Read Online A Lady Bought with Rifles by Jeanne Williams - Free Book Online Page A

come back to Las Coronas at once,” she decreed “The witch will see to the girl. But no one can mend your reputation if this gets about.”
    It was a good time to make it clear that my behavior would shortly cease to be any of her concern. “Sewa cannot travel for several days,” I said. “I want to bring her back to Las Coronas till her leg is fully healed. But then, my sister, I will take her and go away.”
    Surprised relief showed in her face before her eyes narrowed, swung to Trace, who was out of earshot, then back to me. “Where? Where can you go?”
    â€œHermosillo is the capital of the state, is it not? I might live there. Do not concern yourself. It’s plain you don’t want me at Las Coronas.”
    Reina’s jaw dropped. “But our mother asked—”
    My eyes stung and my throat ached. Why did it have to be this way with my only kin in all the world? “Mother didn’t know you hated me,” I said. “I can’t help it. Maybe you can’t, either. But it’s plain we could never live at peace. So ride home. Put your mind at rest about my good name. It’s none of your concern.”
    â€œThat pistolero ,” she said between her small perfect teeth. “Has he made you brave? Offered protection?”
    There was no use talking to her. I turned to go. She caught my wrist, snapping me around. That did it.
    â€œTake your hands off me,” I said.
    Her fingers dug into my skin. I raised my free arm, meaning to hit her as hard as I could. Trace Winslade, who had come up soundlessly, stepped between us, moving Reina forcibly away.
    â€œThat’s it,” he said. “Miranda, the child is waking. Better go to her.” As I started for the house, he said to Reina, “Señorita, shall I tell Lázaro to escort you to Las Coronas?”
    â€œSuppose I order you to take me?”
    My ears strained for his answer, given in a politely expressionless tone. “I should tell you, señorita, to, as we yan-qui-tejanos say, go chase yourself.”
    What she said to that I couldn’t hear, but as I stepped inside the hut, I heard voices, including Lázaro’s rumble, then hoofbeats. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, I saw the girl’s eyes were open, though she didn’t seem to be aware of anything.
    â€œSewa?” Dropping beside her, I took her small brown hand in mine. It was limp, gave a chilling impression of lifelessness. “Sewa!”
    Cruz spoke from the door. “I have some soup for her, also a little honey. Can you hold her while I feed her?”
    I raised her against me.’ She took wooden spoonfuls of a tasty-smelling broth, opening her lips when Cruz touched them like some sort of spring-wound toy. But after the honey had dissolved in her mouth, she chewed the comb as if to obtain more sweetness. So she could still taste, still desire, and when I moved a bit to ease my cramped legs, her fingers tightened on mine.
    â€œShe should drink a lot,” Cruz said. “And I will steep manzanilla, a plant that brings sleep, into her tea for this day and tomorrow. Sleep heals. But it cannot last too long.”
    â€œWhat if you hadn’t been here?” I asked. “Or if Mr. Winslade hadn’t known you?”
    â€œTo ponder ifs is trying to find the first sand of a desert.” His face creased into deeper lines that I took for a smile. “If I were asking questions, I would wonder what brought you from a far country in time to save a life. For saving life is a heavy obligation.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    Cruz brought a bowl of tea and together we got Sewa to drink it. “Her life would have ended without your intervention. In a way, you gave her life. So you are responsible for what she does.”
    I didn’t like his idea at all. “That’s frightening,” I said. “Anyway, I don’t believe it. It’s natural to