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After the Alamo
Barri Bryan
© copyright Nov. 1999 by Billie and Herb Houston
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
Chapter One
Marisa Perez huddled in the bed of the jolting wagon and swallowed over the fear that coagulated in her throat. Where were they now? Peering through a crack in the sideboards she saw only the darkness of night. With each turn of the wheels, she wondered, would they make it to the cellar and safety?
The darkness obscured the adobe jacales that lined the narrow street. Against the backdrop of an ebony sky the tiny structures were little more than shadowy outlines.
The jacales, like everything else in this quiet little village, wore battle scars. There was not a build-ing in the little settlement that did not bear pockmarks where stray bullets or well-aimed cannon balls had found their target. One short year ago a bloody battle had raged through these narrow streets. The strug-gle had lasted for thir-teen days and left in its wake the indeli-ble souvenirs of a life and death struggle.
The wagon turned and Marisa spied the bell tower of the San Fernando Cathedral. She breathed a sigh of relief. They had reached Military Plaza and, hopefully, safety. Groping for her cousin Arturo's sweaty hand, she whispered, "Don't be afraid. We're on the Plaza. Soon we'll be safe."
Military Plaza, lo-cated in the heart of the settle-ment, was the only section of Bexar that had been planned before its con-struction. It had been laid off in 1716 by some long-depart-ed forefather, who would turn in his grave if he could witness the laissez faire attitude of those who had come after him. Narrow roads wound off in all direc-tions from the plaza, each one content to follow its own sinuous inclination.
- Arturo hunched his shoulders. "I'm not afraid. I will help Tio Hector pro-tect you and Mamma, and Manuel." His voice quivered. "I am twelve years old, almost a man."
His brother, ten-year-old Manuel scoffed, "You're not a man. You're a boy, and you should be afraid. Mamma says we could all be killed this very night."
What a thoughtless thing to say to a frightened ten-year-old, but then Marisa's aunt was a thoughtless woman and a foolish one. "We will soon be to a safe hiding place." Marisa doubted that there was a safe place to hide from Felipe and Tito Gomez. She put a comforting arm around Manuel's shoulder. "Look, We're passing the church."
The old San Fernando Cathedral loomed before them like some immovable cy-clops. A single lantern in its round bell tower glowed like a giant eye. The squat-ty build-ings surrounding the massive struc-ture cowered in the shadows, offering silent obeis-ance.
The tall, middle-aged man in the driver's seat stopped the wagon directly in front of a battle scared build-ing. The sign over the door read: PEREZ BROTH-ERS GENER-AL STORE.
Hector Perez nodded to the woman on the seat beside him. "Get the chil-dren, Carm-en, and get inside." He cast fur-tive glanc-es into the dark-ness. "I'll put the wagon behind the store and come in the back door.-"
The small woman began to climb down from the high seat, complaining in Spanish as she went. "Madre de Dios, You want me to open the back door? How will I know it is you on the other side?" She peered over her shoulder into the black night. "Even now Felipe and Tito may be lurking in the shadows, waiting, watching. . ."
"Carmen, please." Impatience gave Hector's voice a sharp edge. "I must get the wagon and team out of sight. Take the chil-dren into the store, then lift the bar on the storeroom door for me."
"Would it not be better to seek and find the men who even now, search for you?" Carmen's mouth turned up in a sneer. "We have all heard many times over that you are a brave man."
Tension clipped Hector's reply. "I am not a fool. To face Tito and Felipe would mean certain death for me and something far worse for you and Marisa."
Manuel hung onto the sideboards. "I don't want to go down in that cel-lar."
"We have to go." Marisa moved toward the back of the wagon fighting the same fear t-hat troubled her young
cous-in. The cellar had been their hiding place through last year's siege of the Alamo. It brought back terrifying memories.
"If only Victor were here." Carmen hopped from the wagon wheel to the ground. "He would stand up to the Gomezes."
"If Victor had been more discrete we would not have to worry about the Gomezes now," Hector said. "Don't argue, just do as you are told."
The tiny woman swung to face him, her hands on her hips, her dark eyes flashing. "At least he was not a coward." She swore in Spanish as she motioned for the others to get out of the wagon.
Marisa wanted to tell her aunt to shut her foolish mouth. She didn't dare. Disre-spect was one thing her father would not tolera-te. An eighteen--year-old niece did not speak so to her thirty-year old aunt. Marisa bit her tongue. "Tia, please!"
Carmen chose to ignore her niece. "Come along. There is no time to waste." She herded the three youngsters toward the store's entrance.
Carmen slipped a key in the lock then shoved hard. The door opened. "My heart is heavy for what lies ahead." Standing aside, she motioned for the others to enter. "We may never see the light of day again. And for what purpose? The hope of finding some silver mine that may never have existed in the first place?" She kicked the door shut, and turned the key in the lock before lighting a lantern. "To the store room, now."
Marisa led. The others followed. "We'll be safe in the cellar."
"For tonight, perhaps," Carmen retorted, "But what about all those tomorrows that lie ahead? Who will defend us then? Not my brother-in-law. He's a cow-ard."
Marisa spun around to face her aunt. "My papa is not a coward. He is a brave man!" No one, not even her aunt, said such things about her f-ather in her presence and went unchallenged.
"That's why he's hiding like an animal in a dark pit in the ground instead of finding and facing his enemies."
"But he explained why we must hide." Marisa pushed the storeroom door open.
Carmen dismissed Marisa's argument with a wave of her hand. "That's an excuse. Your father is afraid of Tito and Felipe Gomez."
"But not for himself," Marisa argued, determined to have the last word.
Carmen crossed herself before she lifted the bar from the storeroom door. "You are the biggest fool of all if you believe that."
"Your husband was the fool," Marisa retorted fiercely. "That's why he's dead!" She was set to tell Carmen so much more when Hector stepped through the back door.
His sharp command sliced the humid air. "Enough, Marisa!"-
Marisa stopped her tirade. It would not be wise to argue with her papa tonight.
"Apologize to your aunt." Hector dropped the bar on the door. "Now!"
"But Papa . . . " Why should she be the one to apologize?
"Marisa!" His command cracked the tense air.
"I'm sorry." Marisa dropped her head, refusing to meet her father's eyes. She wasn't sorry, not at all.
Carmen made no reply, but her flashing eyes and grim countenance spoke of sup-pres-sed frustration and anger.
"This way." Hector moved toward the cellar. He pushed aside kegs and boxes then raked away straw before hoisting the concealed door.
Manuel retreated to a far corner of the room. "No. I can't. I can't go into that terrible hole in the ground!"
After a swift exchange of glances between Hector and Carmen, Hector swept Manuel into his arms and carried him, kicking and crying, down the rickety ladder and into the dark pit.
The others followed, hanging on to the sides of the ladder and feeling their way in the darkness.
Then Hector pulled the rope that shut the door. Blackness descended like a shroud. The smell of damp earth permeated the stale air. Hector took the ladder from its moorings and set it against the wall. "We must sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day."
"How can I sleep," Carmen demanded, "when the very air I breathe smells of death and decay? Ah, Dios mio. Victor is gone. What do I care if I never see tomorrow?"-
"You still have two sons who need you." Hector sat on the damp floor and felt around for Marisa's hand. "Self pity is a useless, selfish emotion. Still your demon tongue. You are frightening your children out of their wits."
Carmen made an inarticulate noise then sighed. "Perhaps you can defend us from the rats that infest this place, or are you afraid of them too?"
The lantern flickered, emitted a puff of smoke, then went out, leaving the room in total darkness.
Arturo piped up, "Can we light a candle?"
"No." Hector's response was swift and terse.
Marisa curled up on her blanket --and thought she might never sleep again, but sleep she did. Her last con-scious thought was she would not leave her father's side until this danger had passed.
She was awakened by her father shaking her shoulder. "Get up, Child. It's time to go."
Her body ached from sleeping on the hard, damp ground. Marisa sat up and stretched. "Yes, Papa."
The five occupants prepared to leave the cellar. Hector set the ladder in place, climbed up and opened the door, then turned and motioned with his hand. "It's safe. Come up."
Marisa fol-lowed Arturo up the lad-der then stood and watched as Carmen and Manuel climbed up out of the pit and into the welcome light of a new day.
Hector pushed an impatient hand through his graying hair. "It's better," he told Carmen, "if you and the
chil-dren return to the house. Chico will stay there during the day. Felipe and Tito want me. You will be safer with Chico than you are here at the store."
"There is no safe place for us now." Carmen rubbed the back of her neck. "Felipe Gomez will not be satisfied until you are dead, and he has taken his savage revenge on me and your daughter."
Her ghastly prediction struck fear in Marisa's heart. She renewed her resolve. She wasn't going to leave her father's side. "I'm staying with you, Papa." Folding her arms across her chest, she stood ramrod straight, her small defiant figure silhou-etted against the adobe wall.
"Marisa, please, not now. You know that it is not safe here." Hector's face sagged. "Go home and wait for me."
"It is not safe anywhere, Papa!" Marisa spoke with quiet but desperate firmness. "I won't leave you."
"Marisa, child, please, go home."
"I won't go." Tilting her chin upward, she met his anxious gaze. "I will not leave you. If you make me go, I'll come back." Danger lurked around every corner in the village of Bexar. Indians often swooped in and took unsuspecting citizens away in broad daylight. "I'd rather a Comanche captured me than be separated from you."
"Don't be foolish," Carmen snapped. "You are safer away from your father than you are with him."
Marisa stood her ground. "I will be safe here until you return. I'll hide."
Hector's bushy brows met in a deep frown. "Marisa, no!"
Marisa stamped her foot. "I won't go, Papa."
"We don't have all day to stand and argue." Carmen's eyes swept around the room. "Even now we are in grave danger." She shot Hector a hostile glance. "If you won't harness the mules, I will. I am taking my sons and going to a safer place."
Hector complained in Spanish. "Mujer bobo."
Ignoring his remark, Carmen began to move toward the door. "Manuel, Arturo, come along."
Hector's cry fractured the early morning air. "Be still, you foolish woman. I will see that you get home." He nodded toward Marisa. "Very well then, you may stay. You will be alone for the time it takes me to escort Carmen and the boys home and return, but you're safer here than you are with me in the wagon."
Hector disappeared into the general store and re-turne-d carrying a Kentucky long rifle. "You will need to be armed, just in case." He took a horn from the shelf, and used a long rod to push wadding and powder into the gun barrel. "Keep my rifle by your side until I re-turn."
"I will, Papa." Marisa promised, staring at the rifle that seemed almost as tall as she was.
Hector turned the butt of the gun toward Marisa. "Hide, until I re-turn, and if some-one tries to harm you, shoot, and shoot to kill."
Grasping the butt of the rife, Marisa slid her fingers
-down the long barrel. "I'll be all right, Papa. You're the one who must be careful."
Marisa bade Manuel and Arturo a tearful goodbye, then stepped back to avoid her aunt's embrace. From the store, she watched as the wagon pulled away with Carmen and her boys hidden under straw in the bed. Her gaze lingered until it disappeared in a cloud of dust around a bend in the road.-
Crouching --behind a stack of boxes, Marisa began the long wait for her father's return. Would he make it back? She had to believe that he would, even though he was a prime target for an ambush.
An orange sun had climbed into the misty morning sky.
Hect-or's admoni-tion, as he pulled away, rang in Marisa's ears. "Stay out of sight. If someone tries to harm you, shoot to kill." -
The bright-ness of the dawning day couldn't shake a sense of foreboding. A creeping uneasiness lodged in the pit of Marisa's empty stomach. The storeroom, a lean-to across the back of the general store, was as silent as a tomb. End-less seconds stretched into eter-nal min-utes that crawled toward a timeless half hour.
A sudden, jarring clamor sliced the silence, sending a shiver of terror vibrating down Marisa's spine. She peered around the boxes to see the long blade of a knife slip through the crack in the door and lift the bar from its resting place.
Marisa broke into a cold sweat. Her fingers locked around the stock of Hector's gun. Tito and Felipe Gomez must be just outside the door. They had come to kill her father.-
She hadn't thought they would be brave enough to come to his general store in the light of day, but they were here. Had they watched her father drive away? Was a part of their revenge to kill Marisa before they murdered her father? She was overwhelmed by a chilling sensation she refused to call by its name - panic.
It wasn't Felipe Gomez who came through the door. Instead, a tall stran-ger slipped inside, then paused and looked around the storeroom. His never resting hand hovered over the knife on his belt as he began to move through the maze of boxes and kegs that cluttered the storeroom.
Could this be some-one Felipe and Tito had sent to murder her fa-ther? Marisa dis-missed that idea almost before it formed in her fear-ridden brain. Felipe Gomez would come, in per-son, to settle his quarrel with Hector Perez.
The coiled knot of panic in Marisa's stomach twisted and intertwined with the inbred instinct toward self protec-tion. She wrapped her sweaty palms around the rifle and began to tiptoe in the direc-tion of the stranger's broad back.
"Sto-p!" Her command hung in the humid air. Ramming the gun into the small of the man's back, she ordered, "Stop, I said."
The stranger froze. "What the hell . . .?" Then turned to face the tiny girl brandishing the long rifle.
Marisa gazed point blank, into the handsomest male face she had ever seen. A slim silver scar ran along one side of the finely chiseled jaw. His magnificent eyes, green as emeralds and fringed with long dark lashes, regist-ered only mild surprise. She had never before seen hair so curly or so red.
Using his long forefinger, the stranger -pushed the gun barrel to one side. "Little girl, you are asking for trouble. Put that gun away." The trace of an Irish brogue laced his speech.
Anger dampened her fear. "You're trespassing. If you move, I'll . . . I'll . . . shoot." Her finger tightened on
the trigger.
"Begorra, I believe you would do just that." The man pulled the gun from Mari-sa's shaking hands. "Where is Hector Perez?"
"Here I am!" Hector stepped through the back door of the storeroom, as if call-ing his name had con-jured him back from his journey. Hurrying toward the tall stranger, he extended one hand."Sean Flana-ga-n? I didn't expect you for anoth-er week."
"I had to leave Victoria suddenly." The stranger shook Hector's hand as he nodded in Marisa's direction. "Who's the little girl with the big gun?"
"That's my daughter, Marisa." Hector reached for the rifle that stood against the wall. "She could have killed you."
"She had an excellent opportunity to shoot me in the back, and she didn't.-" The hostility in the stranger's voice was mixed with a mildly mocking amusement. "Who's she gunning for?"
Hector pulled the store's back door open. "You don't know? You haven't heard about Victor-?"
"Your brother?" Sean stepped through the door. "What happened?"
"My brother was murdered. The sheriff believes -" Hector began to explain.
Sean held up one hand. "Your brother's passing is none of my business. The last thing I need is some trig-ger-happy Texas lawman breathing down my neck because he thinks I know something about a murder.-"
Hector eased down into the chair behind his desk.-- "Victor was killed here in the store three days ago. The bro-thers of his murderer are now stalk-ing us. Marisa thought you were one of them."
The stranger shrugged. "Maybe you don't want the load of merchandise I brought this time." He in-vested the word merchandise with sinister significance.
"I want the merchandise." A flicker of annoyance moved across Hector's face. "Is the price the same as last time?"
"The same." The red-haired stranger pushed his hat back with his thumb. "I'll pick up my wagon later. I want my dinero now." His mouth twist-ed with irr-itation. "Tell Chico there's an extra peso in it for him if he un-loads before closing time."
"Chico won't be in today."
The stranger shrugged. "I don't care who unloads, just get your merchandise off my wagon."
"I can't take the chance of being spotted from a distance. You will have to unload your wagon yourself, or take your merchandise elsewhere."
"Damn," Sean swore under his breath. "I don't have anoth-er buyer in fifty miles of Bexar. I can't go back to Victoria until things cool down there."
Hector apologized, "I'm sorry, Señor."
"I'll unload the damn thing myself." The stranger jerked his thumb in Marisa's direction. "Maybe your little girl can help."
Marisa's indignant, "What?" collided in mid air with
Hec-tor's, "Mande?"
Not at all disturbed that his words had struck a nerve in both father and daughter, Sean repeated his sug-ges-tion. "The little girl can carry some of the lighter stuff."
Hector stood to his feet and drew himself up to his full height. "Marisa is not a little girl. She is a young woman. Your -suggestion is offensive, Señor Flanagan!"
The stranger surveyed Marisa as if he were seeing her for the first time. His bold eyes swept over her oval face, then scanned her small figure, lingering suggestively over the swell of her hips. They came to rest on the fullness of her breasts. "I don't think she's a woman yet, but she has possibilities."
Those insolent words coupled with his assessing stare- set off a flare of indig-na-tion inside Marisa. "Pendejo," she hissed, between clenched teeth.
The handsome stranger threw back his head and laughed. "She talks like a buffalo hunter."
Marisa folded her arms across her chest and waited. Her father would not let such a- remark go unan-swered. To her utter amazement, Hector spoke not a word.
Marisa's questioning eyes flew to her father's face. "Papa?"
The look her father sent her reduced her to silence. For some reason Marisa could not under-stand, her father had chosen to let the in-cident pass.
As Sean moved outside, Hector smiled a tired smile. "Thank you, Marisa, for holding your tongue. I know it wasn't easy."
"He was offensive!" Marisa hissed indignantly. "How, Papa, can you be friends with such a crude, arrogant man?"
"He's not a friend. He's a. . ." Hector cleared his throat. "business associate… And he is a pendejo, and a rude, arro-gant man. But I have my reasons for not taking issue with him over such a trivial matter."
"It was not trivial." Marisa's curiosity overrode her indignation. "What reasons, Papa?"
"He knows how to use his fists and a gun, and he's ruthless.-- Those attributes outweigh his crudeness and his arrogance. We need this man-."
Marisa peered out the back entrance. "He's an outlaw and a renegade. I don't think he can be trusted."
"That," Hector's shaggy brows met across the bridge of his nose, "is an under-state-ment. He proba-bly has a price on his head. But don't you see? All of this is to our advan-tage."
"How can that be?" Marisa watched as the tall man began to un-load- his wagon.
"It means he will do anything if the price is right."
More puzzled by the minute, Marisa questioned, "Papa, what are you thinking?"
"I am thinking God has answered my prayers by sending Sean Flana-gan to Bexar a week early." Hector crossed himself. "What can I offer him that he can't refuse?"
-- "Money seems to be the only thing he cares about. He was afraid you would be . . . " Marisa couldn't bring herself to say the word dead, "g-gone before he could collect his payment from you."
"I don't have that kind of money." Hector shook his head from side to side. The Irishman must be a very rich man. He's been running- contraband for years. That's a most profitable busi-ness."
"You could offer him a part of the mine." Maybe things weren't as hopeless as they seemed.--"He wouldn't turn down a fortune in sil-ver." Almost, Marisa dared to hope.-
"Never, Marisa, never!" Hector lashed out, then took a moment to bring his emotions under control. "We must never men-tion the mine to a living soul!"
Nothing, not even a mine filled with silver was worth her father's life. "Yes, Papa, we must. How else can we convince the Irish-man to help us?"
"There are other ways to persuade Señor Flana-gan to become a hired gun." A sly smile creased Hector's tired face. "I have a plan." He gave his daughter's arm an absent-minded pat. "Yes, yes, that has to be the answer."
"What are you going to do, Papa?"
"I have an idea. It's a long shot. But I think . . . If
on-ly . . . "
Chapter Two
The Irishman unloaded the last barrel from his wagon, then sauntered back into the store. "Your merchandise is in your store-room."
"Would you like to sit for a few minutes?" Hector nodded toward a chair. "You must be weary."
Instantly wary, Sean replied, "I'm also in a hurry."
"I would like to speak with you. Hector's voice was smooth, but insistent. "What I have to say is well worth your time, and you look like you could use a rest."
"Just give me my money. I'll do my resting at McGuire's Pub."
"Señor Flanagan," Hector lifted a half-filled bottle of tequila from the shelf behind his desk. "Would you like a drink? I owe you something for the inconvenience of having to unload your own wagon."
"You owe me American money." Sean raised a skeptical eyebrow. "-Don't tell me you don't have it."
"Have I ever failed to pay you?" Hector used his teeth to pull the cork from the bottle.
"No, and you never offered me a drink before either." Sean's fingers moved to his knife. His eyes narrowed."Maybe you'd better explain."
"If you will sit down, I will be happy to do that."
Sean pulled his chair to the side of the desk, then sat down. "I sit better with my back to the wall. Make it fast. I don't have all day."
Hector poured tequila into glasses then put the cork back in the bottle and set it on the shelf before he raised his glass in Sean's direction. "To your good health, Señor."
Wrapping his hand around his glass, Sean studied its contents."Say what's on your mind, Perez."
Hector took a small sip from his glass. "I have a busi-ness propo-sition for you."
"Oh?" Sean took a sip of tequila. "Pay me first, Perez.
I listen better with a full purse."
Lines of fatigue etched themselves into Hector's face. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he took out a bag and pushed it across the desk. "Your money, Amigo."
"Friend?" Sean's fingers tightened around his glass. "If you don't have all my money, just say so. I am a week early."
"Your money is all there, in American dollars, just like every time before.-"
Sean poured the contents of the bag out on the ta-ble and counted it twice, then without uttering a sound, he slipped the money back into the bag and pulled the drawstring top closed with his teeth.
Relaxing a little, Hector leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps now you are convinced that I have no ulterior motive- Señor Flanagan, when I say that I wish to propose to you a most prof-it-able business venture."
Sean slid the money into his pocket. "Profitable business ven-ture?" He turned his glass in his hand. "Whose profit are you talking about?"
"What I am suggesting would benefit us both. Since my brother is no longer with us, I am in need of a partner."
Sean lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "You want me to buy into this place?"
"Not exactly." Hector cleared his throat, then
swal-lowed a hasty gulp of tequila. "I'm not asking for money."
"Then what do you want?" Pushing his chair against the wall, Sean stood to his feet."On second thought, I don't want to know."
"I am speaking of a long range, once-in-a-lifetime, most lucrative proposition.-"
Hector had said the right words, Sean dropped back into his chair. "What would I do with a place like this?" His eyes swept around the clut-tered room. "I don't stay in one place long enough to run a busi-ness."
"Obviously you can't go back to Victoria for awhile, Señor."
"That doesn't mean I want to move into a place that's falling down around my head." Sean emphasized his words with a sweep of one hand.
Hector took another drink of tequila. "To a man who runs con-traband the possibilities of a partne-rship in an old estab-lished busi-ness such as this one are endless."
Interest lit the green of Sean's eyes. "Go on."
Marisa had not realized, until now, how desperate her father was. Hector Perez would have chosen death for him-self rather than bargain a part of his store away to a stranger. He was doing this for Maris-a, and his dead brothe-r's wife and children. Love for her father filled Marisa's heart, love and pride in Hec-tor's abilities as a master manipula-tor. His words were subtly persuasive.
"You're an outsider, plagued by the suspicions of petty lawmen and harassed by minor political officials." Hector was pushing his advantage with gentle diplomacy. "I'm a native Texan. I fought with Sam Houston at San Jacin-to. My politi-cal ties make me virtua-lly untouch-able. No one in the Re-public of Texas would dare question the integrity of Hector Perez."
"I know you're a hero, Perez." Despite his words, Sean seemed singularly unimpressed. "I've heard many times over what a brave hombre you are.
"And a poor one, alas. Last year when I heard of Santa Anna's advance, I piled all the merchandise from my store in the middle of Military Plaza and made a bonfire that could be seen halfway to the Rio Grande." Hector's act of defiance had made him a hero in the eyes of his fellow Texans. The bold gesture had enraged Santa Anna.
--- Softly, Sean reminded him, "Then you ran away."
Marisa was amazed when her father only smiled at that insulting observation.
"When I was sure Santa Anna could not confiscate my merchandise to supply his army, I went to join my Commander, General Sam Houston. I was in the Run Away Scrape, later I disti-nguished myself in combat at the Battle of San Jacin-to." The state-ment was made without an ounce of bravado.
"I'm not interested in your war exploits." Sean leaned forward in his chair. -"Tell me more about this partnership."
"I am willing to trade you 40 percent of my busi-ness for services rendered." Hector's eyes were riveted on Sean's face. "I would retain 60 percent of the business for myself."
"Not interested." Sean leaned back in his chair and waited for Hector's counter propos-al. When none was forth-coming, he add-ed, "I might be interested if you offered me 50 percent."
Reaching across his desk, Hector grasped Sean's hand. "I accept. Congratulations, amigo. You now own 50 percent of Perez Brothers General Store."
For the first time since the tall Irishman had entered the store, an emotion other than mocking cynicism played across his hand-some face. "What do you mean, you accept?" Hector's words had caught him completely off-guard.
"I mean," Hector cleared his throat, "We have a deal."
"Not yet," Sean countered, "Explain what you mean by serv-ices rendered?"
"In return for 50 percent of my business, I want protection for my family."
"What you want is a hired gun. You want me to kill some-body. Who?"
"I see you understand the deal." Hector expelled a long breath. "Felipe and Tito Gomez must be killed before they kill me and my family. They are the brothers of Juan Gomez. They will not be ap-peased by anyth-ing short of my death." Hector took a sip of tequila then swal-lowed slow-ly. "The only way to stop them is to kill them before they get to me."
Sean sat his glass on the table, leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. "Tell me what hap-pene-d."
Hector poured a generous amount of tequila into Sean's half empty glass, pushed the cork back into the top of the bot-tle and began to speak.
"Until two weeks ago Juan Gomez was a friend and a neigh-bor to my brother Victor." A quick sip of tequila eased the catch in Hector's thro-at. "My father and Juan's father were good frien-ds. They were both killed by Indians in 1824."
"Get to the point, Perez," Sean drained the last of the tequila from his glass. "I need to be on my way."
Hector grimaced. "One night about two weeks ago, Victor came home and found Juan with Car-men." He spread his hand in a helpless little ges-ture. "Carmen is - was, Victor's wife. -Victor was in-sanely jealous. He warned Juan to say away from his woman." "Women always mean trouble." Sean let his feet fall to the floor with a thud. "What happened then?"
Hector sent Marisa a warning glance before going on with his story. "Then Victor told Carmen to stop seeing Juan behind his back or else."
"Or else what?" Sean's interest was piqued.
"Or else he would beat her."
"Was Juan Carmen's lover?" Sean asked.
"Who knows?" Hector's tone was critical. "You would have to know Carmen to know what a vexing woman she can be. Carmen could drive any man out of his mind."
Aggravation creased Sean's brow. "Was your sist-er-in-law granting Juan Gomez sexual favors?"
Hector's facade of indifference cracked. "Carmen says she wasn-'t. Victor thought she was. Who knows?"
Sean shrugged. "Carmen knows."
Hector ignored Sean's remark. "A few days later, V-ictor came home early and found -Juan with Carmen again. He threw Juan out of the house, then slap-ped Carmen around a lit-tle."
Nausea filled Marisa's throat. Small wonder Hector was sending her such menacing looks. Her brave, honorable father was lying! Carmen was vain and shal-low, and at times a little stupid, but she had loved Tio Victor! She had never, in the thirteen years of their marriage, looked at another man…and her mild mannered Uncle Victor had never struck a woman in his life.
Juan and Victor had fought about the lost silver mine. The quar-rel had been a contin-uation of the feud that had existed between the Perez-es and the Gome-zes since Marisa could remember.
Her father's lies were making her sick with shame. Even Carmen didn't deserve this kind of slan-der.
After another warning glance in Marisa's direction, Hector contin-ued his fabrica-tion. "The next morning Juan came to the store. He told Victor if he found another bruise on Carm-en, Victor would answer to him. Then Victor real-ized where Juan was looking when he saw those bruis-es. Victor flew into a jealous rage. Juan and Victor fought. Juan pulled a gun and shot Victor. When he knelt down to make sure Victor was dead, Victor stabbed him through the heart with a knife he had in his boot. Juan died in-stantly. Victor lived until the next morning."
"That's it?" Sean's expression was un-read-able.
"That's it." Hector sighed, "Except Juan has two brother-s and a cousin who have taken this matter up where Victor and Juan left off. Felipe and Tito Gomez are bad hombres. I have no allies. There is not a man in Bexar who will go up against the Gomez brothers."
"What about the cousin?" Sean was completely engrossed in Hector's fine-spun tale.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, Hector took full advantage of that attention. "Baldomar Gomez is a clever opportunist. It is diffi-cult to predict what he might do. One thing is for sure, he will act in his own self-inter-est."
"Doesn't everyone?" Sean paused, seemingly assessing the situation, before he asked, "Was Juan Gomez a married man?"
"His wife died three years ago."
Hector had managed to get one of his facts straight. Juan had been a widower. Marisa closed her eyes against the lies her father was spinning. "But Papa -"
Hector held up one hand. "Stay out of this Marisa."
The Irishman believed Papa's lies. "I'm your hired gun the second we sign legal partner-ship papers."
"I'll have the papers drawn up now." Hector rose from his chair. "Lawyer Simms has an office -across the Plaza." Reaching for his som-brero, he pushed it down on his head. "We can go there now."
"Where are Carmen and your nephews?" Sean's eyes scanned Marisa's face. "Why isn't your little girl with them?"
"Chico is with them," Hector explained. "Marisa refused to leave me."
"Chico?" Sean jeered. "You left a woman and two helpless children that little half-wit? You must be out of your mind." --
"Alas, there is no one else. Chico is the only person who would stay." Hector shuddered at the chilling im-plications of that state-ment.
Marisa came quickly to Chico's defense. -"Chico would die protecting Carmen and her children if it came to that. And he's not a half-wit."
"Marisa!" Hector's stern reprimand cut across Marisa's tirade. "Enough!"
"But Papa -" Her father had not only lied, he was not going to defend Chico against Señor Flanagan's slanderous words--, and he didn't want her to speak. She would speak, however. She must. "Chico is -"
"Marisa!" The word rose and cracked like a whip.
Gritting her teeth, Marisa offered an apology of sorts, "I'm sorry, Papa, but I can't let anyone say such things about Chico. He's not a half-wit."
"Of course he isn't." Hector seemed anxious to placate his daughter-. "Chico gets con-fused at times-." He directed his explana-tion toward Sean. "The poor boy was the only survivor of that Indian massacre in 'twenty-four. He's been a little strange ever since."-
Sean shrugged his indifference. "Whatever you say. Let's get on with our business."
Hector moved toward the door. "Please call me Hector and I will call you Sean. A first-name relation-ship will make it easier if you are going to be my . . . "
"Hired gun?"
"Partner." Hector looked up then down the narrow street--- before he stepped outside.
Marisa fol-lowed the two men into the bright sun-light. Her father's flagrant lies had left her shaken and unsure. She did know one thing. Hector Perez was a desperate man.
The transaction was over in less than an hour. Marisa watched as her father signed away half interest in the general store that had been in the Perez family for three generations.
She looked across the lawyer's office and into the granite face of the stranger who had sud-denly intruded into her life. Her gaze met his; soft brown staring into glittering green. For a fleeting moment she thought she saw in their emerald depths the hungry vulnerability of a small child. A melancholy thought took her. This hard man had once been a wistful little boy. What had happened to change him so completely?
He looked away and Marisa gave herself a mental shake. What Sean Flanagan had been didn't change what he was now -a tough, crude frontiersman who considered her to be nothing more than a silly little girl. Someone should tell him that in the wild, untamed frontier settle-ment of Bexar an eighteen-year-old unmarried woman was a solterona, an old maid. Fe-males who lived on this ragged fring-e of civiliza-tion grew up fast or they didn't grow up at all.
Hector turned to his newly acquired partner. "You must be with us at all times until Felipe Gomez makes his move."
"I'll stay close to you, Perez," the hard-faced strang-er promised.
"Not me," Hector was quick to say. "Marisa is the person you must protect. If Felipe Gomez ever got his hands on my daughter, he would . . . " The thought seemed too terrible to give utterance. "Protect Marisa at all costs. I can take care of myself."
The fierce countenance of Felipe Gomez rose up in Marisa's frigh-tened mind. Her heart quickened with fear. The terrify-ing implications of what her father was saying hit her like a hard fist to her mid section.
Sean nodded. "I get your message. What do we do now?"
"We go home."
The Perez house was, by Bexar standards, spacious. It con-sisted of two large rooms with the inevitable lean-to built across the back. The cooking was done in a small adobe building behind the house.
The little dwelling sat far back from the road near the river's edge in a grove of cotton-wood trees. Flowers grew in the yard. Honeysuc-kle and rose vines twined around the trellis that framed the small front stoop.
Some of the tension drained from Hector's body as he ap-proached the house. He whistl-ed, then gave a strange, animal-like call. "That's our sig-nal. When Carmen hears, she will open the door."
On cue, the door opened, just a crack at first, then all the way. Carmen stood on the other side staring at Sean with a look of startled surprise on her pretty little face.
"Señor Flanagan, Sean," Hector spoke with elabo-rate protocol, "may I present my sister-in-law, Senora Carmen Perez?"
Carmen's eyes rounded in surprise as she --extended one dainty hand toward the tall Irishman. "Buenos Dias, Senor Flanagan."
"Mrs. Perez, what a pleasure." Sean took her hand and held onto it until a nudge from Hector made him step across the threshold.
"Has all gone well today?" Hector ushered Sean and Marisa into the parlor. He turned to scan the open space around the house before coming inside.
"How can anything go well?" Carmen couldn't pull her eyes from the tall Irishman. --"Señor Flana-gan, welcome.-" She closed and barred the front door.
As she turned from her task, Manuel and Arturo burst into the room shouting a welcome to their un-cle. The sight of the tall stranger was enough to quell their shouts and send them scurrying to stand behind their mother.
Again, Hector made introductions. "My neph-ews, Manuel and Ar-turo." He extended his hand in Sean's direc-tion. "This is Señor Flanagan, my new business part-ner."
Sean nodded to the boys, but his eyes lingered on Carmen's face. "Thank you-, Mrs. Per-ez."
Hector scanned the small room, "Where's Chico? Has he prepared a noon meal?"
A confusing intermingling of Spanish and Engli-sh filled the air as Manuel and Arturo began to explain.
Hector held up his hand. "Enough!" He turned to Carmen. "What hap-pened?"
Carmen's puzzled stare still rested on Sean's face. "He wandered away early this morning."
"Where did he go?" When Carmen didn't answer, Hector demanded. "Why did Chico wander away?"
"Who can explain why Chico does anything?" Carmen's eyes were still on the tall Irishman.
Arturo piped from behind his mother, "Mama told Chico that the Indians were coming. Chico put his hands over his ears and ran toward the river."
"Why, Carmen," Hector demanded, "must you fight with Chico? Do you enjoy frightening the poor boy out of his wits?"
"You blame me for the ravings of an imbecile? How can you be so cruel? Haven't I suffered enough? Must you attack me too?"
"We will talk of this later," Hector wore the haggard expression of a man who had reached the end of his rope. "I must find Chico,"
"He's in the cook room," Arturo offered. "He came from the river when he saw Marisa coming home."
Hector inclined his head, indicating that Sean should follow. "I have to get him."
At the back door Hector paused. "Guard my back, Flanagan." He walked down the path toward the cook room, calling as he went, "Chico, where are you?"
From inside the cook house came a faint reply, "Chico's here."
The two voices drifted out into the quiet afternoon, a strange duet of fear and frustration echoing into the humid stillness.
"Chico, come out here," Hector called then waited before he added, "The Indians are gone, Chico."
Chico's high-pitched singsong answer coming from somewhere inside the cook room brought a look of relief to Hector's face. "Chico wants Marisa. Carmen said Marisa had gone away." Sobs floated out into the humid air. "Carmen said Indians were coming."
With gentle persuasion Hector coaxed the little man out into the yard. "Marisa is in the house. Come inside and see."
"Marisa is home?" Chico crept from the cook house.
Hector put his arm around the little man's shoulder and urged him toward the house. "Marisa is waiting in-side and I brought a friend home with me. Would you like to meet him?"
Sean's voice mingled with Hector's plea. "You're little girl is right, Perez. Chico's no nitwit, he's a madman."
Chapter Three
The Perez house could accommodate two reside-nts well. Seven people in so small an area stretch-ed space and tempers to the limit.
Marisa awoke after a fitful night and remembered that she was now sharing her room with Tia Carm-en. Rolling over, she sat up as thoughts of yesterday's events floated into her waking mind.
From across the room Carmen's strident complaint interrupted her thoughts. "Get out of bed, Marisa. Your father and Chico have gone to the store, and I have no wish to be alone with that Irish outlaw." Carmen was twisting her long hair into a thick braid. "Hector has to be out of his mind to leave his family in the care of a man like Sean Flanag-an."
Slipping into her dress, Marisa stood to her feet and tied her sash with a little flourish. "You should be pleased that you have someone to protect you. Papa paid dearly for Señor Flanagan's services. You could show a little gratitude."
"Gratitude indeed." Carmen wound her long braid around her head. "Your father hired that renegade out there," she nodded toward the parlor, "because he is afraid to face Felipe Gomez himself."
Marisa glared at her aunt. "Then why did Papa leave Señor Flanagan here and go to the store alone?"
"It is easier to hide when he is not encumbered." Carmen gave her braids a little pat.
It was going to be a hot day. Already the sod floor was warm beneath Marisa's bare feet. "Papa is using himself as a decoy. He's found some-one to protect us and he's gone to face the Gomez brothers alone." That thought sent a shiver down Marisa's spine.
"And who," Carmen put both hands on her hips, "will protect us from Señor Flanagan?"
Beneath Sean Flanagan's rough exterior Marisa sensed there beat the heart of a wounded man. She had never once considered him to be a danger. Her eyes rounded in innocent surprise. "Why would we need protection from Sean?"
"So it's Sean now, is it?" Shaking her head slowly from side to side, Carmen said, "What a stupid little girl you are."
Sometimes her aunt was so condescending. Marisa bristled. "How can you say I'm a little girl? You were married and expecting a child by the time you were my age."
With a superior arch of her dark brows, Carmen replied, "I knew by the time I was twelve years old what you have not yet learned."
Marisa's indignation gave way to curiosity. "And what is that?"
"How to manipulate a man. You are still a stupid little girl. But experience will teach you what you need to know."
This was not the first time Carmen had alluded to Maris-a's innocent state, and suggested that she should gain some firsthand knowledge. "W-hat do you mean, experi-ence?"
"I mean you are still a virgin." Carmen made that state seem less than desirable. She narrowed her gaze. "Aren't you?"
Marisa dropped her head. "Papa says a woman should be pure when she mar-ries."
"Your papa knows nothing about women. Your mother's been dead for twelve years, and he still hasn't found another wife. Don't listen to your papa when he talks about women."
"Why don't you tell me what I should know?" Marisa tried not to sound too hopeful.-
"Because it would take too long. Come, we must get our chores done before it's too hot to work." Brushing past Marisa, Carmen hurried from the room.
"But, Tia," Marisa called after her aunt.
Carmen called over her shoulder, "Hurry, Marisa."
Stamping her bare foot on the sod floor, Marisa followed her aunt into the stuffy little parlor.
Carmen's warning held true. By noon the heat inside the little house was stifling. After a hasty midday meal, Sean herded his four charges into the parlor. "Sit, the lot of you," he ordered, "and stay put." Obviously riding herd on four people for an entire morning was having a telling effect.
Manuel and Arturo shot their mother a questioning look. When she nodded, they sat down. Marisa dropped onto the horsehair couch. Carmen perched on the rawhide chair. After a stretch of tense and telling silence, Carmen sighed, then took her mending from her sewing basket and began to make dainty stitches in a tiny swatch of material.
For a long time no one spoke, then Sean, who was sitting on the parlor floor, let his insolent eyes scan Carmen's small erect figure before asking boldly, "Was Juan Gomez your lover?"
- Carmen's sharp intake of breath was followed by an angry look in Sean's direction. With an obvious effort to control her outrage, she laid her sewing on the table beside her chair. "Ninos, it is siesta time. Off with you."
"It's too hot to sleep," Arturo argued in concert with Manuel's whining, "Mamma."
Carmen's stiletto stare was enough to send the two boys in the direction of the bedroom, grumbling and com-plaining as they went.
As she turned, Carmen's voice cracked the humid air. "Marisa, go with your cousins."
Marisa's backbone stiffened. "I'm more comfortable here, thank you, Tia." -
Carmen's dark eyes shot little sparks of pure fire. "Don't argue."
"I am not arguing." Marisa couldn't miss the amused smile that tilted the corners of Sean's lips. Was he enjoying the dissension he had created? When he felt the lash of Carmen's tongue, and that would be soon, he might not find the situation so amusing. "And I'm not leaving."
Much to Marisa's surprise, Carmen relented. "Very well, but your father won't like it."
After a few moments of charged silence, Carmen took a deep breath then expelled it slowly. "Senor Flanagan, how dare you ask me such a question? And in the pres-ence of my children!"
"I've been hired to protect you." Pulling one long leg up, Sean rested his chin on his knee. "I can do a better job if I know the facts."
"You were hired to act, not to think." Carmen said scornfully. "My private life is not your concern."
Sean scanned her angry face with bland indiffer-ence. "You're an attractive woman. Juan had no wife to keep him in line. I'm not blaming, I'm just asking. Was Juan your lover?"
Carmen folded her hands in her lap before declaring on a shrill note of anger, "Hector didn't hire you to insult me." She wasn't going to answer the question.
Sean's knowing smile said he guessed as much. "Hector says your husband was a very jealous man."
Surprise - or was it a dawning reality? - tempered Carmen's wrath. Raising one eyebrow, she asked, "What else did Hector tell you?"
"Enough to make me suspect your husband had reason to be jealous. Are you telling me he didn't?"
"I'm telling you," Carmen said emphatically, "to mind your own business."
"This is my business. I've been hired to protect you. I need to know why Juan and your husband fought." Sean wasn't going to let go. "Why won't you tell me?"
Carmen wiped her hand across her moist brow. "The Gomezes and the Perezes have been feuding for decades."
Marisa's stomach tightened at the mention of that long-standing conflict. She tried to send Carmen little warning signals with her eyes, but to no avail. Carmen was too engrossed in her argument with Sean to pay attention to her niece. Then it hit Marisa like a blot from the blue. Sean was trying to make Carmen angry enough to forget caution.
Leaning forward, he asked, oh so softly, "Why are they feud-ing?"
Apparently, he'd succeeded. Carmen's words were riddled with disgust. "Juan and Victor fought over that lost silver mine. Hector must have told you."
"Silver mine?" Interest sparked in Sean's eyes. "Hector didn't mention a silver mine."
Too late, Carmen realized Sean didn't know. "It's nothing of great importance. Certainly it is not worth dying for.-"
Sean was persistent. "What silver mine?"
How could her aunt be so stupid? Marisa had to stop her before she told too much. Boldly, she inserted herself into the conversation. "Everyone knows that Juan was your lover." She was doing what she had been furious with her father for doing the day before, but she couldn't let Sean find out about the mine. "Why bother to deny it?"
Sean's puzzled stare moved from Carmen to Marisa, then back to Carmen. "Nice try, Mrs. Perez."
Marisa had told a blatant lie, and Sean had believed her. With -impudence calculated to make her lose complete control, he asked Carmen, "Wasn't one man enough for you?"
"You, Sir will keep a civil tongue in your head or get out of this house." Carmen's voice rose. "How dare you come into my brother-in-law's home and insult me?"
--Guilt made Marisa come to her aunt's defense. "You have no right to ask my aunt such questions."
Carmen sent Marisa a chilling look. "Don't defend me, Marisa, not when you have just sworn to your father's terrible lies." Folding her sewing, she laid it in her basket. "I must see to my children." After a scurrilous stare in Sean's direction, she hurried from the room.
This man certainly had a low opinion of women. Why else would he be so rude and tactless? As soon as Carmen was out of earshot, Marisa remarked, "That was a vile thing to say to my aunt."
Taking his knife from its scabbard, Sean began to clean his finger nails. "Something's not right here, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is."
"My father hired you to protect us, not to pry into my aunt's personal life." It sounded as if Marisa was admitting Carmen's guilt. Better that, she decided than letting a stranger find out about the silver mine.
Apparently, Sean had lost interest in Carmen's supposed affair. "Tell me about the silver mine."
"There is no silver mine."Marisa said a little too quickly. "Carmen made that up." She decided to leave before he tricked her into telling more. "I have to help Carmen." Excusing herself, she hurried away.
She would have to face Carmen sooner or later, it may as well be now. Marisa went to her room, where she found Arturo and Manuel stretched out across the bed. "Where is your mother?"
"She's in Tio Hector's room," Manuel answered. "She said not to bother her. Mamma has a headache and I think she's mad at Señor Flanagan."
That was an understatement. Carmen was furious, and not just at Sean. Marisa would feel the sharp lash of her aunt's tongue later. "Why don't we forget about Sean Flanagan?" Arturo's face screwed up in a frown. "But I want to know why was Señor Flanagan asking Mamma all those questions?"
"You heard?"
"We listened outside the door."
Manuel sent Arturo a condemning look.
How could Marisa explain something she didn't fully understand herself? She decided she couldn't. "He is a strange man, a foreigner. Pay no heed to him."
Arturo was not so easily appeased. "Was my mother in love with Señor Gomez?"
"Señor Flanagan was mistaken." Perspiration trickled between Marisa's breasts and ran down the back of her legs.
"Why don't we sit outside?"
"Señor Flanagan says we're not to go outside," Arturo pulled the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. "And Mama says so too."
"I don't care what they say." Manuel scooted to the side of the bed. "I want to go- swimming."
"We can't. It's too dangerous. If the Gomezes didn't find us, the Comanches might." Marisa thought how near the river was and how cool the water would feel against her perspiring skin. Almost she was persuaded to. . .
Manuel's voice cut across her renegade thoughts. "Then tell us about Mama and Señor Gomez." Putting his hand under his chin, he waited. "Why would Mama love Señor Gomez? She loved Papa."
Arturo was quick to defend his mother. "Mamma did nothing wrong!"
"It's not wrong to love someone," Manuel argued then turned to Marisa for reassurance. "Is it, Marisa?"
"Your brother is too young to understand." Marisa was not sure Arturo understood completely. "Forget what that foreign man said."
"Then explain to me, Marisa." Manuel's innocence tore at Marisa's heart. How brief was childhood's short span and how painful. The walls of the little room seemed to close in on her--.
Suddenly she was on her feet and moving toward the door. "Why don't we go swimming? We can take turns standing lookout." A brush with danger seemed preferable to sitting in this stuffy little room waiting for Carmen's wrath and Sean's questions to catch up to her.-- It wouldn't be the first time she and her cousins had slipped away to the river to swim.
The three conspirators crept out the back door and down the narrow, well-worn path that led from the house to the river.
Thirty minutes later, Manuel's warning cry sounded from his perch in a tall oak. "Someone is coming."
His alarm came too late. Marisa looked up from the cool waters of the river to see a disbelieving Sean Fl-anagan making swift strides in her direction.
"Get out," he or-dered as he bounded down the narrow path. "Get out now!"
Relief flooded through Marisa-. Better to face an angry protector than a band of Comanches or the Gomez broth-ers. "We decided to take a swim," she explained, hoping to appease the anger of the Irish renegade who stood at the river's edge. Instinct warned it wouldn't be wise to antagonize him further. "I hope you didn't worry."
Through clenched teeth Sean hissed, "Out!" Folding his arms across his chest, he stood tall and in-tense, waiting to be obeyed.
Arturo crept, dripping, from the water, and came to stand on the grassy bank beside Manuel, who had climbed down from the tree, like a frightened little animal.
Slow anger began to build inside Marisa. Her world seemed to be pressing down on her. First there had been her father's lies to deal with, then her aunt's anger that refused to be assuaged, now this arrogant stranger stood above her demanding to be obeyed. "Vete pa'l carajo." With a defi-ant splash, she sat down in the shal-low water near the river's edge.
The angry Irishman waded into the river, scooped Marisa into his arms and headed for the grassy bank.
"Put me down, you . . . " Marisa fought, trying to escape. It was useless. His arms were like bands of steel.
His grip tightened. "You told me to go to hell."
He understood Spanish!
"Somebody should teach you it's not polite to insult your el-ders." Setting -Marisa on her feet he roared, "Go to the house, now."
This time Marisa obeyed. She hurried toward the house following Manuel and Arturo, and being followed by the angriest man that she had ever seen.
Carmen was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Marisa, how could you? It is not enough that you slander my good name. You have also put my sons in danger.-"
Marisa could imagine what Carmen would tell Papa. "I didn't think . . ."
"That, I can see." Carmen grabbed Manuel by the hand and pushed Arturo throu-gh the door.
"Someone should take a shil-lelagh to the three of them," Sean shouted in frustration.
"I will attend to these two." Carmen herded Manuel and Arturo toward the bedroom.
Marisa's every impulse told her to run. There was no place to run. She folded her arms across her breasts, remembering suddenly that she wore nothing but a thin pair of pan-talet-tes and a damp cotton petticoat. "It really is quite safe to swim. We've done it many times before."
"Safe?" Sean's shout bounced off the rafters.
Marisa cringed under his withering gaze. "Carmen is angry with Manuel and Artur-o. She shouldn't be. It was all my fault.-"
"That's true."
He didn't have to agree with her. Marisa measured with her gaze the distance to the door. "I have to go now."
"Don't try it." He was not about to let her escape so easily. "Don't you real-ize you could have been killed? If Felipe and Tito Gomez had found you in the river, you'd be dead now, or worse. What if a stray band of Comanches had happened by? Do you know what Comanche braves do to little girls like you?"
"I know." Perhaps she could appease him with an apology. "I am sorry."
"You're sorry?" Sean's voice was corrosive."Do you think you can excuse what you did with a simple apology?" Suddenly, he was shouting again. "You will not go near that river again!"
She had suffered through the humiliation of saying she was sorry and he was still angry. That knowledge, coupled with Sean's arrogance, sent a wave of anger surging through Marisa. "Don't tell me what to do Señor Flan-agan! Papa never talks to me this way. Papa treats me with respect."
"You want to be treated with respect when you act like a stupid little girl?" He took a step in her direction. "What you need is someone to warm your backside." He smiled, as if he found the idea grimly amusing.
"You wouldn't dare!" She suspected that he might. "You're- supposed to protect me."
"That's what I'm trying to do, little -girl." He stood with his hands on his hips glar-ing at her.
"I'm not a little girl.-" Her bottom lip trembled. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She forgot, for a moment her anger and frus-tra-tion. "I'm a woman."
His anger seemed to melt into thin air as his eyes scanned her damp, scantily clad young figure. "So I can see."
She had done a foolish and dangerous thing. In retrospect she could see that. A tear slid down her cheek. This time her apology rang true. "I am sorry and I won't be that stupid again."
Sean ran his hand through his curls. "I though when I knew you were missing that I'd lost you just when I was finding you." He took an uncertain step in her direction. "I'm responsible for your safety. I promised your father I'd look after you." ---
His gentleness was doing strange things to her nervous system. "You won't tell Papa, will you?" She took a step backward.
He shook his head in affirmation. "Yes." Then in negation. "No." Lifting his hands, he let them fall to his sides. "I don't know what I'm saying or what I'm doing." Once more he shook his head, this time as if to clear his mind. "How the hell did I get roped into this in the first place?"
Marisa couldn't believe she felt pity for this arrogant, crude man, but she did. "I'm not so bad when you get to know me. You might even learn to like me." -
His expression moved from puzzled to distraught, then rela-xed in lines of grim amusement--. "Don't you see? That's the one thing I don't want to happen."
Those words cut like a knife, and he was smiling. Did he find her overtures of friendship humorous? "You don't want to like me?" Another tear slid down her cheek. "Why not?"
"It would only interfere with my job. I'm here to protect you."
Marisa sidled toward the door. "I have to go now and apologize to Carmen." She was surprised and confused that words from a stranger could disturb her so deeply.
Sean stepped with her. "I can't let you go like this."
The arrogant stranger had been replaced by a gentle, caring man.-- "How can I make you understand? You're so young, so innocent."
Unbidden, tears began to stream down Marisa's face. --"Tell me what I can do to make you like me."
A groan escaped from deep in his throat as he pulled her into his arms.- "I do like you. Maybe too much." He stroked her long damp hair with his hand as he uttered soothing words; exotic phrases that were foreign to her ear. The heat from his bare chest was like a torch against her moist body.
Taking her face between his hands, he lifted it to his own. Then very slowly he lowered his mouth onto hers and brushed her lips with a feather of a kiss. "God forgive me if just this once I... " He kissed her again, another brush of the lips that was intended as a message of comfort. It was like touching fire to dry grass.--
Marisa wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her wet body into his hardness. The kiss deep-ened as he eased his tongue into the soft dark-ness of her mouth, penetrating, examining, possessing.
The humid air in the room seemed to ignite and ex-plode as they locked together in a passionate embrace.
Manuel chose that moment to wander through the door. "Hi, Marisa-." He sniffled, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.
Sean dropped his hands and pushed Marisa from him. "My God!" He turned away, but not before she saw the evidence of his arousal, huge and throbb-ing, dis-tort-ing the front of his buckskin britches. Her eyes dilated as a fright-ening array of conflict-ing emotions ran through her body.
Dropping into a chair, Sean put his elbows on the table and let his head fall into his hands. "Get out of here, Marisa before I do something I'd be sorry for later."
Marisa was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm.-- "You don't have to be sorry for treating me like a woman." She had never before experienced such intense emotion. "Because that's what I am."
He raised his head and scalded her with a scornful expression. "Leave it, and go, please."
Only moments before she had been set to run, now she felt an overpowering urge to stay, and explain. "Most of the women in Bexar are married by the time they're sixteen." What she had just experienced made her feel very adult, very frightened, and more than a little confused. "I'm old enough for you to like me as a woman."
The hard lines around his mouth pulled into a corrosive smile. "I do like you as a woman and it makes me like myself less as a man."
That seemed a strange thing to say. Marisa protested, "I like you as a man. I think you're. . ." Words failed her. "I like you a lot."
Caustically, he intoned, "That's just what I need. Will you go, please and apologize to Carmen for both of us?"
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