San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

"Si, senorita. It seems Santa Anna has some unfinished business with you. He asked us to bring you to him unharmed, but if you make trouble, we will take him your dead body instead," Ortega said. "Pity Ian McCain is not with you. Santa Anna wants him real bad."

  Emerada cringed, knowing these men had been watching her for days. They had probably waited to show themselves, thinking Ian might come to Talavera. Santa Anna had a lot to hate her for, and he neither forgot nor forgave a grievance. "Shoot me then, because I will not willingly come with you."

  One man shrugged and smiled. "Then we will have to take you by force."

  At that moment Domingo made a dive for his rifle. One of the men raised his gun and fired. Emerada screamed as Domingo crumpled to his knees and then tumbled forward.

  Emerada cried out his name and ran to him, going down on her knees and lifting his head. She saw with horror that blood was soaking through his shirtfront, and she ripped his shirt open.

  "Oh, Domingo, what have they done to you?" She pressed her hand against his wound, frantically attempting to stop the flow of blood.

  His eyes were glazing over, and he was having trouble keeping them focused. "So weak... need to help ...you."

  She glared at the three men, who were now standing in a circle around her. "You must help him. Take the bullet out-bandage him!"

  "Sorry, senorita, his life is not important to me. You will come with us now."

  The man named Chavira gripped her arm and jerked her to her feet. "Santa Anna is impatient to see you."

  She struggled to get back to Domingo as she was being led away. "Please let me help Domingo. I cannot leave him to die!"

  With a laugh, the man forced her through the door. "He is in no condition to follow us and will probably be dead before we ride out of sight."

  Ian halted his horse and glanced at the ruins of Talavera in the distance. He saw no sign of life and wondered if Emerada had moved on. It would be just like her to do that.

  With his jaw clamped shut at an angry angle, he rode down the hill and dismounted in front of the stable. He heard a horse whinny and felt encouraged that Emerada was there after all. The door was standing open, and he stepped inside, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkened stable.

  A groan came from the shadows near the hayloft, and Ian eased his gun out of the holster. "Emerada?"

  Again the groan, this time fainter than before.

  Moving forward cautiously, and knowing something was very wrong, Ian found Domingo sprawled on the floor. He quickly bent down to examine him. When Ian saw the blood, fear for Emerada coiled inside him like the tightening of a mainspring. "Domingo, what happened here? Where's Emerada?"

  Domingo was losing consciousness. "Sorry ... shot me. Could not... help Emerada-"

  Ian raised Domingo's head. "Talk to mewhere is she? Don't pass out on me now. I have to know about Emerada!"

  But Domingo did not respond. Ian placed his head on the big man's chest and was relieved to hear a heartbeat. He laid his gun nearby and rolled up his sleeves. Domingo couldn't tell him anything if he didn't get that bullet out of him.

  An hour later Ian tied a bandage across Domingo's shoulder. The big man had lost a lot of blood, and Ian wasn't sure if he would live. He wasn't even sure if he'd regain consciousness. He willed him to wake up, so he could find out about Emerada.

  Desperate, Ian bathed the big man's face, and Domingo stirred.

  "Can you talk?"

  "Emerada," Domingo said weakly. "Help... her!"

  "What happened to her?" Ian asked, fearing Domingo would black out again before he could tell him.

  "Santa Anna sent men." Domingo licked his dry lips. "They took her. I could not... stop them."

  "Santa Anna won't hurt her. Not when he finds out she's carrying his child. I know he was halfway in love with her. Perhaps he can forgive her for humiliating him at San Jacinto, if she'll tell him about the baby."

  Domingo rolled his head from side to side. "You fool. He never touched..." He stopped to catch his breath. "She never let him touch her."

  Ian shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying." He laid his hand on Domingo's forehead. "It's the fever talking. You're confused."

  "The child she carries is yours! That's why she married you, so..." He paused again until a spasm of pain passed. "She wanted the baby to have its real father's name-your name!"

  Ian closed his eyes as realization ripped through him. He should have known-the truth was there before him all the time. She would never have allowed the man responsible for her family's death to touch her.

  "No time to...lose," Domingo said weakly. "You must save her-I cannot."

  Ian stood, removing his revolver and checking to make sure it was loaded. He had loaded his rifle before he'd left San Antonio.

  "Which way did they go, Domingo?"

  "They would take the shortest way to the border. You have the advantage-they think I am dead, and they will not expect anyone to be following them."

  "Why would they not expect someone to follow them?"

  Domingo pushed his pain aside so he could help Ian. "Emerada told me that she thought she was being watched for several days. Those three men thought she was alone, but for me."

  Ian was anxious to leave, but he had to make sure Domingo was taken care of. He placed a canteen of water and a pouch of dried meat within Domingo's reach. He also laid his rifle beside him. "I have to leave you, and I don't have time to send help."

  "Do not think about me. Go! Find her. And be careful; those three men are as mean as they come. Santa Anna wanted them to bring you." Domingo paled as pain stabbed through him. "Do not take chances-you must kill them, or they will kill you."

  "I'm going to take your horse, since it's fresher than mine."

  Domingo nodded and closed his eyes.

  After circling the area for a few minutes, Ian picked up the trail of four riders. Urgency drove him, but good training kept him cautious. If the men discovered they were being followed, they would probably kill Emerada. They didn't expect to be followed, so they wouldn't be in any hurry, and he could overtake them before morning. Chances were that they'd make camp for the night.

  Anger coiled inside him like a poisonous snake. Sometimes he would lose the trail and have to stop and retrace his tracks.

  But always he pushed onward. The one thought in his mind was to save the woman he loved and his unborn child.

  Emerada was tiring. For the last hour she'd felt an occasional sharp pain in the lower part of her back. She was relieved when they finally stopped. She was so weary that when she dismounted, she dropped to her knees, rubbing her back.

  Ortega chose to make camp in a canyon that was protected on two sides by high cliffs. It would be an easy place to defend. By placing a guard on one of the cliffs, they could observe the whole valley.

  Of course, the men knew, as she did, that no one would come to her rescue. Grief and outrage numbed her-Domingo was dead-they hadn't even given him a chance. They'd just shot him down as if his life didn't matter!

  Emerada was trembling violently when Ortega spread a blanket under an oak tree and motioned for her to lie down. With her hands bound in front of her, it was difficult for her to accomplish, so he eased her down, his hand deliberately brushing against her breasts while his gaze lingered on her lips.

  Emerada fearfully watched him as he went to his horse and got another blanket. When he stood over her, she shuddered with revulsion. "What are you going to do?"

  "Do not fear me, senorita. It will mean my death if you are not delivered to Santa Anna unharmed." His eyes lingered on her lips. "Have a care, though; some things are worth dying for."

  She was afraid to trust him, but she held her hands up to him. "Please loosen the ropes. They are cutting into my wrists."

  "No, no, San Antonio Rose. I will take no chances that you can escape. The ropes stay."

  "If you will help me escape, I will see that you are paid. I can make you a wealthy man."


  He laughed and shook his head. "What good is wealth to a dead man?"

  One of the men laid a campfire, while Ortega sent the other one to stand guard atop the cliff. Emerada twisted and turned, attempting to find a comfortable position. Being heavy with child didn't help, and the hard ground bit into her delicate skin. The pains had returned. They came in waves, and she sometimes had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

  Later Ortega knelt beside her with a plate of beans. "Since your hands are tied, I will have to feed you, San Antonio Rose."

  She shook her head. "I do not want anything."

  "Santa Anna will not be happy if you become ill." He nodded at her swollen stomach. "And I do not think he will be happy about that either."

  She met his gaze. "I hope you are not under the mistaken assumption that I care what Santa Anna is happy or unhappy about. I loathe the man."

  Ortega dipped the spoon into the beans and held it to her mouth. He laughed when Emerada turned her head away. "I can see why you have been so much on Santa Anna's mind. No man could easily forget you." He took a bite of the beans and smiled at her. "Take me, for instance. Perhaps I will change my mind and keep you. We could hide, and Santa Anna would never find us."

  "That would not be wise, Senor Ortega. Because if Santa Anna did not kill you, I would, the first chance I got."

  He shot her a furious glance and stood up, throwing down the plate of beans. "So be it. You have just sealed your own fate."

  Emerada was so miserable she wanted to cry, but she would not give those men that satisfac tion. She watched the sunset until it was no more than a splash of crimson that lingered against the western sky.

  Ian crept up the side of the hill, taking care with each step. He didn't want to start a rock slide that would alert the three men that he was there. His gaze moved over the scrub bushes until he spotted the man on guard. Ian slowly moved back and flattened his body against the cliff.

  Domingo had said that there were three of them, so the other two must be with Emerada. He didn't think they would hurt her, since they were taking her to Santa Anna, but he couldn't be sure, so he had to act quickly.

  Taking particular care where he placed each foot, he inched closer to the guard. Suddenly the man called down to the others, and Ian crept back into the shadows.

  "Hey, amigos, when do I eat? No one is following us-why do I have to stay up here?"

  Ian heard the faint reply. "Martinez will take his turn after he eats. Just keep watching, Chavira."

  He was within a few yards of the man now. The most critical part was yet to come-to dispatch the man before he could alert the others. Ian was within reach of the Mexican now, but he waited until the man's attention settled on the fading sunset.

  Ian lunged forward, clamped his hand over the man's mouth, and drove his knife into the man's heart, all in one quick motion. Ian kept his hand on the man's mouth until he crumpled to his knees and pitched forward on his face. Then he wiped the blood off his knife before sliding it into the scabbard.

  Good, he thought. There are only two now.

  Ian knew that he must act fast, because time was against him. Soon the other man would climb the hill to take his turn at guarding the camp. He dropped down on his stomach and crawled to the edge of the cliff. Emerada was there on a bedroll, apparently unhurt. His lips thinned in anger when he saw that her hands were tied. She was too far away for him to see her face clearly, but he knew she was frightened.

  The remaining two men would pay with their lives for this, just as their companion had.

  By now darkness had fallen, and that was to Ian's advantage. He could stay in the shadows while the campfire illuminated the two Mexicans.

  Carefully he shouldered his rifle and aimed it squarely in the middle of one man's foreheadhe wasn't going to risk only wounding either of them. With practiced accuracy, he pulled the trigger. The man jerked backward, then crumpled in a heap.

  He heard Emerada's muffled cry, and the third man drew his gun and kicked dirt onto the fire, casting the camp in darkness.

  Emerada pressed her back against the tree, thinking they were being attacked by Indians or outlaws. The night was so dark. She could see nothing but the smoldering ashes from the campfire. A hand touched her shoulder-it was Ortega.

  "It seems I did not kill your watchdog, after all. The fool comes for you."

  "It is not Domingo," she whispered, wondering whom she feared the most-Ortega or the unknown assailant.

  Fearfully, Ortegas eyes searched the darkness. "Then who can it be?" He called out, "Chavira, if you are there, answer me."

  Silence was his only answer.

  "Please," Emerada said, holding her arms out to him, "cut me free and give me a gun."

  He shoved her aside. "Whoever it is has killed Chavira and Martinez, and they will kill us, too. If only I knew how many there were." Fear caused his voice to tremble. "What do they want with us?"

  They both heard the sliding stones that alerted them that someone was coming down the cliff. Emerada braced herself against the tree and rose unsteadily to her feet. She inched in the direction of the horses, knowing that Ortega's entire attention was focused on the unknown enemy who stalked them from the darkness.

  Ian watched Emerada mover toward the horses. She was out of the line of fire, so he didn't have to worry about a stray bullet hitting her. He heard a horse gallop away-she had managed to escape. He'd catch her later.

  "What do you want?" Ortega called out. He was also moving toward the horses. "Show yourself so we can talk. I can offer you gold. I am a friend of Santa Anna's."

  "A questionable honor." A cold voice spoke from the darkness at Ortega's right. "If you believe in God, start praying."

  Ortega went down on his knees, trying to conceal his gun in the folds of his shirt. "Do not kill me, senor! We are not enemies."

  Ian stepped into the faint light given off by the coals that had reignited the dry wood. "You are mistaken, Ortega. You are my enemy-you took my wife."

  "You're the Raven's Claw!" He looked confused. "San Antonio Rose is your wife?"

  "That's right."

  Beads of sweat formed on Ortega's upper lip. This was Houston's man-he was dangerous and not to be underestimated. Not even Santa Anna's threats would have made him take the woman if he'd known she was Ian McCain's wife.

  Ortega knew in that moment that if he didn't act quickly, he was a dead man. The hand that held the concealed gun trembled as he pulled it out of his shirt and fired.

  Ian laughed as the shot went wild. "It seems you missed. Now it's my turn, and I almost never miss."

  With anger in his heart, he raised the rifle and fired. Ortega was yanked backward as if by some invisible hand and slammed against the oak tree. He slid forward and lay still, his life blood spilling into the dirt.

  Ian moved quickly toward the Mexican's horse, knowing there was no time to lose if he was going to catch Emerada.

  Emerada was having a difficult time staying astride the horse with her hands tied. She heard the two gunshots, and a sob caught in her throat. They would be coming for her soon, and she could not outrun them with no saddle or bridle to guide the horse.

  A few moments later she heard a rider coming-only one, from the sound of it. No matter who had won the gun battle, none of them would be a friend to her. She kicked the horse in the flanks and gathered the flowing mane in her fingers. Brambles cut into her face, and once she was almost unseated by a heavy branch, but she ducked just in time. She could barely make out the fallen tree trunk just ahead, and there was no way to guide the horse around it. The rider was getting closer now, and she closed her eyes, hoping the horse could make the jump across the wide trunk.

  The horse did take to the air, but Emerada's hands slipped and she was falling. She covered her stomach in an attempt to protect her unborn baby. She hit the ground hard. Pain so sharp she could not breathe cut through her body like a knife.

  The last thing she remembered was the sound of the r
ider getting closer, and then blackness engulfed her.

  Ian saw Emerada fall. Had he saved her from the men, only to lose her now?

  Ian leaped from his horse and knelt by Emerada, lifting her head. When it fell limply back against his arm, he feared she might be dead. Pain hit him like shards of glass. He lowered his head to her chest and was overcome with joy when he heard the strong rhythm of her heart.

  He gently examined her for injuries. He knew by the twisted position of her right arm that it was broken. He swore under his breath. Both he and Emerada had ridden bareback. He had nothing with him to set her arm.

  He had to think clearly. He couldn't move her until her arm was set. He couldn't even build a fire.

  With the need to hurry, he used his knife to hack two limbs from the fallen tree. Ripping his shirt into strips, he was ready. He was glad Emerada was unconscious.

  Feeling gently along her arm, he located the break. Grasping the upper and lower arm, he yanked hard and heard it snap into place. Emerada screamed, her eyes opening wide. He would rather have ripped his own arm off than cause her pain.

  "No." She moaned. "Why are you hurting me?" She closed her eyes and grabbed her stomach. "No. Not my baby."

  That was the first time since finding her that Ian had thought of the baby. "Emerada, I had to set your arm. Its broken."

  She tried to rise, but fell back against the ground. Her eyes were glazed with pain, and she didn't seem to know him.

  "Don't move, Emerada. I have to make a splint. Do you understand?"

  She went limp again, and he hurriedly placed the splints on either side of her arm and bound them tightly with the strips from his shirt. When he was satisfied that the splints would hold until he could get her to a doctor, he fashioned a makeshift bridle out of the rest of his shirt and slipped it over the horse's head. He had to have some control over the animal. If only he'd gone back to get his own horse! But there wasn't time now.

  Ian mounted the horse with Emerada in his arms and rode in the direction of Talavera.

  Suddenly Emerada twisted in his arms and cried out in pain.