waited long enough to collect what
the sheriff owed him.
Rafe snapped the locket closed and curled his fist around it.
No, she was more than a complication. She just might be the only person alive
who knew Luis Demas's secret. It didn't matter who she was or why she was here.
He didn't care about her lies or her secrets or the emptiness this locket
seemed to speak of.
He crammed the locket into his saddlebags and dressed
quickly. As he tucked his shirt into his pants, he reminded himself that he was
only here to find out what, if anything, Demas had revealed before he'd died.
He had to somehow convince the girl to tell him what she knew about the gold,
the gold that would lead him to El Alacran . Finding
El Alacran , after all, was the only thing that really
mattered.
Chapter 4
The road to Hondo might be wide and
well-marked, as the blacksmith had assured her it would be, but the surface
left much to be desired. By midmorning, Anne had been jostled and jolted until
she was certain her body must be covered with bruises. Her hands felt as if
they had been cut to shreds, despite the heavy leather gloves she wore.
This part of Texas must be the closest thing to hell on
earth. In fact, had anyone asked her for a description of hell, this would have
been it. The sun pressed down on her like a scorching
flatiron. The barren terrain stretched as far as the eye could see in all
directions. Short, scrubby trees dotted the gray-green landscape in irregular
clusters, but they provided no shade.
Once again, life had set her on a course not of her own
choosing. The words of the banker, Mr. Sampson, echoed in her mind. "I'm
sorry, Miss Cameron, but the house is scheduled for auction. You may bid on it
like everyone else, but..."
She knew he hadn't been sorry. He hadn't cared one bit about
her or her problems. He'd wanted her gone. She'd known from the first caustic
words he had spoken to her that the battle was lost.
"She was my aunt," Anne explained, knowing it would
do no good. "I came here to live with her."
"I do sympathize, Miss Cameron, but your aunt did not
leave a will. You will have to take your chances with everyone else."
Mr. Thaddeus P. Sampson of the Bank of Ubiquitous had been
unmovable. The house would be auctioned off at the end of the month.
She couldn't let that happen, but what options did she have?
A hotel room would cost at least two bits a night, which would mean she could
bid even less by the end of the month. And she had to eat. Maybe she could get
a job, but she would never earn the money she needed to live until the end of
the month and purchase the house. If she fell just a dollar short of the
highest bid, she would be homeless.
From the bank, she had returned to the hotel where she had
learned that the stagecoach she'd arrived on had continued on to Hondo last night.
The driver would lay over there to resupply and rest the horses before
continuing to Eagle Pass in the morning. The next coach wouldn't pass through
Ubiquitous for another two weeks. Somehow she had to get to Hondo before
morning.
She'd paid what was for her a fortune for a pair of
swaybacked horses and a wagon from the blacksmith who had tried to dissuade
her, even as he told her to take the coach to Eagle Pass and explained how to
get to Chihuahua, Mexico from there.
He didn't realize she had no choice. Besides, her father had
taught her to drive a carriage after he won one in a card game. She could
handle a team of two horses. And forty miles didn't seem so far, not compared
to the miles she'd traveled already.
She wore men’s clothing, a gift from the blacksmith whose son
had been killed in the war back east. “He won’t be needing them anymore,” the
craggy-faced man had said, the sorrow etched in his gray eyes.
Like the boots she still wore, the pants were hot and too
large, held on by a frayed belt. The pants might feel odd, but the strangest
sensation was the absence of a corset. It was freeing and uncomfortable at
the sheriff owed him.
Rafe snapped the locket closed and curled his fist around it.
No, she was more than a complication. She just might be the only person alive
who knew Luis Demas's secret. It didn't matter who she was or why she was here.
He didn't care about her lies or her secrets or the emptiness this locket
seemed to speak of.
He crammed the locket into his saddlebags and dressed
quickly. As he tucked his shirt into his pants, he reminded himself that he was
only here to find out what, if anything, Demas had revealed before he'd died.
He had to somehow convince the girl to tell him what she knew about the gold,
the gold that would lead him to El Alacran . Finding
El Alacran , after all, was the only thing that really
mattered.
Chapter 4
The road to Hondo might be wide and
well-marked, as the blacksmith had assured her it would be, but the surface
left much to be desired. By midmorning, Anne had been jostled and jolted until
she was certain her body must be covered with bruises. Her hands felt as if
they had been cut to shreds, despite the heavy leather gloves she wore.
This part of Texas must be the closest thing to hell on
earth. In fact, had anyone asked her for a description of hell, this would have
been it. The sun pressed down on her like a scorching
flatiron. The barren terrain stretched as far as the eye could see in all
directions. Short, scrubby trees dotted the gray-green landscape in irregular
clusters, but they provided no shade.
Once again, life had set her on a course not of her own
choosing. The words of the banker, Mr. Sampson, echoed in her mind. "I'm
sorry, Miss Cameron, but the house is scheduled for auction. You may bid on it
like everyone else, but..."
She knew he hadn't been sorry. He hadn't cared one bit about
her or her problems. He'd wanted her gone. She'd known from the first caustic
words he had spoken to her that the battle was lost.
"She was my aunt," Anne explained, knowing it would
do no good. "I came here to live with her."
"I do sympathize, Miss Cameron, but your aunt did not
leave a will. You will have to take your chances with everyone else."
Mr. Thaddeus P. Sampson of the Bank of Ubiquitous had been
unmovable. The house would be auctioned off at the end of the month.
She couldn't let that happen, but what options did she have?
A hotel room would cost at least two bits a night, which would mean she could
bid even less by the end of the month. And she had to eat. Maybe she could get
a job, but she would never earn the money she needed to live until the end of
the month and purchase the house. If she fell just a dollar short of the
highest bid, she would be homeless.
From the bank, she had returned to the hotel where she had
learned that the stagecoach she'd arrived on had continued on to Hondo last night.
The driver would lay over there to resupply and rest the horses before
continuing to Eagle Pass in the morning. The next coach wouldn't pass through
Ubiquitous for another two weeks. Somehow she had to get to Hondo before
morning.
She'd paid what was for her a fortune for a pair of
swaybacked horses and a wagon from the blacksmith who had tried to dissuade
her, even as he told her to take the coach to Eagle Pass and explained how to
get to Chihuahua, Mexico from there.
He didn't realize she had no choice. Besides, her father had
taught her to drive a carriage after he won one in a card game. She could
handle a team of two horses. And forty miles didn't seem so far, not compared
to the miles she'd traveled already.
She wore men’s clothing, a gift from the blacksmith whose son
had been killed in the war back east. “He won’t be needing them anymore,” the
craggy-faced man had said, the sorrow etched in his gray eyes.
Like the boots she still wore, the pants were hot and too
large, held on by a frayed belt. The pants might feel odd, but the strangest
sensation was the absence of a corset. It was freeing and uncomfortable at
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