“I guess that’s where the trust has to kick in. Mr. Fault, I realize I’m asking you to understand the incredible, and I can’t say much more than what I already have. Destiny is a peculiar creature and we all have our parts in seeing it play out. My part is mostly done. The rest is now up to you.” He stood. “Lives are in your hands.”
“Who are you?” Devon verged on desperation to know. It was as though his memory was oddly blocked- if he could just clear his mind he’d recognize this man- put a name to the face.
“It’s been a pleasure to talk to you, Devon Fault. I can clearly see everything about you in my great-grandmother’s diary is true. God speed.”
“Wait,” Devon shouted, but the stranger turned and with a few long strides had been swallowed by the darkness. He vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
The small metal box lay on the ground. Devon picked it up, running his thumb over the smooth sides. On the back there was writing, a web-like scrawl. He tipped it and read: Professor Fault Class of 99.
A long hard shiver ran down Devon’s spine. He searched the darkness. Nothing. Slipping the box into his pocket he found his horse, grazing quietly nearby.
Then he rode, headed towards the Rio Grande.
* * * *
“Howdy. Name's Fritz Harden and this is my partner Vance McCoy.”
Brandi had crawled to the back of the wagon and peaked through the flap. The two horsemen remained mounted as they spoke to Ed, who sat with the reins in his hands, and a shotgun over his knees. He looked very annoyed about another delay. “So?” he said. “What do you want?”
“I have an important message fer the newest member of yer chorus line.” Fritz smiled warmly. “It’s in her best interest to come with us.”
Brandi’s heart skipped a beat. Lawmen. Or perhaps bounty hunters. And there was no doubt they were asking for her. Lila must have had the same thought. She had been sitting beside Ed, and when the strangers rode up she glanced nervously to where Brandi was hiding.
“Ma’am,” Fritz said, tipping his hat to Lila. “I believe yer acquainted with a young lady who calls herself Brandi Glass?”
“Never heard of her,” Lila answered courageously.
“Allow me to explain,” Fritz continued. “I have been asked by a mutual friend to escort her safely back to her ... husband.”
Ed was glaring at Lila, silent admonishment. She ignored the rebuke, keeping her eyes focused on the horsemen. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Yes,” the stranger said. “You do know. I have not come here to turn her in. I am neither the law, nor do I have vested interest in the bounty on her head.”
“How much of a bounty?” Ed asked, his dark brow lifting into his hat.
“Doesn’t matter, friend,” Fritz grinned. “Neither you or I will see it.” He turned to the wagon where Brandi watched. “Bonnie Johansson,” he called out. “Don’t be frightened. We’re here to help.”
Brandi held her breath. How did he know her real name?
No one spoke. The only movement came from the horses. Fritz’s mount circled as though sensing something wrong. Rather than hold the steed still, he rode up to the back of the wagon. She sank inside.
“Bonnie.” The voice was kind and low, for her ears only. “Devon Fault is with Sara and Romano. I have been asked to take you to them, so you can all go to Antonio’s ranch. They’re waitin’ fer you near the Rio.”
The mention of Devon caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. “He’s safe?” she whispered.
“Yes,” came the answer. “And so are you, if you come with me now.”
She pulled aside the flap to get a good look at this man who seemed to know so much about her affairs. He had a kind face, one that dissolved her wariness. He touched the brim of his hat. “Pleasure, ma’am,” he said.
“Did Devon send you?”
“Indirectly. I understand you must have many questions, but time is of the essence. We must hurry.”
“Who then?” Brandi demanded. “Who sent you here?”
Fritz nodded and slowly reached into his coat pocket, pulling out an envelope. He leaned forward, issuing her to take it. “Quickly,” he coaxed, while scanning the horizon.
Brandi tore open the envelope, crisp and white. It was a clipping from a newspaper. Inquiry into two missing guests continues. Disappearance a mystery. Owners of the resort town of Dry Gulch to pay compensation. Future of resort questionable.
Brandi gaped. The date on the paper was highlighted- August 27, 2005.
“Oh my God,” Brandi cried, her hand flinging to her mouth. “Who gave you this?” Dumbstruck she could barely get the words out. “How could…”
“He didn’t give a name, except Professor. Please, Miss Johansson, we must hurry.”
Lila, paled and frightened, had rushed to Brandi’s side. “Honey?” she said with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Professor,” Brandi mumbled. She felt faint and leaned to Lila for support.
Lila took the slip of paper from Brandi’s trembling fingers, reading it with almost as much horror as Brandi had. “It is true,” she whispered. “Dear saints in heaven. It is true.”
“I’ve got to go,” Brandi muttered.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Oh, Brandi.” Lila threw her arms around Brandi, a quick goodbye. “Be careful. Remember me as your friend.”
“We’ll meet again,” she whispered, still trembling from shock. Swallowing back tears she hugged Lila and then reached for Fritz’s hand to help her to mount his horse.
The animal turned and Brandi glanced behind to wave a last farewell to her friend. Lila still held the newspaper clipping. She stood, frozen in the one spot and waited till Brandi and her escorts were gone.
“Harboring miscreants,” Ed scoffed. “You should be ashamed!”
Lila sighed contentment. “Angels come in many forms,” she said with reverence. Looking at the paper she muttered, “And then only to those who need them the most.”
Chapter Five
Always running. Continually glancing over shoulders. Bodies coiled and tense, never certain about what or who lay in wait around the next corner. The Hollywood romance of outlaw gangs on the run glossed over the endless fatigue and stress of danger with shining heroic actors and plots that twisted in order to encourage that feel-good ending audiences came to expect. Brandi had been seduced by those happy endings although her study of history. Her no-nonsense imagination, she believed, gave her insight into the reality behind every story. Now, as she clung with a death grip to Devon, as his horse swam across the sandy waters of the Rio Grande, she got an inkling of how truly naïve her sense of history had been. True, she was thrilled to see Sara and she was ecstatic to see Devon, but she was tired. Tired of being frightened, tired of dust and heat, tired of aching muscles and an empty stomach. And from the feeble smiles she got from Sara as they continued the cross border escape together, it became apparent she felt exactly the same.
The only beam that kept the darkness at bay was her deepening love for Devon, and the sense that Sara, by the glint in her eye when she looked at Romano, also knew love’s commanding hold.
They had had little time for a joyful reunion. Fritz had known exactly where Devon was waiting and as they rode a steady pace in total silence those hours brushed past as quickly as the countryside. During that time Brandi’s mind swam with reasonable explanations as to who this Professor was and how a paper clipping from the future, her future, could be so easily delivered. Her plunge into history was accidental; the Professor’s obviously was not. He must have been able to open a mystical doorway at command. As dusk turned the sky to orange Fritz slowed. He and Vance scanned the ridge of rocks in front and he called out for Devon in the same non-threatening way he had called for Brandi as she cowered in the wagon. Devon stepped out from the rocks, holding a rifle.
“Off you go,” Fritz had said. “We won’t be riding any closer.”
“Aren’t you going
to say hello, explain why…?”
“Goodbye, Miss Johansson,” he said abruptly. Once she had cleared the horse, he pulled the reins and both men were riding back from where they came.
She had watched them go, puzzled and disappointed. She had thought perhaps he would at least explain to Devon why he helped, who the Professor was, but her confusion snapped into meaninglessness when Devon called out for her. Brandi spun and ran up the incline, slowed by loose pebbles. It seemed like the passing of an eternity before she finally fell into Devon’s familiar embrace. When she did she was so relieved and so happy that words failed. The only sound she could make was a gasp. And then she saw Sara. The gasp turned to a whimper as they hugged.
“Sara?” she whispered, holding her friend as never before. “Are you okay now?” Sara had been so shell-shocked when their paths had parted, her face pale and drawn. The white was replaced with a glow.
“Yes,” she answered. “I’m fine.”
“Come on,” Devon said, holding his own emotions under an ocean of urgency. He watched the riders continue their departure, so small now that they were barely visible except for the pillows of dust the horses kicked up, which glowed red in the day’s dying light. “If we hurry we can get across the river before dark.”
They did. Just.
“Devon?” she said, squeezing her arms tightly around his middle with affection rather than dread.
His blue eyes danced over his shoulder. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured. “We can all rest once we get to the ranch.”
She sighed and rested her cheek against the material of his jacket. “I’m sorry for what happened.”
Devon didn’t accept or reject her apology. They simply rode on into the dim night, the shadows only hinting at the scenery they passed.
Then the night seemed to open. In a wide valley stretched several buildings. White smoke hung lazily in the thick air; dogs barked, their chorus growing more frantic once Romano rode closer. It was his idea to ride up first, as the rancheros were no doubt edgy. Night guards against rustlers from across the border always made them overly trigger happy, especially at the sight of a gringo, Romy told them. From where they waited, Brandi heard the click of guns when a horseman appeared just beyond the ranch’s light, followed by cheers of welcome. Antonio was being called for.
Amidst the hustle of moving figures and lanterns a rider broke free and galloped out to where the three of them waited. “Bienvenido,” he called. “Por favor, follow me now.”
A steady trot and they were guests, ensconced within the wooden fence that enclosed the courtyard of the main buildings. Romano was there shaking hands with a few of the men who had gathered to welcome him. Excited dogs leapt around heels, yapping and jostling for attention as well. Several dirty-faced children were kicking them off. Romano had picked up a little girl, a flurry of Spanish exchanged between them.
A tall man appeared in the lit doorway of the ranch followed by a woman who was hastily shrugging into a shawl. They both darted towards Romano.
“Brother,” Romano called, his free arm extended. The two exchanged a long look of admiration before clasping. “It is good to see you so happy.”
“Even more now that you are home with us!”
Putting down the little girl Romano embraced the woman, lifting her off her feet with a swirl. She laughed and readjusted her shawl when he let go.
“My friends,” Romy introduced with a wave. “Antonio, you remember Devon?”
“Of course,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome. Welcome to my home.” His gray eyes passed over Brandi and Sara. “Ladies,” he smiled, oozing charm that immediately melted Brandi’s fatigue. “Come inside, out of the night. We shall share a drink to celebrate the joy this reunion brings.”
Brandi was anxious to tug Sara to one side so they could talk. She wanted to share experiences of their days apart and she especially ached to share the mystery of the paper clipping. Throwing a glance she hoped said, “I need to talk to you” was fruitless. They were guests and protocol demanded they leave their private exchanges till another time. Sara caught the look, however. “Later,” she whispered into Brandi’s shoulder as they moved towards the front door.
Inside Brandi was shocked at the extent of the wealth. From all that she had ever read she knew the Texans and the Mexicans were mostly at odds with each other, and hadn’t considered that Mexico harbored anything but extreme poverty. Antonio might be the exception. He had a clever look about him, and his command of English was superb. A business mind had paid off for him and his extended family. The wide room that opened up glowed yellow from several lanterns and candles, revealing magnificently carved furniture and neatly woven rugs. Religious icons--crosses and a variety of saints--decorated each wall. One was a small statue of the Virgin Mary holding her Baby, garlanded with flowers and incense. A fireplace crackled along the back wall, illuminating a table adorned with several bottles, glasses and a decanter.
Antonio snapped his fingers and gave several commands. Within minutes they were presented with shot glasses and an unlabeled bottle of what Brandi suspected was Tequila. Following his lead, they accepted the glasses. “To reunion,” Antonio toasted and they tipped back the clear liquid in unison.
It was Tequila. Brandi’s throat stung and her best effort not to choke was unsuccessful. “Sorry,” she spluttered, wiping her mouth. “I’m not used to anything this strong.”
Antonio glided to the table and opened a box, presenting cigars to his brother and Devon. Then he sat with his own half finished cigar, his silk shirt shimmering over his chest. He reminded Brandi of a dashing prince, entertaining court. His hair was long and curled, not black and straight like Romano’s, but a mousy brown. Calfskin trousers were tucked into knee high boots, a bright red sash served as a belt. Crossing his legs he puffed the cigar with sensuous lips, smiling all the while as the little girl from the courtyard crawled up onto Romy’s lap.
Romy hugged and kissed her, smoothing back her hair with gentle strokes, cooing to her in their native tongue. She couldn’t have been any more than five or six years old, her thin frame shaking with excitement beneath her white gown. When Antonio spoke a demand, disappointment washed over her small features. She obeyed and crept from the room, turning often to wave good night to Romy.
“Your daughter has missed you,” Antonio said, a cloud of smoke rising from the cigar. “We all have missed you. It’s good to have you back.”
Daughter? Brandi glanced to Sara. Her jaw had dropped as well but nothing was said. It was apparent by her stunned expression Sara knew nothing of just how extended this family was. Romy offered no explanation. He was staring at the floor, deep in thought.
“It is not my custom to talk of business so soon after the arrival of welcomed company,” Antonio said. “But I wonder if perhaps my guards should be told to be more vigilant more than usual?”
Romy pinched his lips together. “Might be a good idea,” he said softly.
Antonio spoke to the armed guard who hovered near the open door. As soon as he had dashed off, Antonio leaned forward, elbows touching the ridge of the boots. His clean-shaven face had furrowed with concern. “Which Diablo seeks you now, brother?”
Romy and Devon exchanged glances. “Samson Horn,” Devon said. “The bounty is offered by Victor Trilby.”
Antonio’s brow raised. He didn’t reply. An uncomfortable silence followed, interrupted only by the pop of a burning branch. Finally, Antonio stood, filling the glasses. He paused in front of Devon. “There was only one other I considered worse,” he said.
Brandi remembered the conversation around Cal’s dinner table. As a Texas Ranger he had hung Romy and Antonio’s father as a bandito. Not only that, he regretted not hanging the boys with their father. It had made her shiver then; the allusion to the incident made her shiver now.
Devon shifted nervously. “That was a long time ago,” he muttered. “It had nothin’ to do with me.”
“It was yesterday,
” Antonio snarled with vehemence. “My father started this ranch. He worked hard to begin the wealth my family enjoys now. And he was branded a thief for doing nothing more or less than what the Texans do every day. They stole cattle, horses, my father stole them back.” Antonio paced, growing agitated. “He was hung not one mile from where we sit for the repossession of his own animals. Gringo rustlers killed my wife’s brother, to say nothing of good men who work for me protecting the very stock that continue to be robbed from me. Many of the children here have no father because of the greed that brings the Texans across the borders. Don’t tell me it was a long time ago.”
“Antonio,” Romy said, getting to his feet. “Don’t do this.”
Antonio spun to his brother, releasing the full force of his fury. “I will not have these women and children put into danger. Your daughter lives as my daughter because you do not have the courage to live here.” He jabbed his finger into Romy’s chest. “When Cecia died you chose to leave your baby and find fortune among the Texans and when that fails and this monster Horn chases you, where do you run for help?”
Romy stiffened. “You know why I left, why I had to leave. We agreed it was for the best.”
A flurry of Spanish was exchanged. Brandi was certain by the growing tone of hostility the two would soon come to blows.
“Yer right,” Devon shouted, standing to command attention. “Yer right, Antonio. What Cal did was wrong and I am so sorry. But don’t blame Romano fer us bein’ here, blame me. I have no right to do so but I’m the one who needs yer help. I have lost a loved one as well and if not fer yer brother I’d be dead too. He is my friend and I would give him my last breath if he needed it. Together we look for revenge on Victor Trilby. It might only be an attempt to right one wrong, but it’s an attempt we got to make. At least we’re tryin’. At least there is honor between friends.” Devon blinked several times, concealing heightened emotion.
Antonio’s gray eyes closed as wide shoulders heaved to a heavy, remorseful sigh. “Si. I am the one who should be sorry.” He smiled at Romy. “Forgive your quick tempered brother.” He then whirled and offered a swift bow to Sara. “And senorita, please forgive my rudeness.”
Lady Outlaws Page 21
