"What about it?" Gideon asked quietly. "Do you live in Mariba? Is there someplace we can take you where you'll be safe?"
She didn't answer. Gideon hadn't thought she would. It was obvious that an emotional shock of some sort had frozen the words inside her. What kind of shock? Rape was a definite possibility, but, if it had been rape, wouldn't she have responded when those apes in the bar were pawing her? Unless she had been given something…
His hands reached out and grasped her shoulders. They felt silken-slender and infinitely delicate beneath his palms. He shook her slightly. "Look, are you on something? Were you given anything? Powders or pills or an injection of some kind?"
She didn't answer. Her gaze met his own with the same blind torment that had first caught his attention across the crowded barroom.
He slowly released her. "It's all right," he said softly. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you. Do you understand?"
She didn't answer.
"Okay." His voice was as gentle as his palm cupping her cheek. "Talk to me when you feel like it. I'll be here. Are you cold?" The wind was blowing her hair behind her in a gleaming ebony stream as the jeep negotiated the deserted streets. "It's cooling down. I think we're going to have a storm. Come here." He drew her closer, tucking her slight weight in the curve of his arm. "You're not exactly dressed for a midnight drive. Where did you leave your shoes?"
She remained silent, but he thought he could detect the slightest relaxation of the frozen stiffness that was enveloping her muscles.
"Not yet? Don't worry about it. There's no hurry."
His hand slowly stroked her temple and his voice was low. "You know, when something bad happens to me, I try to close it out at first and put it behind me. That doesn't mean one has to close out the present too. I have some friends among the Hopi Indians and they taught me something very interesting: They have no past or future tenses in their language. Only the present. It must save a lot of worrying." He tucked a silken strand of her hair behind her ear. "If you come back to me, I promise there won't be anything to frighten you. All you have to do is live minute by minute and not look back. Then, after a little while, you'll find that your wound has crusted over, and it won't hurt you nearly so much to think about it."
There was a tiny movement, almost a nestling against his shoulder.
He fought the urge to tighten his clasp around her shoulders. He continued to stroke the silky hair at her temple. "My name is Gideon Brandt and that's Ross Anders up front. What's your name?" It suddenly occurred to him that she might not understand English. She didn't look Spanish, but the majority of the population of Castellano were of Latin descent. "¿Como se llama?"
She drew a quivering breath and for a moment he thought she was going to speak. Then she was still, her long, dark lashes lowering to shadow the exquisite violet of her eyes.
"Well, if you don't understand English or Spanish, we may be out of luck. I'm just a good old Texas boy and those are the only lingoes I know."
"Are we going to drive around town all night?" Ross asked.
"No, I guess we'd better go home."
"Right." Ross turned left at the next corner.
"We're going to take you to my place," Gideon said into the girl's ear. "It's right on the edge of town. I won it in a poker game a few weeks ago, and it's a little run-down, but I think it's kind of pretty. I've been batting around the world since I was a kid and it's… it's nice to have a place that belongs to me. I have to warn you, the house is almost empty. The furniture wasn't thrown into the pot and I only made a deal with Garcia to leave the bedroom and kitchen stuff. That was as far as he'd go. He even took the chandelier in the foyer. It's a two- story hacienda with a red-tiled roof and a patio with a fountain. The fountain doesn't work, and the patio has weeds growing between the tiles, but I'll get around to having it fixed up eventually. I've been too busy to bother…" His voice droned on. He was paying little attention to what he said, merely trying to keep the patter bland and unthreatening. When your world had been blown to smithereens, it was always the ordinary that helped to balance the picture. He had found that out a long time ago.
The lights of the jeep suddenly illuminated two beautiful wrought-iron gates. They were standing open and one was hanging drunkenly from a broken bracket.
"I haven't had a chance to fix that either." Gideon made a face as the jeep turned into the pebbled circular road forming the driveway through tangled, overgrown foliage. "I wasn't expecting visitors quite so soon."
The silence was suddenly broken by loud barking interspersed with joyous whines. "Don't be afraid. That's only Frank, my dog. I think he's half Lab and half German shepherd, but only the stork knows for sure."
The jeep rounded a curve and a large white stucco house came into view. Ross drew to a halt at the front doors and turned off the ignition. The carved double doors were set in a deep alcove and illuminated by a single ornate brass lantern set in the distempered white wall.
Gideon jumped from his seat and lifted the girl carefully from the jeep to the patio. "Easy does it." He released her and stepped back to look at her in the glow of the lantern. Dear heaven, she was beautiful, and so heartbreakingly young and vulnerable that he felt guilty as hell about the sexual response her beauty aroused in him. "We'll just get you inside and find you a bed and some clean sheets and you'll-" He was forced to stop in midsentence as a large gray-and-tan fury of affection hurled itself between them, almost knocking the breath from Gideon's lungs. "Down, Frank." He rubbed the dog's ears and then pushed him away. The dog dropped to the ground, but still continued the whimpering cries of ecstatic welcome. "I've been meaning to teach him not to jump on people, but I haven't gotten around to that either. I've only had him for a few weeks. Maybe I'll try-"
"Why does he have only three legs?" The girl's voice was soft, hesitant.
Gideon's heart jerked and he drew a deep breath. Her gaze was on the dog, and as he watched she slowly reached out her hand to touch Frank's long muzzle. "I don't know." He spoke with deliberate casualness. "He was missing his right hind leg when I picked him up. Frank must have had a pretty rough life, judging by the battle scars I found when I was defleaing him."
"Some kids had tied him to the rear bumper of a truck and he was being dragged through the streets when Gideon first saw him," Ross said as he came around the front of the jeep to stand beside them.
"How cruel." An expression of disgust darkened her face. "How could anyone do something like that?" She dropped to her knees beside the large dog, her hand lovingly stroking his neck. "The poor thing."
"You like dogs?" Gideon asked.
"I love dogs. I've never been permitted to have a pet, but I've always wanted one."
Thank heaven for small favors, Gideon thought fervently. If sympathy and affection hadn't broken through her icy shock, it might have taken days before she reached this point. She was poised on a very precarious ledge, but at least she was back among the living. He would have to be cautious to make certain she didn't slip back. "Well, I'm sure Frank is glad to make your acquaintance…" He trailed off inquiringly.