Clinging limply to him, drawing on his strength, she dully shook her head. “No. I’m just … weak. I’ll be all right.” Then, she suddenly found the strength, to clutch at his shirt. “Is he dead?”
“No. But he will be shortly.” Zant pulled her closer, wanting only to feel her heart beat against his. Dimly he was aware of the sound of running feet outside the chapel. And intense gunfire.
Jacey suddenly pulled back. “Go to him. Go to your grandfather.”
Looking down into her precious face, Zant frowned, not understanding her insistence. Still, he looked over his shoulder. Don Rafael now lay on his side. He’d pulled Jacey’s knife out of his chest. His blood pooled on the church floor. Zant turned away from the sight and sought Jacey’s pleading gaze.
He shook his head, speaking just above a whisper. “Go to him? You mean … forgive him? How can I? You know everything he’s done. All the people he’s killed, all the lives he’s ruined.”
Jacey licked her lips and and nodded. Desperation edged her eyes. “I do know. And I don’t understand it myself, Zant. There’s just something in me that says you need to. Please, I’m afraid … for you.”
Zant stroked her hair, begged her. “Don’t make me do this.”
Tears spilled out of Jacey’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her voice breaking on a sob, she cried, “I can’t. I won’t. Just … search your heart. Do you want to carry hate around forever? Will there be room for anything else if you do? I came here hating, Zant. I came here wanting to kill. And I did. But now, I’m empty. I feel nothing. There’s no love in my heart … for myself, for anything. All I have is my keepsake to take home, and a ruby necklace for Glory. Things, Zant. Just things. I know now they’re not as important as what I carry home in my heart. I won’t take hatred with me. It won’t wash off like the blood on this dress.”
With that, she pulled out of his arms and allowed him to help her stand. Taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, she looked up at him. “I’m going to him, Zant. I’m going to tell him I forgive him. It’ll probably be the worst thing I could do for him. But it’ll be the best thing I do for myself.”
She turned away then, began walking toward the dying Don Rafael. After a few steps, she turned back to him. “Search your heart. And do what’s right for you. Nobody can make you forgive him. But what you decide right now, you live with for the rest of your life.” She stood still, stared quietly, and then added, “I don’t think you hate him as much as you love him.”
Zant stared after her as she turned and knelt beside Don Rafael. He saw her take his hand, heard her speaking softly to him. Then, as if not of his own will, Zant’s feet moved. He took one step. Two. Three. And then he slowly knelt beside Jacey and looked into his grandfather’s lined old face. He saw the tears that rolled down his pale, papery cheeks as he stared up at him. Taking a deep breath, feeling the numbness slipping away, and the intense pain beginning, Zant reached out and took his grandfather’s hand from Jacey.
She smiled and slipped her hand under his arm, resting her cheek there as well. Feeling her warmth and her nearness, and cradling Don Rafael’s hand in both of his, Zant watched as the life dimmed from the old man’s eyes. He pulled his grandfather’s hand up to his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.
The gunfire outside the chapel stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Three days later, on a cool, crisp morning at the close of November, Jacey was ready to leave Cielo Azul. For good. Dressed as she was the day she left home, she tossed Knight’s saddle across his broad back. Tethered outside his small corral, the danged gelding gave a mighty shudder that threatened to see the saddle in the dirt. Poking her bottom lip out, Jacey held it in place. But when she attempted to tighten the cinch, the big horse sucked in a gust of air and held it. “Dang you, Knight.”
She attempted a second cinching of the saddle. Again, Knight bloated his stomach with his held-in air. Jacey poked her bottom lip out. “You asked for this.” She kneed the horse’s belly, forcing him to exhale. As soon as his girth deflated to normal, Jacey pulled the cinch tight. “Aha, gotcha.”
Behind her, seated across the top rail of a facing corral, some caballeros chuckled and made a few comments in Spanish. Jacey spun around to glare at them. The men sobered appropriately, despite a few anonymous snorts of laughter. Frowning, Jacey pulled her saddlebags off the fence railing and flung them over Knight’s back. He sidestepped. The overstuffed bags hit the sandy ground like a thrown broncobuster. Shouts of laughter came from behind her. Jacey whipped around, but the men had scattered to the four winds.
Her angry words died on her lips. Her glare vanished from her face. Zant was standing there. He hadn’t been only a moment ago. Looking as cool and fresh as the morning air felt, and as tall and strong as the mountains behind him, he smirked at her. Clad in his denims, a blue shirt under his leather vest, his Stetson low over his brow, and his Colt strapped to his hip, he sipped gingerly at a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He then teased her with a grin. “I figured I’d find you at the source of all the laughter. What’re you doing?”
Words and courage failed Jacey. She spun back to Knight and fiddled with straps already in place. “What’s it look like, Chapelo? I’m saddling my horse. The ornery son of a gun’s been let run wild this past week. He doesn’t want to leave.”
Her hands stilled with her last words. She stared blankly at the quickly blurring saddle in front of her. She swiped a sleeve across her wet eyes.
“Leave? Where you headed?”
Jacey smoothed her shaking hand down the multicolored blanket under Knight’s saddle. “Home.”
“Home,” Zant repeated, as if he’d never heard the word before.
Jacey moved up to Knight’s head and clutched at his bridle. She stroked his soft muzzle. “That’s what I said.”
“Yeah, it is.” He was silent a moment, but then he added, “You figuring on passing through Tucson?”
Jacey nodded. “That’s where I pick up the trail.”
“You stopping long enough to say good-bye to Rosie and Alberto?”
She nodded again. “Yep.”
“And maybe go to church?”
Jacey frowned as she smoothed a lock of mane over Knight’s forehead. She chanced a peek back over her shoulder. He was serious. “Church? The way I see it, Chapelo, I’ve been in church twice, and I’ve been dragged out twice, both times by somebody with a gun in his hand. I believe I’ll most likely forgo church.”
He nodded and pressed his lips together, as if her words required great thought. Then he said, “Figure you’ll make good time getting home?”
Jacey turned back to Knight. Her efforts to draw in a deep breath forced her head up and back. “I figure I will. If I can beat the snows.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem until you get close to Santa Fe.”
What with the sudden lump in her throat, she could only nod her answer. Knight chose that moment to nudge her, forcing her back a step. One step closer to Zant.
Apparently finished with being polite and friendly, Zant erupted in a snarl of anger. “Look at me, Jacey. If you’re going to leave, then have the guts to turn around and tell me to my face. You haven’t said one word in the past three days about this. Were you just going to sneak away? Is that how little I mean to you?”
Hands fisted at her side, her chin jutted out, Jacey turned to him. “I figured it’d be easier.”
“For who—you? I never figured you for a coward, Jacey Lawless.” Zant glared at her.
Despite his insult and her heart’s wrenching beats, Jacey maintained her stiff, stubborn stance. “I’ve done what I came here to do. I’ve got my answers, I’ve got my keepsake back, and I’ve got the ruby necklace for Glory. Don Rafael is buried, Cielo Azul is yours, and the men who didn’t take off or manage to get themselves killed are all loyal to you. You’ve got your life all set up here.”
“What’s stopping you from being a part of it? I’ve held you in my
arms while you cried, while you fought me, and while you loved me, Jacey. And you held me when I needed it most. Was all that a lie?”
Jacey blinked, felt weak in her knees. “It was no lie. But there’s … too much bad blood here. It’s just too soon for us, Zant. I can’t—” She paused, telling herself there would be no more beating around the bush concerning the fears that lodged knifelike in her heart. “All right, Zant, here’s the truth. Don Rafael’s men are still out there, still following his orders. So, what am I going to find when I get home? Are my sisters going to be dead? If they are … I have to tell you … I can’t promise you how I’ll feel. About you.”
Zant’s first response was to toss aside his coffee, cup and all. Then, his black eyes squinting under the low brim of his Stetson, he threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “That’s hard, Jacey. Too hard. I can’t undo my bloodlines. Why are you making this impossible? Three days ago, you begged me to forgive my grandfather. And you were right. But now, where’s the forgiveness in your heart—for me?”
Jacey lowered her gaze to her boots, but then raised her head to look him in the eye. “I’m not saying I’m right. I’m just saying it’s how I feel. Three days are a long time to think, Zant. And I’ve made up my mind. I’ve got to leave, got to get home. If Glory’s … still alive, I’ve got some hard news for her. It’s only right she hear it from me. And if she’s not alive … then I’ve got some burying of my own to do.”
Her piece said, her heart full, she turned back to Knight and picked up her saddlebags. She threw them across the now docile gelding’s rump and settled them in place. There. It was done. All she had to do was mount up. And leave. Still, she hesitated, unable to shrug off his presence behind her. Only a short distance separated them, but it was widening.
“Just tell me you don’t love me. That’s all I ask.”
His softly spoken words hurt more than his yelling. Jacey’s next breath came in shuddering gasps. Turning her head only an inch or so, just enough to direct her words over her shoulder to Zant, she said, “I can’t do that, outlaw.”
Then, without looking back, without another word, she mounted Knight, turned him, and rode out of Cielo Azul.
* * *
“Rosie, venga aquí! It is our Catarina!”
In the early evening of the third day after she left Cielo Azul, Jacey reined in Knight in front of Alberto’s noisy Tucson cantina. And found she could smile again. Alberto’s joy made her shake her weary head. She chuckled and waved back at him. His eyes lit up, and he threw his hands up as he danced a few steps. Suddenly, he sobered enough to cross himself and send a muttered prayer heavenward.
Jacey’d no more than dismounted before Alberto engulfed her in his warm and fatherly embrace. Stepping back, he looked her up and down, frowned, and chattered steadily in Spanish. His chiding tone told her plainly enough that he didn’t like what he saw.
Jacey chuckled. “I am a sight, aren’t I, Alberto?”
Blinking, Alberto switched to English. “I forget to use the English for you. And, sí, you are the sight for the eyes that hurt. We have missed you very much. We have said many prayers for you. And we have lit many candles.” He then turned and bellowed into the cantina. “Rosie! Venga aquí—ahora! It is our Catarina!”
He’d no more than said it before Rosie came tumbling out of the cantina. A crowd of curious men wedged into the doorway behind her and at the windows. Laughing, crying, Rosie grabbed Jacey by her shoulders and smacked a loud kiss on both of her cheeks. Beaming, still holding her, she stepped back to look Jacey over, just as Alberto had. Her cheer turned to a frown as she spoke to her father. “She does not look well, no? She is skinny now.”
Alberto raised a finger and shook it, his face appropriately serious. “We will put the fat back on her bones, yes?”
“No,” Jacey broke in, making sure her voice was firm. If these two got rolling with a plan, she’d still be here come Christmas. “You won’t. I’m staying just the night. I’ve got to get home as soon as I can.”
Rosie’s frown deepened as she released Jacey. “Your face says you have been through much, mi amiga.”
To her utter embarrassment, Jacey felt her chin quiver and her eyes fill with hot tears. She blinked and jutted her chin out. “Yes, I have. And not too much of it good, Rosie.”
Rosie stared sympathetically and then exchanged a look with Alberto. Apparently he understood her meaning because he nodded and made a shooing motion at the girls. Rosie turned to Jacey and held her arm out, as if she wanted Jacey to step into her embrace. Surprising herself, Jacey did just that.
“Come,” Rosie ordered as she settled her arm around Jacey’s shoulder. “Papa will see to your horse, and we … you and me … will go around back to your room. And then, you will tell Rosie all about it, no?”
Sniffing in earnest now, Jacey nodded her head. “No. I mean, yes.”
* * *
Jacey slept later than she’d planned. As she quickly washed herself over the basin, she peeked out of the room’s window and made a sound of disgust. The sun was already high above the horizon. Alberto’d sworn last night that he’d wake her at dawn. But he obviously hadn’t. Now, by the time she dressed and saddled Knight, she fussed, it’d be danged near noon. She was losing precious daylight.
Tossing aside the washcloth, she dried off and quickly braided her hair. Getting dressed was only a matter of slipping back into … She reached for her split skirt and blouse and underclothes, which she’d tossed last night onto the chair … and stared. Her clothes were gone. The fury of her Lawless temper exploded over her frowning hot face. She stomped naked to the door, jerked it open, and yelled “Rose!” into the narrow and empty hall. No answer.
“Rosie,” she bellowed again. “Where’re my danged clothes? If I have to, I’ll ride out of here naked. I swear I will.”
That worked. The door from the cantina opened and Rosie stepped through. Her eyes widening, she shushed Jacey. “Catarina, lower your voice. Already there are thirty men out there cheering and wanting to see you do just such a thing. Your clothes will be here in a moment. They are being brushed and readied for you, that is all.”
Rosie walked toward Jacey as she spoke. Jacey yanked the girl into her room and closed the door. Hands to her bare waist, she took out her frustration on Rosie. “Why wasn’t I awakened at dawn?”
Rosie frowned as she looked Jacey up and down. “Please, Catarina, cover yourself.” As Jacey jerked a sheet off the bed and wrapped herself in it, Rosie explained, “My poor father and I were very much tired after last night. We too slept over. Only the thirsty men banging on the cantina doors awakened us. We meant to wake you as soon as we opened our business.”
Somewhat mollified … and feeling guilty, seeing as how she was the reason they’d been up most of the night, Jacey settled down some. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just fretting about getting on the trail to home. When will my clothes be ready?”
Rosie looked everywhere but at her as she answered. “Um, soon.”
Looking askance at her friend, Jacey narrowed her eyes. “What the heck is going on, Rosie? Exactly when will my clothes be ready?”
Rosie shot a darting glance to the window behind Jacey and instantly brightened. “They will be ready now. I will go get them.” With that, she turned and yanked the door open.
Jacey jerked around to the window. Nothing there but the outside. She turned back to the open door and the dim hall beyond it. And frowned.
* * *
“I’m telling you for the last time, I don’t want to go to church before I head out. It’s already past noon, and I need to get going.” Despite her protests, Jacey was already halfway to the mission church. “And why does everyone from the cantina have to go with us?”
She turned in her saddle to look at their following. A crowd of grinning horsemen tailed them. She looked again to Rosie and Alberto, both of them jostling along in their small, loose-jointed wagon. A sleepy old nag pulled it.
Hand
ling the reins and watching the way ahead, Alberto spared her a glance. “Is it so much to ask, Catarina, that you do this one last thing for us? That you go with us and give thanks to the God who saw you safely through your troubles? And these men—any time they spend in a church can only do their souls good.”
Guilt and shame lowered her gaze to her nicely brushed split skirt. “I suppose you’re right.” She raised her head and glared at her two friends’ solemn yet wide-eyed faces. “But right after this mass, I’m leaving. You understand that?”
Two grinning faces and nodding heads met her words. Alberto then turned his attention to the looming white church ahead. “Here we are. San Xavier del Bac.”
Jacey and her following reined in, dismounted, and tethered their horses in the otherwise deserted wagon yard. Taking a deep breath, she resigned herself to the next hour. What could it hurt? She then looked up to the towering spire of the holy building. And remembered the last time she’d been here. That Sunday when Zant’d stalked in and yelled for her and she’d left with him.
To her grateful surprise, the memory wasn’t as painful as it was funny. Well, maybe being in church was just what she needed.
She turned to Alberto and Rosie, only to find that Alberto was making for the entrance and herding the men ahead of him. Rosie was rummaging around in the back of the wagon. She came up with two lace shawls and two small bouquets of flowers. Jacey frowned as she removed her slouch hat and took the offered shawl from Rosie and placed it over her hair. She tossed her hat into the back of the wagon and asked, “What’re the flowers for?”
Rosie thrust the bigger bouquet into Jacey’s hands. “For … you. And me. For an offering.”
Jacey looked at the fall wildflowers in her hand, and thought for a moment of home. She roused herself and said, “All right. Let’s go.”
Rosie grinned and stepped in front of Jacey. “Me first. It’s, um, tradition.”
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