away. She was indeed here, and. The Comanchcros were all staring down at
her. Suddenly, wild screams and shrieks filled the air, and the army of
Comancheros came galloping toward them. The cries made her heart
flutter, and as they came nearer and nearer, Tess felt an even greater
terror growing within her. She began to see their faces, and they were
frightening. Most were Mexicans, dark, with long, scruffy beards and
heavy, dipping mustaches. They wore hats and shirts and trousers and
boots; many wore blankets over their shoulders.
All were heavily armed, some with shell cases crisscrossed over their
chests.
They would not run out of bullets in a fight. There were Indians, too.
Renegades of many tribes, Tess thought, Apache, Comanche, Navaho, some
in the Mexican regalia of their comrades, others in more traditional
buckskin, at least two of them in simple breech routs riding nearly
naked in the wind, hooting their triumph and their catcalls, racing
around and around the three of them again and again.
They meant to terrify her! Tess thought angrily. Well, supposedly she
wasn't in danger yet, even if she was so frightened that she wasn't sure
if she could talk or move. David had been a nightmare, but this was far
worse.
Any dreams she had entertained of rescue fell crashing down into a
horrible pit of despair. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life.
She swore, though, that she would not cower before these men who were so
determined to unnerve her. They wanted to see tears, she thought. Panic
and hysteria. She was close to giving them all that they desired, but
she locked her jaw against its trembling and raised her chin. And as the
Comancheros raced by her one by one, she kept her eyes levelly upon
them, and she ignored the dirt that rose to choke her, bringing tears to
her eyes. She sat very still, and she waited.
The horsemen rushed by, then doubled back, bringing their horses to a
halt behind her. Jeremiah and David swung around to face them. Tess
didn't know whether to find pleasure or new anxiety in the fact that her
captors seemed as unnerved as she by the rugged Comancheros. The
Comancheros were all lined up again, and silent once more. The leader
emerged, edging his horse forward. He was frightening indeed, with
coal-dark hair and coal-dark eyes and a dark olive complexion. He had a
great, drooping, handlebar mustache, and though he grew no beard, the
rest of his face was not clean shaven. A western hat sat atop his head,
the brim pulled low. His chest was crisscrossed with ammunition, and a
long, lean cigarillo fell in a slash from the corner of his mouth.
He paused before them and reached into his pocket, then struck a match
against his boot to light his cigarillo. He stared at Tess, a smile
forming on his features. "So, amigos, the goods are delivered, eh?" He
smiled, staring at Tess. She returned his gaze. His smile deepened. "She
stares at me hard.~Maybe she will be just what Nalte desires. Untie her
hands."
"Chavez, she is dangerous," Jeremiah warned him. "Dangerous? One little
blond girl is dangerous when there are a hundred men around her? I told
you--untie her hands. Send her to me."
Tess felt the movement as Jeremiah reached for his knife. She heard the
rasping sound as he severed the ties that bound her hands together.
Instinctively she brought her hands before her, massaging her wrists
where the rope had burned them.
"Come down here, nirut," Chavez ordered.
She was ready to defy him; Jeremiah was not. He dismounted quickly from
the horse and reached for Tess. He set her hastily on the ground, then
moved away from her as if she were a rattler.
"There she is, good as new, just as we promised. Now, where is the gold,
Chavez?"
Chavez motioned to one of the men behind him, a half- naked Indian
wearing a headband of eagle feathers, a breech clout twin leather strips
of rifle bullets and nothing more.
He carried a small leather satchel that he tossed to Jeremiah. Jeremiah
instantly opened the bag. He let out a joyous whoop and looked to David.
alpache Summer "Gold. I mean gold!" He bit the coins, smiling wolfishly.
"See, David, it was all worth it!"
"Wait, my friend," Chavez said. He took a step closer to Tess.
"These rat piss, they did not touch you?"
Tess narrowed her eyes, then thought of her own safety. "No, they did
not touch me."
Chavez nodded.
"Nalte, he does not like to be he- trayed." He raised his voice,
shouting in Spanish. A Mexican rode up leading a small pinto pony.
"You," he told Jeremiah and David.
"You are done. You go. That is all.
And you, woman, you will ride this horse."
She did not move. Jeremiah mounted his horse once again, but Tess made
no move. Angry, Chavez urged his mount forward until his large buckskin
was nearly stepping upon her.
Still, she did not move.
"Ni~a" -- "I'm not a girl, Chavez, and I have a name. It's Miss.
Stuart."
Chavez started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he crunched down on his
cigarillo. He nearly swallowed part of it and started to choke.
When he caught his breath, he dismounted from his horse and thundered
furiously over to her. He was a short man, she thought. One who looked
much better on a horse than standing. She was almost as tall as he. She
would be taller.
She raised her chin and met his stare.
"Get on the horse," he said. Still, she refused to move. "Eh, nifta, I
am talking to you." He reached out a hard, callused palm and set it
against her cheek. Tess slapped him with all the strength in her.
There was silence from every man there.
Then Chavez let loose with a spate of Spanish oaths. Tess thought he
would strike her, but he did not. He lifted her, setting her upon the
bare back of the pinto. She fought and clawed at him. His hat went
flying into the dirt.
Her nail imprinted a bright line upon his unshaven cheek. He swore
again, stooping to swoop up his hat.
"Hey, Chavez!" David snickered.
"We warned you she was dangerous."
Chavez calmly pulled out his pistol and shot David through the heart.
Tess, who had despised David, nearly gasped aloud. She clenched her
chattering teeth, managing to remain immobile and silent as she watched
the red stain flare out on David's shirt.
His eyes widened, and then glazed over, and he crashed down from his
horse.
He had deserved it. He had savagely, heinously attacked Jamie. He had
nearly raped her. And yet the cold brutality of his shooting sent waves
of shock rippling within her. "You--you shouldn't have done that,"
Jeremiah stuttered, shocked.
"Mr. von Heusen, he" -- Jeremiah's words broke off in a scream as he saw
Chavez lowering the still smoking pistolin his direction. Chavez was not
a man of mercy. The pistol barked again.
That time Tess did scream. She catapulted from the pinto horse and threw
herself against Chavez, clawing, raking, pummeling him. He swore,
dropping the pistol, ducking her blows, trying desperately to seize her
wrists.
Finally he had her. His heavy arms locked around hers, and she was
assailed with the scents of onion and sour breath and unwashed human
flesh. A sickness nearly overwhelmed her, and she locked her jaw,
standing very still as he stared into her eyes with his own coal-black
ones.
"Don't be too dangerous--Miss. Stuart. You see how I deal with people
who can no longer serve me. You will behave until we have delivered you
to Nalte.
Do you understand?"
"No, I do not. I do not, because I do not give a damn!" He swore again,