Rescuing the Runaway Bride

by Bonnie Navarro

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Good evening, Magda.” Vicky entered the kitchen. Magda had left her when they assumed the danger had passed and she had grown restless with her worries for Chris’ safety.

  “Vicky, mi’ja. I thought you would be resting by now.” Magda wiped flour off her hands on her apron. “Is everything all right, mi’ja?”

  “I fear for Chris and Papá. What if Don Joaquín...”

  Magda shook her head and tsked her tongue at her as she kneaded the dough she was making. “I have prayed for this day, my child.” Then she left her work and squeezed Vicky close, her warm, strong arms having sheltered and comforted Vicky so many times in the past. “Do not fret. Your Chris is strong and smart. He loves you and will do whatever he needs to in order to protect you. I knew it, I just knew it the minute I saw him standing next to you and his gaze so protective. He would have killed Don Joaquín to protect you. He is a good man. I liked him the first time he came to sell Tesoro. Berto said the same thing. You could not find a better man, save my own Berto, if you searched all of Mexico and España. You’ll have to settle for second best.” Magda laughed and pinched Vicky’s cheek.

  “I know. I’ve always been envious of you, Magda. You and Berto are so happy. You love each other.” Even she could hear how wistful her voice sounded. How she wished she could have been born to a simple vaquero, then she would be loved by someone humble and kind like Chris.

  “And you and your Chris will have a love that lasts a lifetime.”

  “It is true that I love him,” she finally admitted out loud. “He is such a good man and wants to protect me from Don Joaquín, but that does not mean that he loves me.”

  “And you’re telling me that man who can’t keep his eyes off you doesn’t love you? Did he tell you that?”

  “I’m too dark skinned to be loved...”

  “Now, you bite your tongue right now, young lady.” Magda held a hand to her lips.

  “Your mother has planted seeds of doubt in your heart for years, and it has to stop. God doesn’t have favorites. Ask Padre Pedro. He comes and speaks the Misa for all of us. Not just your father and mother or even just your family. He insists that we all attend because he says that God loves all men and we will one day all be in heaven with Him. Now, if God loves me, a humble Indiacita with no noble blood, then surely He can love you, too. And so can your Chris. He loves you, Vicky, my princesa. I have seen it shining in his eyes.”

  Could it be true? Did God really love her as she was? Chris, Magda, Nana Ruth and even Padre Pedro had said similar things... Could it be true? And if it were, then she could pray. She could try to trust. Maybe He did answer but she just hadn’t understood His message.

  She needed to go somewhere and think. Maybe even try to pray.

  “I want to take a treat...”

  “Out to Tesoro. Yes, I imagined you would. I will wait for you to come back before I go home. Do you want me to start some tea?”

  “Yes, please.” She took two apples and two carrots from the pantry and then gave Magda a quick hug on her way out the door. “Thank you for everything, Magda. I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you.”

  “Aye, mi’ja. Hurry back.”

  With a nod, she slipped out the kitchen door and headed for the barn. Standing in the middle of the yard, she stared up at the night sky. The same stars had winked down on her at Chris’s cabin when she stood in his yard. “Thank you, God. I know Chris talks to you all the time. He said that You wanted to hear from me, too. Thank You for saving me from having to marry Joaquín. Protect Chris and Papá from the schemes that evil Joaquín is planning. I don’t trust anyone but You to keep us all safe.”

  She crossed the rest of the yard, pausing as a shiver ran up her back. She should have grabbed a serape on her way out, but now that she was almost to the barn she’d just ignore the cool night air. She’d soon return to the warmth of the kitchen and sit with Magda while they sipped tea and caught up on events around the hacienda.

  Pulling the large door open, she paused—something didn’t feel right. The door wasn’t latched. Odd. None of the vaqueros would have left it open. Berto demanded that everyone be careful for the protection of the animals under his care. Reaching for the lantern on the peg inside the door, her hand closed on only thin air. No lantern. Odder still.

  A whinny from the stalls caught her attention.

  “Just a minute, Tes. I’m looking for the lantern.” Another noise, this time as if someone had bumped into something, sounded close to Tesoro’s stall, and then Tesoro snorted again. Picking up a shovel, Vicky cautiously stepped a little farther into the barn. “If someone is here, you’d better come out and stop messing around in the barn. Berto won’t take kindly to your mischief,” she called out, proud her voice didn’t shake the way her hands did.

  “Don’t care what Berto thinks of my mischief,” a voice snarled at her in the dark. Don Joaquín. Her blood froze like ice in her veins. How would he have gotten away from José Luis and Alfredo? They wouldn’t have let him get away. Had he killed them? “By the time anyone finds out that I didn’t leave as quickly as they had expected, we’ll be long gone and they won’t want to cross me again. I came for what’s mine. No one denies me anything!”

  “Mi papá never promised me to you. He said he would consider the match, but he didn’t commit. You were the fool who announced it last year. Mi papá would not do that to me!”

  “You foolish girl. I don’t need a commitment from him. I always get what I want. Learn that now and you’ll live a bit longer. We could even get along just fine if you’d learn to keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told.”

  “I won’t...” She stepped back, aware of every rustle of her skirt that gave away her movement.

  “I don’t want to kill you now. But I will if you run. And as for your lover, he’s as good as dead already. He won’t see morning light.”

  If she fled, Don Joaquín would go after Chris and Nana Ruth. She couldn’t let him hurt the very people who took her in and showed her love. They saved her life. She would not be the cause of them losing theirs. She’d rather die.

  “If you leave Chris alone, I’ll go willingly.” After all, if she had to die, she now knew God would take her to live in heaven. But to know that her escape caused harm to her friends would be living torture.

  She set the shovel aside, wishing she could see the man so she could use the implement to knock him into the next world. She walked blindly toward the back of the barn, knowing that each step took her closer to her doom.

  The odor of Don Joaquín alerted her to his presence an instant before his clammy hand clamped over her mouth, his other hand holding something hard and cold to her back. “Now, don’t make a sound and don’t do anything foolish.”

  As if giving herself up to the whims of this man was not foolish? But she bit her tongue. No need to antagonize him more.

  “Now, get on that horse of yours you can’t be without. I’ve got her saddled and ready. At least you saved me from having to retrieve you from the house.”

  She shuddered at the thought. There was no way he would have reached her room without someone having encountered him first, and in the frame of mind he was in, she was sure he would have killed them to get to her.

  “Get moving!” He shoved her forward. He caught Tesoro’s reins and then faced Vicky, his foul breath causing her stomach to threaten to revolt. She clenched her teeth together. “Get on that horse!” he roared, slapping her across the face. Without waiting for him to do anything more, she ducked around him and settled as quickly as possible on the saddle. Her dress didn’t lend itself to riding, but she’d stay in the saddle. Her ribs were already burning like someone had set them on fire, and she hoped he would be too drunk to last long. Maybe he’d doze and fall off his horse.

  “Now, don’t go get
ting any ideas about getting away from me. I’ll come back and kill that Americano and your family if you do.”

  * * *

  The other man who had left with Don Joaquín and José Luis stood at the threshold of the house, his face puffing on one side from what must have been a blow with something blunt. The men all spoke at once, and Chris didn’t understand anything. Frustrated, he ran up the stairs and pounded on Vicky’s door, unconcerned about the amount of noise he was making or whether she was asleep. He needed to see she was safe, whole and untouched. No one answered his persistent knocking even as others came up the stairs behind him. A glance over his shoulder reassured him it was only Don Ruiz and Padre Pedro.

  Don Ruiz just threw the door open. The fact that it was unlocked made Chris’s blood freeze. Had it been forced? For propriety’s sake, he stepped aside even when every fiber of his being wanted to follow the other two men into her room. As they made a quick search and came up empty, he went to his own room and grabbed his handgun, praying it wouldn’t be needed.

  They made a quick search of the other ten rooms on that hallway, and then Don Ruiz sent a few of the vaqueros to check on the other wing. Padre Pedro led the rest back down the stairs as Chris went straight back to the kitchen. Its strong, thick door had been closed. Magda turned at his arrival, looking startled to see him there with his gun drawn. She must not have heard the noise at the front of the house.

  “Magda, where Vicky?”

  “Go see Tesoro.”

  “Don Joaquín escaped.” He repeated the only words he’d understood at the door. All color drained from her face. Chris slid a stool under her just as her legs gave way. “

  Go! Go mi Vicky,” she ordered and motioned him away.

  He crossed the kitchen and had his hand on the door when she called to him. “Señor Chris. Go with God and bring Vicky back.” He nodded and then slid out the door, pausing with his back against the wall to let his eyes adjust to the dark night. The barn door stood open, but no light flooded out. Dread squeezed his heart again. If Don Ruiz’s man looked that bad, what would Joaquín do to Vicky when he had her alone?

  He ran to the end of the house, and then crossed the yard at an angle so that he wasn’t in sight if Joaquín looked out from the barn. The moon and stars afforded a little light, but the pitch-black inside the barn would give Joaquín the advantage for a minute or two. He stood just to the side of the door and waited, trying to hear any movement over the pounding of his own heart.

  “God, please keep her safe. I’ve failed her once again. I don’t know if I can bear it if she’s...” No, he couldn’t say the words, couldn’t think them. He would get her out of the barn safe and sound. Or die trying.

  He heard muffled voices in the barn. He ducked and entered, keeping to the right side. If only they were in his barn, he’d know the place blindfolded. But he remembered seeing shovels by the entrance on his last visit here. Keeping low to the ground and close to the wall, he holstered his gun and let his hand explore until he found what he had been looking for.

  A stall door creaked, and Tesoro snorted. Something, or more likely someone, wasn’t to her liking. Good horse. If Joaquín tried to ride double to keep Vicky close to him, there would be no way that Tesoro would be able to carry that much weight and make good time. That would be to Chris’ advantage if he couldn’t keep them from leaving the barn. If Joaquín was thinking straight, he’d choose the fastest horse and take it. Comet was the obvious choice unless Berto had bought some other horses from someone else in the last year.

  A second stall door creaked open and then thudded shut. That would mean Don de la Vega was using two horses. If he could somehow get them separated, he could disarm de la Vega. His guess would be he’d be carrying a pistol. Creeping across the alley so he was on de la Vega’s right, he crouched low and bid his time.

  De la Vega hissed instructions to Vicky. Chris could see her silhouette as she climbed up on Tesoro. Slowly, they made their way toward him. He nickered like one of the horses and made a snorting sound. Vicky’s head cocked in his direction, and then she faced front while Tesoro nickered in response. De la Vega followed. The second horse also snorted, and Chris knew it was Comet by the sound. He silently promised Comet sugar cubes for the rest of his life if he tossed the heavy man on his head.

  As Vicky passed, she looked directly at him for an instant. Even in the dark he could see the look of relief followed immediately by pure fear and sadness in her eyes. Was she saying goodbye? She shook her head as if trying to dissuade him from rescuing her. But there was no way Chris was going to let her leave. Not like this. Not for Don de la Vega.

  She glanced once more at him, and the longing in her eyes called to his heart. For a second he could read her thoughts as clearly in her eyes as if she had said them out loud. She cared for him. Not just a little. She was going with the monster in part to protect him.

  Not on his watch. She would not have to sacrifice for him. No—he would protect her, no matter the cost. Determination filled his chest, and his blood thrummed through his veins.

  * * *

  He’d come for her. As soon as she heard the horse nicker by the door even though there was no stall there, she knew it was Chris. He’d risked his own life and come to save her. If only she could warn him away! Her life wasn’t worth him taking such a risk. But the look on his handsome face said there would be no reasoning with him even if she could have stopped to talk with him. So she had no other option than to ride right past, praying that God would protect him. At the very last moment she let her fear and longing show in her eyes. He gave her a strange expression, then looked past her, determined.

  Maybe she should have prayed for Joaquín’s soul. The look on Chris’s face showed none of the kindness, none of the gentleness she had come to expect from him. He looked capable of killing with his bare hands if necessary. Don Joaquín deserved no less for having gotten away with killing his other wives. And there was no doubt in her mind that he either caused their deaths directly or created such despair that death was better than being tied to him.

  Just as Tesoro carried her over the threshold, hands reached out of the darkness and plucked her out of the saddle, whisking her away from the door. “Shush, Vicky,” Papá’s voice whispered as he set her down by the outside wall of the barn. Then a thud sounded, and a gun went off. A scream followed as Comet neighed in rage and stomped. Images of Chris being trampled in the upheaval made her legs threaten to give out.

  “We need to go and help Chris!” She tried to pull away, but Papá held her fast. “Please, he might get hurt.” She’d beg if she had to.

  “If you go in there, you’ll distract him and he will get hurt. Let your man handle Joaquín. There isn’t much of a chance Joaquín will come out the victor.”

  Even as she fought her father, she heard the sounds of something hitting hard against the wall. Though her father tried to hold her, Vicky managed to escape his grasp. She fled to the barn, desperate to see Chris, to make sure that Don Joaquín had not taken away her future.

  * * *

  Once Vicky passed him, Chris could see the pistol Joaquín held in his right hand pointed directly at her. He lifted the shovel and waited until Tesoro carried Vicky over the threshold, praying that they would flee as quickly as possible and be clear of the shot if he couldn’t get the gun away from the other man. Then he leaped at Joaquín, bringing his shovel down across the man’s arm with all his might.

  The scream of rage and pain was drowned out by the report of the pistol. Joaquín dug his spurs into Comet’s flanks as he dropped the gun and cradled his right forearm, which was hanging at an odd angle, obviously broken. Chris had never used spurs on any of his stock, and Comet, unused to the painful sensation, bucked, intent on throwing the tyrant off his back. It took only two tries.

  Don Joaquín flew backward. A resounding crack filled the air when his
shoulder and head slammed into the stone wall, and then the man slumped to the ground.

  “Whoa!” Chris held out a hand and caught Comet’s reins, keeping an eye on the man who remained deathly still. Chris whispered words of assurance to calm the horse and catch his breath. Between the fear of something happening to Vicky and the absolute fury he had never felt before tonight, his own body shook in the aftermath.

  He dropped the shovel and pulled his revolver from his holster, tightening his grasp on Comet’s reins in his left hand as he crossed the dark room to stand over the slumped form.

  * * *

  Vicky dashed into the barn as her father called out behind her. Berto lit a lamp. Chris stood over Joaquín, who was against the wall, his right arm obviously broken and his left shoulder dislocated. His eyes were closed. Even in the lamplight his color looked ash gray. The rise and fall of his chest confirmed that Chris hadn’t ended his life. Relief for Chris mixed with frustration. Would Don Joaquín come back looking for revenge? Would they ever be free of his terror?

  Berto relieved Chris of Comet’s reins, and Chris holstered his gun.

  “Chris,” she called, and he spun around just as she ran into his arms. He caught her to his chest and held on tight.

  “I thought he had already taken you or...” He paused and held her at arm’s length as he looked her over. “He didn’t hurt you?”

  She knew the exact instant he saw the red welt across her cheek. His jaw twitched, and his eyes grew hard. He started to turn away from her, back toward the unconscious man on the floor.

  “You’ve punished him enough from the looks of it.” She laughed at his confused expression and tried again in English. He shook his head when he understood her meaning.

  “He hit you and tried to take you from us. He doesn’t deserve to still be breathing.”