Arizona Embrace (47 page)

“Has anyone notified her uncle?”

Trinity shook his head.

“I think you should.”

Trinity made no response.

“If you have no objection, I’ll send a telegram immediately.”

Still Trinity didn’t respond.

“I’m David Woolridge. Her uncle hired me to defend her.”

Trinity’s gaze remained on Victoria.

“She’s about the same,” Dr. Roundtree said to Trinity. “I’ll come back later in the evening.”

Mr. Woolridge looked undecided, then followed the doctor from the room.

“Who’s that man with her?” he asked the doctor as soon as they were outside the door.

“I’m told he’s a very dangerous gunman named Trinity Smith. He seems quite unbalanced to me. For the good of us all, I hope that young woman survives.”

“But what’s he doing in there? He!s the man the sheriff deputized to bring her back.”

“I don’t know anything about that. I just know he drove Mrs. Blazer out at the point of a gun.”

“I heard. The story’s all over town.”

“He’s positive she’s been poisoned.”

“Has she?”

“It’s quite possible.”

The young man looked thoughtful. “Does he have any idea who did it?”

“He says it was Myra Blazer.”

Woolridge looked stunned.

“Do you think he’s right?”

“I don’t see how he can be, but I know his kind. They don’t often make mistakes.”

After the doctor left, Trinity took Victoria’s hand in his once again. Even though she couldn’t see him, hear him, or feel his touch, he desperately needed to touch her. It was all that kept him from going crazy and shooting everyone in Bandera. All of them had taken a part in bringing her to this point, and he wanted to kill every one of them.

He especially wanted to kill Queenie.

He didn’t know how he managed to conceal his shock when he looked up and saw her. She had altered her appearance, but he would have known her anywhere. The long blond hair, which used to hang from her head in great masses like golden clouds, was changed to black hair dressed atop her head. Her cheap, brightly colored dresses had been replaced by a magnificent silk gown, her gaudy red lips and brightly rouged cheeks had given way to a delicately tinted complexion. Her predatory anxiety had been replaced by complacent acquisitiveness, but he knew her without a doubt.

He would never forget Queenie. Now that he had found her, he meant to see she never harmed anyone again. This time he wouldn’t expect anyone to believe him, and he wouldn’t attempt to achieve justice by legal means.

He intended to kill Queenie.

He didn’t know how she pulled it off, but he was sure Queenie was responsible for Jeb’s death. It was inexcusable that she had planned for Victoria to spend the rest of her life as a fugitive from justice. In Trinity’s eyes, Queenie signed her own death warrant when she tried poisoning her when the gallows failed.

He looked down at Victoria. She couldn’t die now. She had too much to live for. She was free, never again would she have to look over her shoulder and fear what tomorrow would bring.

She could marry, have children, and live to a ripe old age.

She could marry
him
. She could have
his
children. She had to live for a very long time because he wanted to die in her arms. He didn’t want to live one minute of his life without her.

Trinity could hardly bear to look at Victoria, yet she was all he wanted to see. He had thought of her nearly every minute since he left for Uvalde. For the first time in thirteen years he had a real purpose for his life, a focus that had nothing to do with hatred or guilt or escape. He knew he would never have to chase down another criminal. He was through with all that.

He had looked forward to asking Victoria to marry him. Never once did he imagine she would refuse. The memory of their one night together remained fresh in his mind.

He had never known such pleasure with a woman, and he didn’t believe it stemmed from either the perfection of Victoria’s body or his long enforced abstinence. Clearly it owed nothing to her lovemaking skills. The source of his pleasure was Victoria herself.

Even if she had not been so physically desirable, he would still have wanted to take her to bed a dozen times a day. He had experienced real fulfillment for the first time. Certainly he hungered for her, he always would, but he knew his greatest pleasure came from just being with Victoria, being loved by her. Anything else was a bonus.

And now she lay on this bed, her pulse racing as though she had run all the way from Arizona; her life hanging by a thread, and all because of Queenie.

It was all he could do not to kill Queenie right now. It would only take a few minutes. She was still in the hotel, probably just down the hall. He could be back in a minute.

But he couldn’t leave Victoria even for a moment. If she should wake up, he had to be here. If these were her last hours on earth, he had to be here. Now that she was Judge Blazer’s wife, Queenie wouldn’t leave. She had too much to lose. He could kill her later.

Trinity got up off his knees and sat down on the bed next to Victoria. Gently lifting her from the pillow, he cradled her in his arms. If she had to die, he wanted her to die in the arms of the one person who loved her more than life.

He realized now what he had suspected for years. His love for Queenie was no more than a young man’s infatuation: partly with an older and very beautiful woman, partly with the heady sensations of love, and partly with his own emerging manhood. All of these had come together at once with such force he hadn’t been able to analyze the feelings which drove him to such wild actions. He had only been able to act.

His father, still sunk in the mire of self-pity and sorrow over his wife’s death, couldn’t help. Naturally he hadn’t listened to the advice of his friends or of the older men who counseled caution. He dismissed them as jealous and of his success; they wanted Queenie for themselves.

And he finally realized something else. He wasn’t responsible for his father’s death. Queenie hadn’t simply lured a grief-stricken man into a disastrous marriage. His father had married Queenie knowing she was the woman his son loved. His father must have known Queenie was more interested in being the wife of a rancher than an impetuous boy. He just didn’t know she was willing to commit murder for the sake of money.

But that had been his father’s mistake, not his own. And his father had made it nearly impossible for Trinity to bring Queenie to justice. By willing his property to Queenie rather than his son, he had virtually disowned him. It was the same as publicly stating he trusted his wife more than his son. By letting his son go off to Colorado at an age when he should have been at home, he further proclaimed his disaffection. No matter how his father really felt, his actions put public sympathy with Queenie rather than with his son.

It was just as Victoria had tried to tell him: He wasn’t responsible for his father’s death. And, if he wasn’t responsible, he didn’t have to avenge his death.

Trinity had never suspected the weight of that burden until it began to lift from his soul. If Victoria hadn’t been lying near death in his arms, he’d have performed a song and dance. For the first time in his adult life, he felt free to live his life the way he wanted.

Now that he was free of the need to avenge his father’s death, he was also free to admit that killing Queenie would ruin his own life. He had suspected it before, but he had never admitted it. He’d never had a life worth preserving, but now he had a future which included much more than salvation through vengeance.

Now he was free to be Victoria’s husband, to build a life together, to raise a family, to build a ranch he could leave to his children. As he faced the fact that Victoria might not live to enjoy that life, Trinity felt the same killing rage all over again. Even as he worked himself free from one of Queenie’s cursed legacies, she’d trapped him with another.

Would he ever be free of that woman? He knew she had poisoned Victoria, probably through the food she sent from the hotel. That alone would have been enough to convince him she had been the cause of Jeb’s death. Knowing Myra Winslow Blazer was really Queenie removed any doubt whatsoever. Murder was her way of gaining the wealth she craved. He couldn’t see her changing now, not when the largest fortune in Texas stood within her grasp.

Again, he didn’t know how to prove it, but he knew she would probably try to poison the Judge. Might she not try to blame that on Victoria? As Jeb’s widow, Victoria would inherit her husband’s estate. Unless the Judge made specific provisions, Victoria might have a claim upon the Judge’s estate as well. Queenie wouldn’t allow that. She would never invest all this time in a marriage only to see the fortune pass into Victoria’s hands.

Now that Trinity knew she had a son, he felt even more certain Queenie planned to murder the Judge, especially if she had convinced him to adopt her son. She probably intended to get the entire estate. She couldn’t afford to let Victoria stand in her way. If Victoria didn’t die now, she would try again.

Could he afford not to kill Queenie?

He didn’t see how.

Four hours in the same position had caused Trinity’s arm to go dead. His whole body felt numb, but he didn’t move. All through the lonely hours of the night, he held her close to him, sharing his warmth, trying to give her his strength, hoping he could feel the will to live in her.

He spent the long hours reviewing his life, wishing he could have it to live over again, hoping Victoria would be there in the future to make up for the waste of so many years. But no matter how far away his memories carried him, his attention never wavered from its intense awareness of Victoria.

He sensed the crisis moments before her heart stopped beating.

“No! Please, don’t!”

Surely it would start any second. It had to. She couldn’t die!

But it didn’t.

The breath went out of her body. She lay in his arms. Motionless.

Chapter Twenty-five

“Mother of God!” Trinity hissed as he jerked himself into a sitting position, causing Victoria to fall away from him. Not heeding the pain in his deadened limbs, he sat her up, grabbed her by the arms and shook her like a rag doll.

“Breathe, goddamn it! You can’t the on me. Not now.”

Victoria’s head bounced from side to side like her neck would break, but she didn’t breathe.

“Please, God, make her breathe.” He shook her again, but still nothing happened. “Make her breathe!” He grabbed her under the arms and tried to make her walk, but her lifeless limbs dragged the floor. He dropped her back on the bed and fell down on her body.

A cry of heartrending agony erupted from his throat.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why should she die and that murdering bitch live?”

He brought his fist down upon Victoria’s chest.

“Damn it to hell! Breathe! Don’t give up now. Don’t you let that she-devil beat you.”

He struck her chest again, a sob escaping his throat.

“Breathe, for God’s sake. Don’t leave me here alone. I had to live all those years when I wanted to die. I don’t want to die any more. I want to live, but I can’t do it without you.” He pounded on her chest again and again. “I can’t! I just can’t!”

Trinity fell upon Victoria’s body, his arms wrapped tightly around her, sobs of heartbreaking bitterness and deep anger wrenched from an unwilling throat. Through the swelling tide of his grief, he felt Victoria’s body shudder. Instantly he became dead still.

Victoria’s heart thumped wildly in her chest, her body shuddered once more, then breath rushed into her lungs.

She breathed once, twice, three times. Gradually some of the color began to return to her white face.

Trinity offered a prayer of thanks.

Victoria felt her eyelids flutter two times before they opened. She didn’t recognize the room. She had no idea where she was. At the same moment, she realized she wasn’t alone. She turned her face and found herself looking into Trinity’s eyes.

“You’re back,” she said, surprised she didn’t remember his return or their coming to this room. Neither did she remember feeling so weak. Her voice sounded like a faint whisper. She couldn’t move. Her body felt weighted, tied down to the bed.

“Did you find Chalk Gillet?”

“I not only found him,” Trinity said, a smile slowly erasing the lines on his face, “I got a signed deposition from him saying you didn’t kill Jeb. I also got a judge to give me a stay of execution in case the sheriff failed to stand up to Judge Blazer.”

“I knew you would,” Victoria said, happy her faith in Trinity had been justified, “but I wish you’d woken me up when you got in instead of bringing me here so I could wake up in a fancy hotel room. This is the hotel, isn’t it?”

Trinity nodded.

“It nearly scared me to death waking up in a strange place. For one horrible instant I thought I’d been carried off by Red Beard.”

“What do you remember?”

“I don’t remember feeling so weak.” She tried to sit up and failed. “Have I been sick?”