The Spanish Outlaw

by Higgins, Marie

  “Señor Contreras is up on deck and sent me to get his revolver. He thinks he’s in danger.”

  Although Anton had talked about this subject quite a bit, he’d now involved another person. Perhaps Anton had good reason to fear this time since he was indeed the thief his uncle searched for. Still…curiosity niggled her, and the detective in her made her want to solve tonight’s mystery.

  “Why does Señor Contreras believe that?”

  “There are several men up on deck, and he thinks they are waiting for the chance to attack him. He doesn’t think they will approach him while there are still people milling about, so he’s remaining there until I return with his weapon.”

  Nothing made sense. In all this time aboard ship, Anton only suspected one person, and that was Raúl. Yet she knew the reason for Anton’s reaction was because of jealousy. She turned and hurried to his trunk. Underneath his top shirt, she located the pistol, which she knew he’d kept as it was readily at hand whenever he needed it.

  “Here it is.” She handed it to Mr. Summers.

  “Oh, thank you, Miss Wentworth. I suggest you stay here and keep your door locked until everything has settled.”

  “I certainly will.”

  Mr. Summers hurried out of the room, his chubby backside rolling with each movement. She shook her head and closed the door. It wasn’t like Anton to involve another person, so he must know something he hadn’t shared with her yet. Could his uncle’s men indeed be aboard ship? Wouldn’t Anton have discovered this before now?

  Then again, apparently Anton hadn’t wanted to be fully honest with her since they met. So perhaps something was going on this evening.

  She stepped to the bed and sat as her heart hammered against her ribs. Her brief nap left her wide-awake, but it was the panic in Mr. Summers that worried her. Perhaps she should sneak up on deck to see what act Anton was performing this time.

  A grin tugged at her lips. Yes. A good detective would do that very thing.

  Excitement bubbled up from her chest. She’d prove to Anton how well she could handle danger, since he didn’t think she could. Not only that, but she would show that good-for-nothing outlaw that she was a beneficial detective, and she had caught her thief!

  She rushed to her trunk and pulled out a dress, quickly changing before going up on deck. She pulled the brush through her sleep-tangled hair in a hurry. As she walked through the door, her smile widened because of what she’d hoped to accomplish.

  Cautiously, she rushed up the stairs, relieved at finding none of the other passengers up and about this late in the evening. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she climbed to the top deck, and then quickly darted behind a water barrel.

  Through the still night, she strained to hear any sounds. Scanning the area, she decided Anton must be on the other side of the deck, so she scrambled to another water barrel, then on to the next, and next, until she finally spotted him.

  A group of several men stood around him, but Anton’s masculine frame towered over them all. Although she couldn’t hear their exact words, she knew they spoke in Spanish. The tone of Anton’s voice sounded strong, yet calm, while the tone from the other men seemed belligerent and forceful.

  The men’s actions sent off an alarm in her head which kept her spying behind the barrel. What exactly where they up to? And why did none of these men look familiar? In all this time on the ship, wouldn’t she have seen one of them at least once?

  One of the men grabbed Anton from behind and held him in a vise-like grip. She gasped, her eyes locked on the tableau unwinding before her. The man, who seemed to be the ringleader, stood in front of Anton, his face so close his nose was inches from Anton’s. But Anton did not move. He seemed to have no reaction at all. Even from where she hid, Vivian easily saw his creased forehead and tight lips.

  She hitched another breath. This was indeed very real. How could she help him if she didn’t have a weapon? Perhaps she could find a board or rope or something to use to help. But she couldn’t tear herself away from the scene to go look.

  Stopping her thoughts, she shook her head. Why did she even want to help an outlaw in the first place? Yet…her heart told her she must!

  The harsh expressions on the other men’s faces weren’t feigned. Anton might be in serious trouble. The man in front of Anton shouted angrily, then stepped back and ran his fingers through his black hair as if in irritation. Another man walked up and slammed his fist into Anton’s jaw.

  Vivian jumped and covered her mouth to keep the scream of fright from carrying. She remained behind the barrel as panic raced up her spine. What could she do? She could not beat off a half dozen men even if she wanted to.

  Her mind worked in agitation. Obviously, these men planned to do Anton serious harm. Anton’s stance did not waver, which seemed to make the man who had hit him angrier. Both of his hands formed into fists, and he hit Anton again, then again, striking his stomach. Anton gasped and doubled over. The man holding Anton from behind did not let him drop.

  Pain gathered in Vivian’s chest, and tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t stay here and watch Anton get beaten, but what could she do?

  Had his story been true after all? Was he not the thief as she’d suspected? Yet…why were there jewels in his trunk? Feeling confused, tears slid down her cheeks. Obviously, she had not used her detective instincts at all. Perhaps…she didn’t have any to begin with.

  A trickle of blood spilled from Anton’s mouth. Vivian held her breath. He proudly rose to his full height again, meeting his opponent with a fierce gleam in his eyes. Fear clutched at her chest. Curse his pride. It was going to get him killed.

  The man must have laughed over Anton’s stubbornness and punched him again in the stomach. Anton doubled over and coughed, then righted himself, slower this time.

  Where was his revolver? Had Mr. Summers not been able to get here in time?

  Anton spoke in bold tones to the man in Spanish, which caused the other men to chuckle. Whatever he said made the man behind him release his hold and step away. The others circled Anton, leaving him and the first man alone to fight.

  Perhaps Anton had attacked their sense of honor. These Spaniards seemed to hold it high. Would it be enough? She had to do something to help.

  Anton raised his fists, and Vivian’s heart raced out of control. When the fight began, it surprised her to see how well Anton defended himself. Although he’d gone to war, she didn’t figure him to be a fighter. Just a lover who broke women’s hearts.

  Anton’s fists connected with his opponent’s face, while dodging the blows being thrown at him. He had skills she had not yet been privileged to see. In fact, Anton was beating the other man to a bloody pulp. She doubted the man’s friends would accept this outcome and let Anton leave unharmed. He needed help. She must go fetch the captain immediately.

  She prepared to leave, but her movement halted as Anton’s opponent fell to the ground. Suddenly the other men surrounded Anton and jumped on him, stopping any further action. A cry of alarm escaped her, and she quickly covered her mouth again. Luckily nobody heard.

  Again, she prepared to leave her spot and find help as the men beat upon Anton, punching and kicking him mercilessly. Would his uncle allow this? What kind of uncle wanted his nephew dead?

  From behind her, a group of heavy footsteps clamored on the deck, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Mr. Summers and Captain Bushwell lead a group of men. Someone had come to Anton’s rescue! Surely the captain would stop the fight.

  Captain Bushwell aimed his revolver in the air and shot. The pile of men on top of Anton quickly stood and withdrew their weapons, backing away from him. Within seconds, the two groups faced off until fighting ensued between them both. Knives flashed, adding a more dangerous element to the brawl.

  Vivian wrung her hands. Fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Bleeding from his nose and mouth, Anton fought with the man who had held him prisoner before. The stockiness of his opponent prevented Anton from kn
ocking the man down, yet Anton struck him over and over, not allowing the man to get in a punch. Finally, the large man wrapped his hands around Anton’s throat. Vivian let out a scream, ignored by the fighting men.

  Anton struggled, trying to peel the man’s hands away. Failing that, Anton dragged the man down with him as he reached for his boot, withdrawing his revolver. Anton aimed into the man’s belly and fired.

  This was no game.

  Men were dying now.

  Vivian screamed again and stood. She was uncertain whether to flee back to her room or stay and watch this horror unfold. Anton and the captain would settle this—at least she hoped they would. She was certain Anton would live. She could berate him later for frightening her so.

  As she turned, she ran into a human form. The small light from the moon barely registered on the man’s face.

  “Raúl.” She clung to his arm. “Thank the Lord you are here. You must help Anton.”

  “Yes, Señorita, I am helping.” He took her arms and pinned them behind her, making her cry out in pain.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am helping my men, Vivian.”

  “Your men? Who are your men?”

  “My main purpose is to dispose of your lover.” Raúl’s lips quirked. “Yes, I befriended you to remain close to my target and only waited for the right moment to strike.”

  Her heart sank. He had been one of Juanito’s men. Why hadn’t she realized that? Although she suspected... Inwardly, she groaned. Too late to revisit the past now.

  He tightened his hold as he dragged her backward with him, toward the stairs. She struggled, but his painful grip clamped her arm. Releasing a scream, she hoped to draw someone’s attention, but Raúl quickly slapped his hand over her mouth.

  “I would not do that if I were you.”

  She lifted her foot and brought it down hard on his instep. He howled, but did not let her go, though his hand loosened. Before she could scream Anton’s name, Raúl had covered her mouth again.

  “If you are smart, you will be quiet and not cause problems.”

  Not heeding his suggestion, Vivian kicked him again, which made him trip. Since he refused to release her, they both tumbled to the deck. As he tried to right himself, his arm loosened again. Vivian took the opportunity to push away.

  Unsteady from the fall, Raúl couldn’t grab her gown, and she scrambled away from him on her hands and knees. It was a short victory as he soon had her pinned. She sincerely wished she had listened to Mr. Summer’s warning about staying in her cabin.

  Angrily, Raúl yanked her long hair. She cried out, feeling as if he wanted to rip her head from her shoulders. He stood and pulled her with him. They were very close to the railing. The bottomless ocean terrified her, and she didn’t want to end up in the icy liquid by acting foolishly. Anton would save her from this madman as soon as he was free.

  “Are you going to be a good girl?” Raúl asked, his teeth clenched and his face a purple mask of fury. He yanked her hair again.

  A strangled sob escaped Vivian’s throat. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, I am going to take you with me. You see, my ship has been following us, and it is time I boarded the right vessel.”

  “No, please, leave me here.” Would Anton know where Raúl had taken her? She had been a fool not to totally believe Anton before. She would not make this mistake again, but first, she must escape.

  “Leave you? I do not think so.” He glanced over at the group of men still fighting. “It looks as if your lover and his friends will prevail this time, so I need you as bait. Anton will come to save you, I promise. Or at least he will try.” He snickered and turned, but another man stepped up behind him unnoticed.

  Anton! She sighed. Raúl’s brows drew together, and he frowned.

  “You are wrong. I will succeed in rescuing her.” Anton punched Raúl in the face.

  Raúl stumbled and shoved Vivian ahead of him. The blow sent her reeling to the edge of the deck. Unable to regain her balance, she teetered overboard, but caught hold of the railing in a vice-like grip. The slivered wood bit into her hands as she tightened her grasp, but she continued to slide. Terror choked her scream as she dropped into the deep, dark abyss.

  The frigid water sucked the air from her lungs, shrouding her body in darkness. Her heavy skirts weighed down, and did nothing to shield her from the piercing cold. Numbness grew over her body as she sank deeper and deeper into a dark grave.

  * * * *

  Vivian’s scream pierced the chilly night air. Pain consumed Anton like his heart had been ripped open. Then came the terrifying splash that seemed to drown out all other sounds.

  With unknown strength, he broke away from Raúl. Fear suffocated Anton as he gripped the railing and stared into the murky depths of the ocean.

  Praying for strength and guidance, he hastily shrugged out of his coat and yanked off his boots before bounding over the rail and into the water. Surrounded by nothing but darkness, he flailed wildly, trying to find her...to feel her. He cursed the dead night that made it impossible to see anything, but he searched frantically, praying to Díos the whole time.

  After what seemed like forever, his hand finally grazed her body. After securing his arm around her, he swam back toward the ship. Shouts from the deck led him to the rope they’d thrown down for him.

  “Someone bring a lantern over here,” one man shouted.

  “Just a little closer, Anton,” another passenger encouraged.

  With their guidance, Anton grabbed hold of the rope. With strength he did not know he possessed, he flung an unmoving Vivian over his shoulder and pulled them both up. His arms ached from the fight, and his gut twisted from the blows he’d received already in the fight, but he forced himself to climb until several others assisted him and Vivian aboard.

  The men grabbed Vivian first, but once Anton had his feet planted on the deck, he pushed past them to kneel by her side. Her face was pale, her chest unmoving.

  “Díos, please do not take her away.” He rolled her to her side and tried to push the water out of her lungs. Weightlessly, she fell to her back, still not breathing.

  He had to get air into her lungs somehow. She needed to breathe and couldn’t do it herself. Without another thought, he bent over her and pried her mouth open, then tried to breathe life back into her.

  Finally, her body moved. Her wracking cough brought up a stream of liquid. Anton praised the Almighty. With a lump in his throat, he gathered her against his chest as tears swam in his eyes.

  “You will be fine,” he whispered. “I will not leave you again.”

  Captain Bushwell pushed through the men and knelt beside Anton. “We’ve apprehended the Spaniards, but a few escaped onto their ship. We couldn’t stop them because of trying to assist you and Miss Wentworth.”

  “What about Raúl?”

  “He is tied up and being taken below as we speak.”

  “Gracias.”

  “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  Anton nodded. “Sí, but first, we need to get Vivian into some warm clothes and her bed.”

  “I’ll fetch the doctor.” Captain Bushwell rose.

  Anton lifted Vivian and pushed his way through the concerned and curious people on his way to their room. Mrs. Summers waited there, ready to assist. She ushered Anton and the others out of the room to undress Vivian.

  Anton paced in front of the door, praying Mrs. Summers would hurry. He didn’t like that the rose color had vanished from Vivian’s face, leaving dull pale skin. He wanted her back in his arms so to bring warmth to her. When he held her moments ago, she had shivered so hard, it wrenched his heart.

  Finally, Mrs. Summers opened the door and Anton rushed in. Vivian lay in bed with blankets piled on top of her. Her trembling ceased ever so slightly, but the bluish color of her lips worried him.

  “She will be all right,” Mrs. Summers said softly.

  Without taking his eyes off Vivian, he answered, “How can y
ou be so certain?”

  “Because she has a strong will.”

  “Sí, she does.”

  “I think you need to change out of your wet clothes as well.”

  “I will.” He finally looked at the other woman. “Gracias, Mrs. Summers. I am most grateful for your assistance.”

  “Please send for me if you need more help.”

  “I will.”

  Once she left and closed the door, Anton turned his focus back to Vivian, who lay shivering in bed. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet, so he quickly stripped off his own wet clothes and replaced them with something dry. He sat on the bed and rubbed his hands over her arms which were still under the blankets, but it wasn’t controlling her shivering. Not knowing what else to do to keep her warm, he climbed into bed beside her to share his body heat. Slowly, her shaking subsided and unconsciously she snuggled against him.

  Once he relaxed, he gave a silent prayer of thanks. The strange pain in his heart meant he couldn’t contemplate what life would be like without her. She’d become so important to him in such a short time. Never before had he felt this close to a woman. He kissed her forehead, wishing her temperature would return to normal, so he snuggled her closer against his chest.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Señor Contreras? I’m Doctor Lewis, and I’m here with Captain Bushwell.”

  Grudgingly, Anton tore himself away from Vivian and out of the bed, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around her. “Enter,” he called.

  Anton stood back as the doctor checked Vivian’s breathing, and then did a series of tests to judge her reflexes and body’s temperature. Not for one second did Anton take his eyes off her, even when the captain questioned him about the attack.

  “Do you know those men, Señor Contreras?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell me what exactly happened, then? How did they board my ship in the middle of the sea, and why would they do that?”

  Anton shrugged. “I suppose they were in the ship Miss Wentworth spotted earlier and they used row boats to get nearer so they could climb aboard, but I do not know why they are here.”