The Rebel and the Lady

“You try the turpentine like Doc Pollard said?”

He nodded, turning his attention back to Travis. “Too early to tell if it’s helping. Well, gentlemen, I’d like to stay and discuss things, but a challenge waits.”

He raised his glass of whiskey. “To Washington—his great deeds, those remembered and those that aren’t.” He tossed the drink to the back of his throat, his courage bolstered by the liquid fire.

Half the room must have heard him. They all joined in with a hail of some kind. Then another man called out, “To freedom for Texas!” Tejanos and Texians alike raised their mugs. The band began a lively tune in the middle of the ruckus.

“Now you’ve started it,” Crockett said with a grin.

The sound was deafening. Jake rose, dropped a couple coins on the table to pay for his drinks and headed over to the señorita’s table.

As he approached, annoyance flitted across her face, quickly covered by a polite facade. Most women welcomed his interruption. This was a new experience—a diverting one, if nothing should come of it. When he stopped in front of her, she seemed reluctant to make the introductions to her cousin and the other man, Diego. However, they both stood and shook hands with him, remembering him from Travis’s office.

“You know my cousin, Señor Dumont?” Juan asked.

“We met yesterday. I spoke with her outside the hospital.”

Juan turned to the woman for an explanation. “You did not mention this.”

“There was no need. It was nothing.”

Jake raised his brows. “Nothing isn’t exactly how I’d put it, Señorita Torrez. You nearly scalded me!” He caught Juan’s eye. “And I won’t be explaining where!”

Juan frowned and turned to her. “Victoria? Explain yourself.”

Jake hid a quick smile. At least he’d learned her first name now, even though it had earned him a killer glare.

“Señor Dumont was kind enough to help shoo away a mongrel intent on the soup I carried to the hospital. I thanked him at the time. I did not expect to see him again.”

“Soup?”

“For the injured men. Your cook asked me to take it. She could then get an earlier start to her home.”

“It seems I owe you thanks,” Juan said with all the finesse of a gentleman.

He did not invite Jake sit down with them. That being the situation, Jake charged ahead. “Instead of your gratitude, I’d rather have your permission to dance with the lady.”

Juan raised his brows, and Jake could see him preparing a refusal.

“You don’t need to worry about my intentions, Captain Seguín. I have none. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow as soon as my horse heals up. Just one dance—in honor of the occasion.”

Her lips twitched at his last comment.

Encouraged by the reaction, he said again, “One dance. After all, it is a party.”

“I am not swayed by this Washington celebration,” she said. “I think you Anglos use it as an excuse to drink. However, if my cousin will allow it, I will consent to one dance.”

More surprised by her acquiescence than he’d admit, Jake waited for Seguín’s response. Finally the man nodded.

Diego frowned, rising to his feet. “You do not need to do this, Victoria.”

“It is only one dance,” she said as she stood. “And he was kind to help me yesterday. I probably would have dropped the soup and burnt myself if not for his quick action.”

Jake shot a triumphant smile at her two body-guards and then followed her to the small open area used for dancing, his gaze on the seductive swaying of her gown. When she turned to face him, he looked into eyes the color of dark mahogany, fringed with long coal-black lashes and wondered at his good fortune—or perhaps her lack thereof. He raised his hand for her to take. “Bad pennies or pezos in this case.”

With an elegant movement, she drew up the side of her skirt and then slowly placed her other hand in his. “No entiendo. I do not understand.”

Despite her cool, smooth touch, he felt warmth rush up his arm. “They do turn up.”

At his words, Victoria pressed her lips together. No matter her grimace, Jake found her tantalizing. At her best, she must be about five foot two, he figured. The top of her head reached his shoulder. She held herself in rigid control as she followed his lead, and still she was the most graceful thing on the dance floor.

“Relax, Victoria. Unlike the dog earlier today, I won’t bite.”

She scowled. “You use my given name freely.”

“It’s a beautiful name—like you.”

That earned him another frown. Was she really so used to men who took a year to say hello? Well, he wouldn’t change to suit her. He didn’t have the inclination or the time. “I take it the dog hasn’t bothered you again?”

“No, señor. After you handled the situation, it gave up completely.”

He smiled. “I have that influence at times.”

She caught the innuendo and gave him a slow, assessing look. “You are a very confident man.”

“Persistent, too. I don’t take no for an answer, but a challenge.” He swirled her around the small floor, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. She followed his lead effortlessly, her eyes taking on a shine. She was enjoying this, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“An answer to what question?”

He stared at her full lips. “Why, what every man here is wondering as they watch us dance.”

She raised a dainty, perfectly arched brow.

“Will the lady allow him a kiss?”

Her lips pressed together again, this time stifling a smile that threatened.

He knew he was being forward—cavalier by any woman’s definition, but his mood had lifted considerably when she’d consented to the waltz. After all, it was all about the chase, and she seemed to be enjoying it. With effort he dragged his gaze away from her lips and focused on her eyes.

“With you, I think the answer I seek—” he leaned close, close enough to be tickled by a few wisps of her hair, and whispered into her ear “—is a yes.”

She stiffened slightly within his arms.

“I’ll take care of that later, darlin’.”

“You are too bold, señor. Perhaps I would consider a kiss if you could ask for it in my language. Until then, my answer is no.”

He grunted.

A smug smile lifted her lips.

Oh, she was tempting, definitely tempting enough to learn a few phrases. “How many kisses? Surely a phrase is worth more than one kiss?”

“For now, let’s just enjoy the dance.”

Her breath came in shorter gasps as he twirled her around, making sure to keep her just this side of dizzy. She relaxed the rigid hold she had on her body, her cheeks flushing with color, as she let herself enjoy the music.

“That’s better,” he said, drawing her close again and breathing in the perfumed soap she’d used earlier in the day. “Now, tell me what brings you here to this cow town in the middle of winter.”

She gave him a sweet, evasive smile. “A visit with my cousin, of course.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He paused, studying her face—the straight classic nose, the large smoky eyes. That she couldn’t meet his gaze gave him his answer, but she sure was striking when she was telling a tale.

“Of course I do.”

“What if I said I thought you were lying?”

She faltered in her steps. “You do not know me well enough to say whether I am or not.”

“True—and I’d never argue with such a beautiful señorita, but still you haven’t given me the entire truth.”

The mysterious half smile she bestowed upon him made him catch his breath. “And why should I pour out my heart to you when you will be gone once your horse has healed?”

The candlelight reflected on the soft contours of her face as he drew her closer. “I can only think of one reason.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Damned if she wasn’t curious! Tempted even. Anticipation had him pulling her nearer. Maybe she’d consider dropping the Spanish lesson after all.

“The music has stopped, Señor Dumont.”

Her words were like the shake of a rattler’s tail—stopping him cold. He looked up to find the men in the band heatedly discussing their next song. He swallowed hard. “So it has,” he said, surprised at what he’d been about to do. It wasn’t like him to lose track of his surroundings. He’d been ready to kiss her right there on the dance floor in front of everyone. A foolhardy thing to do considering her status. The men with her would probably demand a duel or, God forbid, marriage at such an overture.

“If I had let you kiss me, I would have had to slap you, to keep my honor.”

“It would have been worth it.”

Her dark eyes sparkled.

Confidence surged through him. He was enjoying this. For the first time in a long while he was with a woman he could respect and appreciate. Better to keep her off balance with a little cockiness than to let her think he was serious. He was the last person she should get serious about. “One more turn about the floor?”

“Victoria?” Juan said from behind him, his voice stern. “Come back to the table now.”

She looked at her cousin, then back to him, and stepped from his arms. “Sí. Thank you for the dance, Señor Dumont.” Her head high, she placed her hand on Juan’s arm. “Would you care to join us?”

Surprised, his gaze shifted to Juan. The man was not pleased with her request but was too polite to argue.

“You may tell us about your poor horse,” she continued, and with a beguiling smile in his direction, she headed back to the table where Diego waited.

His horse was the last thing on Jake’s mind at the moment. He watched as Victoria disappeared in the midst of the other dancers on her way across the room. Here was a challenge he couldn’t refuse even though it led nowhere. She fascinated him, and apparently she wasn’t completely immune to him, either. He followed her back to the table and settled into the chair across from her.

Captain Seguín motioned for a round of drinks. He waited until the waitress had deposited the mugs of ale and for Victoria, wine. “What is this about your horse?”

The man was just being polite, feigning interest, but Jake appreciated that it was for Victoria’s sake. “I was a day out of town when a cougar startled me and attacked my horse. It clawed his flank. I fired a shot to scare it off.”

“You are lucky it did not hurt you, as well.”

Jake agreed, nodding. “I stitched up the gash as best I could, but it looks to be infected now.”

“What have you used on it?” Victoria asked.

“The doc said to try turpentine.”

She wrinkled her nose and he heard the word barbaric from Diego.

Juan watched him, his gaze steady.

“Doc Pollard said there’s no more medicine for the men, let alone animals. And turpentine was the only thing he could think of that might work, other than warm compresses and prayer.”

“He ran out of any strong medicine over two months ago,” Diego said, leaning his chair back on two legs. “We’re going to need it, too.” The party-like atmosphere evaporated around the table.

“Why are we even here, Juan?” Victoria asked, setting down her glass. “With Santa Anna so close, why are we sitting in a cantina with all these Anglos and celebrating an American named Washington? It makes no sense to me. Why aren’t the soldiers preparing for battle?”

With a glance at Jake, her cousin shook his head at Victoria.

He’s afraid to say anything with me at the table, Jake realized. “I’d be interested in the answer to that, too,” he said. “My brother came here to join the rebels.”

Seguín studied him a moment, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “When Diego returned from scouting south of here, he told Travis how close the Mexican army was but the man has turned a deaf ear. I think he is unable to take the word of a Tejano, even one who will fight at his side.”

The news worried Jake. Wasn’t San Patricio to the south? He tried to remember the map in Travis’s office. “Why are you staying, then? Half the town looks deserted. What makes you stay?”

“My home is here,” Juan said. “It has belonged to my family for generations. The Mexican government does nothing to protect it from the Commancheros. Santa Anna takes our money in taxes but he does not care for the land or its people. I stay because I will fight for an independent Tejas.”

A proud light stole into Victoria’s eyes. “Juan has raised his own force and has his commission from Commander in Chief Austin. He and Diego will not back away from this and neither will I.”

Jake fingered the handle on his mug and tried to imagine caring about his home the way these two seemed to. “And this land of Juan’s…is it yours, too?”

“No.” She hesitated, but then continued. “My family’s land lies farther south, near the Rio Grande.”

She is beautiful, Jake realized, even more so with the zeal of misguided loyalty shining in her eyes. This cause would only bring her despair. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Land wasn’t worth dying for. He’d said as much to his brother when Brandon had brought up the subject.

Diego tipped his beer toward Jake. “Yesterday, in his office, Travis said you were good with a gun. What do you carry?”

“A.40 caliber flintlock—a Dickert.”

Diego gaze shifted to Juan, apparently impressed with the rifle.

“It’s a good shot… 270-300-yard accuracy.”

Diego snorted. “A rifle is only as true as the man who aims it. Where did you learn to shoot?”

“I’ve done a bit of hunting in my time, and scouting. My accuracy is what kept me alive.” He looked from Juan to Victoria, not liking the speculation in their eyes. He didn’t like to let loose about himself. “This some kind of test?”

“Of course not,” Juan said smoothly.

Diego’s innocent enthusiasm belied Juan’s words. “Are you joining with us also?”

Jake wondered who that “us” was. Did Diego include Anglos and Mexicans together? He hadn’t gotten that impression when talking to Travis. It seemed that the American immigrants wouldn’t turn away help, but they were in it for themselves either to protect the land they’d homesteaded over the years or to section off a parcel for themselves. He couldn’t blame them for that but it didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t fighting anyone. “I’ll shoot if I have to, to stay alive, but I’m not joining up.”

“Then why have you come here?” Victoria asked.

“To get my brother.”

“And he is here?” Victoria asked, looking around the room.

“He was. Bowie sent him to San Patricio a week ago. He’s supposed to be back soon but I think I’ll head that way and catch up to him. He’s just young enough and green enough to want to talk with this Santa Anna and strike a bargain.”

Juan raised a brow. “Negotiate? It has been tried before. Santa Anna will throw him in jail before he finishes his first sentence in Spanish. He does not negotiate with Anglos. Look what happened to Austin.”

“Exactly,” Jake said. “Brandon doesn’t stand a chance against such a man.”

“What will you do when you find him?” Victoria asked.

“Drag his bony butt back home to South Carolina. He has a fiancée waiting there for him. I promised her I’d bring him home.” In his opinion she wasn’t worth the paper Brandon had written his goodbye note on, but that was another matter he’d have to discuss with his brother. He looked up to find Victoria studying him.

“Why don’t you both stay? Stay and help us,” she urged.

“Victoria,” Juan said, a note of warning creeping into his voice. “Señor Dumont must do what he thinks right.”

Her eyes sparked. “But if he’s good with a rifle we could use him!”

“This is our fight, not his,” Juan said. “We need people who believe in what they’re fighting for.”

Irritation colored her face. “What do you believe in, then, Mr. Dumont? Or are you just as you seem—a shiftless drifter?”

He didn’t care for her appraisal of him but he did appreciate her passion. With her face flushed and her eyes flashing midnight fire, he appreciated it a whole lot. But the subject was getting more serious than he cared for, reminding him he had a mission to accomplish. Beautiful señorita or not, he couldn’t forget that.

“I resent being called a drifter on such short acquaintance,” he said. “You know nothing about my plans.”

“Plans?” She shrugged. “I too have those. But what is it you believe in?”

Jake stood, and moved his gaze to Juan, Diego and then back to rest on hers. “Señorita? I believe in staying alive. Other than that? Not a damn thing.”

She rose to her feet, her eyes shooting daggers. “Then you have no soul, Señor Dumont.”

His brother had said as much the day he took off. Jake met her angry gaze with a sardonic smile. “I know.”

Chapter Four

The next morning Victoria headed to the hospital, determined to put Jake Dumont out of her mind—not an easy task. Whenever she thought of him, she remembered the way her heart had raced while dancing and how safe she had felt in his strong arms. Never had she met a man so sure of himself, so sure of his ability to get what he wanted. And for a moment last night, it seemed he wanted her.

With a quick sign of the cross over her breast she thanked God she had found out his true character—selfish and arrogant. That she had even contemplated what his kiss would be like upset her now. She’d looked at his lips and heat raced up her cheeks. And he had known what she was thinking. That irked her all the more.

Today it was good there were more important needs to occupy her thoughts.

When she entered the hospital, Dr. Pollard was engrossed in a conversation with another man. He noticed her entrance and introduced her.

“This is Doctor Southerland, Miss Torrez. John, Miss Torrez is new in town. Her cousin, Juan, is in charge of the Tejano regiment.”

She murmured a greeting. “I am here to collect the soup kettle.”

“Of course. It’s there on the table. Thank you.” He turned back to his conversation as she walked across the room. “I’d like you to look at Bowie, John. I’m not sure if it’s pneumonia or maybe something else.”

“Be happy to. Where is he?”

“He has moved into the fort. I’ll take you to him.”

Victoria picked up the empty kettle and followed them down the stairs. Jim Bowie was sick? Too sick to lead? She wondered if Juan knew.

Once outside, she watched the doctors stride to the long row of barracks used by the men. The day was overcast, the cloud cover offering a scant measure of warmth as she started once more across the yard. Men were digging a well in the open plaza. Others worked on the north wall, adding materials to reinforce it. She was glad to see some preparation finally taking place.

She paused for a moment to watch, noting the few men who stood around the workers, offering their advice but not helping with the manual labor. How could they be so lazy when Santa Anna was on his way?

Not at all like the broad-shouldered man in the midst of them who worked twice as hard as the others. He had removed his shirt, and the sweat gleamed across his back despite the chill in the air. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged as he raised a heavy log and positioned it, holding it while others lashed it together with the other beams for support. He called orders to the men, coordinating the entire process until he could step away from the log.

Realizing suddenly that she stared, she gripped the kettle and prepared to leave. With one more glance, she saw the man lean over, hands on his knees, and drag in several deep breaths. Straightening, he swiped the dark lock of hair from his eyes and she recognized Jake Dumont.

At that exact moment he noticed her. Slowly, without taking his gaze from her, he reached for a shovel that leaned against a mound of dirt. His face—so closely shaved the night before, now had the dark stubble of a new beard on his square jaw. She took a deep, rather unsteady breath at the vision he created—the dark hair sprinkled across his chest tapered to a line that disappeared into his buckskin pants.

Her eyes snapped back to his cool blue ones. He regarded her silently as heat suffused her face. She readjusted the kettle on her hip. She’d seen men work before and knew they were more comfortable at times without their shirts. So why did seeing his bare chest do crazy things to her insides—things that had never happened before? She clenched her hands around the iron rim. Remember that he thinks only of himself, she told herself. You cannot trust him.

The corded muscles of his arms flexed as he dropped his shovel and started toward her. “Señorita Torrez. We need to talk.”

He stopped long enough to shrug into his shirt and slip on his hat before grasping her arm and leading her away from the others.

“Look at me that way again and everyone will know what you want.” His voice was low in her ear, nearly a growl.

She jerked from his strong grip. “You flatter yourself, señor. I was amazed to find an Anglo like you without a burn. That is all.”

“Right,” he said dryly.

“Well, you are so careful to protect yourself from the discomfort of a bullet. I imagined you would feel the same way about the sun.”

“Very funny—especially with it being winter. However, it’s not the sun that is scorching me right now.”

“Oh?” she said sweetly sarcastic.

“No. More the heat from your gaze.”

Flustered at his words, she snapped her jaw shut. He truly was a beast of a man—uncouth and improper.

“I’m surprised you’d be thinking about me at all after I disappointed you last night,” he continued in that smooth voice. “But it’s nice to know you care.”

“Do not twist my words.”

“You’re the one twisting mine—and a few other things, as well, I might add.”

Oh, he really was a wicked man!

He glanced over her and she felt her cheeks flush. She hated that he could create such havoc inside her. It made her feel weak, and she knew she wasn’t a weak person.

“What are you doing here…besides enjoying the view?”

“I came to collect my kettle, not that it is any of your concern.” Her nose went up a notch.

He glanced inside the pot. “Any soup left?”

“Are you hungry or worried I might toss it at you?” she asked with sugary sweetness.

“Take your pick. Either way it would be worth it to have you look at me as you did a moment ago—preferably somewhere less crowded.”

“Oh!” She sidestepped around him, having had enough. “Buenos días, señor!” She started across the plaza.

His low chuckle made her pause midstride even though she suspected he was baiting her with it. She turned back. What was he doing here? He didn’t believe in the cause so why hadn’t he left?

He waited, by his expression amused that she’d returned, but he did not tease her again.

“I am surprised to find you here…helping.”

The planes of his face shifted and took on a certain hardness. “Don’t think it’s anything noble or that I’ve had a change of heart.”

She shook her head quickly—too quickly, belying her words. “Of course not. How naive would that be?”

“My horse isn’t ready for another long trip yet. I’m just passing time—a day or two, until he heals up. Nothing more.”

She indicated the men working at the wall. “You are not one to be idle, then.”

“No. Never have been much of man of leisure. Doesn’t suit me.”

“I’m glad of it. There are too many lazy men about this fort. I’m glad to see you making things ready—preparing.”

“Oh, I aim to please you, señorita. Just for today,” he reminded her.

He was teasing her again, but it was different now—gentler, more amiable. This she could deal with easier than the tension-charged sparring she’d just endured. She let out a relieved sigh. “Just until your horse heals. I understand. Does the wound fester?”