Shameless

by Rosanne Bittner

  She nodded, turning and picking up a flat, wide-brimmed hat lying on the cot. “I already thought of that.” She secured the rawhide string under her chin, then picked up her saddlebags and walked to the door.

  “Good luck, ma’am. Maybe they’ll let you go,” Hadley told her.

  “I do not hold such hopes, Señor Hadley,” she snickered, then marched out to the wagon, ignoring the stares of some soldiers in the courtyard. Two more soldiers drove the wagon. One climbed down and came around to unlock the door of bars at the back of the wagon, opening it to let Nina climb inside.

  “You two no-goods make room for the lady,” he ordered the other two criminals.

  Both of them stared at Nina, and one grinned through yellowed teeth, a smile that reminded her of how the men who raped her mother had smiled. “Lady?” the man asked. “No woman who’s being put in a prison is any lady.” He chuckled deep in his throat, and Nina hoped she could keep from throwing up. She climbed inside, moving to a position close to the driver’s seat, hoping the soldiers in charge were decent enough to stop the two prisoners if they tried to touch her. The soldier in charge of the criminals slammed and locked the door, turning to Captain Shelley to take some papers from him.

  “Horse thief,” Shelley told the man. “She’s going to Santa Fe. Everything the authorities need to know is in these papers.”

  The soldier folded the papers and shoved them into the front of his shirt. “We’ll get her there.”

  “Untouched and unharmed, Corporal,” Shelley warned him, “or you will receive your own just punishment.”

  Nina was surprised that the man had said anything in her behalf.

  “Like I said, sir, we’ll get her there.” The corporal turned and walked past the human cage, glancing at Nina with a sneer before climbing into the driver’s seat. He snapped the reins and the four horses pulling the wagon headed away from the fort.

  Nina kept her eyes on the little building where Clay lay, perhaps dying. She thought how much easier this would be if she could just have seen him once more, looked into those wonderful blue eyes, could have felt his strong but tender arms around her once more. She realized now that when she was with Clay she had felt safe, protected, vulnerable in his arms, though not vulnerable to the outside forces that were against her. In his arms she was not alone, but there was no Clay to help her now, no Emilio to rescue her. This was the worst loneliness she had ever suffered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Clay awoke to the singing of birds outside the window near his cot. He realized immediately that the burning sensation in his belly had lessened. He could see things more clearly, and his mind did not seem so muddled. He put a hand to his face, and it felt cool. From outside the window he could hear the usual familiar sounds of a busy Army fort, and he recognized his surroundings as Army medical quarters.

  He lay still, trying to clear his mind further, thinking back to how he might have ended up here. He remembered waking up once before, feeling the ugly burning and the terrible thirst, realizing he was drenched in sweat. He remembered a man bending over him telling him “that woman” was no good for him.

  Nina! He remembered it clearly now. Al Kinkade had tried to escape. He thought he remembered shooting Kinkade, but the other one—Greg Lions—had fired back at him. He squinted at the remembered pain, moving a hand to his belly and feeling the gauze there. He lifted the blankets to realize he was naked, with towels wrapped around his privates. His middle was firmly wrapped with gauze that was stained with blood.

  He tried to rise, but the ache in his belly was still unbearable when he moved. He laid his head back down, the simple effort leaving him exhausted. He’d been gut-shot, and he realized he was probably lucky to be alive. How long ago had it been? What had happened to Nina? Poor Nina! He had to help her, speak for her! Maybe there was still a chance. If she had been taken away, if she was imprisoned or…hanged…

  How would he live without her, now that he knew he loved her? She had depended on him to protect her, help her escape. They were going to meet in El Paso, but that was all changed now. “Doc!” he called out. “Where is everybody?”

  A dark-haired man stepped through a curtained doorway. He was a pleasant-looking man, wearing the blue-and-gold patch of a Sergeant-Major on his sleeves. “Well, you look a lot more chipper today, Lieutenant. Things are looking up.” He came closer. “In case you don’t remember, I’m Sergeant-Major Webster, the doctor here at Fort Fillmore.” He leaned down and felt Clay’s forehead. “By God, the fever is gone! That’s a damn good sign that you’re going to make it, Lieutenant.”

  “How long…have I been here?”

  “Six days. Probably seems more like six weeks to you.”

  “Six days!” Again Clay tried to sit up, only to wither back into the pillow with pain.

  “None of that, Lieutenant. You have a good three weeks to a month of healing left. Maybe longer.”

  “I can’t…wait that long! The girl…Nina Juarez…the one we brought in. Where is she?”

  Webster poured some water into a glass. “Don’t you fret about her, Lieutenant. She’s been taken care of. She was hauled off to Santa Fe in a prison wagon about three days ago. I imagine it will be four or five more days before they get there.”

  Rage swept through Clay’s soul. “A prison wagon! My God, there’s nothing but Indians and outlaws…between here and Santa Fe, let alone…the fact that she’s traveling with scum!”

  Webster shook his head. “Sir, I might remind you that Miss Juarez is an outlaw herself. But she left in good hands. Captain Shelley gave strict orders that she be properly respected and taken care of.”

  “My God!” Clay groaned again.

  Webster leaned over him with a glass of water. “I’m sure you’re still very thirsty,” he told Clay. “Gunshot wounds do that to a man, especially when they’re in the belly.”

  “I just…want to see whoever is in charge,” Clay answered. “Is it that Captain Shelley you mentioned?”

  “Yes, but he’s busy right now. I’ll send him over as soon as he’s able. Now, drink some water and we’ll see if your stomach can handle any food. You’re very lucky, Lieutenant. Only the upper stomach was damaged, and stomachs can be repaired.”

  “I don’t want food. I just want to talk to…the captain.” Clay closed his eyes, wanting to scream at the horrible helplessness of it. He should be with Nina! A prison wagon! Santa Fe! She could be hanged before he ever reached her! She was going through all of this alone, surrounded by the kind of men who terrified her!

  “At least drink some water,” the doctor told him. “You’ve got to replace the fluids you lost from so much bleeding and from the fever. If you are thinking of helping Miss Juarez, you’ve got to be well to do it, which means cooperating with what I tell you.”

  Clay drank some of the water, and Webster set the glass aside. “Personally, I would advise you not to make a fuss over that Mexican woman, Lieutenant, if you’ll pardon my forwardness. I know it’s none of my business, but—”

  “You’re right,” Clay growled. “It is none of your business. I…want to see the captain.”

  Webster sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled back the covers to inspect the bandages wrapped around Clay’s middle. “For once there’s no fresh blood. The stain on here is from yesterday. I’ll change these bandages later this afternoon.” He recovered him. “You’re a very lucky man, Lieutenant. When they first brought you in, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do for you.”

  “Well, I thank you. Now you can…do more for me by getting the captain. After I’ve talked to him, I promise to try to eat something.”

  Webster grinned. “It’s a deal. We’ll start you out with just a little. Just some light soup, maybe some tea. You’ve got a ways to go to get your strength back.”

  “I want it back…as fast as possible. I’ve got to get to Nina…if she’s left alive.”

  Webster sobered, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself.
How could the lieutenant be such a fool? But then, he had seen this Miss Juarez. Who could tell what such a beauty could do to a man if he was alone with her long enough? “I’ll go talk to the captain,” he told Clay. “You just lie still and don’t be trying again to get up or you’ll never get out of that bed.”

  The man turned and walked out, and Clay shivered with the thought of Nina being hauled off to Santa Fe, suffering the humiliation of being on display in a prison wagon like part of a circus. What kind of men was she traveling with? He ached to hold her, to tell her everything was all right, to be able to protect her and take her away from the horror.

  It seemed an eternity before Webster finally returned with the captain, a tall, thin man Clay had met a couple of years earlier at Camp Verde. “Captain,” Clay said. “Sorry I can’t…stand up and salute you.”

  “No problem, Lieutenant,” Shelley answered. He took a chair and pulled it over beside the bed, then sat down, signaling Webster to leave. He looked Clay over. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Lieutenant Youngblood. You’re too good a man to have your life ended in such a ridiculous way just before you leave years of distinguished service.”

  Clay put a hand to his hair. “Yeah, I guess it was a little ridiculous. That damn…Kinkade moved so quick.”

  “Well, we all can get caught off guard one time or another, especially when a beautiful woman is involved.”

  Their eyes held. “You know that’s why I wanted to see you, don’t you, sir?”

  The captain sighed, rising. “I suspected. My advice is to let it go, Lieutenant. She isn’t worth it. We’ve managed to keep down the rumors that you were infatuated with the woman, and after meeting her, I can understand how that could happen, but—”

  “I love her, Captain. What’s happened to her?”

  Shelley turned and faced Clay. “Love her! For God’s sake, Lieutenant, do you know what you’re saying?”

  “I know exactly…what I’m saying.” Clay grimaced with pain before continuing. “She’s not bad, Captain. She got roped into all of this. Deep inside she’s just an innocent young girl who’s never…had any direction in life.” It irritated him that just talking could be such an effort.

  “Lieutenant, I think loneliness and the desert got to you,” Shelley replied. “When I mentioned to her that it was rumored there had been something between her and you, she said she had no use for ‘gringo scum’ like yourself, and that she hoped you would die from your wounds because it was your fault she’d been caught.”

  Clay frowned, a tightness moving into his chest.

  “Put her out of your mind right now, Lieutenant,” the captain continued. “She really is no good. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I suspect she just used you in some way to plot an escape. Am I right?”

  Clay closed his eyes, his mind racing with confusion.

  “I’m just trying to protect your reputation, Lieutenant,” Shelley continued. “You’re a well-respected man, and I’m sure you want to leave the Army with only your exemplary record as a good officer and Indian fighter, not as the man who fell for an outlaw Mexican woman who almost fooled him into doing something that could have gotten him dishonorably discharged. I’m keeping this to myself, Lieutenant, because I know the quality of man you are.”

  “She must have had a reason for saying that…maybe to protect me herself.”

  Shelley sighed. “Think what you want. Just take my advice, Lieutenant, and let it go.”

  “I don’t care what she did…or said. The fact remains she’s only nineteen years old. She shouldn’t be in a damn…prison wagon being hauled off to someplace foreign to her…alone and afraid. For God’s sake, she’s so beautiful and vulnerable. You know damn well the things that could happen to her.”

  “Take my word for it, Lieutenant,” the captain replied, putting the chair back to its original location. His piercing blue eyes showed their disdain for Nina. “There aren’t many things that frighten that one. She’s a proud, independent little spitfire who will probably find a way out of her situation on her own.”

  “There is too much against her this time.” Clay sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “I just wish I could get out of this bed.”

  Shelley shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter, Lieutenant. I’m glad right now for your sake that you can’t. This way you’ll keep your name out of the picture until—”

  Their eyes held. “Until it’s too late,” Clay finished for him. He felt sick inside. Had Nina meant what she said? He couldn’t believe it. She was a smart woman. She must have known it would be better for him if she denied any rumors he might have tried to help her or been soft on her. “Do me a favor, Captain, if you would, please. Let me know if you hear anything about the matter…what happened to Nina. I’d…like to know.”

  Shelley nodded. “I can do that. Just don’t express your concern to anyone else.”

  Clay met his eyes. He wanted to tell the man what he really thought about his callousness, but he reminded himself that the captain knew only the facts. In his mind Nina was simply a horse thief in the hands of the law, where she belonged. “Thank you for your concern about my…reputation. Did the camel expedition get off all right?”

  “Everything is fine, as far as I know. They’re well on their way into Arizona by now. And as long as you keep this thing with Miss Juarez out of the picture, you’ll leave the Army with an added honor for getting rid of Mike Billings and his bunch. You do what Webster tells you now and get well so you can be discharged standing on your own two feet, and with a proper salute.”

  Clay managed a weak grin. “Yes, sir.”

  Shelley left, and Clay felt the lump rising in his throat. Nina! What was happening to her! Had she used him after all, like the captain suggested? He didn’t want to believe that, yet it would be easier to bear her death or imprisonment if he could be sure she was as bad as others seemed to think she was. He could not believe that. When Kinkade had given her a chance to flee with him, she had refused.

  Would she be hanged? For the first time since Jenny, he had found someone special, someone he wanted to spend his life with, and now she would be taken from him. He could not forget those beautiful eyes, those dark, sincere, frightened, innocent eyes.

  He shifted in his bed, and the deep, ugly pain stabbed at his insides again, reminding him that no matter how either one of them felt, there was nothing he could do about it now. By the time he was able to go to Nina, it would be too late for both of them.

  Nina stood before the judge, wishing she had been allowed more than just a bowl of water to wash her face and hands. She needed a full bath and a change of clothes, but she had been treated no better than a dog on the long, hot journey here. Her humiliation knew no bounds, for in every small town through which they had passed, people had gawked, many of them Mexican themselves, pointing and wondering.

  More than once the soldiers who drove the wagon had had to stop and use clubs on the male prisoners in the wagon, who numbered five by the time they reached Santa Fe; men who thought that just because Nina was in the back of the wagon with them, she was fair game, a loose woman whose morals were no better than their own. Two of the men had finally been tied in place so that they would leave her alone.

  The journey had been hot and dirty, with no more privacy for Nina than a rock or a bush behind which she was allowed to relieve herself. Water was offered only twice a day, as were meals, which consisted mostly of wormy biscuits and dried meat. Her hair was dirty and stringy, her clothes dusty, and the two days she had spent in jail in Santa Fe waiting for the judge had been miserable. She was put in an open cell with nothing between her and the male prisoners but bars. They could watch her constantly, and the hideous, suggestive remarks they made had only added to her terror and embarrassment. She had at least been allowed to go outside to a privy for personal matters, but always with a guard standing right outside the door.

  The male prisoners with whom she had been brought in had already been sentenced, two
to hang for stealing horses, one to hang for killing a man, the other two to several years in prison for robbing a bank and shooting a woman. They were to be taken to a fort prison farther east, but Nina could not remember the name.

  Would she be sent even deeper into the country of her enemy? Would she spend years living like she had in the jail cell the past two days, or maybe under even worse conditions? Or would she hang? Her mind raced with dreadful thoughts as she faced the judge, an American, and a man she already knew was terribly prejudiced. He had already sentenced two Mexican men to hang for simply stealing a cow from white settlers. She could see he was bent on proving to himself and the other whites who had stolen this land from Mexico that Mexicans in general were a bad lot and could not be trusted.

  Outside she could hear shouts. A group of Mexicans had gathered in the street to protest the arrest and imprisonment of the young woman of their race. Many were convinced she was just being used as an example, but on the way to the courthouse, Nina had noticed some of them looked at her angrily, probably upset that she had done something to give the Americans more fuel to their argument that Mexicans were no good. There was a mixture of support and anger among them, and the sheriff had ordered his deputies to keep an extra guard, afraid there could be trouble, no matter what Nina’s fate. Hard feelings were still rampant. In the hearts of some men on both sides, the war was not over.

  Nina held her head high as she met the judge’s eyes, knowing already that no argument she could present would have any effect on him. She knew by the look on his face that he had already made up his mind what he would do with her. She studied his balding head as he read the papers sent by Captain Shelley. She wondered what qualifications he had to call himself a judge. His dark suit looked worn and dusty, and his hands did not look clean. He had already made a remark to one of the deputies about meeting him for a drink at the nearest saloon as soon as he finished with “these no-goods.” He had meted out his sentences with no sign of emotion, as though he was irritated he had to be bothered with the job at all, hardly taking a moment to study each case in his mind.