Читать книгу The Rebel and the Lady - Kathryn Albright - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Jake heard the music coming from inside the cantina fifty paces from its doors. Someone played a violin and another a bass fiddle. Light from the candelabras inside spilled out in rectangular slashes onto the dirt street. When he opened the doors, the strong odors of smoke and beer assailed him. He glanced about the room, half hoping that he’d see the woman from the hospital. A pipe dream. Why would a beautiful señorita come to an American holiday celebration like Washington’s Birthday?

He was no stranger to women from Mexico with their thick dark hair and their chocolate eyes, but he’d been flummoxed with her. When he had glanced from the dog up into her face, he’d actually been tongue-tied like a dull-witted greenhorn. She was that entrancing, with her dark eyes widened in surprise and that slightly shocked look on her face because he had dared to touch her, even though it was obvious he was trying to help. He’d thought at first her hair was black, slicked back as it was into a fancy coil at her neck. Then as the dog had her moving this way and that he saw that no, it was the darkest, richest shade of brown he’d ever seen.

And then he’d gone and goaded her. Unfortunately, he understood why. Guess he was just foolish enough to want to make an impression on her—even a poor one, if that’s what it would take to get noticed. But damned if she hadn’t come right back tilting that soup on him. He grinned just thinking about it—had caught himself stifling that grin half the day whenever the memory popped into his head. As proper as she appeared on the surface, underneath she was a handful—a challenge he couldn’t ignore in spite of the fact he was only here one more day. She was an enticing splash of color in an otherwise drab and dusty town, and he wanted to see her again. He’d dressed as though she might show up, which meant he’d taken a bath, cut his hair and shaved. If she did appear, she probably wouldn’t recognize him anyway.

Jake walked to the bar and watched a group of volunteers raise their mugs as one, guzzle down their beer and then slam their mugs on the table.

“Have fun tonight because we’ll be out there again at daybreak if Bowie orders it,” one man said.

“I’m too tired to heft my fork,” complained another.

“That’s not because you’re tired, Ward. You’re jest drunk.”

“Maybe we should have thrown in with Travis instead.” Ward continued to complain. “Digging a well isn’t my idea of soldiering. Besides, there’s no way we can defend this place.”

Suddenly, a tall commanding figure in buckskin loomed over them. He slammed his fist on the table making the mugs jump an inch high off the table. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the cockroaches in Mexico have ears?”

“This is Texas, Davey, uh, I mean Mr. Crockett.” A young soldier reddened instantly.

“Not yet it ain’t, but it will be.” Crockett grinned at him, and then spoke in a quieter voice. “North side first. The rest of the walls will hold. And,” he continued, his eyes narrowing on Ward, “Bowie might be ailing, but he ain’t stupid. He’s got his reasons for his orders.” He straightened and headed for a table closer to the music—a table where Travis now sat.

Travis caught Jake’s gaze and motioned for him to join them also.

Jake bought a shot of whiskey and then sat down with the lieutenant colonel.

“Glad you made it, Dumont. May I introduce David Crockett?”

Jake nodded to the man. He’d heard of him. “Enjoy your stint in congress?”

“Not enough to go back.” Crockett took a swig from his mug of beer. “Lot of talk that didn’t amount to anything.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as everyone else. Looking for a piece of heaven to stake a claim. Somewhere with good hunting and with bluebonnets that have an ear for good fiddlin’,” he added with a wide grin. “And you?”

“Just passing through,” Jake said noncommittally, glad when Crockett let the subject drop. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He was among his own element here and appreciated it. His recent visit home, if he had such a place anymore, had opened his eyes. Ten years was a long time to be gone from Charleston. He no longer fit in there—but then he never really had.

A boy stood on a nearby table and finished lighting the last of the candelabras overhead when a gust of cold air had the newly lit candles flickering wildly. Jake looked up to see what had caused the breeze. The view was like a gut punch. His señorita.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she slipped the heavy blue cloak off her head and let it settle on her shoulders. A high silver comb held in place a black lace scarf over her hair knot, and small silver earrings shimmered daintily from each lobe. She wore a maroon silk dress trimmed with black bows that offered enough of a view of creamy skin at her throat to be enticing but not risqué. The material rustled in a very feminine way as she followed the man she came with, maneuvering gracefully between the tables and chairs. Another Tejano protected her from the back. Jake recognized the two as those he’d seen in Travis’s office yesterday.

“Well, would you feast on that,” Crockett said, letting a low whistle slip through his teeth.

“I am.” Amusement laced Travis’ voice. “And it looks like every other young buck in this cantina is, too. Even Dumont here.”

Crockett met Jake’s gaze. “I didn’t think Seguín would bring that cousin of his in here.”

Jake’s ears caught on the word cousin with a mixture of relief. Not her husband, then, or fiancé. “Why not?” he asked.

“You might use your eyes, Mr. Dumont,” Travis said. “Look at her. Fine bones. She’s not a mixture at all, she’s a lady. Spanish aristocrat. Seguín’s lineage goes way back. Someone like that usually is kept away from the commoners.” He leaned forward as if to tell a great secret. “That would be us. This old cantina could get a bit rowdy for her.”

“I get the feeling she can take care of herself,” Jake said, thinking of his earlier encounter with her. At least she didn’t have hot soup with her now.

Spying them, Juan made his way first to Travis’s table and removed his hat. He was dressed well for such a dusty spot on the map, Jake thought as he glanced over the silver buttons on his shirt collar and the wide satin sash around his waist that matched the señorita’s dress.

“Any more news?” Juan asked in a low voice.

Travis shook his head.

Jake kept his gaze trained on the woman, wondering if she recognized him. If she did, she didn’t acknowledge it.

Juan murmured something in Spanish to the young man with him and they headed to a table across the room.

As the others talked, Jake settled back in his chair and watched the woman. She radiated confidence and something else that tugged at him. The two men who sat with her laughed at something she said and he felt a stab of envy that they enjoyed her wit when he couldn’t. She had charmed them to the point of being lapdogs—something he’d never let a woman do to him. He’d learned his lesson well. He raised his glass to an unseen past and caught the flash of her eyes as they met his. Quickly she looked away, raising her fan to her cover her face.

Crockett let out a laugh and slammed down his beer mug, spraying the table. “Dumont, you’ve got more guts than I took you for. She’s way out of your league. She’ll cut you down to size with that sharp hair comb of hers.”

Jake motioned to a woman serving drinks at the next table.

“You’re out of your mind, Dumont,” Travis said. “Juan will never let you near her.”

“All the better,” he mumbled, wondering what the hell he was doing. “I’m up for a dare. Besides, I don’t know that he’ll have the final say.”

“You’re a cocky son of a gun,” Crockett said. “It’ll be entertaining to watch you get your balls mashed.”

“Thanks for your overwhelming support.”

The serving woman placed a glass of red wine in front of Señorita Torrez. She raised it to Juan, ready to thank him, only to see him scowl and shake his head. Searching the candlelit room, her gaze finally collided with Jake’s and held. She recognized him all right. Awareness pulsed between them. He gave her his best lady-killer smile and rose from his seat, ready to join her. “Gentlemen?” he said by way of goodbye to his table partners. “It’s been an education…”

She frowned and put the glass down. Then she pushed it to the farthest corner of the table.

Jake sat back down with a thump.

“You gonna let that stop you?” Crockett said, barely keeping the smirk from his face.

“Just a setback. She’s playing hard to get.”

Travis leaned forward. “What you don’t seem to get, is that she’s way out of your class.”

“Nothing with skirts is out of my class. But I am choosy.” He’d give her a few minutes, lull her back into thinking she’d get her way and that he’d given up.

“Thought you were heading out in the morning. Why are you interested in dallying with that filly when you’re leaving for San Patricio?” Crockett asked.

Damned if he knew. Just something about her he couldn’t let go. She lowered her fan slightly and he noticed a flush to her cheeks as another glance darted in his direction. Maybe she wasn’t as immune to him as he’d thought. “My horse could use one more day to rest.”

“You try the turpentine like Doc Pollard said?”

He nodded, turning his attention back to Travis. “Too early to tell if it’s helping. Well, gentlemen, I’d like to stay and discuss things, but a challenge waits.”

He raised his glass of whiskey. “To Washington—his great deeds, those remembered and those that aren’t.” He tossed the drink to the back of his throat, his courage bolstered by the liquid fire.

Half the room must have heard him. They all joined in with a hail of some kind. Then another man called out, “To freedom for Texas!” Tejanos and Texians alike raised their mugs. The band began a lively tune in the middle of the ruckus.

“Now you’ve started it,” Crockett said with a grin.

The sound was deafening. Jake rose, dropped a couple coins on the table to pay for his drinks and headed over to the señorita’s table.

As he approached, annoyance flitted across her face, quickly covered by a polite facade. Most women welcomed his interruption. This was a new experience—a diverting one, if nothing should come of it. When he stopped in front of her, she seemed reluctant to make the introductions to her cousin and the other man, Diego. However, they both stood and shook hands with him, remembering him from Travis’s office.

“You know my cousin, Señor Dumont?” Juan asked.

“We met yesterday. I spoke with her outside the hospital.”

Juan turned to the woman for an explanation. “You did not mention this.”

“There was no need. It was nothing.”

Jake raised his brows. “Nothing isn’t exactly how I’d put it, Señorita Torrez. You nearly scalded me!” He caught Juan’s eye. “And I won’t be explaining where!”

Juan frowned and turned to her. “Victoria? Explain yourself.”

Jake hid a quick smile. At least he’d learned her first name now, even though it had earned him a killer glare.

“Señor Dumont was kind enough to help shoo away a mongrel intent on the soup I carried to the hospital. I thanked him at the time. I did not expect to see him again.”

“Soup?”

“For the injured men. Your cook asked me to take it. She could then get an earlier start to her home.”

“It seems I owe you thanks,” Juan said with all the finesse of a gentleman.

He did not invite Jake sit down with them. That being the situation, Jake charged ahead. “Instead of your gratitude, I’d rather have your permission to dance with the lady.”

Juan raised his brows, and Jake could see him preparing a refusal.

“You don’t need to worry about my intentions, Captain Seguín. I have none. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow as soon as my horse heals up. Just one dance—in honor of the occasion.”

Her lips twitched at his last comment.

Encouraged by the reaction, he said again, “One dance. After all, it is a party.”

“I am not swayed by this Washington celebration,” she said. “I think you Anglos use it as an excuse to drink. However, if my cousin will allow it, I will consent to one dance.”

More surprised by her acquiescence than he’d admit, Jake waited for Seguín’s response. Finally the man nodded.

Diego frowned, rising to his feet. “You do not need to do this, Victoria.”

“It is only one dance,” she said as she stood. “And he was kind to help me yesterday. I probably would have dropped the soup and burnt myself if not for his quick action.”

Jake shot a triumphant smile at her two body-guards and then followed her to the small open area used for dancing, his gaze on the seductive swaying of her gown. When she turned to face him, he looked into eyes the color of dark mahogany, fringed with long coal-black lashes and wondered at his good fortune—or perhaps her lack thereof. He raised his hand for her to take. “Bad pennies or pezos in this case.”

With an elegant movement, she drew up the side of her skirt and then slowly placed her other hand in his. “No entiendo. I do not understand.”

Despite her cool, smooth touch, he felt warmth rush up his arm. “They do turn up.”

At his words, Victoria pressed her lips together. No matter her grimace, Jake found her tantalizing. At her best, she must be about five foot two, he figured. The top of her head reached his shoulder. She held herself in rigid control as she followed his lead, and still she was the most graceful thing on the dance floor.

“Relax, Victoria. Unlike the dog earlier today, I won’t bite.”

She scowled. “You use my given name freely.”

“It’s a beautiful name—like you.”

That earned him another frown. Was she really so used to men who took a year to say hello? Well, he wouldn’t change to suit her. He didn’t have the inclination or the time. “I take it the dog hasn’t bothered you again?”

“No, señor. After you handled the situation, it gave up completely.”

He smiled. “I have that influence at times.”

She caught the innuendo and gave him a slow, assessing look. “You are a very confident man.”

“Persistent, too. I don’t take no for an answer, but a challenge.” He swirled her around the small floor, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. She followed his lead effortlessly, her eyes taking on a shine. She was enjoying this, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“An answer to what question?”

He stared at her full lips. “Why, what every man here is wondering as they watch us dance.”

She raised a dainty, perfectly arched brow.

“Will the lady allow him a kiss?”

Her lips pressed together again, this time stifling a smile that threatened.

He knew he was being forward—cavalier by any woman’s definition, but his mood had lifted considerably when she’d consented to the waltz. After all, it was all about the chase, and she seemed to be enjoying it. With effort he dragged his gaze away from her lips and focused on her eyes.

“With you, I think the answer I seek—” he leaned close, close enough to be tickled by a few wisps of her hair, and whispered into her ear “—is a yes.”

She stiffened slightly within his arms.

“I’ll take care of that later, darlin’.”

“You are too bold, señor. Perhaps I would consider a kiss if you could ask for it in my language. Until then, my answer is no.”

He grunted.

A smug smile lifted her lips.

Oh, she was tempting, definitely tempting enough to learn a few phrases. “How many kisses? Surely a phrase is worth more than one kiss?”

“For now, let’s just enjoy the dance.”

Her breath came in shorter gasps as he twirled her around, making sure to keep her just this side of dizzy. She relaxed the rigid hold she had on her body, her cheeks flushing with color, as she let herself enjoy the music.

“That’s better,” he said, drawing her close again and breathing in the perfumed soap she’d used earlier in the day. “Now, tell me what brings you here to this cow town in the middle of winter.”

She gave him a sweet, evasive smile. “A visit with my cousin, of course.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He paused, studying her face—the straight classic nose, the large smoky eyes. That she couldn’t meet his gaze gave him his answer, but she sure was striking when she was telling a tale.

“Of course I do.”

“What if I said I thought you were lying?”

She faltered in her steps. “You do not know me well enough to say whether I am or not.”

“True—and I’d never argue with such a beautiful señorita, but still you haven’t given me the entire truth.”

The mysterious half smile she bestowed upon him made him catch his breath. “And why should I pour out my heart to you when you will be gone once your horse has healed?”

The candlelight reflected on the soft contours of her face as he drew her closer. “I can only think of one reason.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Damned if she wasn’t curious! Tempted even. Anticipation had him pulling her nearer. Maybe she’d consider dropping the Spanish lesson after all.

“The music has stopped, Señor Dumont.”

Her words were like the shake of a rattler’s tail—stopping him cold. He looked up to find the men in the band heatedly discussing their next song. He swallowed hard. “So it has,” he said, surprised at what he’d been about to do. It wasn’t like him to lose track of his surroundings. He’d been ready to kiss her right there on the dance floor in front of everyone. A foolhardy thing to do considering her status. The men with her would probably demand a duel or, God forbid, marriage at such an overture.

“If I had let you kiss me, I would have had to slap you, to keep my honor.”

“It would have been worth it.”

Her dark eyes sparkled.

Confidence surged through him. He was enjoying this. For the first time in a long while he was with a woman he could respect and appreciate. Better to keep her off balance with a little cockiness than to let her think he was serious. He was the last person she should get serious about. “One more turn about the floor?”

“Victoria?” Juan said from behind him, his voice stern. “Come back to the table now.”

She looked at her cousin, then back to him, and stepped from his arms. “Sí. Thank you for the dance, Señor Dumont.” Her head high, she placed her hand on Juan’s arm. “Would you care to join us?”

Surprised, his gaze shifted to Juan. The man was not pleased with her request but was too polite to argue.

“You may tell us about your poor horse,” she continued, and with a beguiling smile in his direction, she headed back to the table where Diego waited.

His horse was the last thing on Jake’s mind at the moment. He watched as Victoria disappeared in the midst of the other dancers on her way across the room. Here was a challenge he couldn’t refuse even though it led nowhere. She fascinated him, and apparently she wasn’t completely immune to him, either. He followed her back to the table and settled into the chair across from her.

Captain Seguín motioned for a round of drinks. He waited until the waitress had deposited the mugs of ale and for Victoria, wine. “What is this about your horse?”

The man was just being polite, feigning interest, but Jake appreciated that it was for Victoria’s sake. “I was a day out of town when a cougar startled me and attacked my horse. It clawed his flank. I fired a shot to scare it off.”

“You are lucky it did not hurt you, as well.”

Jake agreed, nodding. “I stitched up the gash as best I could, but it looks to be infected now.”

“What have you used on it?” Victoria asked.

“The doc said to try turpentine.”

She wrinkled her nose and he heard the word barbaric from Diego.

Juan watched him, his gaze steady.

“Doc Pollard said there’s no more medicine for the men, let alone animals. And turpentine was the only thing he could think of that might work, other than warm compresses and prayer.”

“He ran out of any strong medicine over two months ago,” Diego said, leaning his chair back on two legs. “We’re going to need it, too.” The party-like atmosphere evaporated around the table.

“Why are we even here, Juan?” Victoria asked, setting down her glass. “With Santa Anna so close, why are we sitting in a cantina with all these Anglos and celebrating an American named Washington? It makes no sense to me. Why aren’t the soldiers preparing for battle?”

With a glance at Jake, her cousin shook his head at Victoria.

He’s afraid to say anything with me at the table, Jake realized. “I’d be interested in the answer to that, too,” he said. “My brother came here to join the rebels.”

Seguín studied him a moment, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “When Diego returned from scouting south of here, he told Travis how close the Mexican army was but the man has turned a deaf ear. I think he is unable to take the word of a Tejano, even one who will fight at his side.”

The news worried Jake. Wasn’t San Patricio to the south? He tried to remember the map in Travis’s office. “Why are you staying, then? Half the town looks deserted. What makes you stay?”

“My home is here,” Juan said. “It has belonged to my family for generations. The Mexican government does nothing to protect it from the Commancheros. Santa Anna takes our money in taxes but he does not care for the land or its people. I stay because I will fight for an independent Tejas.”

A proud light stole into Victoria’s eyes. “Juan has raised his own force and has his commission from Commander in Chief Austin. He and Diego will not back away from this and neither will I.”

Jake fingered the handle on his mug and tried to imagine caring about his home the way these two seemed to. “And this land of Juan’s…is it yours, too?”

“No.” She hesitated, but then continued. “My family’s land lies farther south, near the Rio Grande.”

She is beautiful, Jake realized, even more so with the zeal of misguided loyalty shining in her eyes. This cause would only bring her despair. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Land wasn’t worth dying for. He’d said as much to his brother when Brandon had brought up the subject.

Diego tipped his beer toward Jake. “Yesterday, in his office, Travis said you were good with a gun. What do you carry?”

“A.40 caliber flintlock—a Dickert.”

Diego gaze shifted to Juan, apparently impressed with the rifle.

“It’s a good shot… 270-300-yard accuracy.”

Diego snorted. “A rifle is only as true as the man who aims it. Where did you learn to shoot?”

“I’ve done a bit of hunting in my time, and scouting. My accuracy is what kept me alive.” He looked from Juan to Victoria, not liking the speculation in their eyes. He didn’t like to let loose about himself. “This some kind of test?”

“Of course not,” Juan said smoothly.

Diego’s innocent enthusiasm belied Juan’s words. “Are you joining with us also?”

Jake wondered who that “us” was. Did Diego include Anglos and Mexicans together? He hadn’t gotten that impression when talking to Travis. It seemed that the American immigrants wouldn’t turn away help, but they were in it for themselves either to protect the land they’d homesteaded over the years or to section off a parcel for themselves. He couldn’t blame them for that but it didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t fighting anyone. “I’ll shoot if I have to, to stay alive, but I’m not joining up.”

“Then why have you come here?” Victoria asked.

“To get my brother.”

“And he is here?” Victoria asked, looking around the room.

“He was. Bowie sent him to San Patricio a week ago. He’s supposed to be back soon but I think I’ll head that way and catch up to him. He’s just young enough and green enough to want to talk with this Santa Anna and strike a bargain.”

Juan raised a brow. “Negotiate? It has been tried before. Santa Anna will throw him in jail before he finishes his first sentence in Spanish. He does not negotiate with Anglos. Look what happened to Austin.”

“Exactly,” Jake said. “Brandon doesn’t stand a chance against such a man.”

“What will you do when you find him?” Victoria asked.

“Drag his bony butt back home to South Carolina. He has a fiancée waiting there for him. I promised her I’d bring him home.” In his opinion she wasn’t worth the paper Brandon had written his goodbye note on, but that was another matter he’d have to discuss with his brother. He looked up to find Victoria studying him.

“Why don’t you both stay? Stay and help us,” she urged.

“Victoria,” Juan said, a note of warning creeping into his voice. “Señor Dumont must do what he thinks right.”

Her eyes sparked. “But if he’s good with a rifle we could use him!”

“This is our fight, not his,” Juan said. “We need people who believe in what they’re fighting for.”

Irritation colored her face. “What do you believe in, then, Mr. Dumont? Or are you just as you seem—a shiftless drifter?”

He didn’t care for her appraisal of him but he did appreciate her passion. With her face flushed and her eyes flashing midnight fire, he appreciated it a whole lot. But the subject was getting more serious than he cared for, reminding him he had a mission to accomplish. Beautiful señorita or not, he couldn’t forget that.

“I resent being called a drifter on such short acquaintance,” he said. “You know nothing about my plans.”

“Plans?” She shrugged. “I too have those. But what is it you believe in?”

Jake stood, and moved his gaze to Juan, Diego and then back to rest on hers. “Señorita? I believe in staying alive. Other than that? Not a damn thing.”

She rose to her feet, her eyes shooting daggers. “Then you have no soul, Señor Dumont.”

His brother had said as much the day he took off. Jake met her angry gaze with a sardonic smile. “I know.”