Golden Roses

by Patricia Hagan

  As they rode, Amber carried on a frenzied dialogue with herself. Where was Cord taking her? Was it right not to stay with Armand’s body? Should she make her way, somehow, to his aunt? Underneath these thoughts was the clear knowledge that she had no choice but to let Cord rescue her from Valdis. She couldn’t remain with Armand, or think of anything but escape. Beside her, Cord sat in silence. She needed those precious seconds to clear her mind and strengthen whatever was left of her will.

  They hadn’t gone far when Cord pulled the wagon to a halt in front of a cantina. He helped her down and they entered, and Cord greeted a plump Mexican woman who looked up curiously from behind the bar. “I want my usual room, Rosita,” he told her in a rush. “I’m leaving the señorita here. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. A couple of days, maybe. I want you to make sure she stays right here.”

  Rosita nodded, wiping a strand of hair back from her sweaty forehead, and stepped out from behind the bar. She led the way down a dark, narrow hallway and then opened the door to a small, shadowed room at the very end of the hall. The furnishings were crude—a narrow bed with rusting iron posts, a small wooden table, and two rickety chairs. There were no windows, and only a dirt floor.

  “Why are you leaving me here?” Amber cried, whirling about to face Cord.

  He snapped to the Mexican woman, “Bring a bottle of tequila. See that she has food when she wants it.” He watched the woman scurry away, then clutched Amber’s arms, drawing her so close that she could feel his breath. “I’ve got to make arrangements to bury Armand, and while I’m doing all of that, I’ve got to make sure Valdis doesn’t find you. A few more days, and you’ll be out of all this.”

  “Let me go now,” she demanded, twisting away. “I don’t want your help, Cord. Can’t you understand I’ve been through so much I can face anything?”

  He whispered, “You don’t have to be alone, Amber. You’ve suffered terribly today, and I know it hurts like hell because I’ve suffered the same way. But it’s over. Nothing can be done about it except to grieve and…and then look to tomorrow.”

  She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and stared up at him with fresh tears. “Why are you doing this, Cord? Why don’t you just forget about me?”

  He shrugged, attempted to smile, but the effort was too much. She saw something in his eyes, something she couldn’t fathom.

  “Another time, another place, and you wouldn’t have to ask that question, sweetheart. But right now, I can’t answer it. Maybe I never will.”

  Brushing his lips against hers, he turned and left, locking the door behind him.

  For the time being, she was alone with her memories of Armand, and her grief.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was no way of knowing when night came, or morning, for in the windowless cubicle the only light came from the single lantern. She did not eat the food Rosita brought, but the tequila helped ease the pain and dim the misery.

  Drunkenly, she stared up at the stains on the drooping ceiling. Cord was probably going to take her to the border and leave her there. Good. She would survive. All she wanted was to be free of Valdis and his lecherous hellishness.

  Feebly, she lifted her head to take another burning swallow. The bottle was almost empty. Rosita would just have to bring another, because if she were sober she would be crying, and she didn’t want to cry. Not ever again, by God.

  The only real care that worked its way into her mind was Allegra, that pitiful creature who had been so weak as to let her demonic stepson rob her of not only her material possessions but also her will. The woman was like a zombie. Whatever had he done to take away all her spirit? What could it have been? Oh, if only she could take Allegra with her to a new life!

  The sound of the door being unlocked brought her to groggy awareness and she struggled to sit up, her head weighted. “Rosita?” she called, voice slurred, feeling a stabbing of remorse over having allowed herself to become so intoxicated. “Rosita, I feel sick.”

  But it was not Rosita’s kind, anxious face that peered down at her.

  “You are going to feel more than sick, bitch.”

  Amber shook her head wildly, the motion proving too much for her. Fangs. Maretta had fangs. And her lips were curled back, parted, as though ready to strike. She shrank back down into the thin, lumpy cot. “Go away,” she whispered. “I don’t want you.”

  “Take her!” Maretta motioned to one of two hulking men standing beside her, and they did.

  “Wake up!”

  Amber blinked. She felt terribly sick. Her mouth was dry, her head pounded, and her stomach was heaving precariously. Staring with bleary eyes, she gasped. “Maretta! What are you doing here?” Glancing quickly about, she saw that she was in an even smaller room. “This isn’t the cantina.”

  Not far away, a bell clanged, and Maretta grinned. “No, you are not in the cantina. You are in the convent, where you will do penance and be exorcised of your evil spirits. The good sisters of Asmodeus are used to handling devils.”

  Amber reached for Maretta but felt a painful bite in each wrist. She was tightly bound by ropes, and entirely helpless. “Maretta, you can’t mean to hurt me,” she cried, struggling. Dear God, there had to be some way to reach this sick girl. If only she had known how disturbed Maretta really was! “You can’t leave me here, Maretta.”

  “Oh, yes, I can. You cannot be free, not now—and maybe not ever. One day, perhaps, they will find you pure enough to leave, but that will be many, many years from now. You will be an old woman.”

  Maretta leaned closer and looked directly into Amber’s face, speaking very clearly. “Never will you marry my brother and become mistress in my house. Never! Did you think to take over my home, as you took Armand? I will never let you do that, never.” She finished with deadly finality, and Amber saw, too late, that Maretta had indeed been afraid of just that. She wouldn’t believe that Amber only wanted to get away. No, Maretta was too desperate to see that. She believed she had no choice but to keep Amber away from Valdis, away from being mistress of the Alezparito household.

  For an agonizing moment, Amber summoned all her strength and prepared to make Maretta understand. But just as quickly, the resolve died. She was exhausted. And Maretta was moving away, out of the room, even as Amber opened her mouth to speak. There was no point in trying; Maretta was beyond understanding.

  “Damn you!” was Maretta’s parting curse. Then she was gone.

  After being allowed to sleep for a few hours, the real torture began. She was taken in the dead of night to a mountain pool, where three silent nuns took turns holding her under the cold water as she struggled and thrashed. Only when drowning was imminent was she pulled to the surface, allowed to gasp for air, then pushed under again.

  The purging by mountain water went on into the day, and Amber lost consciousness. There were dreams, garish nightmares of laughing black eyes, bloodied horns, blood in the sand, and Armand’s death-stricken face swimming before her. She would come out of these nightmares shrieking, and the sisters of Asmodeus would murmur that the demons were leaving her.

  Finally, the sisters decided she should be allowed to rest, and she was carried inside and lowered to a stone pallet, where she lost consciousness for several hours.

  Amber awoke to hear herself calling Cord’s name. She turned her face to the damp, musky rock wall. It was chilly, but that was the least of her pain. There were bruises all over her body, day-old rope burns on her wrists.

  She heard a scurrying sound on the dirt floor but ignored it. Sleep. She wanted sleep.

  Suddenly, a strange scraping sound, unlike the other noises, caused her to waken fully. Her eyes widened fearfully in the inky pit. Were they coming for her again? Oh, please, God, no, not again.

  “Amber, do not be afraid.”

  Whose whisper? It was a woman’s voice.

  “It is Allegra, and Dolita. Please, whisper softly to me if you are all right.”

  “Yes, oh, yes!” she babbled, fo
rcing herself up on weak, aching legs. “Yes,” she hissed again.

  She felt frail hands clutch her bare shoulders. Arms went about her, and she was led through the cell door and down a dark, winding tunnel.

  Once outside, she drank in the sweet night air, the air of freedom. “How did you find me?” she whispered.

  “There is no time to talk.” It was Dolita’s voice. “We must go quickly. We have horses not too far away.”

  Heart pounding, Amber allowed them to help her along the rocks and through the brush, praying this was not a dream.

  Allegra sensed what Amber was thinking and smiled. “It is real, my child. When Señor Hayden stormed into the ranch and accused Valdis of stealing you, I knew what had happened. I am sorry to say that several years ago, when nothing could be done with Maretta, I sent her to the convent. I thought it was a good place. But then I came to visit her, and the sisters told me I could not see her. When I told Valdis, he took some of his men and we forced our way in. We found Maretta in the very cell you were in. I could only pray that was where you would be, and that we would not be caught.”

  Dolita grinned and lifted her skirt to reveal the knife she had strapped to her leg. “We were ready, however.”

  “What kind of people are those?” Amber shuddered.

  “Devil worshippers,” Allegra said matter-of-factly. “I have learned that they came here from across the ocean because they were being destroyed in their own country. What law there is here leaves them alone, for they bother no one except girls whose families send them there.”

  “I am forever in your debt for coming after me, Allegra.”

  “It is time I showed some spirit. I have cowered before my stepson too long. I loved your father, and it grieves me to see how his daughter has suffered.”

  As they reached the tethered horses, Allegra gave brisk orders. “I will go back to the ranch and pretend I know nothing. You will go with Dolita and stay with her uncle in an Indian village. I will try to get word to Señor Hayden and let him know where you are. If I cannot, then I will find a way to get money to you, and help you get back to America.”

  Still astonished by the woman’s courage, Amber wanted to thank her, but Allegra interrupted.

  “We must separate soon, so let’s hurry. Dolita will steady you while we ride, for you are very weak, child. Come! I must reach the ranch before full daylight. If I am blessed, no one will know I have been away.”

  With that, Allegra urged her horse forward, and Dolita, grasping Amber in front of her, did the same.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Indians. She was going to live with Indians. Suddenly it seemed terribly important to remember all she had studied about the Mexican people and their heritage. How would they treat an American white woman? Would they even let her stay in their village? Dolita was friendly with them, of course. Maybe they would tolerate her for Dolita’s sake. But she was too weary to think at all, or even to worry, so she let her mind drift while they rode.

  At last, Allegra reined her horse to a stop, and Amber and Dolita pulled up beside her. Beyond, through a thick grove of mahogany trees, the Alezparito ranch was visible in the early dawn. Twisting in her saddle to face them, Allegra said, “I must leave you here. Dolita, keep to the high range, out of sight.”

  “Allegra, it’s really daylight now,” Amber said worriedly. “Can you slip back inside unnoticed?”

  “I will say I was out for an early morning ride. No doubt there will be suspicion”—she smiled wanly—”for I have not ventured out in so long.”

  “Thank you,” Amber said tearfully, reaching over to clutch Allegra’s hands. “Thank you. You saved my life. I just hope this is the beginning of a new life for you. Stand up to Valdis. Fight for your own life, as you fought for mine! Go to the law. Tell them he threatened you to make you sign over the ranch to him. Don’t let him hurt you.”

  Suddenly a mimicking voice cracked, “Don’t let him hurt you!”

  Amber’s heart froze. Valdis, on horseback and carrying a gun, appeared from a clump of bushes, followed by two of his men.

  Allegra clutched her throat. Dolita screamed and kneed the horse, sending him crashing through the brush and out of sight. Valdis fired his gun but the two women had disappeared. “Let them go for now,” he snarled, looking at Allegra. “It is you I want. Go to the house and wait for me. You have…something coming.”

  Peering through the bushes, Amber looked on in disbelief. Allegra lifted her chin and stared at her stepson with complete defiance. “You have beaten me for the last time,” she said. “You are a coward, afraid to fight the bull, but brave enough to beat a woman…rape a woman! Never again will you hurt me. I would rather be in my grave.”

  “We can arrange that,” Valdis warned, pointing his gun at her.

  “You cannot kill her,” one of his men cautioned. “You’d be hanged. Have you gone mad?”

  “Yes, he has been mad for a long, long time,” Allegra said clearly. “He was mad when he came to my room and raped me, again and again, until I prayed to die!”

  Amber could not believe what she was hearing, but there was no time to ponder, for Valdis shrieked, “Goddamn you! Bitch. I told you what I would do if you ever told—”

  The gun exploded. Allegra fell to the ground.

  Amber scrambled down off the horse and ran to kneel over Allegra’s crumpled, bleeding body.

  “Someone’s coming,” yelled one of the men. “I hear horses. Let’s go!”

  Valdis gave Amber a cold, dreadful smile. “I must go now to escape what my temper has caused me to do. But we will meet again. Run, little one. Run as far and as fast as you can, for I am going to have you one day, and when I have had my fill, I will cut your heart from your breast and eat it.”

  He turned and rode away as Amber picked up her stepmother’s lifeless body and cradled it, sobbing.

  A few minute later, two vaqueros from the ranch thundered onto the scene, shocked and bewildered as Dolita hurriedly explained. Instructing them to report the killing to the law, she tugged at Amber’s arm. “Please, señorita,” she begged. “We must go. Señor Valdis could change his mind and come back for you.”

  Amber gently laid Allegra on the ground, then touched her eyelids to close them. Whispering a prayer for peace over the woman who had known such misery, she hurried to Allegra’s horse and mounted. She and Dolita would need two horses. “What about Cord?” she asked. “How will he know where to find me?”

  “We will worry about that later. Now we must go.”

  Amber moved her horse to follow Dolita, and when they reached the top of a rise, turned to look back. The men were lifting Allegra’s body to take her home.

  For Allegra, the misery was over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The utter desolation of the desert began without warning and went on forever. Sand and cactus spread to the mountains beyond, as far as the eye could see.

  It was hot and still, and Amber felt sweat trickling from her forehead and burning into her eyes. There were deep arroyos that filled with rushing water after the infrequent rains, but were now dry, leaving only sand and gravel. And dust, endless dust.

  Eventually they reached the mountains, which were covered with chaparral, pine, and firs that managed to grow in the rocky soil. Behind them lay the yucca, paloverde, and century plants of the dry washes. Willow and cottonwood trees shaded the saltbushes of the alkali sinks where once there had been water.

  The higher they went, the cooler the breezes among the firs. But then, as the land dipped downward, the air was stifling again. Tall, steep cliffs ringed each side of the trail.

  “And you said it was only a few hours’ ride.” Amber sighed.

  Dolita smiled sympathetically. “You are not as good a rider as you thought, señorita, and you are weak. We are moving slowly, for I have seen how tired you are. But do not be ashamed, for those of gentle birth seldom learn to ride well.”

  “Then I will just have to learn,” Amber retorte
d with an unladylike snort. Gentle birth, indeed!

  “I just hope we can get word to Cord,” she said after a while. “How much farther is it?”

  “Just over that ridge.” Dolita pointed.

  After a few more minutes, they topped the ridge. Below them sprawled a dozen small clay and stone buildings. Rickety wooden fences surrounded each. Cactus spotted the wide span of sand, and a desert breeze blew balls of dancing tumbleweed down the trail before them.

  They had been spotted long before they topped the ridge, and word had spread. Indian men stopped working in the fields beyond to stare curiously, and small, dark-skinned children with wide eyes peered out from behind their mothers’ skirts.

  Amber stared back, taking everything in. This was truly another world. Thank heaven Dolita could speak their language.

  Dolita spoke, reining in her horse. “You have no reason to fear these people. They are peaceful.”

  “The women are dressed so beautifully,” Amber mused, more to herself than to her companion. “I suppose I expected buckskin and feathers.”

  Dolita smiled, pleased. “Both the Cora and Huichol tribes believe that a fine costume raises one’s standings with the gods.”

  They rode on slowly down the slope to the village. Chickens scattered in front of them as they moved down the main street of the little village. Hogs rooted in the yards, and goats and cows milled about.

  A soft sobbing sound caught their attention, and they looked to the right, to where a group of children were gathered in a circle. The sobbing came from the middle of that circle, rising above the taunting shouts of the other children. Amber pushed through the cluster and found a little boy about seven down on his hands and knees, face streaked with tears and mud. His filthy clothes were hardly more than rags. He looked up at Amber, first in fright, then with hostility, as his eyes became darker, angrier.