My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) (26 page)

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“To the millinery.”

A muscle tightened in Creed’s jaw. Where was she getting the money for this burst of frivolous shopping?

“She came out later carryin’ a big box. Must’ve bought a real nice hat,” the clerk said.

A hat and a music box? “And then?” Creed probed.

“Then I don’t know where she went,” the clerk said. “Mrs. Bigelow needed some kerosene, and I had to go to the back room to get it for her. When I looked out later, the lady’s horse was still there.”

Thanking him, Creed slipped back into the shadows. A music box and a hat. He was going to wring her neck. Having that kind of money meant only one thing. She had gone against his orders and had dipped into the stash of gold. She had done exactly what he had told her not to do.

At the edge of town Creed quickly located horse tracks and the footprints of three riders. The trail was easy to read—too easy. It appeared that whoever had taken her wanted to make certain Creed followed. His hand settled around the handle of his knife. He knew who had her.

His temper darkened with fury when he thought about the consequences she would face because of her reckless actions. But his fury was tempered with fear—a fear that he wouldn’t reach her in time. Something stirred within him, an emotion deep and disturbing.

Slipping back into town, he untied Anne-Marie’s horse from the railing in front of the saloon and walked it quietly out of town.

“Where is the
oro
?”

“He didn’t say where he was going.” The words barely escaped
Anne-Marie’s parched throat now. For hours she had been sitting beside a pit, her hands bound. Pain wracked her body, and she was faint with hunger.

But Cortes refused to concede defeat. “
Señorita
,” he cajoled, “you have only to answer my simple question. Once you have spoken the truth, Cortes will give you some nice warm tortillas, beans, and something to quench your most terrible thirst.”

The crazy man’s swarthy features wavered above Anne-Marie, but she was barely conscious of him.

“See the pit?” he said. “See, it is filled with lizards. Many large lizards. Iguanas,
señorita.
Do you know the word
iguana
?”

Bile rose to Anne-Marie’s throat at the mention of lizards. She hated lizards.

“If you do not tell Cortes what he wishes to know, he will have no choice but to throw you into the pit of iguanas. This would not be so nice. This would spoil the
señorita’s
whole day,
sí
?”

Anne-Marie felt herself growing dizzy. His threats seemed to be coming at her through a fog. Somehow it no longer mattered what he was saying. She was paralyzed with terror.

Cortes grasped her by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. “The gold. Where is it? Speak!”

Anne-Marie reeled when his hand cracked across her cheek. Shaking her head she dropped back to the ground, welcoming the blackness about to consume her.

The Mexican’s voice lowered. “You are most stubborn, fine lady. Now you have pushed Cortes’s patience to the limit.” He straightened, his eyes focused on the pit. “Perhaps if Cortes gives you time to reconsider your ill-advised ways, you will have a change of heart.”

Barely hearing his voice, Anne-Marie swam in and out of consciousness. Nothing mattered anymore. She was going to die. She was going to be thrown into a pit full of lizards and be eaten alive.
Creed. Where are you, Creed?
He would know she was gone by now, but would he look for her? Her heart ached with the realization that he might not. He had no reason to further jeopardize his mission in
order to save her from the consequences of her own willful ways. The gold was safely hidden in the mission cellar, and she would die before she would let this evil man know where it was—but oh, how she prayed Creed would search for her.

Ollie sat on his haunches. “Boss, don’t you think she’s had enough? She ain’t gonna say where that gold is.”

Rodrigo focused on the comatose woman lying on the ground. “You really gonna throw her down that well?”

The outlaw’s eyes returned to Anne-Marie.
“Sí,”
he announced dispassionately. “I have been kind for too long.”

Creed lay on his belly outside the perimeter of Cortes’s camp, his gaze alert for any sign of Anne-Marie. Cortes had left a track as evident as a locomotive. A broken horseshoe. Small bushes uprooted and stacked in the middle of the road. Creed wouldn’t have been surprised to see a large red arrow pointing the way.

The moon slid low, casting yellow light on the rough patch of ground. A small fire dwindled to glowing red embers.

With catlike stealth, he inched toward the camp, his hearing alert for any unusual sounds. Two mounds lay beside the fire in sleeping blankets. There had been four men last time he looked. Had Anne-Marie managed to break free?

Or had he miscalculated? Maybe she wasn’t with the outlaws—and all this time he had been wasting hours on a wild goose chase. Panic gripped his chest. Where was she?

Three unsaddled horses stood in a thick grove of cottonwoods to the right of the camp. Pulling himself slowly along on his elbows, he inched closer, his body silently skimming over the hard ground.

His gaze traced the large hole dominating the clearing, and he frowned. An abandoned well? The opening was large enough to shove a person down. A stake and the dusty footprints beside the site spoke of recent activity.

Rage welled deep inside him when he thought about Anne-Marie’s fate. Her foolish nature might well have gotten her killed this time.

Focusing on the nearest sleeping bag, Creed elbowed closer. A mockingbird called as he slithered closer. There—ahead. Sounds were coming from the bush. A man’s low tone, laughing.

He strained to hear, searching for a woman’s voice. Nothing came to him.

Pulling himself forward on his elbows he approached the bush, the blade of his knife between his teeth.

A woman’s high-pitched screams rent the night, and he recognized Anne-Marie’s voice. He sprang toward the sound, knife in hand, and in one long leap, the Indian charged.

Shouts rang out and fists flew as Creed lunged at Cortes. Bare knuckles met flesh.

The Crow was strong—very strong for an injured man. Cortes’s head rang when fist after fist slammed his head.

“Ollie! Rodrigo!”

Another fist and Cortes tasted blood. Bunching his paws, he swung through the air, hoping to strike his aggressor. Around and around they went, both men swinging and connecting.

“Rodrigo!”

The Indian dove and Cortes’s feet flew out from under him. His head hit the ground and his teeth rattled. Stars exploded.

“Ollie!”

The two outlaws appeared, waving pistols in the air. More scuffles. The men’s grunts reached a high-pitched frenzy. Ollie and Rodrigo manhandled Creed to the ground and Ollie swung the butt of his pistol. The sharp crack put an end to the fight.

Panting hard, the two outlaws faced Cortes, who had conveniently stepped aside. He now stepped up. “Cortes will show this insolent Indian who is boss.”

Ollie held him down while Rodrigo wrapped a thick cord around his hands and ankles. “What do you want to do with him, boss?”

Cortes’s eyes narrowed as he deliberated. “Perhaps the woman will no longer be necessary
, Señor
Ollie. Perhaps if the
indio
is willing, he will keep the woman from further harm.” He laughed, showing a mouthful of horse-like teeth in the flickering firelight.

Creed was starting to come around. “Let the woman go.”

“I shall, my good friend, I shall, but Cortes’s plans have changed.”

Creed struggled to sit up, but Ollie slammed him back to the ground.

Squatting, Cortes bent over Creed. “You can save yourself and the woman if you tell Cortes where to find this gold.”

“Release the woman and I will take you to it,” Creed said.

“No. I do not trust you. You must tell Cortes where it is. He will go and get it himself.”

“That’s not possible.” Creed sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll have to show you where the shipment is hidden, but I won’t unless you release the woman.”

Cortes spat on the ground. “You are a stubborn man, as stubborn as the female.” He straightened. “Cortes grows weary of the games.”

“Let the woman go, and I will take you to the gold,” Creed repeated.

“Silencio
!” Cortes started to pace. “It would seem that I cannot do this in a reasonable manner. Very well, Cortes wants the gold, and he is willing to play rough. Bring the woman here,” he said to Ollie and Rodrigo.

Ollie grimaced. “We’ve got the Indian now. He knows where the gold is. Why get her all upset again?”

“Upset?” Cortes roared. “Why should Cortes care if the woman is upset? Bring her to me.”

“That’s not necessary.” From a short distance away, Anne-Marie struggled to her feet. “I’m right here.”

The men turned at the sound of her voice, and Creed breathed deeply.
Thank You, God, for keeping her alive.
He shook his head at her. “Stay out of this.”

“I am here,” she repeated. “I will take you to the gold.”

The outlaw motioned with his head. “Get her and the Indian on
the horses. Now Cortes will find the gold.” The bandit paused. “Wait. Cortes thinks this is another trick.” His eyes squinted and then he glanced at Ollie. “Throw the
indio
down the well.”

“But boss, we don’t how deep that hole goes—”

“Throw him down the well. We do not have to worry about him.”

“You gonna just leave him there?”

Anne-Marie stepped up to take Creed’s arm. “You do that and I’ll never tell you where that gold is hidden.”

Cortes turned to Ollie. “You stay here. If Cortes has not returned by dawn you will abandon the site. If she takes us to the gold I will permit her to return and save the Indian.”

Anne-Marie pounced to stop the outrage, but Cortes restrained her while Ollie and Rodrigo dragged Creed toward the shaft. Her eyes searched Creed’s.

“Give them the gold,” he said calmly.

“Creed—”

“Give them the gold. When they ride off, you know where I am.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to find my way back!”

Oblivious to the woman’s desperate pleas, the two outlaws dragged Creed toward the well. Rolling him onto his side, Ollie grinned when he placed his boot in the middle of Creed’s back and shoved hard.

Seizing Anne-Marie by the arm, Cortes dragged her to the horses. “Now, my lovely, you will show Cortes where the gold is.” Swinging her into the saddle, he grabbed the reins and quickly mounted his own animal.

“Ollie, you make sure that our
indio
friend”—he chuckled—“is comfortable.”

“Sí
, boss.”

“If we have not returned in a reasonable time,” Cortes ordered, “we meet in High Bluff at sunrise. The
indio
is to be left in the well.”

Ollie nodded. “
Comprendo
, boss.”

Wheeling their horses, the riders departed with the sound of thundering hooves.

Seventeen