“No,” Katy answered quickly. “Would you like to play chess? Poker, perhaps?”
“No.” Miguel’s dark eyes studied her face. Was her mouth swollen? Certainly her eyes glowed with an inner contentment he had never seen there before. Was it possible she had taken a lover? He dismissed the idea immediately. None of the peons who labored within the walls of the fortress would dare to touch her, and even if they did, surely Katy would not give herself to any of them.
“You were gone a long time after breakfast,” Miguel remarked. “Alfaro said he could not find you.”
Confusion reigned in Katy’s mind. What should she say? What could she say? Miguel was a kind and generous man. He was in love with her, would marry her if she but said the word. He would not take kindly to the fact that she had spent the morning in the arms of another man.
“I…I went walking,” Katy stammered. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long, but… I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you wanted me.”
Miguel’s eyes probed Katy’s. He did not believe her, but he wanted to desperately. And so, rather than risk a confrontation that might reveal what he feared most, he said, “Next time, tell Alfaro where you are going.”
“Yes,” Katy said, not meeting his eyes. “Next time.”
Katy lay rigid in Miguel’s arms later that night, her thoughts running wild. Iron Wing was here. Tonight, when everyone was asleep, they would leave the fortress together. She could think of nothing else. Soon she would be his woman again. The thought filled her heart until she was sure it would burst. Iron Wing… He was so strong, so beautiful, her whole body, her whole soul, longed for his presence beside her.
Turning her head on the pillow, she gazed at Miguel, sleeping peacefully alongside her. He would be hurt when he woke in the morning to find she had left him without a word. He loved her. He had been kind to her. And she would miss him. But Iron Wing was waiting for her outside.
When Katy was certain Miguel was sound asleep, she slid out of bed. Barefooted, she padded noiselessly down the hallway to her own room. Inside, she quickly changed into a dress of dark blue cotton. Slipping a pair of sturdy shoes on, she grabbed a pillowcase she had packed earlier, then tiptoed toward the stairway. Her heart was pounding wildly as she crossed the parlor floor and made her way blindly to the front door. She was fumbling with the lock when she heard the scrape of a boot-heel on the hardwood floor.
Startled, Katy dropped the pillowcase behind one of the tall plants that stood beside the door. Eyes wide, she turned toward the light that filled the room as Alfaro touched a match to the candle in his hand.
“Señorita,” he breathed, relieved to see Katy instead of a prowler. “What are you doing down here at this time of the night?”
“I…I couldn’t sleep. I was going outside for some air.”
“Señor Herrera would not like you roaming around outside by yourself at this time of night.”
“I’ll be fine,” Katy said quickly. She turned toward the front door, her hand reaching for the knob, as if there was nothing more to be said.
Alfaro watched her silently for a moment, then, with a sigh, his hand closed over hers. “Sorry, señorita,” he said, lifting her hand from the latch. “I think I must insist you do not leave the house.”
Katy summoned what she hoped was a disarming smile. “Perhaps you’re right, Alfaro. Good night.”
Defeat sat heavily on Katy’s shoulders as she turned and walked up the stairs to her room. Changing into her nightgown once again, she crept quietly back into Miguel’s bed. Tears welled in her eyes and fell in salty rivers down her cheeks. Iron Wing was waiting for her. She longed to fly into his arms, to feel the strength of his long, lean body pressed close to her own. Instead, she was trapped in the house. She knew Alfaro would be keeping watch now, to make sure she did not try to leave again.
Katy bit down on her lower lip to keep from sobbing aloud as Miguel’s arm fell across her waist, its weight as heavy and confining as iron bars.
Miguel eyed Katy sharply the next morning. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, as if she had been crying, her face was drawn and haggard. She remained cool and aloof during breakfast, hardly touching her food. She left the table and went to her room as soon as the meal was over.
Later that afternoon, when everyone was taking a siesta, Katy crept out of the house and made her way toward the garden, hoping Iron Wing would seek her out.
And he did. Katy went swiftly into his arms, sighing as his hands drew her close.
“What happened?” Iron Wing asked, stroking her hair.
“Alfaro caught me trying to sneak out of the house. He sent me back to my room. Oh, Iron Wing, what if he tells Miguel?”
Iron Wing shrugged. “The man knows nothing. What can he say?”
“I don’t know.”
“We will try again tonight,” Iron Wing said resolutely.
“No. I have a better idea. Miguel’s birthday is next week. Herrera is giving him a party. I’ll get one of Miguel’s suits for you to wear, and we’ll take one of the carriages and leave through the gate with some of the other guests.”
“It might work,” Iron Wing said dubiously.
“It’s got to work! I’d better go now, before Alfaro comes looking for me. I love you.”
Iron Wing nodded as he drew her close once more. One long kiss, and then he was gone.
Katy walked slowly back to the house. Dressed in one of Miguel’s suits, Iron Wing could easily pass for a Spaniard. And if she wore a shawl over her head and kept her face turned away, perhaps no one would recognize her. It would be risky, but it had to work.
Miguel was waiting for Katy in her bedroom when she walked into the room. She knew at once by the grim expression on his face that something was very wrong. His first words confirmed her worst fears.
“Who is the man you were kissing in the garden?” he demanded harshly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Katy said, forcing herself to meet his accusing gaze.
“Do not lie to me, Katy. Alfaro saw you kissing one of the peons.”
Mute, Katy hung her head, knowing that further lies were useless.
“You have not had your monthly flow since you came here,” Miguel mused aloud. His calm words belied the fierce anger building in his eyes.
“Miguel, I…”
“Be still, you slut! You are pregnant, are you not? And that man is the father!”
“Miguel…”
“Do you deny it?”
“No,” Katy admitted miserably.
“How could you betray me, Katy? Have I not been good to you? Have I not given you everything you desired?”
“If you’ll just let me explain for a moment, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Frank was right,” Miguel said with a sneer. “You do belong in the cantina, flat on your back like the other whores.”
“Won’t you please listen to me?” Katy begged.
“Do not speak to me, puta!” Miguel admonished in a choked voice. “I will hear no more of your lies. Alfaro!”
Wordlessly, the big man entered the room. He gave Katy a look of contempt as he took Miguel out of the room. A moment later, Katy heard the key turn in the lock of her bedroom door.
With a choked sob, Katy flung herself across the bed and let the tears flow. Everything was lost now. Miguel hated her. Most likely, he would send her back to Herrera’s. And what of Iron Wing? What would become of him?
Katy cried until her throat was raw and her eyes were sore and red, cried until she was dry inside, and then she fell asleep, only to be haunted by visions of herself in a bright red dress, forced to please any man who could pay the price.
When she woke, it was dark outside. Shivering, she pulled a blanket around her shoulders and went to stand at the window. The house was still as death. Where was Miguel? What had become of Iron Wing? She heard a clock strike the hour. Moments later, her bedroom door swung open and Alfaro stepped in, a tray balanced in one big hand. His eyes condemned h
er as he placed the tray on the table beside her bed, then turned to leave the room.
“Alfaro?”
The Mexican hesitated, his hand on the knob, but he did not face her.
“Alfaro, what have they done with Iron Wing?”
“He is in the cellar.”
“Is he all right?”
Alfaro shrugged.
“Please take me to see Miguel. I must talk to him.”
“He will not see you.”
“Please, Alfaro, beg him for me.”
“Good night, señorita,” the big man said heavily, and left the room. The key turning in the lock was very loud in the stillness.
For two days, Katy paced the floor, her mind in torment. She could not eat, she could not sleep, could only pace hour after hour, or lie unmoving on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The morning of the third day, Miguel came to her room. He looked gaunt and haggard. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he had not shaved. His face was sad when he looked at her.
“Frank said he has room for you in the cantina.”
“Miguel, please…”
“He will come for you in the morning. Be ready.”
“And what of Iron Wing?” Katy asked the question with trepidation, fearful of the answer.
“He looks well in the cellar. I shall keep him there so long as it pleases me.”
“No.”
But Miguel had left the room, leaving her to weep alone.
Frank Herrera grinned as he handed Katy a skimpy red satin dress, a pair of black net stockings, and a pair of red high-heeled slippers.
“I can’t wear this,” Katy began in a choked voice. The rest of the words died in her throat as Frank Herrera slapped her hard across the face.
“You will wear what I say, when I say, for as long as I say.” He looked at her expectantly.
Katy put a hand to her throbbing cheek.
“Yes,” she said thinly. “Whatever you say.”
Herrera nodded. “You learn fast, little one. You will serve drinks to my customers until your bastard is born. And then you will service my customers.”
Herrera placed his finger under Katy’s chin and raised her head when she did not reply. “What do you say, puta?”
“I’ll do whatever you wish.”
“I know you will, little flower. Now change your clothes and come downstairs. My customers are eager to see you.”
It was too horrible. From noon until midnight, Katy was forced to serve drinks to the rabble that frequented Frank Herrera’s cantina. In the days that followed, Katy saw men of the most vile sort, men without conscience, men devoid of compassion, men without morals. They viewed her as nothing more than an object of lust, a vessel to be used and abused and forgotten. Their hands were cruel when they reached out to touch her, pinching her buttocks, pawing her swollen breasts, yanking at her hair.
They called her dirty names, cursed her when she accidentally spilled their drinks, taunted her mercilessly about her thickening waistline. And yet, for all that, they seemed to find her desirable. They acted like they were angry, as if they were mad at her for being pregnant and therefore untouchable. Incredibly, a few of them were counting the days until her baby would be born, so anxious were they to buy her favors.
One night, Frank Herrera lifted Katy onto the bar and then, to her shame, took bets from his customers on when her child would be born, and whether it would be a boy or a girl. He also auctioned off a night of her time. A one-eyed man with greasy blond hair and a full beard came through with the highest bid, offering an unprecedented amount of three hundred dollars to be Katy’s first customer after the baby was born.
Another night, Herrera sold Katy’s kisses for five dollars each. It was all Katy could do not to vomit as one odious man after another stuffed dirty greenbacks and coins down the bodice of her dress and then claimed a kiss. Katy shuddered as the last man planted a wet kiss on her lips. How could something as wonderful as a kiss be so disgusting, she wondered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Iron Wing’s kisses had filled her with a soft, sweet yearning even before she realized she loved him. But these kisses filled her with bitter revulsion, making her sick to her stomach, making her feel dirty and defiled.
Rosa and the other whores laughed at Katy’s squeamishness. How the mighty have fallen, they crowed, and took great pains to tell her of the sordid life that awaited her in one of the dingy rooms at the top of the stairs.
Katy listened with growing horror as the women spelled out, in lurid detail, the many ways a man sought to find pleasure in a woman’s arms. They described acts that filled Katy with disgust. She hoped they were exaggerating, though she could think of nothing worse than being intimate with a man for whom she had no feeling or regard. She looked with loathing on the men who accompanied the other girls upstairs. They were all such mean-spirited men, without warmth or sympathy, and she knew she would rather be dead than let one of them touch her.
One night El Lobo and his men appeared at the cantina. Katy shuddered when she saw that Carlito was among the outlaws. The ugly little man spotted Katy immediately, and a wide grin spread over his face.
“Katy,” Herrera ordered, “serve El Lobo and his men.”
With a nod of resignation, Katy went to El Lobo’s table. The bandit leader grinned at her as he patted her stomach. “You should be more careful, chiquita. A swollen belly is not good for business.”
Katy flushed at the implication that she was one of the whores, and that she had foolishly failed to take precautions to keep from getting caught.
“Bring us some whiskey,” El Lobo said. “And some food. We are hungry!”
“Hungry,” Carlito echoed. “But not for food. Tonight I will buy your favors. That fat belly will not stop me.” He pulled a wad of paper money from his pocket. “I have been saving my money, and I have enough to buy your time for the whole night.”
“No,” Katy said hoarsely. “I won’t!”
“Rosa!” Carlito hollered shrilly. “This wench has refused me.”
Rosa strutted over to the table. Leaning down, she patted Carlito on the thigh. “You will have to choose another,” she purred, caressing his leg. “Frank has said she is not to be touched until after her brat is born.” Rosa put her fingertips over Carlito’s mouth as he began to protest. “Dolores will be down soon. You remember how much you liked her before? She has been waiting for your return.”
Carlito smiled crookedly. “Dolores,” he said, licking his lips. “Yes, I remember her.” Mollified, he glanced up at Katy. “I will have you yet, blue eyes. Only wait and see if I don’t.”
Katy almost ran from the table, so anxious was she to get away from El Lobo and his men. But for them, she would not be here now. As she waited for the bartender to fill El Lobo’s order, she felt herself shiver uncontrollably as she thought of Carlito. In time, her baby would be born, and she would be at the mercy of men like Carlito. It was too dreadful to contemplate, like a nightmare that repeated itself night after night.
Swallowing hard, she carried the whiskey to El Lobo’s table. The outlaw leader ran his hand over her buttocks and down one leg. “Nice,” he remarked. “Perhaps I, too, will buy a little of your time one day.”
It was too much. With a wordless cry of dismay, Katy left the table and ran up the stairs to her room. Throwing herself across the bed, she began to weep. How ugly her life had become! If only she could get word to her mother. If only Iron Wing could help her. If only she could escape from the awful hell that surrounded her.
As her sobs subsided, she heard bedsprings in the next room groan as one of the girls went to work. There were muffled cries and squeals, and Katy recognized Carlito’s voice. Mesmerized, she listened to Dolores pleasure the outlaw. Soon that would be her fate.
The thought was too wretched to bear. Bile rose in her throat, hot and bitter, and she grabbed the bowl beside her bed and vomited until her stomach was empty and her throat was sore.
; Katy sat up, her stomach still uneasy, as Rosa swept into the room. “You are wanted downstairs,” the blowsy woman said curtly. “Clean yourself up and get back to work.”
Katy nodded obediently. She was afraid of Rosa. She knew the woman was as cold as ice, as hard as flint. It was Rosa who punished the girls when they dared disobey. Katy had seen the whip the woman used, a thick rawhide lash with a cruel knot in the end. The sight of that whip was enough to give Katy cold chills, and she thought she would do anything to avoid being whipped. She had not forgotten the pain she had endured when Iron Wing whipped her.
After wiping her face and rinsing her mouth, she returned to the saloon. El Lobo and his men were gone and she knew a moment of relief. Perhaps they had already left town.
Katy had been cooped up in the cantina for eight weeks when Miguel appeared at the door, accompanied, as always, by Alfaro.
Katy watched surreptitiously as the two men took seats at the table near the back of the room. She could feel Miguel’s eyes on her back as she moved from table to table, serving drinks, cleaning up spills, and fending off the patrons’ groping hands.
It was humiliating, having Miguel watch her in such degrading circumstances, to have him sit idly by while murderers and bank robbers and cattle thieves pawed her flesh and made obscene remarks. The skimpy costume Frank made her wear was stretched thin over her expanding belly, and her breasts strained against the low-cut bodice, exposing the tops of her creamy flesh. She had begged Frank for a larger dress, but he had only laughed and said she should be grateful he clothed her at all.
Miguel stayed at the cantina for the better part of the evening, morosely tossing down one glass of whiskey after another. His eyes never left Katy. He was very drunk when Alfaro finally persuaded him to go home.
“The house is empty,” Miguel lamented as Alfaro carried him over the threshold. “So empty.”
“Shall I put you to bed?” Alfaro asked. Carefully, he placed Miguel in his chair, and covered his wasted legs with a colorful blanket.
“No. Take me to the cellar.”
Love in the Wind Page 22
