Midnight Fire

by Linda Ladd

  A flutter of fear erupted in her stomach as she approached the massive wooden gate hung with great iron hinges. An eerie premonition struck her like a strong wind in the face, and she felt an extreme reluctance to enter the ancient place of suffering and despair.

  Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she pulled the rope affixed to a bell, then waited until a burly man with great downward-thrusting mustachios opened a small door cut into the larger one.

  "What do you want?" His voice was gruff, his words muttered in a dialect Carlisle had trouble understanding.

  "I have come to see a prisoner."

  "No visitors. Mañana—"

  "I am the wife of Don Chaso Lancaster, the foreign advisor to El Presidente. Must I report your rudeness to him?"

  Carlisle's eyes did not waver, and her imperious tone made the turnkey's small black eyes dart around uncertainly. She waited, terrified he might attempt to contact Chase for verification of her identity. The idea appalled her, but her fear was short-lived, for in seconds he opened the door with a great clanking of metal. Stepping through the portal, she was relieved when the man removed his visored military cap and held it in one bearlike hand.

  "Senora Lancaster," he said with a deep bow from the waist, "which prisoner do you wish to visit?"

  "Arantxa Perez, por favor."

  At that the guard's hesitancy returned. "My orders say she is to see no one before the trial, Senora Lancaster."

  "My husband sent me here to see her," Carlisle lied boldy. "Do you question his authority, senor?"

  "No, senora," he answered, then looked apologetically at the basket she carried.

  Carlisle pulled back the scarf covering the contents.

  "I have brought bread and cheese and clean clothes. You may examine them, if you wish."

  The guard poked through the foodstuffs and garments, then replaced the scarf.

  "Come with me, senora."

  Carlisle followed him across an unevenly paved courtyard, aware that many other soldiers watched their progress from the walls and covered porches that ran along one side of the prison cells.

  Across the plaza, they entered an arched doorway. As they left the hot sunlight, the dank, cold gloom hit her, and it felt as if she had stepped into a tomb. Carlisle pulled her rebozo closer, steeling her resolve as a terrible stench of sweat, urine, and unwashed bodies assailed her senses. She forced herself to follow the big man down the dark passage.

  The walls were a foot thick with heavily barred doors lining the stone corridors. She could hear groaning behind one, then stifled a cry of fright as a shrill scream shattered the silence. Ripples of fear coursed through Carlisle.

  A few paces farther, the guard stopped. "She is here, senora."

  Carlisle swallowed hard, her gaze locked on the small grate set in the thick wooden door. What if she went inside and he never let her out again? she thought wildly. No one was aware she'd come to the prison. Who'd know if they kept her here? Panic rose, but she quickly collected her wits, realizing the guard had no reason to do such a thing.

  When he shoved up the heavy square bar, then pushed the door inward, Carlisle stepped to the threshold and bent to peer into the dusky interior. High on the opposite wall, a foot-long, rectangular. aperture sent an elongated patch of light down upon the straw-littered floor. Arantxa sat huddled on a small catre, her arms wrapped around her knees. Carlisle was appalled at her appearance. Her dark hair was dirty and matted, and she had lost so much weight that Carlisle hardly recognized her. When she saw Carlisle, the girl leapt up and fell sobbing in her arms.

  "Carlita, you came. Gracias, gracias—"

  "Shh, Arantxa, please don't cry."

  "I cannot help it! This place is so horrible. It's so cold and dark, with terrible smells and rats scratching at night until I think I'll go mad. You know how much I hate even mice! Remember how I screamed when I saw one at the convent?"

  "Sí, I remember," Carlisle answered soothingly, drawing Arantxa down on the bed.

  "They put shackles on my feet and hands, Carlita! Look at my wrists!"

  Carlisle took Arantxa's cold hands. Her beautiful nails were all broken and ragged, her slender wrists black-and-blue, as if she wore bracelets of bruises.

  "How could they be so cruel?" Carlisle cried, sick to think of Arantxa being treated so harshly.

  "They treated us all the same, muchachos and muchachas."

  "Oh, Arantxa, why did you have to lie to me? Why did you tell me all those terrible things about Chase? I thought you were my friend, but you were using me."

  Arantxa began to cry, her face hidden in her palms. "I didn't know, Carlita. Javier told me those things were true. I believed him, just as you did."

  "Is Javier here in the prison, too?"

  "Sí, but they will not let me see him. And Papa is dead! They shot him! Senor Lancaster told us at San Miguel!" She lifted her face, stricken and miserable. "And they're going to shoot us, too, Carlita!" Her voice grew shrill and hysterical. "They're going to shoot us!"

  Appalled, Carlisle put her arms around Arantxa and tried to comfort her. "No, maybe they won't! Maybe if I tell them you're innocent. Maybe if I talk to Chase, I can make him understand that you don't deserve to die!"

  "Gracias, but por favor, you must hurry and tell them! I am so scared, Carlita! I don't want to die!"

  "Hush now, and listen to me. I'll help you, I promise!"

  For the first time, hope flowered in Arantxa's pale, tearstained face. "And Javier? He did an awful thing to Chaso, I know, but he regrets it now. I know he does. You must talk

  to Chaso about him, too! Promise me you will!"

  Carlisle squeezed her friend's hands. "I can't, Arantxa. I can't ask that of Chase. He's too bitter about all that happened. He hasn't forgiven me yet."

  Arantxa put her head in Carlisle's lap and began to sob.

  Carlisle fought her own tears. "Look, Arantxa, I've brought you some food and clean clothes. Is there anything else you need? Please, try not to cry."

  "Just come and see me, Carlita. Come often. Say you will."

  "Senora?" the jailor said from the cell door. "You must go now."

  Carlisle stood, feeling sick to her stomach. Arantxa clutched her arms as if she'd never let her go.

  "I'll do everything I can to help you. I swear I will," Carlisle promised. She bit her lip as Arantxa fell facedown on the catre, her moaning and weeping heartbreaking.

  Carlisle hesitated, but when the guard grunted and gestured impatiently, she forced herself to leave the cell. She was shaking all over from disgust at the surroundings and dismay for her friend's plight.

  Nausea came, wrenching through her stomach, and she staggered on after the tall jailor, wanting only to get out of the dreadful place so she could breathe. They were almost at the outside door when her vision faltered and she crumpled to her knees. The last thing she heard was the guard's voice calling for help.

  When Carlisle opened her eyes, she was lying in her own bed at the Casa Amarilla. Chase sat in a chair drawn up next to her, and Dona Maria and Tomas stood behind him. At first, Carlisle was confused.

  "What happened?" she asked, trying to raise herself.

  "You fainted," Dona Maria answered gently. "At the prison."

  "The guards summoned Chaso and he brought you home," Tomas added.

  Carlisle lay back, looking guiltily at Chase. He didn't seem angry, but his face was somber.

  "I'd like to speak to my wife alone now, if you don't mind," he said quietly.

  Dona Maria moved away at once, and Tomas followed her, although with a good deal

  more reluctance. When the door closed after them, Chase sat down on the edge of the bed and took Carlisle's hand.

  "Are you all right, Carly?"

  To Carlisle's dismay, she burst into a torrent of tears. First Chase looked faintly shocked, then he pulled her into an embrace. Carlisle laid her cheek against his shoulder and wept while he stroked her hair. When she finally quieted, he spoke softly
against the top of her head.

  "Why did you go to the prison, Carly?"

  Another sob caught in her throat, but she could not bear to lie to him.

  "Because Arantxa sent me a note begging me to come to her. I had to go, Chase! We were best friends. She was almost like a sister to me."

  "It's all right. I’m not angry because you went. But you should have let me take you there."

  His understanding opened the floodgates of her emotion even more. "Oh, Chase, you should see her. She doesn't deserve to die. She believed all Javier's lies about you, just as I did. Please have mercy on her. I beg you! I'll do anything you say if you'll just let her live!"

  "Hush now, Carly, you're making yourself sick." Carlisle quieted, but a vision of Arantxa in the dank cell haunted her.

  "Please, Chase," she whispered. "She's so frightened."

  Chase remained silent, and a moment passed before he spoke. "I'll do what I can, but under no circumstances will I intervene on Javier's behalf."

  "Thank you, Chase."

  "And I don't want you going back there. Comprendes?"

  "But I told her I would. She's so desperate, I had to."

  "I'll see if I can have her transferred to a more humane cell. I don't believe she played any active part in the revolución."

  "She didn't! Neither of us did! Please believe me, Chase, and forgive me! I'm so tired of living like this, never knowing if you really care about me!"

  Carlisle was immediately sorry for her outburst, because Chase released her and stood. He looked down at her.

  "Dr. Alvarado is probably here by now. Try to rest, and I'll send him up to examine you."

  As he left, Carlisle buried her face in the deep, silken pillows, weeping for herself, for Arantxa, and for all that had gone wrong between Chase and her.

  18

  On the first day of November the morning of the Perez trial, Carlisle sat with Dona Maria beneath the big-eucalyptus tree in the patio. Chase had forbidden her to attend the court proceedings, and Carlisle did not dare disobey him. He had promised to intervene for Arantxa, but he could not guarantee that her friend would be treated leniently.

  Unable to sit still, Carlisle rose and fussed with the roses and chrysanthemums she'd arranged to perfection only moments before. She kept thinking how thin and frightened Arantxa had looked in the foul-smelling cell. Javier had tortured Chase, he'd killed Esteban, and Carlisle couldn't dredge up an ounce of pity for him. But Arantxa was different. Despite all the trouble she had caused, Carlisle couldn't bring herself to hate the girl with whom she'd lived, laughed, and shared so many confidences. For all she knew, even now Arantxa might be standing against a bullet-scarred wall across the courtyard from a firing squad.

  "Please don't let that happen," she whispered beneath her breath.

  "What did you say, Carlita?" Dona Maria asked, looked up from her knitting.

  "Nothing. I'm just worried about Arantxa."

  "I believe Chaso is pained that you still try to protect the Perez family. They committed terrible crimes against us." A shadow of pain passed over her face, and Carlisle knew Dona Maria was thinking of her son's hands.

  "I know, but Arantxa took no active part. We both thought that joining the rebels would be a wild, wonderful adventure. We'd been at the convent for months, and when Javier arrived in New Orleans and invited us to ride with his guerrilleros, the idea sounded romantic and exciting. We didn't even know Chase then. And when Chase came to America to pick up Tyler, Javier took advantage of my family's association with him. Arantxa and I didn't know Javier's plans. We didn't know about war, and the blood and pain and terrible suffering it brings."

  "That's the way of the world. Women will always be the victims of men," Dona Maria remarked, laying aside her half-finished yellow baby's shawl. "I, too, feel pity for the Perez girl. Her father and brother used her vilely, as they used you, Carlita."

  "I'll never forgive myself for being so naive and trusting."

  "You must not torment yourself with what is past, niña. Once, long ago, I thought I could never forgive Chaso's father." Her face assumed the bemused expression that usually appeared when she mentioned Burl Lancaster. "But now it seems I only remember the good things about him."

  "Tyler told me lots of stories about him. She loved her uncle Burl very much."

  "Burl was nothing but a rogue," Dona Maria replied sharply. "Thoroughly unscrupulous." She shook her head. "But I loved that man with all my heart." Her gaze sought Carlisle's. "I see the same adoration in your eyes, Carlita, when you look at Chaso."

  "Sometimes I think I'll die from the pain of loving him so much."

  Dona Maria gave her rare, wise smile. "You'll not die, niña. Though at times after I left Burl, I, thought I would. Tomas's father was a wonderful man. Hermando was good to me, and he loved me. He gave me my splendid Tomas, but I never loved him the way I loved Chaso's father."

  "How could you ever have left him?" Carlisle whispered.

  Chase's mother drew in a deep, regretful breath. "I left him because I had Chaso to consider. He was eight years old, and he idolized his father. Burl would have corrupted him. I couldn't let that happen."

  "I wouldn't want my child subjected to that kind of life, either. But oh, Dona Maria, it must have been difficult for you."

  "Sí, it was the hardest decision I ever had to make."

  Dona Maria looked fondly at her daughter-in-law. At that moment Carlisle saw Chase at the patio wall. As he looked straight at her, Carlisle jumped to her feet.

  "Arantxa Perez is to be sent into perpetual exile. She will join her mother in Cuba, never to return to Mexican soil." His voice and manner were brusque. "Javier and the other rebels will be shot for treason at dawn tomorrow."

  "Gracias, Chase," Carlisle said softly. "I know it must have been difficult for you to intercede on Arantxa's behalf."

  "I only recommended leniency for her. The judges made the determination."

  But Carlisle knew the weight his opinion carried in the Juarez government. Chase had saved Arantxa's life, so perhaps his bitterness over San Miguel was waning. Perhaps when their baby was born and he saw his infant son or daughter, all his remaining resentment would disappear forever. She would hold that hope in her heart, for she had nothing else to cling to.

  It was still dark the next morning when Chase walked down the corridor of Chapultepec Prison to Arantxa Perez's cell. She had been transferred to a more comfortable part of the jail, as he had promised Carlisle. From the beginning, he'd doubted if Arantxa had actually participated in her father and brother's subversive activities. That's why he'd agreed to ask for special treatment for her.

  Stopping outside the door, he gestured the guard on duty to bring the key. It rasped in the lock, and the moment he stepped into the room, Arantxa came to her feet, a frightened expression on her face.

  "There's a carriage outside that will take you to Veracruz," he said. "It's time to leave."

  "What about Javier?" she whispered.

  Chase hesitated, aware that she already knew the verdict had called for her brother's execution.

  "I thought you'd rather leave now, before dawn.”

  Tears glistened in Arantxa's eyes. "I said good-bye to him last night, but I thought, I mean, I was hoping that you'd change your mind and show him mercy."

  "I'm sorry, Arantxa. The sentence has already been passed. There's nothing I can do about it. Come on, your journey's a long one."

  Arantxa wiped at her tears, but she picked up her meager belongings. They didn't speak as they walked together to the courtyard.

  "I had some of your personal belongings brought from your parents' house." Chase gestured at several trunks roped together at the back of the coach.

  Arantxa bit her lip, tears welling again. "Will you tell Carlita good-bye for me, and that I am sorry for the suffering I caused her?"

  Chase nodded, taking her elbow and assisting her into the carriage. Arantxa peered out the window at him, her tearstained
face full of misery.

  "Gracias, Senor Lancaster, for showing mercy on me."

  "You were not guilty of treason."

  "I have to say one thing to you before I go," Arantxa said. "For Carlita and you. I heard what Javier told you about Carlita and him, and it's not true. They were never lovers. I shared Carlita's room every night she was at San Miguel, and she was rarely even alone with my brother. I don't think she liked him much after he brought her to San Miguel."

  Chase looked at her and nodded, then signaled to the driver. The vehicle clattered across the cobblestones, surrounded by four armed riders. Chase turned away, a wave of compassion for Arantxa rising inside him. How unfair life could be, he thought. Arantxa was a victim of her own family. And he knew that what she'd told him was true. Carlisle had been a virgin in the cave when they'd made love the first time. He had known it all along, but that didn't change the fact that she had gone willingly with Javier and set the whole tragedy in motion. He couldn't forgive her that.

  As dawn gilded the distant rooftops of the city, he climbed the stone steps to the narrow parapet from which he was to witness the execution. President Juarez stood there already, with several of his advisors.

  Chase took his place beside them at the high balustrade as Javier was brought forward by a priest, feet shackled, hands bound. While the padre blessed him, he stood against the wall, tall and straight as twelve soldiers filed in and stood at attention across from him.

  When the black-robed priest backed away, the captain of the guard saluted the president, then called for his men to prepare to fire.

  Javier looked up to Chase, and his voice rang out, echoing hollowly against the stone walls.

  "Viva Santa Anna! Viva the Holy Catholic. Church!"

  The command to shoot was given. The report of a dozen rifles cracked in the quiet morning. Javier Perez crumpled to the ground.

  Chase had watched silently and was shocked to find that he did not exult at Perez's death as he had expected to. Although he'd done his duty and avenged Esteban, the sight of an eighteen-year-old boy lying lifeless in the dirt did not fill him with joy.