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How soon she had got over her passionate infatuation for Lucas! Could I ever stop loving him? Cruelly I said, trying to hide my own emotions, “So now you’re actually in love with the man you said you hated. Will you be married soon?”
She gave me a rather embarrassed look, and said defensively, “As soon as we reach Mexico. And Jesus is good to me. He makes me feel as if I am a woman. Do you know that of all the women he has taken, I am the only one he wishes to marry? It means something. And I will no longer be a slave to that bitch Elena Kordes. Jesus has promised that I will have a large house, and servants of my own.”
“He’s a man of ambition and far-reaching plans, it seems!” I murmured ironically. “Do you know what he plans to do with me?”
But she only said hastily that Jesus would tell me himself, as soon as he returned to the makeshift camp with the rest of his men. Warningly she added that Chato had remained here, to watch over us both, and I wondered why they thought I might want to escape. Where could I go, anyhow? We were still in the mountains, camped among thick timber. I had no idea where we were, or in which direction the valley lay. And I would not think of Lucas—alone there with Elena. I must not, for I needed all my wits about me now.
I shrugged, reassuring Luz, and she began to talk to me with a return of her old, friendly manner, although she still seemed wary.
It seems to me, even in retrospect, that I was far too calm. It was as if I had lived on the edge of an emotional pinnacle for so long that now I felt drained of feeling. I had lost Lucas. In my heart I knew that he would not do as I secretly hoped he would, and come looking for me. Even if he hadn’t planned to get rid of me, he was bound to shrug his shoulders when he found out what had happened, and tell himself that it was for the best. And now I was alone again and forced to fend for myself, with only my wits to guide me. I thought all this without self-pity; in fact I was filled with an almost terrifying apathy soon after I had talked with Luz. I’ll soon have my cherished independence back, I thought. For surely Montoya meant to claim that huge reward he’d told me Todd had offered for any news of my whereabouts. What did it matter? Money had once provided my passport to freedom, and now I didn’t care about it. I would pay Todd back, and I would never marry him now. And Lucas, to whom I had offered everything, including myself, had rejected me.
Jesus Montoya and the comancheros returned to camp that evening, and each man looked like a walking arsenal, with crossed bandoliers across his chests.
Luz and I retired inside the wagon until, sometime later, Montoya came up and politely asked me to accompany him. He was as suave and sardonic as I remembered him, and his black eyes seemed to glitter in the firelight. He had taken my arm, and now as he led me forward, there was a sudden cessation of the talk and laughter among his men.
My feeling of lethargy persisted, and I stood there passively, feeling the looks that were fastened upon me.
“This is the woman for whom Shannon is willing to pay so much money. She is not to be harmed. In fact”—his white teeth gleamed for an instant—“I will kill the first man who touches her. I only wish to make this matter clear: that she will not be treated like the other captives we take, but instead as a guest. Comprende?”
Apparently Montoya was sure of his control over his men. There were a few nods, a few muttered “si’s” but the curiosity in their eyes was almost a palpable thing. I found myself wondering if they thought I was or had been one of Montoya’s women, but what did that matter either?
Tonight Jesus Montoya was just as immaculately dressed as he had been on the occasion of the fiesta. When he led me into the darkness just beyond the fire’s reach I could see the silver ornaments on his charro suit flash like stars.
“Was it necessary to put me on exhibit?”
“It was necessary to warn them. My men are impulsive at times. And as I’ve said before, I do have a great admiration for you, señorita Rowena.”
“You certainly have a strange way of showing it!” I retorted. What was the man up to? It seemed to me he was playing a cat and mouse game with me, and I wished he would come to the point.
He chuckled softly. “Ah, but I think that you will understand, once you have had time to give the whole matter some thought. You do not mind if I smoke?”
I moved my head impatiently, and the tip of his glowing cigar lit his face for a moment as he puffed on it.
“I had the feeling, from the first time I talked to you, that you were a wise and intelligent young woman, and I am glad that you have taken all this so calmly. Of course I owe you an apology for the methods I was forced to use in order to… rescue you, shall we say? I see how angrily you lift your head, but believe me, it was all for the best!”
“Or because of the money you hope to get for returning me to Todd Shannon?”
“That too, of course! I am no philanthropist—only a poor man who must earn a living. And why not in this way? The señor Shannon can afford to give away some of his money. I am sure he will think it well worth it to get you back. And even my stubborn friend Elena Kordes had to agree that with poor Ramon gone, and Julio caring more about his little tribe than the regaining of his family’s lands… well, what else could we do?”
“There was Lucas,” I said defiantly. “She was so anxious to marry me off to one of her sons—why not Lucas?”
Montoya was shaking his head at me with exaggerated patience. “But Lucas is not Elena’s son. Surely you will not pretend ignorance of the—er—rather unique relationship between them? Even so—yes, Elena did suggest that such a thing might be possible, but Lucas refused. He can be very stubborn, that one.”
“But…”
“You must face facts, señorita. Come, you are strong enough for that! Lucas attracted you. In spite of his rude manners, he has a way with women. And he wanted you, especially when he learned you were to marry Ramon. But be realistic. You imagine yourself in love with him at the moment, perhaps, because you gave yourself to him. You see, I am being quite blunt. But Lucas? Lucas has always been in love with Elena, and he always will be. He wants other women, he takes them—and then, when he is finished with them, he goes back to Elena. If you had not been Shannon’s fiancée, he would not have bothered himself with you in the first place.”
“No!” I said, but the word sounded small and despairing. “You’re lying to me; you and Elena arranged all of this, because she was jealous of me. She was afraid that Lucas—that Lucas and I…”
“And now you are speaking wildly of what you wish to believe!” Montoya said roughly. His cigar smoke stung my nostrils. “You deliberately try to blind yourself to the truth, but I think that you have always known that nothing could ever come of a relationship between you and Lucas except much unhappiness and hurt. What did you hope for? That he would marry you?” As if he had read an answer in my face Montoya gave a harsh laugh. “Por Dios! I did not think you so naive. A woman of your spirit and background—would you have been content to share him with another woman and receive the least part of his attentions? Would you have been prepared to live as a prisoner, just as my poor Luz was, and wait on Elena’s whims? Elena is a very strong woman, much stronger than you are. And Lucas would do anything for her; do you take my meaning, my poor little one?”
I shook my head, refusing to accept what he was saying, kept shaking it until he seized my wrist with fingers that felt like steel.
“Must I make it even clearer before you will listen? You hate Elena and blame her, but although it is true she has no love for you, she still feels a strong sense of obligation to your father, and so she agreed to your going. Count yourself lucky! For if she had insisted that Lucas must marry you, he would have done so—for her, you understand? As for Lucas, he is a dead man. He is as good as dead right now. I am careful, but Lucas is reckless, even with bounty hunters snapping at his heels. He thinks he will kill Shannon, but it is Shannon who, in the end, will have him killed. It is—how do you say it? Inevitable. But as long as he is alive, he belongs to Elena.” My earlier mood of apathy had disappeared, and I was sick with despair. Every one of Jesus Montoya’s caustic words seemed to pierce me like an arrow.
I must have swayed, for immediately Montoya’s arm went around my waist, and his voice
softened. “I understand. You do not want to hear these things, but they had to be said, for your sake. I will take you back to the wagon now, and you will think about it and perhaps cry a little, no? It is good for a woman to cry. And then, if you are wise, you will try to forget Lucas. Forget everything that has happened to you, marry Shannon, and live like a queen. And perhaps you will one day remember me as a friend.”
