San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  She rested her head against his shoulder, enveloped by his strong arms. She took a deep breath, wishing she could be absorbed into his body so she would feel no more pain.

  He shoved her forward as if her touch was unwelcome. Emerada smothered a sob. Ian thought he was escaping with Santa Anna's mistress.

  They had been riding for hours before Ian thought it would be safe to stop. He dismounted, holding his arms up for Emerada, and she slid into them. He quickly set her on her feet.

  Ian saw Emerada stagger and catch her balance. She must be tired, but knowing her, she'd probably rather die than say so.

  Ian had expected her to plead with him to release her, but she hadn't. Apparently she had accepted whatever her fate would be at his hands. He was raging inside. He could never forgive himself for neglecting his duty. Even so, there was something within him that made him want to reach out and comfort Emerada. It didn't matter that Santa Anna was her lover; she still fascinated him.

  Emerada leaned against a tree and gazed back the way they'd come. "There is food in the saddlebag if you are hungry," she told him.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "I couldn't eat a bite." She gave a weary sigh and dropped down on the ground. "I just can't get the sight of all those men out of my mind. I see the horror of it even when I close my eyes."

  "Did you betray Travis and Bowie?"

  "You would not believe me no matter what I told you."

  "No. I wouldn't"

  Emerada looked into the clear sky that sparkled with stars. "It is difficult to believe that so many men died today, men who watched the sun come up this morning, but who will never see another sunrise."

  "Well camp here. It's as good a place as any," Ian said gruffly. He unstrapped the saddlebag and tossed it on the ground. She had thought of everything. There was even a rifle with a box of bullets and two canteens of water.

  Emerada silently watched him.

  After he'd unsaddled and hobbled the horse, he sat beside her, rummaging through the saddlebag for food. "I dare not light a fire, because someone might see it."

  Still she said nothing.

  He found two hard biscuits and handed one to her.

  She shook her head. "Could I use enough water to wash my hands?"

  "Just like a woman," he mumbled. He handed her a canteen.

  "It's just that I was helping with the wounded today and the blood..." She shuddered. "I didn't take time to wash because I had to get you out of camp."

  Ian felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. He took the canteen and poured the water for her. She let the water run through her fingers and onto the ground. "I feel like Pilate," she whispered, rubbing her hands together. "I will never get the blood off my hands."

  "We all have blood on our hands, Emerada," Ian said, wondering what guilt had brought about such a revelation. "With the passing of time, perhaps we will both find absolution."

  Emerada could feel a sob building up within her. She hadn't cried at all during the horrible attack on the Alamo. Now she couldn't seem to stop. She leaned her head against the tree, and the tears flowed freely.

  She felt Ian bend down next to her and awkwardly place his hand on her shoulder. "You are so young to have witnessed such a sight. It wasn't your doing."

  She shoved his hand away and stood up, glaring at him. "No, it was not my fault! I leave the killing and defacing of the land to soldiers such as you. You should look to yourself, and to men like you, for the answers."

  A muscle tightened in his jaw. "Your lover won today, but at a terrible cost."

  Emerada walked away from him and rested her head against the trunk of a tree, hurting terribly inside. If she had it all to do over again, would she still take the same path? Yes, she would. She hadn't been beaten yet. Of course, it might be difficult to explain to Santa Anna why she and Ian had disappeared at the same time. He would surely be suspicious.

  She took in a deep breath and stared up ward. To get Santa Anna to trust her again, she would have to let him make love to her. She shivered as she thought of his hands on her, his lips on hers.

  How would she bear it?

  Emerada was prepared to do anything to destroy Santa Anna. She would even sacrifice her beliefs, bury her conscience deep, and remember only that the man must be destroyed. She would have to become what Ian already thought she was-Santa Anna's mistress.

  A short time later, she retraced her steps and found that Ian had piled up grass and was spreading a blanket over it.

  "It'll be softer than the ground," he said without looking up. "I'm afraid we will have to share the blanket, since we only have the one."

  "I didn't expect to be going with you, so I did not bring one for myself," she reminded him dryly.

  "Make yourself comfortable. I am going to see to the horse."

  "I packed oats in the leather bag."

  "It seems you thought of everything," he said bitingly.

  Emerada lay down on the soft bed of grass, pulled the blanket over her, and thought it felt better than a bed with Santa Anna's silk sheets on it. She turned onto her side, thinking that this had been the longest day of her life. Would she ever be able to sleep without seeing all those dead faces? She squeezed her eyes to gether tightly, but she trembled with fear. She needed someone to hold her, someone to assure her that this long night would pass and tomorrow would bring an end to the terrible war.

  But would it?

  When Ian returned, he lay down beside her. She offered him part of the blanket and moved as far away from him as she could get while still keeping her share of the blanket. He could not know that she ached for him to reach out to her, to draw her into his arms and hold her until she could stop trembling.

  "Did you steal the horse?" he asked after a long, awkward silence. "Or did your lover give him to you?"

  She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to remove some of the tangles. "I did not steal it. As to the other, you have already drawn your own conclusion."

  He ignored her anger. He needed to talk, and it didn't matter what he said or what she answered. "He's a fine horse. Must have cost someone a hatful of gold."

  "My-er...I once knew a family who raised blooded horses. Soledad is from their herd."

  "Soledad? Why did you name a horse `Lonely'?"

  "When he was a colt, he did not want to be with the other horses. But he would follow-" She broke off for a moment. "He would follow the owner's daughter around like a faithful puppy. It was quite a sight."

  He could tell she was troubled, and he was trying to take her mind off the battle today. He had been hard on her, and he was feeling guilty for that.

  "It's a wonder the daughter could give him up, since he was so faithful to her."

  "Life is full of difficulties." She turned over onto her side again and closed her eyes. "I want to sleep now."

  Ian knew she would have trouble sleeping, just as he would. He had loaded the rifle earlier, and he placed it within easy reach. There were bound to be deserters spread throughout the hills, and he didn't intend to be surprised by one of them.

  He heard Emerada sigh and had the strongest urge to reach out and touch her, to bring her some semblance of comfort. "If they knew my bed partner, I would be the envy of every man in Texas and Mexico tonight."

  She knew him well enough by now to guess that he was going to say something insulting. "Believe me, you are just one of many," she replied, hoping to nettle him. "I am practiced at lovemaking, as you have probably guessed."

  "I'm not surprised," he murmured, wondering why he was so angry. "You know too much about men not to have learned it in the bedroom."

  "That does not mean that I will welcome any unwanted attention from you," she said hur riedly, hoping she hadn't given him the wrong impression. "I choose my men carefully."

  "Go to sleep, San Antonio Rose; you are safe with me. I have never been one to fancy another man's leavings, especially not if that man is Santa Anna."

  No one could make her as
mad as Ian. "I never invited you to my bed, and I never will. I pick and choose whom I take for a lover."

  He turned his back with a jerky motion, and she smiled. She had gotten under his skin at last, even if she had told a lie to do it.

  In her sleep, Emerada gravitated toward the warmth of Ian's body. She fit into the curve of his arms and sighed contentedly when she snuggled tighter against him.

  Her silken hair fell across his face, and he could smell some sweet, exotic scent. Carefully he reached up with the intention of removing her hair from his cheek, but when he touched the silken strand, he caressed it, loverlike.

  His body came alive as if someone had lit a fire inside him. Since the first moment he'd seen her in Houston's camp, he'd wanted to kiss those defiant lips. He wanted to crush her in his arms, awaken her passion, to make her feel some of the torment she'd put him through.

  Ian lowered the strand of hair from his lips, his body trembling. She stirred something within him that burned through his whole being.

  Emerada moved her face, and her lips were only inches from his. He could feel her breath on his mouth, and he sat up quickly to keep from taking her into his arms.

  She merely moaned in her sleep without waking. Arranging the blanket over her so it would be a double thickness, he walked down the hill to where the horse was tethered, needing to put some distance between himself and Emerada. This dancer who admitted to being with many men had fired his passion as no other woman ever had. He stood for a long moment, trying to clear his mind.

  What strange circumstance put him and Emerada on the same path? he wondered. What twist of fate made him want her so badly that it hurt?

  He heard a twig snap and gazed up the hill where Emerada slept, thinking she might have awakened. She was sitting up, probably awakened by the same noise he'd heard. Perhaps it was only an animal.

  Damn it, he'd left the gun behind!

  Taking care to remain in the shadows, Ian climbed the hill. He couldn't be sure it was an animal, and Emerada was alone.

  Emerada looked around for Ian, thinking his movement must have awakened her. She wasn't concerned. He would hardly have forced her to come with him and then abandoned her here in the wilderness.

  "Well, well, Burt, lookee here at what we got us," a man remarked, stepping from behind a laurel bush and squinting at her in the half darkness. He was soon joined by his companion.

  "We got ourselves a little senorita, Gip. Hey, honey, you all alone out here?"

  Emerada jumped to her feet, frantically looking about for Ian. The strangers had the appearance of buffalo hunters, but they were too far south to hunt those shaggy beasts. Fear tugged at her mind as one man stepped in front of her and took her chin in his grimy hand, turning her face to the moonlight.

  "You're a real beauty," Burt said, his gaze raking her delicate face. "I ain't never had me no woman as pretty as you."

  "I get her after you, Gip," Burt said, dipping down and scooping up the rifle Ian had left behind. "I'm gonna have me a real good time with her."

  Emerada was frozen in place. She should have run when she had the chance. The filthy man ran one hand over her breasts, pinching and kneading until she winced in pain.

  "Please do not do that, senor," she said, shuddering in revulsion. She tried to back away from him, but his grip merely tightened.

  "Well, now, don't she talk American all fancy like. A looker, and she's got schooling, too." His foul breath fanned her face, and when she turned her head away from him, he wheezed with laughter. "You're gonna like me, little senorita."

  "I don't think so." A cold, steely voice spoke from the shadows. "Let her go," Ian warned.

  Both men whirled around to see a tall man just behind them. "Who'd you be?" the man called Gip asked, noticing with satisfaction that the stranger didn't have a gun.

  "I'm the man who's about to end your miserable life, you bastard. Take your hands off her!"

  "Now I don't 'zackly see it like that," Burt said, displaying the rifle. "There's two of us, and only one of you, and this here must be your gun." He chuckled. "What're you gonna do, throw rocks at us, scare us to death?"

  "You're wasting time," Ian said coolly. "You can either drop the guns-both of you-and ride away, or die. It is of little matter to me either way. You decide."

  There was something unsettling about the calmness with which Ian spoke, and Gip laughed nervously. Still, he put on a face of bravado for his companion-after all, he was holding a gun on the stranger. He elbowed Burt in the ribs. "Tell him we done killed us five Mexicans, down to the creek this morning."

  "Back-shot, no doubt," Ian said, glancing at the stars as if he were gauging time. "You have ten seconds to release her and ride away."

  "I'll just shoot ya dead now and have done with it," Burt replied, cocking the rifle and aiming it at Ian's head. "Don't worry 'bout the little senorita here, 'cause when you're dead, Gip and me'll take care of her."

  In that moment, Ian leaped forward so swiftly that both men were taken by surprise. He grabbed Gip's arm and slammed him into Burt with such force that both men lost their balance and tumbled to the ground, their arms and legs entangled.

  Unfortunately, Emerada went down with them. Ian stepped across them, kicked their guns out of their reach, and picked up his rifle. He then extended his hand to Emerada and pulled her up, pushing her behind him, all the while keeping the rifle trained on the two men.

  "While you're down there, take your boots off," Ian said.

  "What! You want our boots?"

  "Take them off, I said!"

  Both men scrambled to comply, first one boot and then the other. They knew by the tone of his voice that he'd shoot them dead if they didn't do as he ordered.

  "Get their guns and put them in the saddlebags, Emerada. Then saddle the horse and lead it up here."

  After she had retrieved the guns and rushed down the hill to the horse, he spoke to Burt and Gip. "Kick your boots over here."

  Again, both men did as he asked. But Gip found his voice. "What're you gonna do with us?"

  "I thought about shooting you bastards after what you tried to do to the lady, but you just aren't worth the trouble. So I've decided to take your horses, guns, and boots."

  Burt glared at Ian. "Then you'd better just shoot us. Without our guns, we're as good as dead."

  "That's about the way I figure it," Ian agreed- "If hostile Indians, Mexican soldiers, or wild animals don't get you, you will have a long, hard walk to civilization without boots."

  "You son of a-"

  "Yes, I know," Ian interrupted Gip. "I don't care that much for you either."

  Burt was looking Ian over carefully, as if memorizing his face. I'd kinda like to know your name, stranger, so I'll know who to come looking for if I live through this."

  By now Emerada had ridden up, leading the two other horses.

  Ian nodded. "I won't be hard to find. Name's Ian McCain."

  Both men gaped at him. "The Raven's Claw!"

  "Some have called me that."

  "We're real sorry, Colonel. We'd never have touched your woman if'n we'd knowed it was you. Hell, we was on our way to join up with General Houston and give him a hand."

  "Don't trouble about that," Ian warned them. "Houston doesn't want your cut of man in his army. If you do get out of these hills alive, I'll make certain that he hears about tonight."

  "But we was just funning. We didn't really mean-"

  Ian turned away and mounted one of the mens horses. "I'd walk to the west, if I were you. Its of no matter to me, but the Mexican army is swarming all over the place. They will kill any Americans they find."

  He nudged the horse in the flanks, and he and Emerada rode over the hill. It was some time before distance and the wind drowned out the curses howled by Gip and Burt.

  They rode until sunrise, then stopped to rest the horses.

  "Ian," Emerada said, sliding off her horse. "Thank you."

  "Forget it," he said.

 
She trembled with revulsion. "I thought they were going to...to..."

  He looked at her with compassion and concern. "I know. Its over-put it behind you."

  She was shivering, and her teeth chattered. "Could we have a fire to make coffee? I would love something hot to drink."

  Ian looked about him to estimate the safety of their position. They were on a rise, and he could see the valley for miles around. "I think we can chance it. If you would gather wood for a fire, I'll tend to the horses. Make certain the wood is dry so it won't smoke much."

  She nodded.

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Do I have your word that you won't try to escape?"

  "That is a promise I will never give." She removed the saddlebag containing the food. "You have my word that I will not try to escape until I have had something to eat and drink."

  He laughed and led the horses away. Then he went through the possessions of the two men to see if there was anything they could use. They were a long way from Houston's compound, and the Indians he'd warned Gip and Burt about would also be a danger to him and Emerada. He discarded everything except foodstuff and guns. He then unsaddled one of the horses, hit it on the rump, and sent it galloping down the hill. They would be traveling fast and didn't need the extra horse.

  Soon he smelled the aroma of fresh coffee and found Emerada humming as she presided over several slices of fatback that sizzled in an iron skillet. He rubbed his hands together and held them over the campfire to warm. "So you cook. I would not have numbered domestic chores among your accomplishments."

  She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face and smiled at him as she turned the meat. "Perhaps it would be better if you withheld judgment until you have tasted the food."

  "We had better eat fast and find shelter." He nodded toward the eastern horizon. "There's a storm brewing."

  Dark storm clouds were gathering to the east, and the weather fit Emerada's mood. She found Ian staring at her, and her cheeks flushed. She focused on pouring him a cup of coffee to hide her sudden shyness.

  When Ian reached for the coffee, he accidentally brushed her hand. She felt as if her heart were going to jump through the wall of her chest.