by Brenda Joyce
"Why would he steal at such a point in his life?" Storm asked.
"It was a helluva diamond. Maybe he just couldn't pass up the temptation. A nice little egg like that could have set him nicely on his feet. What does it matter? He was tried and convicted—he was caught with the ring in his pocket.
"Seven months after his incarceration began, he escaped. He was working on a chain gang and overpowered two guards, stole one of their guns, and forced them to unlock his manacles. After tossing the key to the other inmates, he took off, and did not come to my attention until last year."
Lloyd paused briefly, his gaze touching everyone in the room. "As you probably know, our government is very concerned with the recent events in Cuba. It's a mixed deal. A lot of American property is at stake. Our citizens have some fifty million dollars invested in that island, and that doesn't include the cash value of our annual trade. Right now we have sixteen million dollars of claims filed against the Spanish government for property damage and loss and even downright dispossession, but they turn a deaf ear. That's another story anyway. We're also a democracy, and it's a fact that an American can't look the other way when an entire people are savagely oppressed. There's also strategic considerations. Cuba's in our backyard."
"Get to the damn point," Rathe erupted. "I know more about fucking Cuba than you ever will."
"Yes you do, don't you, Rathe? You and your family are major investors, aren't they? Maravilla, railroads, freight depots, warehouses, shipping, ports, you name it."
"Half of the board of the Manhattan Bank has major assets in Cuba," Rathe snapped.
"Exactly. That's why we are so concerned, as I said. That's why when guns began to reach the rebels in Havana, I was brought in."
"And Shoz is running some of those guns," Nick stated. "Shoz is running most of those guns. He's been doing it very successfully for the past year. He's clever. But we almost caught him a few months ago in Corpus Christi when he was sending out a shipment. Unfortunately, he and his men escaped." The agent was grim for the first time. "Nevertheless, I can offer hope, and a lot of it. We have an informer in Santiago."
Everyone sat up straighter except for Rathe, who was on his feet. "How in hell does that affect me? I don't give a damn about Cuba right now!"
"I understand that your daughter has priority, Rathe, believe me, I do. But we have a common interest, wouldn't you say? In apprehending Shoz Cooper.''
"I take it you are going to make us a proposition?" Nick asked dryly.
"Damn right. We're going to work together. That is, you're going to do my work for me, in Mexico, where I have no damn authority and no right to be."
Six pairs of eyes shifted and met and turned back to Lloyd. "I don't think anyone here objects to breaking a Mexican law or two," Brett said. "I certainly don't."
"Good, but let's make sure we understand each other. I will tell you everything you need to know, but if your path ever crosses that of the Mexican authorities, you're private citizens acting on your own."
"We've played this game before," Derek said. "Goon."
"The rebels are awaiting another shipment of guns, des-perately," Lloyd said. "There was a delay recently when one of their men was caught by the Spanish authorities and executed. He had met Shoz Cooper three times this past year on Texas soil to buy the guns and ship them to Cuba. It's only a delay. They are sending someone else to take his place—soon. When they set up the new deal to make the transaction, we will know exactly where it will be, and when. And Shoz Cooper will be there."
Rathe lunged forward. "And we'll be waiting for the bastard."
"That's right."
"I'm going to kill him," Rathe said.
Chapter 28
The door opened and hit the wall with a bang. Startled out of a sound sleep, Lucy practically bolted out of the bed. Bright morning sunlight was streaming through the windows. Realizing she wore nothing but her drawers because of the heat, Lucy clutched the sheet to her neck, expecting to see Shoz in a temper.
Carmen stood against the door. She wore a naming red blouse and a black skirt with a another gold one underneath. There were pink combs in her hair. "Get up!"
Luck blinked. "Pardon me?"
"The sun is up. Who do you think you are? Everyone is already working. Get up!" She strode out.
Lucy debated defying Carmen; after all, who was she to tell her what to do? Then, as exhausted as she was, she decided it wasn't worth fighting over, not with that volatile woman. Besides, judging from the sunlight pouring into her room, and the oppressive, wet heat, she had already overslept. She rose, washed, and dressed quickly.
In the kitchen, Carmen and the older woman were rolling tortillas. "Finally!" Carmen cried. She shoved a rolling pin at Lucy. "Linda will show you how to do it."
Lucy found herself holding the pin and thinking that this was patently unfair. "I'm not doing this. I haven't even had my breakfast yet!"
"The royal queen hasn't even had her breakfast!" Carmen mimicked. She seemed ferociously angry. "Did you hear that, Linda? You are our prisoner," she said to Lucy. "And you do as we say. As I say."
Lucy had had enough. She put down the rolling pin. "I am not your prisoner. And I am going to eat breakfast." Even if I have to make it myself, she added silently. This was in itself a major concession.
She had forgotten about last night, sleepy as she still was. Carmen grabbed her ear, shocking and hurting her. "You didn't clean up last night, did you? Today you sleep until seven. Now you don't want to work? Do you want me to give you to the men?"
Lucy wrenched free, her ear throbbing, her heart pounding, her eyes wide. "How dare you!" Her tone broke. The memory of Carmen almost cutting off her braid with a knife last night came rushing back to her. And now she had mauled her. That another person should touch her so, should willfully hurt her. . . She was speechless.
"Start work!"
Lucy just stared, stunned and shaken. This woman was mad, she decided. Mad and dangerous. God! She didn't want to go to Shoz, but she knew she needed protection from this witch. "Where is Shoz?" She started for the door at a run, but Carmen's answer brought her to a halt.
"He is not here." There was pleasure in her tone.
Lucy whirled. "What do you mean? You make it sound as if he has already left!"
"He has! He has gone with most of the men." Slyly she said, "But he left two. To guard you. His instructions were clear. You are his prisoner, puta, and you are to help me. If you disobey me, you answer to me."
This could not be happening to her, Lucy Bragg. To be kidnapped by Shoz was one thing. To want him was another.
But to be left here, a prisoner, at the mercy of his violent wife... "When will he be back?"
"Ten days. Maybe even two weeks."
Ten days.. . two weeks. Now she recalled him saying so. How would she survive? Lucy didn't have a chance to consider her new dilemma. Carmen warned, "If you do not start making tortillas, I am going to let Pedro and Jose have you. I mean it."
Lucy did not doubt her. Tears of rage, frustration, and even despair welled. She reached for the rolling pin she had set down, and accepted the dough Linda handed her. How could this be happening? How could Shoz have left her here alone? Moments later, she was up to her elbows in cornmeal.
After an hour or so, spent mostly sipping coffee and eating buttered bread while dispensing bossy orders, Carmen left. Lucy worked numbly alongside Linda, now chopping veg-etables. She tried not to think; it was better not to think.
It was with surprise that she realized Linda was holding out a hot cup of coffee. Lucy accepted it gratefully. It was very strong, black with the barest amount of sugar, but it was delicious. She sipped it with relish, watching the older woman, who regarded her as well. Linda seemed old enough to be Carmen's mother, and time had not treated her well.
"Thank you for the coffee."
"De nada."
"Is it really so early? It's so hot—I thought I woke up late."
"Carmen woke you a
fter the padrone rode out—just after seven."
Lucy clenched her fist. She didn't know who she was angrier at, Carmen for making sure Shoz was well and gone before waking her, or Shoz, for leaving without a goodbye. She remembered how Shoz had wanted to say goodbye last night and felt herself flushing. She had done the smart thing in refusing him, the only thing. Had he gone to Carmen? It shouldn't upset her, but it did.
Lucy was determined to have some answers as long as Carmen was gone. "Have you been here long?"
"Many years."
Lucy set the cup down. "As long as Carmen?"
Linda nodded. Lucy felt her heart sinking. "And Shoz? He, of course, has been here with you for many years?"
"Of course. All this is his. He is the boss, the padrone."
"Why did he go? Where did he go?"
The big woman shrugged. "I do not know where he goes. You ask a lot of questions about him, senorita."
Lucy shrugged to hide her interest. "He kidnapped me. And Carmen? Is she—always so—emotional?"
"Carmen is Carmen."
How apt. Lucy finished the coffee, glancing out the window. No sign of her new tormentor. At least in Linda she had some sort of ally. Was Carmen also so "emotional" in bed? So volatile? Lucy imagined she was. She was probably exactly how Shoz liked a woman to be in bed. The thought was unbearable.
"What are you doing?" Carmen cried from behind her.
Lucy jumped and spilled the coffee. It was hot and it burned her hand, but she stepped back when she saw the other woman's fury. "Stop wasting time! You are not here to drink coffee!"
Lucy put the cup down, and wiped her hands on a rag. "Why do you hate me so?" she asked, looking at Carmen directly. "I've done nothing to you." It was a lie—she had slept with her husband.
Carmen snorted. "I do not hate you! You are nothing, nothing to me. And nothing to him!"
Lucy lifted her chin high. "Thank God. I don't want his interest. My beaux come from Society, from big brick mansions with acres of green lawns, from good families with breeding and background; they are not criminals hiding in some godforsaken place like this."
Carmen mimicked her. "My beaux! You think you're better than us, do you?" She laughed, eyeing her contemptuously. "Where are your fifty servants now?"
"He has given me his word—he is going to release me soon."
"And until he does, you stay away from him," Carmen warned. "Unless you want to be his plaything, his whore. Is that what you want, puta?”
Lucy knew what puta meant, and she flushed, because of what she and Shoz had done. "I told you, I have absolutely no interest in him."
"I don't believe you," Carmen said shrewdly. "All women look at him—but he is mine. I have been with him many years—and I will stay with him many more!"
"I'm sure you will," Lucy said, eager to end this conversation, which was making her uncomfortable.
"Just remember this the next time he looks at you," Carmen hissed. "For him, you are something new, a new toy, like he brings Roberto."
Lucy couldn't find a response, because she was afraid that Carmen had spoken the truth.
Carmen smiled cruelly. "If you sleep with him, it is as his whore. For a while he will enjoy you, then he will toss you away." She turned on her heel. But in the doorway she paused, triumphant. "And then he will return to me. He always returns to me."
The morning was endless. It was so hot. Sweat covered Lucy's body with a fine film, making her clothes stick wetly to her skin. Since last night, she had decided not to put her hair in a braid, afraid it would be too accessible to the willful Carmen. But now she could not stand its unrestrained mass on her back, and she coiled it on top of her head. She had rolled tortillas until her arms ached, chopped vegetables until she cut her thumb, and baked bread until she was red in the face from the heat of the oven. She was so hot and so tired, and she was no longer even hungry.
Around noontime, Linda told her to place a plate of fresh tortillas and a bowl of beans on the table. Lucy obeyed without question. When she was instructed to bring a pitcher of lemonade to the table, a terrible inkling occurred. Linda then handed her two plates, napkins, and flatware, and Lucy froze in her tracks. "This is for Carmen?!"
"Si, for her and el niho pequeno."
Lucy shook. She was dropping with exhaustion—and here she was setting the table for that other woman? For his wife? "I won't do it."
Linda studied her mutinous expression, took all the items from her, and placed them on the dining table in the next room herself. In the kitchen, Lucy clung to the worktable. Her heart was thundering. She had to make a stand, didn't she? She was not going to be a maid to that woman; it was intolerable.
Some moments later, Carmen and Roberto entered, the little boy very quiet compared to the day before. Lucy wondered if it was the heat, or if he missed Shoz.
Lucy and Linda sat in the kitchen while Carmen and Roberto ate in silence in the other room. Hunger gnawed at her. She had barely eaten in days, and had had nothing at all today. Anger began a slow simmer. Carmen called out for more lemonade.
Lucy looked at Linda. Linda shrugged, stood, and waddled into the other room. Lucy sat very still, dreading a confrontation. But it was not to be avoided.
"You don't serve!" Carmen shrieked. "Where is that bitch? Where?" Something was slammed on the table.
Lucy sat unmoving while Linda returned with the empty pitcher and handed it to her. Lucy didn't get up. She knew she had to fight this woman, she had to, but she was afraid. What if Carmen did give her to the two men left behind to guard her? Lucy thought Carmen would enjoy letting them rape her, was probably waiting for the right opportunity, and even looking for an excuse to let them have her. God! She got up, filled the pitcher, and reluctantly brought it into the dining room.
As she was leaving, she caught Roberto's eye. He was regarding her curiously. The solemn expression on his face almost made her heart stop. That poor boy is lonely, she thought with a pang. She remembered how he had appeared yesterday, the sheer joy on his face when he'd seen that Shoz had returned.
Back in the kitchen, Lucy found herself straining to hear Carmen—to hear a mother's love for her son. But Carmen did not speak except to chastise Roberto for not eating his food—only then to tell him that if he wasn't hungry, he could go. The little boy escaped the house at a dead run.
When Carmen left, Lucy and Linda cleared the table. Then, in the kitchen, they sat down to their own meal.
When they were finished, they washed all of the dishes and then Linda told her it was time for a short siesta. "Only one hour, senorita," she warned. "Then we must start preparing the supper.''
One hour sounded like heaven. Lucy stumbled into her room, shutting the door and dropping the bolt. Was this how she would pass her days? In the kitchen, slaving over meals for Carmen? With that terrible thought, she fell into a deep sleep.
Lucy grew used to the heat.
Several days passed. Lucy rose just after the sun, spent the entire day in the kitchen with Linda except for a siesta, served Carmen and Roberto lunch and dinner, and was finished with her duties shortly after sundown when the kitchen was clean and tidy. The past few nights she had been too exhausted to do anything other than sink into bed and fall instantly, deeply asleep.
Tonight she wasn't exhausted, although she was tired. She slipped outside to sit by the river, hoping to find the night cooler and less oppressive by the water's edge. It wasn't. There was no breeze, just the still, wet heat. But tonight she detected different sounds by listening intently. The faint whirring of an annoying mosquito, the whickering of a horse in the remuda, and farther away, maybe, just maybe, she heard a lone wolf howl. She counted the days.
Three days had passed since Shoz had left. In one week he might be returning. Or in ten days.
If he was not delayed.
What did she care, anyway?
She stroked a blade of grass and thought about the dream—the very disturbing dream—she'd been having when Carmen woke
her up that morning. It had stayed with her all day. She and Shoz. Naked and entwined, making love deliciously, languidly. It had been very exciting and very real. The strangest, most disturbing part wasn't that she had awakened unbearably aroused. It was that in the dream they had been laughing while they were making love, laughing.
Shoz had only made love to her twice, if she counted that first abortive time when her new automobile had broken down and Joanna had found them. Both times he had been very intense and strained. She could not imagine him making love to her, or anyone, with such carefree abandon, with such lighthearted playfulness. What did she care, anyway?
She told herself that she didn't. It was just a foolish dream. How he made love was not her business, it was Carmen's.
When would he return? It was amazing how one could change one's feelings so completely. When they had arrived in the valley and she had discovered Carmen's existence, Lucy had hoped never to set eyes on him again. Now she prayed that he would return as soon as possible. Her heart seemed to skip at the thought. He would fix her awful situation and put that horrid Carmen in her place.
A kind of status quo seemed to have been attained, with Lucy doing her duties and Carmen smugly satisfied. The woman enjoyed forcing her into servitude, and it was hateful. The past few days Lucy had been too tired even to think anymore, but tonight she felt a lot of resentment, and a lot of anger.
How could Shoz stand her?
There was only one answer, one terrible answer; he found her so gorgeous that he could not see what she really was. He wouldn't be the first man to be blindly in love.
Lucy got to her feet. The pleasure she had found in the evening was shattered by reality. She made her way back to the house and slipped quietly inside.
