Shameless

by Rosanne Bittner

  She turned away. “If he lives, Private Hadley, and you get the chance, please tell him I…I asked about him. And tell him I am sorry that I did not know the men with whom my brother and I rode could be so ruthless. And tell him…” She hesitated. Was it wise to tell this young man that she loved Clay? Would it damage Clay’s reputation? “Tell him I said thank you for trying to help me…and goodbye.”

  Hadley watched her, thinking what a waste it would be to imprison or hang such a beautiful young woman. Was there something more between her and the lieutenant than just the fact that she felt guilty for his injuries? “The fort commander wants to see you this morning,” he told her then. “He told me to bring this water and let you wash up.”

  Nina remained turned away, feeling sick to her stomach at the thought of Clay dying. If only she were given the opportunity to at least sit with him, talk to him, tell him she loved him, and try to comfort him. But he would die and she would be hanged without ever getting to see him again.

  “Gracias,” she answered.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have better news about the lieutenant, ma’am. I’ve got to get out of here quick now, but if you don’t mind my saying so, when you talk to the commander…uh…you should be careful what you say about the lieutenant.”

  Nina frowned, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…it seems like you had special feelings for him, ma’am. I won’t say anything outside this room, because I’ve heard some good things about Lieutenant Youngblood. He’s highly respected, especially as an Indian fighter, and whether he dies or lives, he ought to be remembered as the honorable man he is. It might not look too good if it was told there was something between you and him. I mean, some of the men might suspect, but if you watch what you say, they’ll dismiss the thought. It would be sad if he…well, pardon me, Miss Juarez, but if he was remembered as the fool who fell for a beautiful horse thief rather than as a hero. No disrespect to you, ma’am.”

  Nina held his eyes, old hatreds returning. “Of course not,” she said coldly, raising her chin. “Don’t worry, Private Hadley. I will be sure not to give the commander the wrong idea.”

  The young man nodded, his eyes running over her appreciatively. He shook his head as though to indicate what a shame it was that she had to turn out to be a thief. He turned and left, and Nina heard the door being bolted from the outside. She walked over to close the curtain over the windows so that she could wash and change. She put a hand to her chest, feeling the ugly pain of the insult just handed her; yet she knew Hadley was right. If she truly loved Clay, she could not reveal her feelings to anyone else. She would have to pretend indifference, not even bring up Clay’s name unless the commander did. If she was going to be responsible for Clay’s suffering, she could at least make sure he did not leave the Army labeled a fool.

  “A fool indeed,” she hissed, filling the washbowl. “You are a fool, mi querido, for loving this worthless horse thief!”

  A hundred colors seemed to swirl before Clay’s eyes. He struggled to see beyond them, tried to remove the hot coals that burned into his belly, little knowing that in reality all he managed to do was move his fingers slightly. He wondered who had opened his insides and set them on fire. Thirsty…so thirsty. He tried to tell someone, and in the effort, the Army doctor heard his moans.

  The doctor knew that gunshot wounds caused an aching thirst, saw Clay licking at his lips with a swollen tongue. He quickly wet a sponge with water from a pitcher and squeezed some of the cool liquid over Clay’s lips. Clay lapped at the water voraciously, letting it quench his dry mouth. He could not quite determine where he was or what had happened, but sometimes he could see Nina’s face. Why couldn’t she take away his pain? He reached out for her, but she moved away. “Nina,” he groaned.

  The doctor leaned over Clay when he saw his eyes were open. “Hello, Lieutenant,” he said, trying to determine if Clay was fully conscious.

  Clay stared at him a moment with eyes red from fever. Where was he? What had happened to him? He struggled to remember, but the awful burning in his belly persisted, making it difficult to concentrate. “Who…” It was the only word he could muster.

  “I am Sergeant-Major Webster,” the doctor answered. Clay focused his eyes on a man of perhaps forty, with dark hair and a mustache. “I’m the doctor here at Fort Fillmore. You’ve been shot, Lieutenant, in case you’re wondering why you’re in so much pain. I’ll give you some laudanum for the pain, but it isn’t going to help much.”

  Clay watched Webster as he turned to retrieve a bottle of medicine. Shot? He struggled to ignore the pain and try to think. All he could remember was a woman’s face, a beautiful, dark-haired woman with full lips and a captivating smile and provocative dark eyes. Nina! Where was Nina? Yes, he was remembering now, remembered pushing her from her horse and shooting at someone, remembered the jolt to his belly…

  Sergeant Webster turned with the bottle and a spoon. “Take a swallow of this,” he told Clay.

  “Not…yet,” Clay answered, then licked at lips already dry again. “Nina…the woman I brought in. Where…is she?”

  Webster eyed him closely. This morning was not the first time Clay Youngblood had groaned the young woman’s name, and a person in pain didn’t usually call out for someone unless that someone was very special. How a Mexican horse thief could mean something to the very honorable lieutenant, he could not imagine.

  “You’re better off to forget about that one, Lieutenant. She’ll be leaving here soon enough, probably to prison or the gallows. Word is, the commander is sending her to Santa Fe to let the authorities take care of her. Now you just take your medicine. You’re a very sick man.”

  Clay turned his head away. “I’ve got to help…her,” he gasped. “Talk…to the commander…in her behalf.” He tried to rise, but just moving his arms and raising his head slightly brought excruciating pain and a horrible nausea. He cried out, settling back against his pillow. The doctor set aside the laudanum and grasped his shoulders.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, Lieutenant. For God’s sake, one wrong move and you could die! It took me nearly two days to get everything to stop bleeding completely, and now you’re running a fever, which means infection. If you want any hope of living, sir, you’ve got to lie still and save your strength and keep that wound from breaking open again.”

  “Nina. I’ve got to help her…”

  “There isn’t a thing you can do for that woman, Lieutenant. Even if you could speak for her, you’d just be laughed out of the Army. You must know that. The woman is no good, sir, and you’ll see that when you’re better. You’re just feeling dispirited and lonely right now.”

  Clay wanted desperately to argue with the man. If only he could move! He had to get over to the commander’s office. Apparently Nina was still here. They must be at Fort Fillmore. He tried to think. Corporal Mills! Mills must suspect how he felt about Nina. Maybe the corporal could talk to the commander for him. “I need…to see Corporal Mills,” he groaned.

  Webster leaned over and picked up the bottle again. “Sorry, but Mills left this morning with Lieutenant Beale to continue the camel expedition. All the men you rode in with are gone, Lieutenant, except for Sergeant Johnson. He’s right in the other room with a pretty bad head wound, but he’ll be all right.”

  Clay felt the agony of helplessness. Poor Nina would face the commander alone, a man who, in her mind, was her worst enemy! She would be so terrified. He should be with her. She should not face all this alone! If only he could get up! He tried again, but this time the pain was so bad that a blackness swept over him, and he again slipped into a tormented unconsciousness, where he saw Nina climbing a stairway to the gallows. He tried to follow, to whisk her away, but some men held him back.

  “Try to swallow this,” a distant voice told him. Something bitter slaked down his throat, and moments later he slipped into a deep chasm of exhaustion and unconsciousness. Now Nina was with him again, leaning closer, smiling. �
��I love you,” she told him. Her words gave him hope. He would overcome this terrible burning and helplessness and they would be together. California. Yes, they would still go to California.

  Nina walked into the commander’s office, holding her head proudly. She wore a clean white shirt with a leather vest that did little to hide her generous bosom. Her brown suede skirt fit her hips snugly before flaring fuller at the ankle-length hemline, and it was secured at her tiny waist with a wide leather belt. Her long dark hair was brushed and twisted into a thick braid down her back.

  She faced the tall man behind the desk, who rose when she walked in. He was thin; even his nose and lips and chin were thin. His eyes were blue, but a cold, piercing blue, not the soft, loving blue of Clay’s eyes. Again her defenses rose. She had already decided she would not cry in front of this man, nor would she beg for anything. She had committed crimes against him and his government, and she had no regrets, except for Clay being hurt. When she looked at men such as this one, all the old hatred and desire for vengeance again arose, along with the old fears, but she determined not to let the fear show.

  “Sit down, Miss Juarez,” the man told her, indicating a chair near his desk. He looked at Private Hadley. “You can leave us now, Private.” Hadley saluted and turned, closing the door behind him as Nina cautiously took a chair. “I am Captain Marcus Shelley,” the commander told her, taking the chair behind his desk. His eyes moved over her with obvious admiration for her beauty. “What a shame,” he murmured. He leaned forward and looked at some papers. “Lieutenant Youngblood is obviously in no condition to fill out a report on this incident, so I had Corporal Mills do it,” he continued, a cold edge to his voice. He studied the papers a moment and looked back at Nina. “How in God’s name did a lovely young woman like yourself get mixed up with Mike Billings and his bunch?” he asked.

  “My brother rode with them,” she answered, unflinching. “Emilio and I have been alone for many years—since Americans raped my mother and murdered both her and my father,” she added with a sneer. “We were barely surviving. We turned to stealing horses in Texas for vengeance and to make money so that we would not starve. It became a way of life for my brother. He has taken care of me for many years, so when he decided to ride with Mike Billings, I could not bear to let him go off without me. We have always been together.”

  The captain rubbed at his lips with a bony hand. “Well, this time you made a foolish decision, Miss Juarez. And apparently your loyalty to your brother is stronger than his loyalty to you, since he got away and has not been seen since. Why don’t you tell me where we can find him?”

  Nina’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “Turn in my own brother?”

  “He has as much as turned you in, letting you be captured.”

  “He tried to get me out. Everything just happened too fast. It is each man for himself in such a situation. After that there was nothing he could have done without being caught. Emilio is probably waiting for his chance to rescue me.”

  Captain Shelley shook his head. “He’ll get no such chance, Miss Juarez. Your only hope of not being hanged is to tell us where we can find Emilio.”

  She raised her chin higher, her eyes blazing. “I am no fool, Señor Captain. I may be spared the gallows, but I will still be sent to prison, and to me that would be even worse. Even if my brother has deserted, I will not go to my death or spend the rest of my life bearing the guilt of having turned him in. I got caught, and that is that. Do with me what you will.”

  The man sighed, already realizing that no amount of questions or threats were going to make this one tell him what he wanted to know. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her keenly, making Nina’s skin crawl. “There is a rumor floating around that there might have been something between you and Lieutenant Youngblood. I spoke with Corporal Mills about it before he left, and he told me there was nothing to the stories. Is that true?”

  Nina suspected this man was one who went completely by the book. If he thought the rumors were true, he could destroy everything Clay had worked for in his Army career, causing him to be discharged in shame. She thought about Private Hadley’s warning.

  She smiled in a vindictive sneer. “I have no use for any gringo scum who wears a uniform,” she answered. “Your lonely men have wild imaginations, Captain. Personally, I hope the lieutenant does not survive his wounds! It is his fault I am here!”

  The captain watched her closely, trying to determine if she was lying. “Some of the men say you were pretty upset when the lieutenant was shot, that you wanted to help him.”

  Nina’s eyes remained steady. “I was upset because Al Kinkade had shot a soldier, which meant I would be in a lot of trouble. I only thought if I could help him live, it would be easier for me. I knew the trouble I was in, that is all.”

  The captain pursed his lips, and Nina wished she could do something to wipe the pompous look off his face. “You are indeed in a lot of trouble, Miss Juarez. Tell me, did any of these men ever shoot anyone else while you were with them?”

  “No. I knew they might use guns if necessary, but it was never necessary. I did not know they were capable of cold-blooded murder or I would not have gone with them and I would have tried harder to keep Emilio from going with them.”

  “Have you or Emilio ever shot anyone in your horse-stealing escapades?”

  “No. Never.”

  He continued to watch her face, then sighed again, leaning forward to again peruse the papers in front of him. “Well, I happen to believe you there. But the fact remains you have stolen horses, many times, and apparently sold them to other thieves. You used your fetching looks to keep the attention of innocent men while this gang member called Santos clobbered them hard enough to nearly kill them. According to Corporal Mills, you were given a chance once by Lieutenant Youngblood to go back to Mexico and stay out of trouble, but you turned around and got right back into horse stealing.”

  He sighed with contempt and disgust. “I have no choice but to send you to Santa Fe, Miss Juarez, and let the authorities there decide what to do with you. As long as your brother remains a fugitive, you cannot be trusted. If he had been killed and you were alone, I would perhaps consider giving you one more chance. But I have a feeling you would go right back to Emilio and he would get you in trouble all over again. It’s bad enough that we lost one man and might still lose another—a damn good man at that. This is a hell of a way for Lieutenant Youngblood to end his career.”

  The captain rose, folding his arms in a gesture of finality. “I suspect you’ll be sent to prison, Miss Juarez. That is the only way we have of flushing out your brother. If you’re hanged, he’ll have no reason to try to come for you, so the authorities will most likely let you live.”

  Nina felt the tight nausea in her stomach again. Prison! An American prison, surrounded by the enemy! And for how long? Would Emilio come for her and be caught? She refused to let the captain read the terror in her soul. “And if my brother is caught, then what? We would both be hanged!”

  “It’s possible.” He dropped his arms. “Get your things together, Miss Juarez. You’ll leave yet today. I want you off my hands.”

  Nina rose, wanting to scream at him to let her see Clay first. But that could not be. She must keep Clay out of this as much as possible. There would be enough questions remaining. She had apparently convinced the man there had been nothing between her and Clay, and she had to leave it that way, for Clay’s sake. But the thought of being taken away without ever seeing him again, without ever being able to tell him she loved him or to hold him and whisper to him that she would pray for him…

  “I can be ready in fifteen minutes,” she told Shelley.

  “A prison wagon is due here anytime. That is the reason you’ll have to go today. They don’t come around that often.”

  A prison wagon! She would be hauled out like a pig going to slaughter, kept in a wagon with filthy criminals, on a display of shame wherever they went! How degrading and humiliating! Would all
the other prisoners be men? Would she be allowed any kind of privacy? She felt the tears wanting to come. “I will be ready,” she told him. She turned, walking to the door. The captain came over and opened it, telling Hadley to take her back to her cabin. He gave her no goodbyes.

  Nina left with Hadley, saying nothing as they walked. She marched into the cabin, where she sank onto a cot and wept bitterly as soon as Hadley left. What kind of hell was she destined for? If only she could see Clay first, tell him how sorry she was. After a few minutes she stubbornly forced herself to stop weeping. She packed her things, wondering what the Army intended to do with her beautiful black gelding. She would never see her beloved horse again, nor would she see Emilio again. Did he realize what was happening to her? Would he still try to help her?

  For nearly an hour she paced, all kinds of horrible pictures going through her mind as to what lay ahead for her. What she feared most was being at the mercy of men who had no respect for a Mexican woman who stole horses. She would be considered no good, unworthy of being treated decently. What if one of those men decided to treat her the way her mother had been treated? All the old fears returned, yet when she thought of Clay…With Clay it could have been so different. She walked to a window and stared across the courtyard at the small building where she knew Clay was lying near death. If only he would come out that door all recovered; if only there was something he could do. And how would she ever know what had happened to him, if he lived or died?

  She saw the wagon coming then, and her heart sank. It was an uncomfortable-looking flatbed wagon with bars enclosing the sides and top. Two men sat inside. “Clay,” she whispered. She knew that if he was not wounded he would find a way to stop this. Hadley knocked on her door and came inside then.

  “The wagon is here, Miss Juarez,” he told her. His eyes moved over her, meeting her own eyes then with a look that told her that he at least felt some pity for her. “You’d better wear a hat. It’s a long, hot trip, and the sun can get pretty mean.”