“How long will you wait for the sign?” She prayed for God to hurry up. He could be so slow sometimes in her opinion.
“Five minutes.”
“What? But—”
“God made the whole world in only six days. Do you think He can’t get some silly little sign to me in five minutes? Actually, He could probably give me my sign within the next few seconds, but seeing as how it’s God I’m dealing with, I’ll be generous and give Him the full five minutes. After all, He might be busy right now, sending more knights in shining armor to other damsels in distress.”
When Zafiro fell into silence he realized he’d finally beaten her. She knew as well as he did that no heavenly sign was going to arrive within the next five minutes. Assured of his victory, Sawyer turned back around and quickly followed the trail out of the forest.
He’d leave that very afternoon, he decided. True, his leg continued to ache and he wasn’t strong enough to ride a great distance, but surely he could make it to some small town or village.
Because there was no way in hell that he was going to stay at La Escondida and take care of Zafiro and her feeble-minded friends.
That thought in mind, he quickened his pace through the forest. As soon as he stepped out of the glade, he stopped.
Stared.
And couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Santa Maria,” Zafiro whispered, she too, stopping and staring at the sight in the yard. “Your sign. There it is. You are my warrior dressed in sparkling steel, and there is your weapon to prove it! What do you say now, Sawyer Donovan?”
Hoping the vision would disappear, Sawyer blinked his eyes several times.
But the dazzling apparition remained.
Its tip stuck in the ground, its jewel-studded hilt pointing toward heaven, a magnificent silver sword shone in the bright sunlight.
Chapter Five
“I don’t care what you say, that dumb sword is not a I sign from God.” Sitting in a rickety chair at the table in the kitchen area of the great room, Sawyer threw Jengibre off his lap and glared at the ancient blade in Zafiro’s hands. “You act like it fell straight out of heaven and landed in the yard.”
“It—”
“Look, Zafiro, you said yourself that that blade is one of the convent’s treasures, some sword used in the Holy Crusades—”
“It is also the sign you asked for.” Smiling, Zafiro leaned over in her chair and placed the gleaming weapon on the table. “Your heaven-sent sign.”
“It is not!” Sawyer slammed his fist down on the table. “Tia said that Sister Carmelita and Sister Pilar brought the sword while you and I were still at the stream! The nuns told her they thought I might be able to figure out a way to use it bring down fresh meat.”
“Yes, that is what Tia said the nuns told her.”
“I can just see myself running through the mountains chasing animals with a sword.”
“Sawyer, who do you think made the nuns think of bringing a warrior’s weapon?”
“What?”
Zafiro smiled more broadly. “God told them to bring it.”
“That’s stupid!”
Zafiro gasped and clutched at her sapphire. “Do you say that God is stupid?”
“I didn’t say God was stupid, and stop twisting around my words!”
“He is yelling at you, Zafiro,” Maclovio slurred from across the room, so drunk that his eyes were crossed. “Do you want me to smash his face?”
“Grace?” Lorenzo asked. He looked up and watched Tia remove a fried lamb chop from a pan of hot grease. “Yes, let’s say grace so we can eat. I am hungry for the lamb the good sisters brought to us.” He bowed his head, but instead of praying, he fell asleep and would have fallen out of his chair had Sawyer not reached out and pulled the old man into his lap.
“Hold him, Sawyer,” Zafiro entreated when Sawyer began to put Lorenzo back into the chair. “He will wake up in only a minute. If you sit him back up now, he will only fall out again.”
Sighing with irritation, Sawyer leaned back in his chair, holding the frail Lorenzo in his arms like a baby. Just when he’d adjusted himself comfortably, he saw Azucar leave her chair and walk around the table toward him. The satin-garbed hag ran her bony fingers across her sagging breasts then lifted her gown to show Sawyer her sticklike leg.
Dammit, there was no way in hell he could hold Lorenzo and fend off Azucar at the same time. “Get her away from me, Zafiro,” he demanded.
Zafiro quickly complied, taking hold of Azucar’s arm and leading the old woman back to her chair. “Sawyer does not have any money, Azucar. Would you give yourself to him for free?”
Azucar frowned fiercely. “No. Men pay me with full bags of gold.”
Listening to their exchange, Sawyer wondered why he hadn’t thought of the poverty-stricken idea. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m fresh out of gold.”
“Tomorrow you will have some gold,” she told him. “Then you will be able to afford the pleasure you will find in my arms.” To make sure that he understood her promise of sexual ecstasy, she closed her eyes and slowly ran her tongue across her bottom lip.
“Tomorrow it is.” Sawyer went along with her because, after all, he wouldn’t be here tomorrow.
“I am ready for my lamb chop,” Lorenzo said, twitching while he awakened and yawned. “Ready for…” His voice trailed away when he realized he was in Sawyer’s lap. “Why are you holding me, Sawyer?”
"Because you—”
“Dinner,” Tia announced, placing a platter of sizzling meat on the table. Roasted potatoes, black beans, a stack of hot corn tortillas, and a bowl of green chili-laden sauce accompanied the succulent lamb. “We must remember the good sisters in our prayers tonight,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Not only did they bring us the fresh meat, but they also brought tea and a big batch of apple tarts that they baked this morning. We should enjoy this wonderful meal because no one knows when we will get another like it. Apple tarts, they are your favorite, aren’t they, my sweet Francisco?”
Sawyer didn’t bother to reply. Lifting Lorenzo from his lap, he placed the man back into his chair. “You almost fell on the floor!” he shouted into Lorenzo’s hairy ear. “Try not to go to sleep at the table anymore!”
“Any whore?” Lorenzo said. “No, Azucar is not just any whore. She is a whore with a heart of gold, Sawyer. Do you know that she sold her little pearl ring to buy me a birthday present? That was years and years ago, but I still have the pair of small scissors she gave to me. I use them to cut my toenails, and they are the best scissors—”
“Where is Pedro?” Tia asked, setting his plate on the table in front of his empty chair. “I told him only a little while ago that supper would soon be ready.”
Instantly alarmed, Zafiro crossed to the window and scanned the yard. When she didn’t see Pedro anywhere, her anxiety deepened, especially since the sun was sinking fast. “It is not like Pedro to wander out of the yard.”
“Maybe he ascended into heaven,” Sawyer quipped. “Or it could be you’ll find him at the stream walking on water.”
“You are in my chair, Sawyer,” Maclovio said, frowning. “If you do not get up and let me have my chair, I will smash—”
“Gladly.” Sawyer rose from his chair and assisted the intoxicated Maclovio into the seat.
“Francisco, sit down and eat your dinner,” Tia ordered.
He decided to indulge her fantasy just this once because, after all, he was leaving. “I’m not hungry, Mama. I promise I’ll eat later.”
She studied his face. “You do look tired, my son. Go to bed, and I will bring you your meal in a while, all right?”
“Yeah, all right.” He wondered how his departure would affect the old woman. After having finally “found” her long-lost son, she’d probably be devastated when she learned he’d left again.
He hoped she wouldn’t be too sad for too long. It wasn’t that she truly mattered to him, but…well, she had taken good care of him.
And what about Lorenzo? he thought, glancing at the old man who was happily and industriously gumming a piece of lamb. Would the day come when Lorenzo fell out of a chair and seriously hurt himself?
Sawyer hoped not, just as he hoped Maclovio would not systematically destroy what little of La Escondida was still standing.
He wondered if Maclovio would ever stop drinking, wondered if Azucar would ever have one last romp between the sheets before she withered away, and wondered, too, where Pedro was. Surely he’d come straggling home soon, none the worse from his jaunt away from the house. Then Zafiro could stop worrying about him.
Zafiro. Sawyer stared at her back, for she was still standing in front of the window looking for Pedro. She had such small, delicate shoulders.
How long would they be able to bear the weight of her worries? Another year? Six months? A few weeks?
A matter of days?
“I must go,” she said suddenly, whirling away from the window. “It is almost dark, and Pedro, he could be in trouble. I will lift every rock I see until I find him.”
“You’ll leave no stone unturned,” Sawyer corrected her.
“Yes, that is what I said. I will be back in a while, Sawyer, and then we will continue to discuss the sword.”
In a flurry of silky black hair and ragged cotton skirts, she disappeared through the front door. Sawyer had a mind to call her back and make her understand that he was leaving, but decided against the idea. She’d only try to talk him into staying.
What was the matter with him anyway? For a full five minutes he’d been standing here wondering about and worrying over the six people who had done their level best to drive him insane during the past four weeks!
He was leaving. Leaving, and that was that. Zafiro’s problems were not his own, dammit. He had his own troubles, for God’s sake, and possessed neither the time nor the inclination to solve hers or anyone else’s.
Cursing the ache in his leg, he left the great room, ascended the staircase, and soon reached his bedroom, where he quickly packed his belongings into his satchel. Once downstairs again, he saw that Maclovio and Lorenzo had both fallen asleep at the table and that Tia stood in front of the oven with her back turned to him.
Only Azucar saw him cross to the front door. He put a finger to his lips to ask for her silence, then blew her a kiss when she nodded. His gesture of affection so delighted her that a few tears appeared in her bleary eyes.
It sure didn’t take much to make the old woman happy, and for a few seconds Sawyer watched her tears slide over and disappear into the maze of wrinkles on her face. The sight compelled him to send her not just one more airy kiss, but three.
Her joyful giggle—which sounded more like a cackle—was the last thing he heard as he stepped outside and shut the door. In only moments he found his mule, Mister, and his trunk in the dim barn. After bridling the animal, he reached for the trunk.
Instantly, he drew his hands away. He didn’t want to touch the trunk.
Something horrible was inside. He knew it.
But he needed the trunk, he told himself. For some reason he knew he needed it.
Gritting his teeth against the almost overwhelming sense of dread that pounded through him, he lifted the trunk from the floor and attached it to Mister’s back. But many long moments passed before his emotions returned to normal.
He led the mule out of the barn. Moonlight showed him the way out of La Escondida and out of the confines of the hideaway. After closing the concealed doors he spotted Mariposa, who was feasting upon a big fat rabbit. Zafiro had said that the cougar sometimes brought fresh meat to her and her charges, but the great cat sure didn’t show any signs of sharing the rabbit.
He wondered when Tia would again have meat to prepare. The lamb the nuns had brought was only enough for one meal.
Instantly, he tore the thought from his mind and mounted Mister—a difficult task considering the fact that his leg was now hurting fiercely. Urging the surefooted mule down the pebbled slope, he prayed he’d make it to a village or even some small farm before pain forced him to stop.
But before he reached the bottom of the foothill the acrid smell of smoke stopped him. Twisting upon Mister’s back, he spied the source of the smoke: a small fire burning in the near distance. Although nighttime had fallen, he could also see a white-garbed figure moving around the fire.
Flames shot up around the person, and Sawyer realized immediately that he or she was soon going to catch fire. “Get away from the fire!”
His warning echoed through the mountains, but the person on the hill made no move to obey. He or she began to jump up and down and finally fell to the ground.
Sawyer drove Mister back up the mountainside. When the animal arrived a few feet away from the blaze, Sawyer slid off its back and hurried to assist the groaning man on the ground.
He gasped when he saw that the man was Pedro and that the hem of Pedro’s white robe was burning. Instantly, he grabbed Pedro’s shoulder and hip and began to roll him all over the pebble-strewn dirt, thereby suffocating the fire that would have soon consumed the robe and Pedro.
“For God’s sake, Pedro, what the hell—”
“The bush,” Pedro said raspily, hoarse from breathing too much smoke. “I saw the burning bush on the side of the mountain and knew I was being summoned.”
“What?” Confused, Sawyer studied the fire that still blazed nearby. His bewilderment disappeared when he saw that the flaming object was, indeed, a bush. The scripture-preaching Pedro had more than likely set the bush afire himself in an effort to bring the Bible story to life.
Sawyer examined Pedro’s feet and legs, frowning when he saw several burned places on the old man’s wrinkled skin. “You could have burned to death, crazy old man! Zafiro’s looking all over for you, and here you are on the side of the mountain setting bushes on fire!”
“Leave me in peace, my brother,” Pedro requested. “This is the garden of olives, and I must pray here. I lost my coat of many colors, you see, but after I pray I will find it.”
Sawyer’s lips thinned in a tight line of irritation. His leg hurt so badly now that he could hardly stand to use it, but he gathered the old man into his arms and placed him on Mister’s back. He couldn’t leave Pedro here alone. The elderly lunatic would more than likely pitch himself off the mountain and call to the angels to save him.
The mule’s bridle reins clutched tightly in his hand, Sawyer limped his way back to La Escondida, and by the time he reached the hidden entrance to the hideaway, he knew that he could travel no further tonight. He had exhausted what little strength he had going up and down the mountain and would have to spend one more night in the concealed den of batty bandits.
So frustrated was he with the maddening turn of events, he failed to see the thick tangle of vines that covered the ground ahead of him. When he reached the mass of thorny vegetation, his right foot disappeared into the twisting stems, which wrapped around his ankle as if alive.
He let go of the bridle reins, and down the slope he rolled, head over heels, until a crash into the rattletrap wagon stopped his fast and painful descent.
The old, unsound cart immediately splintered apart, and Sawyer soon found himself buried beneath a pile of rotten wood.
“Sawyer!”
He heard Zafiro call to him, then heard her footsteps as she approached the wagon. “Here,” he managed to tell her.
She looked at the mountain of wood that used to be a wagon. “Are you all right?”
Gingerly, he moved away a rusty nail that bit into his neck. “Oh, I’m just fine, Zafiro. In fact, falling down that rocky slope, crashing into a one-hundred-year-old cart, and being buried alive beneath a heap of worm-eaten wagon planks was so much fun that I think I’ll get up and do it again.”
His caustic reply assured her that he’d survive his little accident with the wagon, so she turned her attention to Pedro, who was struggling to dismount from Mister. “Pedro—”
�
��I am very angry at Sawyer, Zafiro,” the old man said, wincing when his scorched feet hit the ground. “Righteously angry, because I was just setting out to find some blind, paralyzed, and demon-possessed people to cure, when he came and got me! If I was not a saint, I would—”
“He was setting bushes on fire, Zafiro!” Sawyer yelled as he battled his way out from under the rotten wagon wood. “Then he set himself on fire!”
“On fire?” Tia repeated as she arrived at the scene, holding her skirts above the ground as she waddled along. “Pedro, come into the house this second and let me tend to your bums. And you, Francisco, get out of that wood before you get splinters in your little bottom!”
Splinters in his “little bottom” were the least of his problems. His leg was hurting so badly now that he actually longed to be back in the bed in his bedroom. Stumbling out of the pile of broken wood, he glared at Zafiro, who in his frustrated mind, was the indirect cause of every infuriating thing that had happened to him since the day he’d chased her from the convent.
He felt like yelling at her and decided to give in to the temptation. “Zafiro, I swear to God that from the second I laid eyes on you, my life has been—”
“Thank you, Sawyer,” she said, walking toward him and taking his hands into hers. “Thank you for going out to look for Pedro the way you did.”
“What? But I didn’t—”
“Pedro has never left La Escondida before, so I did not think to look for him on the mountain the way you did. You are intelligent like a switch.”
“If I were smart as a whip, I wouldn’t be here! Look, Zafiro, you don’t understand. I didn’t—”
“If not for you… Oh, Sawyer, if not for you, dear sweet Pedro would have burned to death! I knew you were sent to me. I knew in my heart that you—”
“Would you stop?” Sawyer blasted. He yanked his hands from her grasp. “I didn’t go looking for your dear sweet Pedro! I had left La Escondida, got that? Left, and I was already almost at the bottom of the mountain when I smelled the smoke from Pedro’s burning bush! I found him by accident and would be on my way to the nearest village by now if not for him!”
Bed of Roses Page 9
