Expedition of Love (32 page)

"Mine?” she squeaked. “But I don't even know you!"

"No, you don't. But that's too bad.” He looked thoughtfully at the river. “Because he has to suffer. He'll watch the woman he loves drown, just like my Maria."

She sucked in her breath. Maria, the poor confused woman who'd loved Antonio. “But he isn't in love with me,” she said, regaining her composure.

"Save your breath, Miss Peterson. I've seen the two of you together."

How sad. This man loved Maria, while Maria loved Antonio. What an emotional and extremely dangerous mess.

Well, she refused to die in order to satisfy this man's twisted need for revenge. Perhaps she could distract him and get the upper hand.

She eyed the dark cavity beneath the porch steps, wondering what his feelings were about snakes.

He jerked his head back around, pinning her with an icy stare. “And don't even think about trying anything. I'm not one of those stupid gauchos you and your lover tossed into jail."

"You know them?"

He grinned. “Of course I know them. They were working for me."

"You mean all the cattle rustling was part of this plan for revenge?"

"No, the rustling was a job. The revenge is just a little something extra for me."

She sat still and quiet for several minutes, desperately trying to figure out how to save her and Antonio's lives, but nothing would come to her. She pressed her hand to her stomach. All she could think of was that she would never see Stephen again, and he would never see the child that might be growing in her womb.

Unable to bear the silence much longer, she decided her best strategy would be to learn more about her captor. “You said that rustling was a job, implying an employer."

"Let's just say investors. By rustling the cattle, they're hurting the ranchers.” He snickered roughly. “They hope they can ruin the rich land barons, then buy them out cheap."

"And would these investors also be American?"

He grinned, almost making his frightening visage handsome. “You're a real smart little lady.” He chucked her chin up higher with the tip of his gun to examine her features more closely. “Antonio has pretty good taste."

She jerked her face from the edge of the barrel, chilled to the bone by its touch. “I told you, Antonio is not my lover."

He chuckled humorlessly. “You expect me to believe you? I grew up on the streets of New York, Miss Peterson. I'm not some green hick from the backwoods."

"It's the truth."

He studied her for a long moment, his black foreboding eyes staring straight through her. “Well, that's too bad. But it doesn't really matter. I know he cares about you. I saw how he took care of you in town when you looked like you were about to faint. That's proof enough for me."

"You've been spying on me?"

He nodded vaguely as he looked across the yard at the fertile valley leading to the plateau. “Waiting for the right moment to bring you here."

She looked around the weed-infested yard, the peeling house paint, the rotten porch boards. “And where is here?"

He turned back to her with a wide smile. “Welcome to my home,” he said with an exaggerated bow. His levity quickly disappeared. “This is the house I bought for Maria. We were going to live out our lives here. But Antonio destroyed that, and now I'm going to destroy him."

She shook her head in amazement. How someone so horrid could love another human being baffled her. Or had he been obsessed with Maria as she had been with Antonio.

"You didn't love her. You're incapable of love or you wouldn't do this,” she said trying to keep her voice from trembling.

This man terrified her. He was nothing like the men who had kidnapped her. This man was truly dangerous. Evil emanated from him in waves. Evil and insanity.

He stared at her menacingly, but remained quiet. She wondered if Maria ever knew of his so-called love. It didn't seem likely since she'd been obsessed with Antonio. What a waste of life—of lives.

Gathering her courage in the face of such insanity, she decided to keep him talking, hoping in vain that he would change his mind. “Why did it take you so long to act out this revenge? I understand that Maria died over a year ago."

His gaze narrowed, then he turned and spat in the dirt. “I've been out of the country."

"Tell me, Mister..."

He stood silent a moment before replying. “Snyder."

"Tell me, Mr. Snyder, are you angry because she loved Antonio and not you, or because you weren't here to stop her from taking her own life?"

"She didn't love him, and she didn't take her own life! He pushed her in when she fought him off. He was going to rape her!"

She cringed slightly at his vehemence, but held her ground. “I've known Antonio for most of my life, Mr. Snyder. He couldn't harm a woman. Especially not Maria. You see we were all friends when we were children. He cared for her a great deal."

"Shut up! He killed her, and he's going to pay for it."

"Do you have proof that he killed her?” She prodded further, trying to distract him from the approaching horse she glimpsed in a nearby copse of trees.

"I don't need proof. I loved her and she loved me."

"Are you quiet sure of that?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Sure enough to commit murder?” she asked, praying she'd made some progress in getting through to his seriously troubled mind.

He laughed. “You can't stop me, Miss Peterson. I've thought about this day for months, only it got so much better with your arrival. Knowing I would make him suffer the way I've suffered. Nothing and no one is going to stop me.” He turned halfway around, his cold gaze returning to survey the land, and caught sight of Antonio sliding off his horse.

Before she could make a move and try and disarm him from behind, he lunged at her, wrapping his arm around her neck. The cold barrel of his gun poked her ribs.

He let Antonio come closer before ordering him to stop. Kristina searched the dense greenery along the side of the small lawn for another rider—anyone. Surely he hadn't come alone, but then if there were others they would be well hidden. She let that small spark of hope carry her through the next few maddening moments.

"Keep your hands where I can see them and move over there by the river,” Snyder said, waving his gun.

"No!” she screamed. They had to stay away from the river and give the hidden men time to make their move. If they existed. “He's going to kill you!"

"Shut up!” He tightened his grip around her throat. “Over there, Mendoza, and take it real slow."

"Let Kristina go first,” Antonio said.

The man laughed. “I don't think so. The three of us are going to have a little party."

Antonio's jaw clenched then his gaze met hers. She could see he was prepared to die for her, something she couldn't let happen.

Slowly, Antonio made his way to the edge of the river. “I would like to know the name of the man who is going to kill me. And why."

"Robert Snyder. And the why is because of what you did to Maria,” he hissed.

Antonio's step faltered. “I did nothing to Maria."

"You're a lying bastard, Mendoza. You killed her and now you're going to pay."

"She took her own life. I even tried to save her, but she was already gone."

Kristina swallowed her tears for her friend. He hadn't said anything about being there. Oh, how awful for him, and how awful for the both of them to die at the hand's of a madman because of Maria's poor confused mind.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about her!” Snyder's arm convulsively clamped down harder on Kristina's windpipe, cutting off her air.

She clawed at the meaty vise as she gasped for breath. Spots formed before her eyes. She had to do something before she lost consciousness, but what?

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Antonio's voice seemed distant to her.

"Oh, she has her part to play, too. Now, move over there near the river by that rock. The show's about to start."

Stumbling along as he pulled her closer to the water's edge, she fought the swirling dots and beckoning darkness creeping in on her senses. She couldn't give up so easily. She had to fight, but the dark void proved too strong.

Stephen felt as though his body were moving in slow motion as he speed across the small yard from his hiding place in the bushes. He had to wait until they were in the right position, but had he waited too long?

The sight of a gun in Kristina's side would be a nightmare he would live with for the rest of his life, but it didn't compare to the sight of her dangling in the hook of Snyder's arm.

Antonio made his move as Stephen launched himself through the air. Startled to hear an attack coming from behind, Snyder threw Kristina to the ground and turned as Stephen slammed into him. They rolled in the dirt. The gun still clutched in Snyder's beefy fist, waved furiously as they struggled for control. Twisting and turning, they stumbled back to their feet. Snyder was strong, almost too strong.

Driven by rage and fear at the sight of Kristina lying lifelessly on the ground, Stephen landed a vicious blow to the man's face. But as he dropped to the ground, a shot rang through the air. Barely a second passed before Antonio snatched the weapon from Snyder's hand and held him at gunpoint.

Stephen staggered backward, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the piercing pain in his side. Where was Kristina? He had to find her. She had to be all right.

Reaching out to a tree for support, his vision blurred, he searched the lawn for her. Touching his face, he realized he'd lost his spectacles, and his side felt as if it had been laid open with a jagged knife. He strained to find her amid the churning dust and people.

Squinting, he focused harder on the fuzzy group in front of him. Edwin and the others had arrived on the scene. But damnation! Where was Kristina?

He located her by the sound of her voice telling everyone she was fine in that demanding tone of hers. Stephen chuckled with a painful wince. She was one of a kind. Living without her would be pure hell, but at the moment he wasn't so sure he would be living much longer.

Their eyes connected, and in that moment he believed she loved him. True or not, he was determined to take that belief to his grave.

The pain in his side flared like liquid heat. Tightening his grip on the tree trunk, the bark biting sharply into his hands, his head swam and his world spun.

"Kristina,” he rasped, as his legs gave out beneath him.

"Stephen!” Shoving passed her father and the others, she ran to Stephen, her heart lodged in her throat. She dropped to the ground on her knees before him and grasped his shoulders. Pain carved deep grooves in his handsome face.

His eyes dazed, he said, “Are you—all right?"

"I'm fine,” she lied. She felt ill at the sight of blood spilling from his side.

He grinned crookedly. “You're always fine. Shouldn't have—bothered to—ask.” His lids slid closed as he slumped over, his head landing against her breast.

She couldn't hear a word the others were saying as blood pounded in her ears.

Her fault. This was all her fault. “No, God. Please don't take him."

Antonio and Mr. Anderson tried to pull him from her arms.

"No!” she screamed tearfully.

"He will be all right, Kristina, but we must get him to the mission hospital,” Antonio said.

"A doctor,” she breathed. They had to get him to a doctor.

She released her grip around Stephen's unconscious form and hurried around the wagon her father and the others had arrived in moments before. Antonio and Stephen had instructed them to wait at a distance so as not to alert Snyder, but once they heard the shot, her father wasn't about to sit idle.

Kristina quickly climbed in the wagon and made a pallet for Stephen with the some of the remaining burlap they'd used to wrap fossils in for protection. As she settled his head in her lap, her father appeared beside her. Antonio took the reins and told Mr. Anderson and Mr. Thomas to escort Snyder to the Confluencia authorities. With a shout, he startled the horses into a gallop. The wagon lurched forward, bouncing roughly, but Stephen didn't make a sound.

"Let's have a look at him,” her father said. He pulled Stephen's shirt free of his trousers, ripped open the buttons and laid the sides back. “It's probably not as bad as it looks."

Stephen groaned at her father's prodding.

"Will he be all right?” Her voice quivered with fear as tears pooled in her eyes. She silently cursed herself. Now was not the time to get emotional. He needed her. “Tell me, Papa. I have to know."

"If there's no exit wound, he could be in serious danger.” He gently lifted him up and peered behind his back.

She pressed Stephen firmly to her breast, muttering prayer after prayer.

"Here,” he said with a gust of breath. “The bullet came out in the back. Now we just have to hope it didn't hit anything too important, and he doesn't lose too much blood."

A frightening calm, as cold as ice, settled in her bones. Anything important? Too much blood?

She tried to wrap her arms around him, to protect him, to keep death from taking him while sobbing silently. Her tears splashed on the wagon bed, as her father did what he could to staunch the flow of blood.

"Don't give up hope, Kristina. He's still with us,” he said.

She lifted her gaze, her cheek pressed to the silky curls atop Stephen's head. “He won't die. I won't let him."

"If it's God's will—"

"No!” She snapped her head around toward the front of the wagon. “Antonio, make those damn horses move!"

Edwin grimaced, as prayers slipped from his lips. This wasn't right. God couldn't be this cruel, but he knew his thoughts were nonsense. If it was Stephen's time, then so be it.

His gaze drifted to his daughter. Her features strained with fear, her cheeks awash with tears. She wouldn't be hurting if he hadn't thrown the two of them together. If he'd only minded his own business. If he'd stayed out of his daughter's life and left well enough alone, she wouldn't be sitting here going through the horrible pains he went through when he lost the love of his life.

Stephen groaned and turned his head, pressing his face deeper into her skirts.