by Sandra Brown
He laughed and it was an ugly sound. By now, Lauren had figured out for herself the relationship between Carson and Olivia. It would have taken a fool not to see it. Kurt’s snide comment maligned Ben and she wanted to slap his face in Ben’s defense. But he held her arms painfully just above her elbows.
“Of course, Ben had Maria Mendez. It’s a shame what happened to her, isn’t it?” he asked in a lilting voice that suggested he didn’t think it was a shame at all.
Lauren’s struggles ceased abruptly as she stared open-mouthed into his cold, blue eyes. “Wh-what do you know about Maria? How did you know—”
“I make it my business to know everything about the Locketts. Did you learn anything from Maria’s unfortunate demise? Hmm?” he went on smoothly. “See what happens to whores who sell themselves cheaply to the first bidder?”
“Let me go,” she grated, and renewed her efforts to escape his grasp.
“Be nice to me, Mrs. Lockett, and I’ll take care of you. You won’t end up like that Mexican slut.”
His thick lips were inches from hers and she was near screaming when Parker’s voice thundered down the hallway. “Kurt! Let’s go. I’m tired and need to get to bed early.”
Kurt cursed under his breath and the hands on Lauren’s arms increased their pain-inducing pressure. “I promise you, Lauren, there will be a time when I won’t be interrupted by your cowboy husband or anyone else. I won’t be disappointed again.”
“Kurt!”
“Coming,” Kurt called back. Then, lowering his voice again, he whispered near her face, “You won’t be disappointed, either, because you’ve never seen one as big as mine. It’s going to rip into you like a battering ram. And when it’s finished, you’ll be begging for more.” To emphasize his vulgar promise, he ground his hips against her middle.
“Kurt!” the voice down the hallway boomed out.
Cursing expansively, Kurt released her and was gone. Lauren leaned weakly against the back of one of the chairs, her head spinning, her knees trembling and threatening to buckle beneath her.
When she heard the front door closing after Olivia and Carson had bade the Vandivers goodbye, she crept upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. She was violently ill in the bathroom.
* * *
Lauren hung her head over the basin in the bathroom and retched dryly, her stomach having been emptied the night before. The muscles in her throat constricted and painfully urged something to come up and relieve the racking nausea. When the spasms finally subsided, she fell weakly back into her bed.
She thought the illness which had overcome her the night before had been the direct result of her encounter with Kurt. That her nausea had carried over to the morning must mean that she had a minor ailment of the stomach. In fact, she hadn’t felt well for several days, she realized now.
Each morning, an uncharacteristic lethargy accompanied her out of bed. It pressed upon her head and grew heavier as it shrouded the length of her entire body. The simple chores of arising and dressing seemed insurmountable burdens. The weight of her hairbrush as she drew it through her hair caused her arms to fall weakly to her sides. When she brushed her teeth each morning, bile rose up in the back of her throat, and the smell of breakfast wasn’t at all appetizing. Though she ate sparingly, her stomach felt full and bloated and continued to feel like that even when she was hungry.
Lauren’s spirit was ill because of the rift that had come between her and Jared. The idea that soon the heinous plan dreamed up by Olivia and seconded by Parker Vandiver would be put into action was sickening, and she decided that her physical ailments must be manifestations of her mental upheaval.
Rosa’s smooth brown face gazed down at Lauren with concern. “The señora is not well this morning?” She brushed a few stray tendrils of hair away from Lauren’s pale cheek as she lay back on her pillows.
“No, I don’t feel very well. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I have no energy, food makes me sick, even the thought of it makes me sick. I feel so puffy and…” Her voice trailed off, lacking the energy to continue.
Rosa scrutinized her mistress pensively. “When did you last bleed?” she asked softly.
Lauren blushed furiously, but she tried to remember. The process of thinking seemed not worth the effort it required. “I… I don’t recall. I was still at Keypoint. It was sometime in late January. I remember because Gloria had just had the babies and she and I—”
“Señora, don’t you see?” Rosa interrupted her excitedly, “It’s been two months. You are going to have a baby.”
The words fell like stones on her ears, rolled to her aching stomach and almost caused it to revolt again. A baby! That was impossible. She tried to sit up, as if negating her weakness, ignoring the symptoms, could eliminate the malady.
“No, Rosa. I couldn’t be with child. It’s something else, I’m certain.”
As she looked at her friend for confirmation, she saw only the beaming smile, the gladness at their discovery. Yet Lauren felt an inexplicable wave of sadness, for she knew one day she would have to leave Jared. To Rosa’s consternation, she burst into tears and buried her face in the cook’s plump bosom, weeping uncontrollably.
It was a long time before the tears stopped and, when they did, Lauren was embarrassed by her sudden show of emotion.
“I’m sorry, Rosa. I couldn’t help it.”
“It is another symptom of women in your condition, Señora. The tears will make you feel better. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, that sounds nice,” Lauren mumbled absently as she rose from the bed and walked to the window. Rosa was shuffling out of the room to fetch the tea when Lauren called her back. She didn’t turn around and her voice was soft as she requested, “Rosa, don’t tell anyone about the… the baby… just yet. Please.”
“I understand, Señora Lauren.” Rosa closed the door behind her.
* * *
Lauren kept her secret, though she longed to talk to Gloria. She took long walks around the gardens outside even when she didn’t feel like it, but her face remained pale and wan. Dark shadows circled her eyes. If Jared noticed her listlessness and lack of appetite when he saw her in brief snatches, he didn’t mention it. Olivia acted as if she weren’t there.
When Lauren saw Jared for the first time after she had learned of her pregnancy, her heart warmed with love for a few moments before the chill of gloom settled over it again. She had given little thought to their “arrangement” since the marriage had been consummated. Now, she was forced to think about it.
Jared had said that the railroad would be completed by the end of the summer or early fall. The baby would come, if she calculated correctly, around the first of November. She couldn’t hide her pregnancy until the railroad was finished and then leave according to the bargain. What would happen to her baby? She would take him with her, of course, but finding work to support herself would be harder to do with a baby. She could live for several years on the twenty thousand dollars Olivia had promised her if she were frugal, but what then?
The Prathers had urged her in their letter to return to them. She had written back telling them of Ben’s death, her marriage to Jared—omitting the details—of her family and friends at Keypoint. The missive had been warm and loving, but she knew she could never return to their staid, dull life. Where could she live with her baby?
The one thought that plagued her was that she would never be able to take her baby with her. She might well be providing the next Lockett heir. Try as she might, she couldn’t decide how Jared and Olivia would feel about her child. Of one thing she was sure—nothing and no one would separate her from her baby. She already loved it, was protective of it, and it was probably the only part of Jared she would have after her usefulness to the Locketts’ enterprise had ended.
A small glimmer of hope refused to dim on the horizon of her mind. While Jared had never spoken of love, she had read tenderness in his eyes, seen an affection there as he watched her. Surely he felt some
fondness for her. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was all she had.
But as she met his closed, remote face at each of their fleeting encounters, that hope began to diminish.
* * *
The tension in the house mounted. The chasm between Jared and his wife grew wider. His midnight rides became a nightly ritual. The muscles of his face, the nervous darting eyes, and the continual clenching of his fists indicated a restrained violence that had to erupt soon or destroy the man from within. His abrupt, curt attitude toward Lauren forbade her to approach him. He’d asked for her trust. Now, in the dawn light, that appeal seemed unreal. His behavior certainly didn’t inspire trust.
She ventured into the stables one morning and was alarmed to see boxes of guns and ammunition stacked against one wall. It was an arsenal of immense proportions. Her heart quaked. Before, she had been concerned about other people getting hurt. Now she realized there was a very real possibility that her own husband could be injured or killed. She prayed fervently that something would happen to prevent this entire fiasco.
Nothing did.
Unable to tolerate her own passivity, Lauren decided that if she couldn’t keep the tragedy from happening, she could at least erect obstacles for the perpetrators. Late one evening after Jared had left the house, she let herself quietly out the front door and ran to the stable. Pepe was working by lantern light mending a bridle.
“Señora Lockett,” he said in surprise as Lauren swiftly shut the door behind her.
“Pepe, do you know what is in those boxes? What they’re for?”
He licked his lips nervously and looked away quickly. “Sí, but Señor Jared told me not to tell.”
“Well, we’re not going to let it happen, Pepe. You and I are going to do something to slow them down.”
“But, Señora Lockett, he—”
“How can you keep a gun from firing, Pepe?” she asked, ignoring his discomposure.
“Señora, the guns—”
“You’re right. We’d never be able to handle all of the guns without them noticing. What can we do?” she wailed, twisting her hands. Then her eyes lighted on the boxes of shells. “The bullets! That’s it. Without a bullet, a gun is useless, isn’t it?” She was talking rapidly, musing aloud. “We’ll hide them. Of course, they might bring their own on the night of the raid, but at least they won’t have these.”
“You want to hide the bullets?” Pepe’s voice had risen an octave as he stared at her incredulously. His dark eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape.
She placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Pepe. I’ll take full responsibility if Jared or anyone else should ever find out.” Then her gentling tone changed and became brisk and businesslike. “Now, where are the shovels? We’ll bury the boxes out there,” she said, pointing to the back of the building. “Please hurry. I may be missed any minute.”
“Señora—”
“Please, Pepe,” she said impatiently. “Don’t be afraid of reprisals. Don’t you want to help your own people?”
He turned away from her, muttering to himself in Spanish and shaking his head, but he did as he was instructed. By the time they hauled the heavy boxes to the rear of the stable, dug the holes, and buried them to her satisfaction, Lauren was dirty and tired and her back ached abominably.
“If I can, I’ll try to get word to you when the raid is going to take place. Can you warn the people of Pueblo?”
“Si,” he said with the weary attitude of one who is ready to agree to anything.
“If I can’t get word to you, take it upon yourself. Ride into Pueblo and alert as many as you can. Tell them to take cover. Anything to protect themselves.”
“I will, Señora Lockett.”
“Thank you, Pepe. You’ve been a tremendous help. You’ll be a hero to your people.” She smiled at him before leaving the stable. Undetected, she made her way upstairs, where she washed away the damp soil clinging to her hands and clothes. When she fell into bed, her limbs were as heavy and sore as her spirit.
* * *
It was fortunate that she and Pepe had done their work the night before, because the next day it began to rain and it rained for several days. Large, heavy pellets of water fell relentlessly from the sky. The air was close and stifling, adding to Lauren’s pregnancy-related discomfort.
Confined to the house, Lauren paced back and forth in her room between the bed and the windows, unable to read or sew, or to concentrate on anything except her unforeseeable future and that of her child.
Then the rain stopped. The clouds hung low in the sky and the air was still thick with humidity, but the rain ceased.
And at dusk one evening, the mercenaries converged on the house.
Lauren heard the first clump of boots as she sat at the dinner table with Olivia, Jared, Carson, and the Vandivers. She toyed with her food, every now and then putting a bite into her mouth and forcing herself to swallow it, praying that it would stay down.
She was deathly afraid of Kurt Vandiver now. Since he had accosted her and made his lewd threats, the sight of him sickened her and made her tremble in fear.
When the sound of the heavy treads was heard on the porch, the others at the table started, glancing at each other quickly and tensely. Kurt rose from the table and rushed out of the room to the front door even before the knock echoed through the still rooms.
Lauren heard the low mumblings of several voices before Kurt closed the door and returned to his place at the table.
“I told them to wait in the stable. They’ll gather in there and… ready themselves.”
Parker nodded, satisfied. His cold blue eyes flashed in anticipation. His look was predatory. Lauren shivered despite the warm, muggy air.
She looked at her husband, unable to continue the pretense of eating. He was dressed like a vaquero. The red scarf he had been wearing the day he kissed her in the shelter of the boulders was tied negligently around his throat. He usually wore formal attire for dinner in Coronado, but she had been too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice this incongruity before now. She knew he felt her eyes on him, but he refused to meet them.
Carson’s normally hearty appetite had waned and he sat sipping his wine. Olivia ate calmly, as though the interruption had never happened. Kurt leaned back in his chair indolently, studying Lauren. He seemed unaffected by the tension around the table.
“How… how long before we know something, Jared? I mean, how long will it take?” Carson asked nervously.
Jared shrugged and took a long swallow of whiskey.
“You have a big night ahead of you, Jared. I’d lay off the whiskey if I were you,” Parker said.
Jared fixed a golden stare on him, then tipped the glass to his lips once again. Parker’s face flooded with anger, which purpled the veins in his nose and cheeks.
“Send us word when the plan has gone into effect. Carson and I will be eager to know what is happening.” Olivia’s face was shining. She might well have been talking about a Mardi Gras ball. To Lauren, her eagerness to destroy was obscene.
“Well, never put off until tomorrow what you can do today, or something to that effect,” Kurt said lightly, rising from the table and going to the window. “Looks like they’re all here. It’s a good thing you don’t live in the center of town, Lockett. People might wonder what the hell was going on.”
Parker, Olivia, and Carson stood, pushing their chairs back and moving toward the door. Except for Lauren, Jared was the last one to rise. He did so slowly, deliberately. His Colt, in its holster, lay against his hip. A leather cord tied around his thigh held it secure. He wasn’t entering a harmless shooting match. His gun was loaded and primed for a deadly purpose.
Lauren was out of the chair in a flash, her former sluggishness forgotten. She placed herself between Jared and the door, grabbing his forearms with her slender fingers.
Breathlessly but incisively, she said, “Jared, I beg you, don’t be a part of this thing. Please.” His face was cold, implacable
, his eyes impenetrable. When he didn’t speak, she went on, “Think, Jared! Think of Rudy and his family.”
“Rudy is a fool,” he lashed out. “He wants to solve things peacefully. He thinks everything Ben ever said is chiseled in stone, but I’ve learned that Ben could be wrong. He was certainly wrong about you and me and this ‘grand love’ between us.”
The barb hit home and she floundered, aware of the others listening to their dialogue. She tightened her grip on him. “I believe in you, Jared. Once, just a few weeks ago, you asked me to trust you—”
“You heard only what you wanted to hear. I also strongly hinted that you’d do well to accept things as they are and to keep your moralistic opinions to yourself. Apparently you don’t take hints too well. I don’t give a damn whether you trust or approve of me. I do as I please.”
She wanted to scream in frustration. “Do you realize how this might jeopardize your future… our future?”
His eyes darted to the interested witnesses behind her, then came back to her face. His lips curled mockingly. “Our future? We have no future, Lauren. You know what your future with us is. When you have fulfilled your part of the bargain, you’re gone. A lot richer, but gone. Do you now regret selling yourself so cheaply? What do you want? More money?”
Lauren swallowed the congestion in her throat. She stuttered as she tried to speak. “At… at Keypoint, you… we… it was… different.”
He laughed at her mirthlessly, his face ugly in its contempt. “Do you think because I’ve slept with you that things have changed between us? That I’ve developed an ‘attachment’ to you?” He snorted derisively. “You were a pretty good lover once you learned how. And you were handy. What did you expect me to do? You were the only warm body available in a snowstorm. If you place any more importance on my bedding you than that, you’re even more stupid than I thought.”
Her disillusionment turned to pain, then to anger. “Not too stupid to see you for what you really are. I placed far too much faith in you, Jared Lockett. I thought you were growing up, becoming the kind of son your father deserved, the kind of husband I wanted.” She paused and gulped for air. “Now I see that you’re as avaricious, as cruel as they are. Jared, I—” She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to beg him not to do this thing. Instead, she said, “I curse you to perdition if you do this thing.”
