The hacienda was quiet when Crista arrived at her new home. It hadn’t been a long ride, fifteen minutes at most, though the amount of men—twenty if she had counted right—had escorted them home. With the hour late, there was no time to explore and it wasn’t something she wanted to do. She was looking forward to her time alone with her husband. Where once again she could fall asleep in his arms and wake in them as well.
No servants greeted them upon their arrival, leaving Chavez to escort her to their sleeping quarters. The room was large, the dark wood furniture thick and heavy, the bedding pure white. Two large wardrobes took up almost an entire wall and a small dressing table—her personal items on top—sat in the center of the narrow wall that separated two terrace doors. The walls were a soft cream color, the curtains a pale green, the top and bottom colorfully embroidered. Two chests sat stacked on either side of the bed and a fireplace trimmed in colorful tiles occupied the wall opposite the wardrobes.
“Tomorrow I will show you around the hacienda and I should warn you that you will see some familiar faces,” Esteban said, slipping off his waist length jacket and tossing it on a chair.
“They—”
He finished before she could say anymore. “Know me as Chavez and only Chavez.”
She nodded and watched as he stripped off his shirt. She was eager herself to stripe off her clothes and slip into bed with her husband. He wore only trousers when he approached.
“You will meet the servant who will tend you tomorrow, but tonight I wanted the pleasure of tending you myself,” he said, reaching to slip off her riding jacket.
“I can undress myself,” she said, feeling a bit nervous.
“What fun in there is that?” he asked his smile more wicked than she had ever seen it. “Though the passion that fires in your eyes tells me I should hurry.”
She grabbed his hand as it went to rub between her legs. “One touch and it will be over before it starts.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her quick. “It doesn’t matter. I have missed being inside you, tasting all of you, having your legs wrapped around me, hearing you moan softly or loudly as I bring your body to life. I ache to share that with you again and again and again. Finally, once again we have all night and I intend to see us both well pleased, many times over, before dawn breaks.” A frown touched his face and he shook his head. “I did not think of the baby and the excitement of this day. Are you too tired and need to sleep, querida?”
An unexpected yawn answered for her and she quickly shook her head.
He smiled and ran a tender caress down her smooth neck. “I must do what is best for you and the baby.”
“The best thing for us both is for you to slip inside me and ease this relentless ache I suffer,” she said and kissed his lips before he could stop her.
Chavez groaned, her lips more demanding than he had expected, her tongue as well, slipping past his lips into his mouth to spar eagerly with his. He had missed the deep, intimate taste of her and his hands instinctively went to her breasts, his thumb grazing her nipple through her blouse for it to turn hard and poke at his finger.
He moved his mouth away and whispered in her ear, “You drive me mad with the need of you.” He nibbled along her ear and down her slender neck, her shoulders rising with a shiver while a gentle moan slipped from her lips.
“I have missed you so much,” she murmured, her hands running down to cup his covered shaft, hard and thick, in her hand. She squeezed it, aching to break it free of its confines, feel it’s smooth, silky texture, and have it grow even harder in her hand.
“I need to touch you,” she urged.
The next few minutes had them tearing at each other’s clothes until they were both finally naked. Chavez scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He lay on his side next to her, his hand running over her naked body, and she arched her back when his fingers slipped between her legs and entered her.
She turned quickly, her hand finding his shaft and gripping it tight. “I can’t wait. I need you inside me now. We can take our time later.”
His teeth nipped at her lips as he turned his body, the weight of him pushing her onto her back, his fingers slipping out of her to be replaced by his shaft poking at her entrance. She closed her eyes waiting for that moment when he entered her, filled her, moved inside her and brought her exquisite pleasure.
“Attack! Attack!”
The warning screams ripped through the night air and tore Chavez and Crista apart.
“Get dressed,” he ordered as he hurried into his clothes.
He didn’t have to tell her. She was already grabbing her clothes off the floor.
“Who?” she asked, her hands shaking as she tugged at the ties of her blouse.
“I’m not sure yet, but signs point to Vega,” Chavez said.
They had had no time to talk privately before they wed and she had many questions for him. But now was not the time.
“You will remain here with all the doors locked and you will open them to no one but me,” he ordered.
“I want to go with you,” she said alarmed at being left alone in an unfamiliar house.”
“No!”
His sharp, curt response left no room to argue, and she watched as he locked the terrace doors and grabbed her hand to hurry her to the bedroom door.
“Lock it and keep it locked until I return. Guards will be posted outside and under the terrace. You have nothing to fear.”
He was out the door ordering her to lock it before she could tell him that she feared losing him. She leaned against the closed door, fear turning her stomach. This was not how her wedding night should be, but then nothing was as it should be since her return home or even when she was in Spain. Nothing ever went as planned and worry ran through her as to what this night would bring.
Shouts and terrifying screams filled the night and she wished her husband had left her with a weapon. An orange glow suddenly filled the terrace and she ran to the doors. A building was on fire, lighting the night sky. She saw the three men then as they rushed the guards beneath the terrace. She opened the terrace doors and closed them quietly behind her. Her heart raced madly as she hurried into the shadows in the far corner of the terrace. She waited, fearing the guards beneath might be dead, fearing the men would climb the terrace in search of her, fearing she had no way to protect herself.
She watched as hands appeared on the railing and a man soon climbed over and went to the terrace doors. He was in and out of the room quickly.
“She’s not here,” he called over the side.
“She must be somewhere in the house,” someone called back and soon another man climbed over the railing onto the terrace and the two men disappeared into the bedroom. She heard a scuffle and a thud and worried they had killed the guards outside the door.
Crista wasn’t sure what to do. Did she remain in the shadows? Would they return and find her? What of the attack? Was it going badly for Chavez? What if they had killed him?
Her heart slammed viciously against her chest at the thought. How could she stay here and do nothing? She made her decision quickly and hurried quietly into the room. The door sat ajar and she carefully peered out.
Two men lay on the floor not moving—the guards.
She stepped around them and found that one was dead, the other had suffered a blow to the head but was breathing. She couldn’t do anything for him now and it was better she left him as he was since he’d be thought dead and left undisturbed. She looked for a weapon but found none.
Where did she go now? How could she go anywhere when she was unfamiliar with the house? Chavez had warned her to stay where she was, but that was no longer an option. One thing he would want her to do was survive.
Hide.
She had to find a safe place to hide. Diablo would not suffer defeat. He would always find her and rescue her. But what if he needed to be rescued? She almost laughed at the thought. Not Diablo and if anything Chavez needed Diablo tonight.
Where did she hide when she didn’t know her surroundings?
Where they wouldn’t expect to find her… mingled with everyone else.
She hurried back to the bedroom and searched the wardrobe, finding what she wanted… her skirt and blouse. She hurried into them and her old worn sandals. She braided her hair, then retraced her steps, on alert for any men who shouldn’t be there, and found her way out of the house.
Someone yelled at her to hurry and help with the fire as soon she was spotted, and she didn’t hesitate. She followed the woman and was soon part of a line of women fighting the fire, that had sparked another building, with buckets of water from a nearby well. The one in flames was beyond saving, but the other had only a few flames and could be stopped before it spread.
Men fought nearby, but the attackers stayed away from the flaming building. The heat was intense as it burned, the fiery flames devouring the wood as the women worked to save the building next to it.
Bucket after bucket the women passed along the line until arms burned and blistered fingers began to bleed, but they didn’t stop. It took a few minutes for her to notice that a few women stood guard with rifles, prepared to defend those who fought the fire.
Crista had enjoyed her life as a peasant when in Spain and being here now, helping alongside these women who fought to protect their home made her feel part of them. Her arms ached as theirs did and her fingers were raw with blisters, some already bleeding, but like the other women, she didn’t give up. She continued to pass the heavy buckets one right after the other.
What sounded like thunder had everyone turning their heads to the heavens expecting to feel raindrops, but it wasn’t thunder they heard. Riders, many of them, approached and Crista prayed the orange glow had been seen in the distance and other ranchers had come to help and that it wasn’t more men to aid the attackers.
It took barely minutes to realize help had arrived and those who had attacked the hacienda scurried off in haste, not even bothering to collect their wounded.
Crista remained where she was, not breaking the line of women who almost had the fire out. There would be time to find her husband and besides he was probably busy seeing to the carnage the attackers had left behind.
“Crista?”
She turned at her name being called and the familiar voice. Her smile reaching her lips when she spotted the woman cradling her bleeding hand in her folded arms. “Alma, you’ve been hurt.”
“Go help her. We’ll finish here,” the woman next to her said and others nodded, agreeing.
Crista hurried to the old woman, walking her away from the heated area, the flames having collapsed the fiery building but still hungrily licking at the remnants. She sat Alma on a bench by another building.
“Wait here while I get cloths and water to tend your hand,” Crista said, but truly didn’t have to worry about the woman going anyway. One look and the heavy slump of her shoulders, the way her head drooped, and her eyes filled with fatigue made it clear the woman wasn’t going anywhere. She was completely exhausted.
“I am surprised to see you here,” Alma said when Crista returned and began cleaning the woman’s injured hand. “I thought Diablo would return you to your family not sell you to a rancher.”
“He did return me home,” Crista confirmed.
“Then why,” — Alma gasped— “You’re Don Navarro’s new bride.” She tried to pull her hand away. “You should not be tending a servant, Dona Navarro.”
“Nonsense, we are friends and besides as wife to Don Navarro, it is my duty to manage the servants so you are wise in obeying my order.” Crista chuckled.
“Don Navarro is a good man. Diablo did well by his people sending some of them here.” A sadness filled her voice. “I only hope he did well and has found peace.”
“I hope the same,” Crista said, planning to make sure that he did. She finished tending the old woman’s hand, wrapping a clean cloth around the wound and along the back of her hand. “Whatever your chore here will wait until your hand heals.”
“My chore is far from difficult. I watch the children for the young women while they tend to their chores. It is a chore I truly enjoy. I feel blessed that Don Navarro has been so good to me.” Alma patted Crista’s hand. “You should go find your husband. He will be worried if he can’t find you.”
“I will help you to your quarters,” Crista said.
“No,” a woman snapped.
Crista turned to see a woman two heads taller than herself and stocky. Her features were hard to make out since her face was smudged with soot and grime. Strands of her dark hair had fallen loose from a braid that looked to have been wound at the nape of her neck, but now hung partially free. She was a woman who looked to be in charge and comfortable and confident with that position.
“You will go help the other women to see what food can be saved from the partially burned storehouse.” The woman raised her hand to stop Crista from responding. “You are unfamiliar to me so you must be new here, though I wasn’t aware of anyone new arriving today. I am in charge of the servants and you will obey my instructions without comment.”
Alma chuckled. “It is you, Lana, who will be obeying Dona Crista.”
Lana turned a scrunched brow on Alma, then her words settled in and she gasped. “Forgive me, Dona Crista. You appear more a peas—” She bit her tongue and shook her head. “Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Lana. You are right. My appearance makes me appear a peasant. But I did want to help defend the hacienda along with everyone else.” She thought it better not to mention the men who had searched for her. She didn’t know if Chavez would want anyone to know.
“Many good wishes and prayers on your marriage to Don Navarro, and it will be my pleasure to serve you,” Lana said, worry lines deepening across her brow.
“I am pleased to know I will have such a fine and experienced woman help me learn the workings of the hacienda.” Crista smiled.
The lines faded along Lana’s brow. “I would be honored to do so, Dona Crista.”
“We will talk tomorrow, Lana. Now I must go find my husband and make sure he is well and let him know I am well.” Crista hurried off, taking in the remnants of the attack as she went. The wounded were being helped and the dead collected. She only hoped that the fallen weren’t many or at least not many of her husband’s men.
She spotted some familiar faces—her father’s vaqueros. And she almost stumbled when she caught sight of Ramos, though he didn’t acknowledge her when their eyes met. With authority, he instructed the vaqueros. He was no ordinary worker here nor had he been on the opposite side of the attack.
Could he know Chavez was Diablo? Or had Diablo sent him here along with Alma? They were questions she needed answers to if she was to keep Diablo’s secret safe.
Strong, raised, angry voices greeted her as she entered the hacienda. She recognized both immediately—her brother and her husband.
“You left my sister with only two men to guard her?” Esteban yelled.
“I will not explain myself to you when I need to find my wife,” Chavez shouted.
“The outlaws took her,” Esteban yelled, shaking a raised fist at Chavez. “If anything happens to her—”
Chavez shook his head. “Your sister is too intelligent to be caught. I ordered her to stay in the bedroom, but something had to have happened to have her leave it. She has to be here somewhere.”
“My husband knows me better than my brother.”
Both men turned as she entered the large foyer.
Crista didn’t hesitate she ran to her husband and sighed with relief when he caught her in his arms and hugged her tight.
“Madres de Dios, querida, you scared the hell out of me,” he whispered in her ear, holding her as tight as he could against him and planning on never letting her go.
Crista rested her brow against his. “Men came. I couldn’t stay in the room. I thought it best I hide where no one would look for me.”
“Among the peasants, a good thought,” Esteban praised.
“You came to help. I knew you would,” Crista said with a smile to her brother as she eased out of her husband’s arms. She winced when Chavez took hold of her hand.
“Your hands,” Chavez said shocked at the blisters covering them and alarmed by the blood.
“I joined the women who were helping to stop the fire from spreading to another building,” she explained.
“Diablo must be stopped,” Esteban said anger in his words.
“It makes no sense that it’s Diablo,” Crista said. “Why would he attack the ranches? There is nothing in it for him. I believe someone wants everyone to believe it is Diablo.”
“Why would you think that and why would you defend the man?” Esteban asked.
“I’m not defending the man.” Though she actually was, not that she’d admit it. “I’m trying to make sense of things. It makes no sense for Diablo to attack the various ranches. It won’t benefit him. He has more than enough horses and people so why take more?”
“Because that’s what outlaws do. They take what they want not what they need,” Esteban said. “Outlaws feed on their own needs and gain pleasure from the fear they put in people.”
“Diablo is not like that,” Crista said, jumping to his defense.
Esteban walked over to his sister. “Do not let the infamous outlaw fool you, little one. He is more brutal than any of the other outlaws. He takes what he wants and doesn’t care who he hurts. It is time he’s hunted down and destroyed for good.”
“Your brother is right, Crista. Diablo must be stopped. He must die.”
Crista’s legs weakened and almost gave way at the thought, but she managed to stay on her feet. A strong arm coiled around her waist and she wanted to succumb to the strength she felt in it. But she didn’t. She stayed strong, letting neither man know the tremendous pain it brought her at the mere thought of Diablo’s death.
“Don Navarro.”
They turned and Crista was once again surprised to see Ramos, though as before he didn’t acknowledge her.
Chavez turned to his wife.
“Don’t dare think to send me away. I will know what’s going on,” Crista said and her brother grinned. “Besides, who knows if any of those men still lurk about in wait.”
“Wait in what?” Esteban asked, his brow scrunching tightly. “You said men entered your room.” He ran his hand through his dark hair roughly. “Diablo wants you back.”
“That will not happen,” Chavez said.
“It almost did,” Esteban accused. “Crista should come home with me where she will be safe until this matter is settled.
“No!” Crista and Chavez said in unison.
“I will not go with you, Esteban,” Crista said. “If I did I could place all of you in danger and I won’t do that. Soon Rosa will give birth to your first child. I will not take the chance of placing either of them in danger. My husband will protect me.”
“As he did tonight?” Esteban questioned curtly.
“That’s not fair, Esteban,” Crista scolded.
“Your brother is right,” Chavez said. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight and I won’t until I am sure Diablo is dead.”
Again pain struck her heart at his words and again she hid it well.
Chavez directed his attention to Ramos. “Has all been secured?”
“Men have been sent to scour the surrounding area to make certain the attackers are long gone. Two of the wounded men left behind died without saying a word. We lost only two men and there are three severe injuries and a few minor ones. None of the women were taken. We lost one of the storehouses and another is partially damaged, though the women saved it from complete ruin. And we lost no animals. The men responded quickly and the women as well. All did as they were trained to do, keeping loss and damage low. All is in control. There is nothing more that can be done tonight.” He gave a nod to Esteban. “Don Cesare’s men suffered no injuries.”
“Send an escort home with them,” Chavez ordered.
“There is one waiting for them,” Ramos said.
“A plan must be formed to end Diablo,” Esteban said.
“Give me a few days, after all your sister and I have only wed. Within a week’s time, we can call a meeting here or at your place, whichever you prefer, and we can discuss the matter in more detail,” Chavez said.
“Keep my sister safe. Make sure Diablo never gets his hands on her,” Esteban warned and left, Ramos following him out.
Crista stepped close to her husband and rested her brow to his, her hands burning and paining her too much to touch him. “I don’t want to lose Diablo.”
“You’ll never truly lose him, but to all others he must die.” With a hand around her waist, he guided her to the stairs.
“Don Chavez.”
They both turned to once again see Ramos.
“Some of the attackers have been found. Our men have them trapped.”
Crista felt her husband grow tense beside her and she knew what he not only wanted to do but also needed to do.
“Go,” she said.
He kissed her quick. “I will send someone to take care of your hands and more guards than you need will be posted outside below the terrace and the bedroom door. Though, no one will return tonight. They will lick their wounds and make plans for another day. You are safe.”
“Come back to me,” she said, fearful of what could happen to him.
“Nothing will keep me from you, Crista.”
She watched him walk away. Never did she think her wedding night would end like this.