“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Ginny rose to her feet. “He intends to use them as hostages.”
“Not even William would do that.” Sonya’s lips trembled and her eyes were dark with distress. “He’ll be furious with me when he learns that I’ve told you, but I think he’s gone too far this time. Children should not be used as weapons in a personal feud.”
“How long ago did he send for them? Oh God, they could be in America right now! I must find Steve….”
“Wait!” Sonya lunged to her feet, her face as pale as the white linen tablecloths. “Please, don’t let him go after William. He’s in ill health, and it could kill him!”
“I never thought you loved him that much,” Ginny said tartly, then was sorry when two crimson smears stained her stepmother’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Sonya, but this is too much, even for the senator. My God! To interfere in the lives of two young children surpasses anything he has ever done. It’s bad enough that he has lied, cheated and stolen just to enlarge his personal fortune, not caring who he hurt in the process, but now he has gone too far. If Steve doesn’t kill him, I very well may!”
Aware that their conversation was attracting attention from other diners, Ginny snatched up her reticule and left Antoine’s, gliding past a rather perturbed maître d’ with barely a nod and murmured pleasantry. There was no time to pause for social amenities, not when her children may very well be in danger.
When she reached the St. Louis Hotel, Steve was not there. He’d gone out again, leaving her a short note that he would be back in time for them to attend the opera later that evening.
The opera. Dear God, she’d forgotten all about their plans to attend the Royal Opera House’s late performance of Carmen with the lieutenant governor. How could she sit through an evening of music and pretend nothing was wrong?
Senator Brandon would not harm the children, she knew that, but they would be frightened, especially if her aunt was upset. Did he really think he could keep them from her? Did he underestimate Steve Morgan that greatly? Or was he just that desperate…?
It was true that the senator had lost a great deal of money after the men working his mines were freed. Díaz had bowed to public opinion—shrewdly surmising that it would cost him little in actual silver and benefit him greatly with the citizens—and proclaimed that foreign employers must pay each man a fair wage for his work. Profits would be drastically cut under such a measure, and some investors had pulled out of Mexico.
It seemed counterproductive when Díaz was attempting to lure foreign business to the country, but Steve had said dryly that, behind the closed doors of the presidential palace, deals were being made that would increase foreign profits but also put harsh burdens on the citizens.
“Senator Brandon just happened to get on the wrong side of el presidente, or he’d be getting his share of the take. I wonder how much good I did shutting him down. He’s liable to be replaced by someone much worse.”
To Ginny, already troubled and saddened to learn that the man she’d always considered her father was so pitiless, it had seemed grossly unjust that more innocent people would suffer because of greed. Despite that, she had been unable to stifle a feeling of pity for the senator. He’d looked so old and weary, a bitter, defeated man.
Now she felt nothing but revulsion for him. How could he be so cruel?
Steve returned to the hotel just before dark. Ginny met him at the door of their suite in her dressing gown.
“Sonya told me that my father sent for the children! They are probably halfway here by now.”
Blue eyes caught and held hers, his tone grim as he said, “The ship carrying our children from London docked in Galveston three days ago. We probably passed them in the Gulf.”
“You knew.”
“Not until about two hours ago when I received a reply from your cousin Pierre. His cable expressed dismay that we had not authorized the children’s journey.”
Ginny stared at him. “Three days. Where are they? Oh God, where could they be?”
“I have some men working on it. Stay calm, Ginny. I don’t need female hysterics right now.”
His cold tone was like a dash of icy water in her face, and she recoiled. “I’m not hysterical, just frightened, and I would think you’d understand that.”
“I do. Believe me, I do. But this doesn’t help.”
Steve raked a hand through his dark hair, and Ginny caught a glimpse of silver threads among the black strands. It was hard on him, too, she realized, and took a deep breath to stem the flow of protests.
“Yes, you’re right, Steve. When do we leave?”
A faint smile crooked his mouth. “I’ve arranged passage on a ship leaving for Galveston in the morning.”
“This is going to be a long night.”
“Then attending the opera should take your mind off the wait.”
Ginny stared at him incredulously. “I have no intention of attending the opera now! How could I?”
“It won’t change anything to stay here in the room and fret all night. Besides, if we’re being watched, we need to act as if everything is normal.”
To her horror, huge tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her face. She began to weep in great, gulping sobs, like a broken-hearted child. Steve drew her into his arms, held her against him as she wept, his hand stroking her hair with clumsy attempts at comfort.
“Nothing will be normal until we have our children safely with us, Steve,” she whispered between sobs. “Nothing!”
His hand tightened in her hair. “I know. We’ll find them soon. If I have to string Brandon up by his heels and beat it out of him, we’ll find them. I swear it to you, Ginny.”
There was an unfamiliar break in his tone that she had never heard before. Ginny realized that, beneath Steve’s carefully intact composure, he was as anguished as she about their children. There was a barely controlled sense of violence in him, in the way his hand fisted in her hair, in the clipped enunciation of his words.
Steve would find them. She knew he would. And God help William Brandon when Steve found him….
44
Galveston Bay was hot, the air thick with humidity and the rank smell of rotting marine life. Out in the gulf, huge stacks of towering clouds rolled toward land, bringing the daily summer thunderstorm ashore.
Steve ignored the rain pelting him. A crash of thunder shook the ground and vibrated the dock, lightning hitting so close he could smell the acrid stench of burned earth.
“What did you find out, Paco?”
Paco Davis wiped a hand over his wet face and stepped under the protective eave of a wooden shack that leaned precariously over the water. His black hair was plastered to his skull, dripping rain into his eyes and down the bridge of his nose.
“Lost my damn hat,” he muttered, then shrugged. “You were right. They were on the ship when it docked, and the ticket master said he thought there was a carriage waiting for them. No one else seems to know anything.”
“I can’t imagine Ginny’s aunt going off with anyone she doesn’t know. She’s too convinced America is full of cutthroats.”
“Looks like she’s been proven right. I guess whoever met them at the dock could have given her a letter of introduction. That would be easy enough to forge. And if Brandon told her who would be meeting them—”
Steve’s jaw clenched. “I still can’t figure out what he hopes to gain from this other than vengeance against me. He has to know I’ll hunt him down.”
“Maybe he thinks his money and power will save him.”
“From charges of child abduction? Not even Senator Brandon is that delusional. This will ruin him. If he lives through it.”
“Any ideas?” Paco asked after a moment of silence.
“A few. I sent a telegram to Colonel Prime at Fort McIntosh.”
Paco’s brow lifted, and his drenched eyelashes dripped rain when he blinked. “You think they’re headed in that direction?”
“It’s
just a hunch.”
Heat shimmered up in blurred waves from red rock and stretches of dun-colored ground scattered with clumps of greasewood. It was familiar territory, another long ride, but this time there was a new sense of urgency. Trains, boats and horses had brought them within sight of Fort McIntosh.
The dust coated horses, clothes, skin and even tongues. The three of them wore neckerchiefs over noses and mouths, wide brimmed hats providing scant shade against the searing beat of the sun. Steve and Paco rode abreast, with Ginny riding a few paces behind.
Steve turned in his saddle to glance back at her. She looked like a wilted flower. If not for the taut set of her shoulders, he’d have thought her asleep. Her chin dipped toward her chest, the hat brim hiding her eyes.
Steve nudged his mount closer to hers. “We’re almost there, Ginny.”
“I know.” The words were muffled behind the yellow scarf covering half her face. “I’ve swallowed enough dust to fill the Gulf of Mexico.”
“That’s better. When you’re complaining, I know you’re all right.”
Her head lifted, and he caught a glimpse of narrowed green eyes above the yellow triangle. “Did you think I would not be? I may collapse after we have Laura and Franco safely with us, but I won’t give up until then. I won’t give up!”
“No, you’re not the kind of woman to give up, my green-eyed wife. I know that about you. You’re as stubborn as I am when you want to be.”
“Steve, we will find them. Won’t we?”
Couched behind the steady timbre of her voice was a note of uncertainty. Leaning over, he put his hand atop her arm. “We’ll find them. I swear it to you.”
Her gaze was cool. “I know. I don’t know why you think they might be here, but I trust you to find them.”
He hoped his hunch would pay off. It was a wild idea, and even Paco thought he was crazy for pursuing it. But he remembered Brandon’s certainty in San Antonio, and his smug assurance that he would build his rail line from Texas into Mexico. The meeting with Uriah Lott had occurred to Steve, and he recalled the discussion about railroads that night at Fort McIntosh.
William Brandon had been involved then, too. And he’d blamed Steve for ruining that business deal.
Perched on the high, frayed edge of the Rio Grande River, the fort faced the west and the setting sun. Across the wide band of muddy water, Nuevo Laredo squatted on the flat Mexican riverbank.
A mood of bitter rage curled in Steve’s belly, belying his outward calm. He was calm only because he had to be, because the senator wasn’t in front of him, but he itched to confront him. The nearer they came to finding Brandon, the more vicious his mood grew.
He’d wanted to leave Ginny behind, but knew better than to try it. She was like a tigress since discovering that her children were missing, as feral and determined as any wild cat. The three of them had ridden like avenging angels since disembarking from the flatboat at Roma, silently and with grim purpose.
Steve’s big bay had settled into a mile-eating pace that was matched by the other mounts. As he rode in silence, anger built inside him, the cold, dispassionate mood of a gunfighter. It filled him with icy resolution.
Twilight descended, streaking the sky in colors of rose and purple as they rode into Laredo. The streets were crowded, saloons blaring tinny music and raucous laughter. With a new bridge being built across the river to Mexico, the town had grown swiftly.
Colonel Prime seemed surprised to see them, and was reluctant to help search for the children.
“I don’t know why you think they’re hidden in this area, but I can’t spare a squad right now, Morgan. The apaches have been raiding and I need all my men.”
“If the Apaches find a United States senator and his grandchildren before we do, you might find yourself back in the rank and file,” Steve said curtly. “It wouldn’t look good on your military record to have refused aid.”
Prime scowled. “I have a squad returning tomorrow. I’ll send them out to scout the hills in two days.”
“Two days may be too late.”
“It’s the best I can do. You don’t even know if they’re out there, but I damn sure know the Apaches are. It will have to wait, and none of your threats can change that.”
Steve leaned forward, fists pressing into the wood of Prime’s desk as he said softly, “You’re wrong, Colonel….”
“I’m going with you,” Ginny said when they left the fort and took a room in a small, secluded hotel. She came to stand beside him, her eyes offering a challenge.
A faint smile slanted his mouth. “Where do you think I’m going?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here alone. I’ll go crazy with nothing to do but think and worry.”
“Do you still have that pistol I gave you?”
She looked startled, but nodded. “Yes.”
“Think you can use it if you have to? This will be a lot different than shooting at tree branches and tin cans, Ginny.”
“Do you think it will come to that? I mean, I can’t see the senator engaged in a gunfight, Steve.”
“It wasn’t the senator who picked up your aunt and the children in Galveston. He had someone else do that for him. Hired guns, maybe.”
Her eyes widened slightly, dark pupils soaking up light from the wall lamp until they glittered. “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, Steve, the children must be terrified!”
“I’d prefer doing this without gunplay, but I want to be ready for anything. And Ginny, I can’t protect you and be certain the children are shielded as well.”
Silence fell in the small, shabby room. A muggy gust of air drifted in through the open window, rife with the sound of drunken laughter. Tension vibrated between them, and he knew Ginny had just realized how dangerous it was for all of them.
“If a choice must be made, Steve, you know what I want you to do.”
“I know.”
It didn’t really need to be said. Laura and Franco came before anyone else.
Neither of them slept that night, but lay awake in each other’s arms, the closeness their only comfort.
The early morning sun was veiled by pale, cloudy shreds of mist. The air was cool, night shadows lurking at the base of the hills and in crevices and ravines. Laredo was behind them, an indistinct blur visible in the distance. Hooves kicked up dust, clattering on the sun-baked road that was little more than well-worn ruts snaking across the plains.
Steve kept the pace slow and casual, watching the horizon. They couldn’t be that far ahead, and wouldn’t be expecting him. If not for the cable he’d sent London, he wouldn’t ever have discovered that his children were in America.
All his instincts returned sharply to guide him, the old tricks he’d learned when he was still a youth riding with the Comanche enabling him to cut sign of riders that had veered off the main track. Paco had seen the faint marks of hooves in the hard soil, too.
“You figure they’re up in the hills, amigo?”
“Makes sense. He’d be close here, able to ride back across the border if pursued.” Steve shifted in his saddle, frowned slightly as something glittered in the rising sun.
He dismounted, bent to pick it up, turned it over in his hand. His mouth tightened. It was a two penny coin. An English coin. As he stood up, he saw another one a few yards up into the rocks, glinting dully. He turned to Paco.
“Isn’t there an old ruin up in these hills?”
Paco scratched his jaw. “Yeah, in a stand of cottonwood trees down in an arroyo. I holed up there once in a storm.”
“Why would he take them to a ruin way out here?” Ginny asked with a frown. “It would make more sense to take them to the house he has near the mine.”
“No one would notice out here.” Steve palmed the coin. “It’s away from everything.”
They rode slowly up through the rocks, horses carefully picking a path through jumbled rocks and brush-studded earth that melded from dun to ocher to red. Steve found three more coins. Shadows grew
short, hugging boulders as the sun rose higher. The clink of bridle chains and creak of leather accompanied the dull thud of hooves against hard rock.
He heard Ginny unscrew the lid to her metal canteen and drink from it, the sound loud in the natural acoustics of the rocky canyon through which they rode. Paco slapped at an insect and his horse shied.
Steve heard a faint sound and put up his hand to halt the others, uncertain what had made the noise. Then he heard it again—the treble of a child’s voice.
Ginny had heard it, too. Her head came up, and her eyes focused on the ridge just beyond. Lips parted, she waited, motionless, but the silence stretched unbearably.
Steve gestured for them to dismount. They would go the rest of the way afoot. Boots scraped over rock, dislodged pebbles that slid down the slope in a light patter. The wind blew across the ridge in hot waves, wafting the scent of sage.
“Wait here until you hear gunfire,” he told Paco, his eyes warning Ginny not to protest. She offered no objection, but only nodded, her posture rigid.
“If you need help, amigo, just yell for me.” Paco grinned, but his eyes were strained.
Steve climbed the ridge, his boots sliding slightly on loose gravel as he descended the other side and disappeared from sight.
Alone with Paco, Ginny’s nerves were stretched taut to the breaking point. A hawk soared overhead, its sharp cry drifting down through a searing sky. The smell of sage and dust was sharp and suffocating.
“This is suicide,” she said finally. “They’ll kill him.”
“Maybe. Though I think they’ll be too surprised that he’s walking in alone to think of that at first. I don’t think the senator wants him dead. That would create too many problems.”
Ginny slumped against a rock. The horses tore at clumps of brown grass, teeth grinding loudly.
“I still can’t understand why he would do this. It makes no sense. I’ve never thought the senator was foolish, but this borders on lunacy.”
“Greed and desperation make men do strange, stupid things, Ginny.” Paco pushed his hat back on his head, his eyes scanning the horizon. “I sure as hell hope Steve knows what he’s doing.”
Savage Desire Page 37
