Read Online Paloma and the Horse Traders by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online
Authors: Carla Kelly
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house
where they slept.
He watched how the Indians with the captives
waited, hanging back from the horse herd, as if biding their time
until they could make the most dramatic entrance. Some instinct
assured him that they had not traveled with the horse traders,
considering the wary glances from the traders. He watched and began
to wonder if the Comanches had followed the traders for a longer
time than just this appearance at the trade fair.
“ Toshua, do you
think ….”
His companion nodded. “You know what will
follow.”
Marco swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach
and wished that Governor de Anza had not left a fool in
charge.
Chapter Seven
In
which Marco cannot haggle, because Paloma would never forgive
him
T he Comanches were evidently
familiar with the trade fair and the streets of Taos, because they
ducked down an alley, riding single file but paralleling the crowd
and the horse traders.
Marco made a small hand gesture to Toshua then
regretted even that miniscule movement as the rider bringing up the
rear glared at him. The Comanche held the rope that bound the neck
of the young woman and gave it a vicious tug, a clear warning to
Marco to stay well back.
The captive turned her own eyes on Marco. He
could see her bare pleading from across the street, as well as long
scars on her arms where she had been tortured. He knew what else
they had probably done to her, and it shook him, even though he had
ample understanding of just how vicious men could be to women. He
made a silent vow to himself to never fear sacrificing his own life
to keep Paloma and now Soledad safe.
“ Don’t move again,” Toshua
whispered, barely moving his lips. “We’ll follow when they are out
of sight.” His eyes tracked the other fairgoers, who must not have
noticed the brief exchange, so intent were they on following the
horses. “Slowly now, let us join these oblivious people who would
not last five minutes in our Comanchería.”
He said it with a certain quiet pride, and
Marco took heart. Their clothes and own roughness may have set them
apart from the Taoseños and settlers from this softer part of the
colony, but what they lacked in polish they made up for in
capability. Hadn’t Paloma told him, in the quiet of their bedroom,
her leg thrown over him, that she never feared because he was there
to keep her and the babies safe? Her absolute faith in him always
seemed to add exquisite fervor to her lovemaking, and he was not a
husband to quibble.
He tucked the cotton-wrapped package down the
front of his shirt, wished again for his bow and arrow, and set off
with Toshua at a fast walk, keeping with the crowd now and in the
shadow of the portal. They came to the area just a block off the
plaza to the corral where all teamsters drove their wagons and
unhitched their horses. Merchants would gather, dicker, purchase,
and then load the goods onto the backs of servants or
slaves.
Thinking of captives, Marco looked at the three
bound ones, two so young but with eyes already old. He shivered,
thinking of his own babies. He knew what life was like in this
harsh colony, but not until he was a father did he understand the
true peril. He hoped the lawyer that de Anza left in charge would
do the right thing, but he was not sanguine, which made him ignore
Toshua’s hand on his arm and edge toward the front.
The three traders dismounted and stood close
together. The trip from the cloud land of the Utes must have
instilled some discipline in the horses, because they bunched
tight, too.
Several of the settlers had started forward to
examine the merchandise on hoof when the Comanches rode into the
gathering place. Fearful, or at least prudent, the buyers drew
back. Marco counted fifteen of The People, as Toshua had said. He
stared at the man with the owl headdress and the cold eyes. The
Comanche raised his lance and many in the crowd stepped back.
Mothers with their children moved to the rear of the gathering. Icy
fingers went
where they slept.
He watched how the Indians with the captives
waited, hanging back from the horse herd, as if biding their time
until they could make the most dramatic entrance. Some instinct
assured him that they had not traveled with the horse traders,
considering the wary glances from the traders. He watched and began
to wonder if the Comanches had followed the traders for a longer
time than just this appearance at the trade fair.
“ Toshua, do you
think ….”
His companion nodded. “You know what will
follow.”
Marco swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach
and wished that Governor de Anza had not left a fool in
charge.
Chapter Seven
In
which Marco cannot haggle, because Paloma would never forgive
him
T he Comanches were evidently
familiar with the trade fair and the streets of Taos, because they
ducked down an alley, riding single file but paralleling the crowd
and the horse traders.
Marco made a small hand gesture to Toshua then
regretted even that miniscule movement as the rider bringing up the
rear glared at him. The Comanche held the rope that bound the neck
of the young woman and gave it a vicious tug, a clear warning to
Marco to stay well back.
The captive turned her own eyes on Marco. He
could see her bare pleading from across the street, as well as long
scars on her arms where she had been tortured. He knew what else
they had probably done to her, and it shook him, even though he had
ample understanding of just how vicious men could be to women. He
made a silent vow to himself to never fear sacrificing his own life
to keep Paloma and now Soledad safe.
“ Don’t move again,” Toshua
whispered, barely moving his lips. “We’ll follow when they are out
of sight.” His eyes tracked the other fairgoers, who must not have
noticed the brief exchange, so intent were they on following the
horses. “Slowly now, let us join these oblivious people who would
not last five minutes in our Comanchería.”
He said it with a certain quiet pride, and
Marco took heart. Their clothes and own roughness may have set them
apart from the Taoseños and settlers from this softer part of the
colony, but what they lacked in polish they made up for in
capability. Hadn’t Paloma told him, in the quiet of their bedroom,
her leg thrown over him, that she never feared because he was there
to keep her and the babies safe? Her absolute faith in him always
seemed to add exquisite fervor to her lovemaking, and he was not a
husband to quibble.
He tucked the cotton-wrapped package down the
front of his shirt, wished again for his bow and arrow, and set off
with Toshua at a fast walk, keeping with the crowd now and in the
shadow of the portal. They came to the area just a block off the
plaza to the corral where all teamsters drove their wagons and
unhitched their horses. Merchants would gather, dicker, purchase,
and then load the goods onto the backs of servants or
slaves.
Thinking of captives, Marco looked at the three
bound ones, two so young but with eyes already old. He shivered,
thinking of his own babies. He knew what life was like in this
harsh colony, but not until he was a father did he understand the
true peril. He hoped the lawyer that de Anza left in charge would
do the right thing, but he was not sanguine, which made him ignore
Toshua’s hand on his arm and edge toward the front.
The three traders dismounted and stood close
together. The trip from the cloud land of the Utes must have
instilled some discipline in the horses, because they bunched
tight, too.
Several of the settlers had started forward to
examine the merchandise on hoof when the Comanches rode into the
gathering place. Fearful, or at least prudent, the buyers drew
back. Marco counted fifteen of The People, as Toshua had said. He
stared at the man with the owl headdress and the cold eyes. The
Comanche raised his lance and many in the crowd stepped back.
Mothers with their children moved to the rear of the gathering. Icy
fingers went
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