Heart of Thunder (30 page)

She started to call out, but stopped herself. She hadn’t been able to tell where the shot had come from. Her first assumption faded away. Her father wouldn’t have set a trap for her kidnappers, not here. And if he was out there somewhere, wouldn’t he have come to the house by now? Hadn’t he heard Lorenzo’s horse?

She didn’t know what to do. The ranch was deserted, yet someone had fired that shot. Lorenzo? But why?

And then she heard a horse galloping toward the ranch, slowing as it came closer, as if hesitating. Soon the sound stopped, and when no one appeared, Samantha wanted to scream.

“Are you all right,
chiquita?
”

She jumped a foot. “Damn it, Lorenzo, you nearly scared me to death!”

“I am sorry, Sam. But when I saw you alone on the porch, I was not sure if I should come forward or not.”

“But I
am
alone, Lorenzo,” she said. “My father isn’t here.”

“Is that why you fired the gun?”

“
I
didn’t. Didn’t you?”

“It came from here, Sam. I thought you were signaling me to come back.”

“No. I…I think it’s time we searched the rest of the place. If I remember right, there’s a barn and a storehouse out back, and some other houses beyond that.” And then she was stricken by a realization. “Maybe my father found one of the workers’ old houses more inhabitable than this one. He could be here. You said he wasn’t in town today.”

“He could have returned there, Sam.”

“Well someone’s here!” she snapped, but then quickly changed her tone. “Will…will you come with me to find out?”

He nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I must. But I will tell you, Sam, I have no wish to meet an angry father.”

“You can always quietly disappear once I find him,” she suggested, much relieved.

“Believe me, I will.”

Samantha led the way around the house, feeling better with Lorenzo beside her.

The yard was run-down, overgrown, and they had to skirt around a crop of trees and thick bushes that she didn’t remember being there. Before the barn was even in sight, they heard voices arguing. Then they saw light spilling out of the barn, light she hadn’t been able to see from the back of the house because of the dense growth.

Lorenzo clamped a hand on Samantha’s shoulder to stop her, but she shook him off. Her father had to be in that barn. But something was wrong. Who was fighting?

She reached the open door and stopped cold, feeling bile rise in her throat. Quickly she moved out of the light, gesturing behind her to Lorenzo.

Her father wasn’t there. He couldn’t be! That poor man strung up, bleeding—Hamilton Kingsley wouldn’t be a party to
that
. Never!

“Is your father there, Sam?” Lorenzo whispered.

No, no.”

“Then—”

She shivered as the voices inside the barn carried to them clearly.

“
Amigos
, you fight over nothing. He is not dead. He has only fainted.”

“You sure, Camacho?”

“
Sí
. He breathes.”

“You see, Nate, I told you he weren’t dead. But now he knows what to expect.”

“Shut up, Sankey!” Nate growled. “I’ve had it with you! You pull any more stunts like that and you’re out.”

“You won’t get anywhere unless you put some fear into the bastard,” Sankey defended himself.

“That’s enough,” Nate ordered harshly. “Count your
self lucky the old man went back to town tonight and didn’t hear the shooting. If he had—”

“So what? I didn’t kill him.”

“Shit!” Nate turned away from him. “Camacho, get that wound tied up before he bleeds to death.”

“I say we wake him up again,” Sankey put in. “Now’s the time to show him we mean business.”

“Does anyone agree with Sankey?”

There were several moments of silence, and then the Mexican spoke up. “There is only so much he can take. It would be best to let him recover a little. A dead man will not tell us anything.”

A new voice spoke up. “I agree, Nate. Let’s give it a rest until morning.”

“Ross?”

“I think I’d like to get some sleep myself.”

“That settles it.”

“And what if he don’t break tomorrow and tell us what we want to know?” Sankey wouldn’t let it rest. “How much time are we going to waste here?”

“However much we have to,” Nate replied in a harsh, quelling tone that put an end to the argument.

Outside the barn, Lorenzo nudged Samantha. “I do not like the sound of this at all,” he whispered. “What did you see?”

“There…seems to be some sort of interrogation going on. I saw six, maybe seven men and…and the one they were talking about, he’s tied up between two posts, hanging. I’ve never seen anyone so badly beaten—swollen, bruised, and shot. Bleeding from the leg. He must be in terrible pain.”

“And the men, they work for your father?”

Samantha turned on Lorenzo in sudden rage. “Don’t you dare think those thugs work for my father!” she hissed. “He would never allow such brutality!”

“But they mentioned the old man going back to town,” Lorenzo pointed out gently.

“They meant someone else, that’s all,” she said. “Not my father.”

“Yet they are on his ranch,” he persisted.

“No!” she bit off angrily. “I’ll prove it!”

Lorenzo couldn’t stop Samantha before she stepped back into the open doorway, clearly in view if anyone should look that way. But no one did. Samantha took a hesitant step inside, only one. Lorenzo wisely stayed out of sight.

Most of the men had settled down to sleep, but two were sitting by the fire, and one looked up and saw her standing there.

At first he said nothing. Surprise registered in his dark,
mestizo
features. He just stared at her, taking in her disheveled, dirty appearance, the gun in her hand.

“Camacho, you take the watch first,” the man beside the Mexican said as he rose. “Wake me in a few hours.”

Camacho grinned, revealing decayed and missing teeth. “I think your rest will have to wait, Nate,” he replied without taking his eyes from Samantha. “We have company.”

“What the…” Nate fell silent, following Camacho’s gaze. His eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”

“It would be more appropriate for me to ask you that,” Samamtha replied calmly.

The sound of a woman’s voice roused the others who had not fallen asleep. Grins appeared on grizzled faces. Nate still glowered, however.

“You alone, girl?” someone asked.

“What’s she doing here?”

“The Lord’s answered my prayers!”

There was laughter, and Samantha stiffened. “You men are trespassing,” she said coldly. “And what you’ve done here is despicable.”

Her eyes fell on the beaten man, his head hanging to the side against a raised arm. The barbarity! She turned away, taking in all of them at a glance, disgust and revulsion in her expression.

“You got some interest in this man?”

The question caught her by surprise, and she looked back at Nate with contempt. “Only a humane interest. No one should be treated like that.”

“Maybe she’s a friend of his, Nate,” a fat, beefy man remarked. “Maybe she can tell us what we want to know. Just give me a few minutes with her—”

“Stay out of this, Sankey!” Nate barked, uncomfortable under Samamtha’s condemning regard. “And you, girl—explain what you’re doing here right now.”

“This is my father’s ranch, and I’m ordering you off it immediately.”

“Your father? You’re Samantha Kingsley?”

She gasped. “Do you know my father?”

Nate relaxed a bit. “We work for him. You’re all riled up about nothing, ma’am. We ain’t trespassing. We’re doing a job.”

“You’re lying!”

Nate tensed, his eyes darkening. “I could say the same of you, girl. Maybe Sankey was right and you’re one of the kidnappers come here to help this one escape.”

Samantha’s stomach turned as the implication hit her. “Kidnappers? My God, is that what this is all about? You…you…”

“We were hired to find the bandits who took Kingsley’s daughter and forced him to sell his land to that fellow there.”

She went cold suddenly. “Who
is
this man?”

“Calls himself En—En—oh, hell, one of them long Spanish names, something or other Chavez.”

“Antonio!” she gasped.

“You see, Nate, she does know him.”

“No, I don’t.” She shook her head slowly. She wouldn’t look at Antonio again—she couldn’t. Hank’s cousin! “Why have you done this to him? I can’t believe my father would tell you to torture a man!”

“Kinsley wants El Carnicero. He don’t care how we
go about finding him. And Chavez there is going to lead us to him.”

“No, he won’t,” she said calmly, though her anger was rising steadily. “And you’re going to let him go or I’ll have you all fired. I know my father, and I tell you he won’t condone what you’ve done here.”

“Now hold on—”

“Don’t listen to her, Nate. She ain’t Kingsley’s daughter. Look at her. You think his daughter would look like that? She’s one of them, just like Chavez.”

“I don’t give a damn who she is.” A big giant of a man spoke up. “I ain’t taking orders from no woman.”

“Look, girl,” Nate said now. “You better just take yourself on into El Paso, and leave us to our business. If you really are Samantha Kingsley, you’ll find your father waiting there for you.”

“I’m not leaving here until you let that man go,” Samantha said firmly. She knew she was taking a stand she might regret, but she was compelled. “He needs a doctor. I’ll take him to one.”

“Like hell you will!” Sankey shouted, and started toward her.

Without a thought, Samantha shot him. Quickly she turned the gun back on Nate. He was white-faced, as were the others. But she was still calm, in control. As usual, men had underestimated her.

“Now will you let him go?” she asked Nate quietly.

“There’s too much money at stake here. And you can’t shoot us all, girl.”

“Can’t I?”

It was bravado, by then. The shot had woken the two sleeping men, there were six of them against her. She couldn’t shoot them all at once. They all knew that. And Lorenzo? Was he still outside?

Samantha thought quickly, but didn’t know what to do next. Men like these wouldn’t think twice about shooting it out with a woman. But could she back down now?

“Dios mío!”

Samantha started at Lorenzo’s exclamation.

“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone,
amigo
,” Samantha said as he came in and moved to stand behind her. “I was afraid you had left.”

Lorenzo looked at her sharply and said furiously, “How can you stand there so calmly while he hangs there in torment? Do you not recognize him?”

She was shocked by the uncalled-for attack. “I’ve never met Antonio Chavez. How could I recognize him? And I’m hardly calm.”

“
Por Dios
. Look closer, little one.” Lorenzo realized his mistake and spoke softly. “It is Rufino.”

Her eyes flew to the man. “No,” she gasped! The black hair, the unrecognizable face. “No!” She ran to the man, forgetting everyone else, her gun limp in her hand. “It’s not.” The black clothes, bloodied, were the clothes Hank had worn when he married her.

She reached him, unaware of the smells, unaware of her heart’s wild beating, of her stomach twisting.
It’s not him. It’s not him
.

The words beat a tattoo inside her head as Samantha slowly, fearfully opened his shirt to find proof. Yes, the chest scars were there. The color drained from her face, and a scream tore from her throat. The scars were barely discernible beside the blackened, bruised skin across the whole of his stomach and rib cage. She collapsed on the floor, retching, the vision haunting her even with her eyes squeezed shut. Hank, oh, God! No!

Samantha was moaning, oblivious to her surroundings. Lorenzo had not moved from his position by the door. No one watched Samantha. It was Lorenzo, alone, who held the men at bay. Two six-shooters in the hands of a man ready to pull the triggers was a different story.

“What the hell got into her?” Ross grumbled.

“Talk to this one, Camacho,” Nate ordered, ignoring Ross. “You speak his lingo. Explain we got a job to do here.”

“There will be no talking,” Lorenzo said sharply before Camacho could open his mouth. “We will wait until
la niña
recovers. What to do here will be her decision.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna stand here and dance to no woman’s tune,” Ross said in a quarrelsome voice.

“Don’t push it, Ross,” Nate warned. “You want to end up like Sankey?”

“Hell, this one ain’t no crazy woman.
He
knows he can’t stand up to us all.”

“Do I,
señor?
” Lorenzo asked dangerously. “Perhaps you would like to find out what I think?”

Camacho grabbed Ross. “Ease off,
amigo
. This one is like me. He will not back down from a fight.”

“You think I’m afraid of a skinny—”

“Of course not,” Camacho said agreeably. “But his guns are not so skinny, eh?”

“Just what is your interest here?” Nate demanded.

“I will see the man released,” Lorenzo replied.

“And then?”

Lorenzo understood his anxiety and smiled darkly. “You need not fear me,
señor
. Chavez is my
amigo
, but I am not a vengeful man.”

“What about her?”

“That is a different matter.”

“But she said she did not know him,” Camacho pointed out, casting an uneasy glance at Samantha, who was sitting on the floor, shaking. He could face a man anytime. But he knew nothing about women, especially a woman who carried a gun. And this woman frightened him. She had already shot his friend without flinching. “Is she
loca?
”

“No. And it is no wonder she did not recognize him. You have changed his appearance,” Lorenzo replied coldly. “And, by the way,
señor
, she is who she claims to be. And she does know this man—very well. But her feelings for him…” Lorenzo shrugged. “I cannot—”

“Shut up, Lorenzo! You talk too much.”

He grinned and looked over to find Samantha glar
ing at him in the old familiar way. His grin widened. He had been afraid that he would have to handle the men alone, that she had completely broken down. He knew it would be better to keep her riled. That way, she would not lose control again. And he knew how to keep her riled.