Dust Devil (35 page)

"She has her own special beauty, Lario. ’Tis a kind of beauty that makes people want to look at her again. You would be really proud of her. She is very self-sufficient. As capable as any squaw.”

In the mauve light of dawn that tinted the bedroom, she saw his smile and gloried in it. "There is a man who is in love with her. Cody Strahan.  A good, strong-willed man much like yourself.” Her fingers crept up to touch his warm lips, and she felt the renewing of her desire for him. It would never be quenched. This passion, this love.

Lario teased her fingertips with the tip of his tongue. "And does she love him
, this Cody Strawhand?”

She smiled at his interpretation of Cody’s surname.
"She could . . . in time. Mayhaps she already does, just doesn’t know it yet. She has agreed to marry him.” She sighed. "But at the present she is blinded by infatuation for . . .” Her words trailed away. Time was too precious to waste on the tenuous moment.

"Lario,
take me with you. It’d work, I know it. We could go to Mexico. Live there.”

He
scowled. "And what kind of life would you have? What kind did you have when you lived with me? Hunger. Death. Filth. Always running.”

Her
fingers dug into his arm. "And what kind of life do you think I have here? ’Tis useless I am! A leaf that has withered and fallen by the wayside to dry up and blow away. At least with you I am alive! Lario, I followed you once — and you couldn’t turn me back. I shall do it this time if I have to!”

He
pulled her against him. "My grandfather’s sandpainting . . . it had once warned of you.  You are my curse . . . and my next breath. It was only the thought of you — the hate and love for you — that kept me going.  One black rage . . . the image you and Grant . . .  I went for one of the guards with his pickax in my frenzy to be free, to make my way back to Grant and you.”

"I’ll hide you here until tomorrow evening.” Excitement began to color
her voice as she made the plans. A frown creased a line in her otherwise smooth complexion. Only the small, faint lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed any sign of aging; still she wished they were not there—that she could be for Lario as she had been at sixteen. "I wish I were —” she began.

Sensing her thoughts, he smiled at her feminine vanity. "You were like one of our
Kachina
dolls — not completely made yet. You are fully whole now.”

She
smiled and rubbed her nose against the hollow of his neck. She could not get enough of him. She wanted him to make love to her again, but she recalled what it was that was worrying her. "Tomorrow Cody is supposed to return for Stephanie — even though Stephen has warned him he’ll have him killed first. I’m frightened for Stephanie and Cody, Lario. I don’t know what Stephen is planning, but he’s obsessed with the idea of his Anglo empire for Cambria, and I know he will not let Cody take Stephanie away.”

"So I am to meet this man Cody who loves my daughter?”

She looked at him with surprise.

"Do you think I’d leave Sin-they to Rhodes’s control?”
he asked. "We will wait. When Rhodes makes his move tomorrow, I will be ready.”

* * * * *

Consuela continued to peel the waxy red skins from the steamed chili peppers, pretending not to notice Stephanie’s nervousness.

She
had already drunk two glasses of water and was now pumping more water, splashing it over her face and neck.  "It’s so damned hot!” she muttered. She patted her face dry and rebuttoned the top of her blouse. Her head canted as the Queen Cathedral clock in the parlor chimed the fourth hour of the afternoon. Cody would have been there by now, she was sure. Unless something happened.

She whirled and stalked from the kitchen. She would have it out with Stephen and get it over with. She would force him to let her go away with Cody. But first she went to her room and took the Smith & Wesson .22 out of the tiny alligator leather holster that hung from one comer of her bureau mirror. She had had no need to use the little pistol once in all the trips she made to and from Philadelphia. But now
. . . could she outbluff Stephen Rhodes, an incorrigible gambler himself?

She paused at the open door to his office. His feet were propped on his massive desk as he read a yellowed copy of the
Las Vegas Gazette
. In his left hand he held the ubiquitous glass of brandy. He looked up at her. "Railroad stocks are up,” he said with a toast of his glass. "That might mean a trip for us all — maybe back to Wales to see where I came from.”

As half drunk as he seemed to stay these days, there was still something powerfully menacing about his presence to
her. She kept the hand that held the .22 behind her back, calmly saying, "I’m not going anywhere. Unless it’s with Cody.”

Stephen laughed shortly. He set down his glass and with an equal calm folded his newspaper, laying it aside. "By this time,” he at last said, "Juan and some of the others have waylaid your
fiancé outside of Las Vegas and are escorting him to the Texas border.”

She smiled
contemptuously. "You think he won’t be back?”

Stephen
chuckled. "Juan has instructions to nail Cody’s hands to his saddle. He’ll never use them again.”

Stephanie gasped, and he went on. "I be thinking that Cody is smart enough to realize I mean what I say. And I hope you are.”

She whipped the pistol from behind her. But her raging anger and horrific fear caused the shot to go wild. And then Stephen knocked the breath from her as he shoved her to the floor and wrestled the gun from her. He stood over her, his breath coming in deep gasps from the exertion. "You bloody fool! Even your mother has more intelligence than you. She has learned the futility of crossing my will. Why can’t you?”

"I’ll never submit to you! And 1 won’t kill myself like Jamie did either!” She saw him wince, and she said, "I’ll fight you until you have to kill me yourself. But I’ll never give in!”

He opened his mouth to say something, then must have thought better of it. His face looked old, tired, and she could not imagine what had made him seem so omnipotent only minutes before. She stood up, but as she turned to leave the room, he said, "Don’t be thinking about leaving. You won’t be getting past the Cambria boundaries.”

S
he flung him a look of utter hatred before running up the flight of stairs to her mother’s room. "Mama?” she asked, knocking at the door. Imprisoned. It was unbelievable! She realized her hands were clenched into fists and made them relax. She raised her hand to knock again, and the knob turned, the door opened partially.

"What is it, Stephanie?” her mother asked quietly.

"Mama, I need to talk to you. You must help me get away. Stephen — ” She tried to fight the rising panic in her voice. "I think he’s had Cody killed!”

A silence. "Wait for me below in the parlor. I’ll be only a moment.”

"Mama, you don’t understand. Stephen’s insane!” She pushed past her mother. "He’s a mad—”

A man, an Indian
bare from the waist up, stood behind the door. Dungarees hung loosely at his lips.  She opened her mouth to scream, and at once his hand was about her mouth. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms, but his free arm held her locked to him.

"Stephanie! Stephanie!”
her mother hissed. "Listen to me. Stop struggling. This man will help us. Lario is — our friend.”

Stephanie went limp, and at Rosemary’s nod Lario released her. Pulling away, Stephanie twisted around so she could see the Indian’s face. Her face knitted as her eyes searched the stonelike countenance. The image of the man flashed before her in another scene
. . . of her mother and him laughing, holding one another. And her squeezing between them, wanting to be a part of the love that bound the two. "I know you,” she said slowly. "You were with us . . . when we lived with the Indians.”

The man
looked to her mother. Tears shone in her eyes. At last he said, "You are my daughter. You are Sin-they.”

Her
pupils expanded, then narrowed to slits. "So it was you who made me a half-breed,” she whispered. "You’re the Indian.”

“
Half-breed — Indian. How many times I have heard the words, heard the contempt expressed with them.” He went to look out the window, and she saw the purple welts that corded his back. “What had made me ever think he would fit in your white man’s world?

She
saw the anger that boiled in this man, her father — and the deep sadness. And she felt instant self disgust.

“
Lario,” her mother said, “I know you be thinking about leaving!  She crossed to face Lario, grabbing his arm. "I won’t let you! I haven’t waited for nothing. If it’s fighting and getting yourself killed you be wanting — well, that’s all right. But I’m still going with you!”

"My, my,” Stephen mocked from the doorway. "So the whore follows the cur like a bitch in heat.”

All three whirled to look at Stephen. Tiny hairs at the nape of Stephanie’s neck prickled in frightened anticipation. Stephen’s voice, like his face, was calm. But the demented rage was nevertheless there to see. It glittered in the eyes. It exploded in his lungs, causing his chest to rise and fall. Behind him stood Ignacio and Julio, eager as two dogs on the scent of a wounded buck.

Lario swung around, meaning to escape through the second-story window, but
her mother unwittingly had blocked his path.

"Get him!” Stephen ordered.

Her mother was herself knocked to the floor as the two men dove for Lario. He kicked one off, catching him on the jaw. Half-in, half-out of the window, Lario struggled with Ignacio. Rosemary came to her feet, pulling at the man’s head. Her fingernails clawed his fat cheeks, but still he held on — until Stephen crashed the oil lamp over Lario’s head. Lario slumped over and fell in a heap at Rosemary’s feet.

"String the thief up!” Stephen commanded. "He tried to steal my wife’s jewelry.”

"No!” Stephanie shouted. "That’s a lie!”

“
You can’t kill him!” Rosemary cried, trying to hold tightly to Lario’s hips as Ignacio and Julio grabbed at his inert body, forcing her to let go..

Blu
e veins stood out at Stephen’s temples. "Oh, I don’t plan to kill him. Just make certain he doesn’t spread any more of his bastards about.” His spiteful, consuming gaze encompassed the two women. "I shall be dealing with you later.” He closed the door, locking them in.

Her mother
threw herself against the door. Her fists pounded on the heavy wood. "Dear God, help me! Don’t let Stephen do this!”

Stephanie walked slowly over to the bed like an old woman and stretched out, one arm thrown across her forehead. "It’s useless, mama. You have brought us to this.”

But her mother did not hear her. She ran to the window and shoved up the window. The bedroom door swung open.  Stephanie swung up in the bed, and her mother whirled from the window.  Stephen stood there. Fury contorted his face so that he looked like an ogre out of some ghoulish fairy tale for children. "No, don’t turn away,” he said. "I want you to watch. You, too, Sin-they — Isn’t that what the red man called you?”

He jerked her up and shoved her toward the window. "Watch!” He grabbed her m others jaw and yanked her head about so that she was forced to stare at the man below.

A crowd of men and some of the wives and children had gathered at the corral reserved for branding. Someone shouted something, and the children scurried away and the women, hiding their faces in their
rebozos
, quickly followed their children.

Then
Stephanie saw what the men had clustered to watch. Lario, her father, lay spread-eagled in the corral’s center. His bronzed body, so beautifully made, was naked, glistening pink with the dying sun’s last rays. Or was it blood?

"Watch, whore!” Stephen ordered again. "It’s remembering I want you to be every waking moment of your life!”

Ignacio stepped out of the surrounding group of men. The knife blade gleamed. The guillotine must have looked just so to the aristocrats trussed in the carts like swine bound for the butcher, Stephanie thought. It was a butchering knife. One from the kitchen. She saw the perspiration glistening over Lario’s muscles. Saw them strain at Ignacio’s approach, saw the mouth stretch taut and tight. Always the brave warrior. No sound would come from his lips, no screaming, no begging.

Slowly, obviously taking great delight in his performance, Ignacio began to saw away at the exposed genitals, hacking when the sinewy skin and tendons did not give.

A scream. Stephanie screamed and screamed. Surprisingly it was her mother who slapped her into silence. "Do not embarrass your father, Sin-they!” she hissed. "Give him at least this dignity.”

The bound man twitched in spite
of his enormous self-control. Blood poured between the rigid thighs and oozed into the dirt. Then the body went limp.

Stephen looked at the two women. His jaws were clenched with still unfulfilled fury. A muscle throbbed in his cheek.
Her mother faced him. Daring him. Hoping? Stephanie wondered. 

Stephen whirled from
them and stalked from the room.