling ground, and across the narrow winding road until he overlooked the distant shore and the blue sea below. The breeze smelled of brine and moist sand and decaying shells washed ashore by the tides. Mad Jack was an old fool, but this gringo, Wallace, the big bastard, was trouble, a thorn in Guadiz's side. Paloma's shadow fell alongside his.
“Who is this Wallace? He plagues me.”
“No one,” Paloma replied, recalling her earlier assessment of the redheaded stranger.
“No one,” Juan Diego ruefully repeated. He studied the surrounding forest and for the first time noticed they were being watched by a pair of Tainos natives. The Indians had appeared at the edge of the forest farther up the hillside. Juan Diego recognized the two, remembering them from Flambeau's household. They had been the pirate's servants.
Juan Diego had no sooner barked an order for Manuel and Josefina to be brought to him than the pair were joined by the men of their village, over fifty dark-skinned Tainos warriors armed with bows and arrows and conch-shell clubs. The lancers balked at following the orders. Manuel and Josefina weren't going anywhere they didn't want to go.
“Where is your master?” Juan Diego called out.
“The captain is gone,” came the reply.
“I can see that, you bastard,” Juan Diego softly muttered. “And the
norte americano â¦
where is he?”
norte americano â¦
where is he?”
“Ask the wind,” Manuel answered.
“That isn't good enough,” Guadiz said:
“I have his words.”
Juan Diego glanced at Paloma, who shrugged and nodded in accord with her brother. The captain gestured, and his lancers pulled in to form a defensive circle alongside the remains of the house. Sergeant Obregon
retrieved the captain's horse. Juan Diego climbed into the saddle and pointed his mount toward the warriors gathered at the edge of the clearing. The forest seemed to swallow them up. Suddenly they were gone.
retrieved the captain's horse. Juan Diego climbed into the saddle and pointed his mount toward the warriors gathered at the edge of the clearing. The forest seemed to swallow them up. Suddenly they were gone.
“Wait. Tell me his words. I must find Wallace.”
A voice, in reply, drifted out from walls of foliage and emerald gloom: “He will find you.”
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