Capture The Night (18 page)

“Or worse.”

“I was sorely disappointed when I learned they’d left Magnolia Bend. But I’ll be around for a while, at least until they return. It’ll take me that long to finish my business.”

“And what business is that?” Tyler asked as the wind picked up and sent a loose shutter banging against the side of the house one floor below them. “Something to do with your wife, I imagine?”

Brazos followed Tyler inside, saying, “Listen, Ty, I’ll tell you the entire, ugly story, but first I want to hear about Juanita and the children.”

Tyler paused on the stairway’s landing. He lifted an eyebrow. “You swear?”

“My word on it,” Brazos said, following his brother. He stood in the doorway of the upstairs room that Tyler used as an office and watched as Tyler secured the shutter. “Tell me about Nita, Ty.”

“She’s safe, but not very happy. I have her stashed in Brazoria with Cousin Jeffrey.”

Brazos frowned. “Jeffrey…Jeffrey…hmm. I don’t rightly place him.”

“Jeffrey Henderson.” Tyler sat at his desk and laced his fingers behind his head, elbows outstretched, as he added, “Mama’s second cousin Lucy’s third husband’s stepbrother. Runs the dry goods on Commerce Street.”

“Oh, yeah. Wasn’t he the one who got drunk at Sam Houston’s inaugural ball?”

“And yanked off that bald woman’s wig.” Tyler nodded. “That’s him.”

Brazos sprawled on the horsehair sofa. “Well, hell. No wonder Nita isn’t happy. You know how proud she is of her hair. Ol’ Jeffrey best not be touching it.”

Tyler scowled. “He was the best I could do on short notice. Salezan’s men had nabbed her in Marshall, and it was just dumb luck that Cousin Linda’s oldest boy managed to foil their plan.”

“I’m not criticizing, Tyler, I’m thankful you were able to help. I thought for sure she was safe in East Texas. I’d like to know just how the hell they found her.”

Disgust laced Tyler’s voice as he replied, “She took to singing during mass on Sundays. As if that voice of hers wasn’t enough, the padre at St. Mary’s brought her down from the choir loft and stuck her at the front of the church for people to gawk at. I asked him why, and he claimed that she was the closest thing to an angel his parishioners would see on earth. Truth was, according to one of the nuns, collections tripled with Juanita singing hymns up near the altar. Word got around, and Salezan’s men obviously listened.”

“Damn,” Brazos cursed, cracking his knuckles and scowling. “If I’d known she’d pull a stunt like that, I’d have sent the padre a load of silver and told him to keep the woman’s mouth shut. I swear, that Juanita is as stubborn as a two-headed mule. She promised she’d behave herself. Damn me for a fool for believing her.”

“Well, she’s behaving now,” Tyler said drolly, opening a desk drawer and taking out a bottle. “The thirty minutes she spent with Salezan’s henchman managed to put the fear of God back into her.”

Brazos shook his head as his brother offered up the bottle. “Not the fear of God, Ty. The fear of Damasso Salezan. What news do you have of him?”

“He never leaves that castle of his. But his men are all over Texas looking for you—even after all this time.” Tyler poured himself a drink, sipped it, grimaced, and said, “In fact, brother I hate to mention this, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if one of his people watched you leave the boat this morning.”

“No one would have recognized me; I was just another European traveler. Besides, my looks have changed in the past couple of years.” He flashed a wide smile. “I’ve gotten prettier.”

“Hell,” Tyler responded, “I’d forgotten how obnoxious you are. If I were you, I wouldn’t stake my life—which is exactly what you’d be doing—on your arrival going unnoticed. After all, one of his men noticed Juanita, right?”

“Yean, but then a man would have to be blind, deaf, and half dead not to notice Nita.”

Tyler nodded and sipped his drink. “I almost swallowed my tongue the first time I saw her. I thought you’d won the grand prize when you brought her home. Come on downstairs,” he continued, standing up. “Bridget left us supper, and I’m getting hungry.” As he led the way from the room, he glanced casually at Brazos and added, “This time, I figure you got second or third place.”

“Madeline is beautiful,” Brazos defended automatically, following his brother down the circular staircase. “Maybe not as beautiful as Nita, but I think—” He broke off abruptly and scowled. “Stop it, Tyler. I told you I’d explain it all later.”

The younger Sinclair brother shrugged as he reached the ground floor and entered the dining room. Brazos stopped on the second-floor landing. Fishing in his pocket for a marble, he called out, “What makes you think Salezan’s henchman would recognize me?”

Tyler reappeared a few moments later, carrying a single sheet of paper. He held it up for his brother to see. “This.”

The broadside bearing Brazos’s likeness had been sketched in pen and ink. “Who did that?”

“Uncle Philbert. They told him it was for a newspaper story of your travels in Europe. Salezan wants you bad, Brazos.”

“Damn.” Brazos balanced a shiny green marble in a groove on the banister then sent it rolling. The brothers watched silently as the marble gyrated down the handrail and clattered against the yellow pine floor. “He doesn’t want me,” Brazos said flatly. “He wants the silver. And I’ve been toying with the idea of giving it to him.”

Tyler’s gaze followed the marble until it rolled to a stop against the carved mahogany hat tree. He nodded his head slowly and said, “That might be the answer. Even after building the children’s home and funding the other charities as you instructed, you still have a substantial amount.”

Brazos started down the stairs. “I’m anxious to visit the home and see the children. Mother kept me apprised of their progress through her letters. She told me we’ve gained a few since I’ve been gone.” Glancing back at his brother; he asked, “How are the children, Ty? Has Salezan made any move against them? Do you think he’s made the link between St. Michael’s Children’s Home and me?”

“No,” Tyler said without hesitation. “I’ve buried the connection so deep, he’d have to be in hell to find it.”

Brazos gave a mirthless laugh. “If that’s the case, Tyler, you’ve put the information right in his hands. Salezan is the prince of Perote Castle. If that place isn’t hell, I don’t know what is.” Instinctively, he touched his sleeve and the armband that lay beneath it. “When I mentioned offering Salezan the mine, I didn’t mean I thought to give him our cache of silver bars. I know where the mine is, Ty. I figured it out almost a year ago.”

“What?” Tyler asked. “You mean the mine itself? I don’t understand. I thought the only information Miguel found was where the priests had buried their silver bars when the Indians attacked.”

Brazos nodded. “Those old church documents pinpointed the location of the cache, but Miguel found something else—a map of sorts that leads the way to the El Regalo de Dios mine. My idea is to—” he paused, noting the sharp look his brother sent his way. “What?”

Tyler appeared to choose his words carefully. “You said a year ago. Just when did Miguel tell you about this map?”

A yawning sickness spread through Brazos’s gut as he remembered those moments he and Miguel shared in the dungeons of Perote. He didn’t know which bothered him more, that he recalled the atrocities committed against them, or that he couldn’t recall much else. Whatever it was he’d forgotten must’ve been really bad. “Miguel had it all the time. Remember that armband he wore?”

Tyler nodded. “I always thought it a strange thing for a priest to wear jewelry like that.”

“Not jewelry so much as a puzzle. You put all the pieces together and it gives you El Regalo.”

“Let me get this straight,” Tyler said, holding up his hand. “You know the location of the mother lode of all that silver, and you’re going to give it to your worst enemy?”

Brazos scoffed, “Of course not. I’m going to use the secret to lure Salezan from his lair.” He bent and scooped up his marble. Tossing it from one hand to the other, he added, “And then I’m going to kill him.”

Tyler’s gaze followed the green sphere of glass. “It just might work,” he agreed.

“I believe it’s got a decent chance. First, though, I have to make sure that Nita is safe and that the children won’t be endangered.” Brazos tucked the toy into his pocket as he said, “Salezan wants more than the silver, Ty. He wants the woman I stole from him.”

“Yeah, he wants Juanita.” Tyler rubbed the back of his neck as he asked, “Who is she, Brazos? Trying to figure out the relationship between you and that Mexican beauty has given the family a collective headache. Why have you married a European and not your Mexican lover? Why did you bring her home with you?”

“My relationship with Juanita is complicated, Ty, and private.”

“Is she somehow connected to Miguel? Is that why you won’t explain what’s between the two of you?” Tyler Sinclair’s softly spoken words hit Brazos like grapeshot to the gut.

“Be quiet, brother” Brazos warned, lifting his hat from the rack and opening the front door. “Go ahead and eat your supper. I’m not hungry anymore.” He stood on the porch creasing the felt brim with brisk, angry movements.

But Tyler, having broached the subject, was obviously unwilling to let it go. He followed his brother outside, saying, “Every time anyone mentions Miguel Alcortez, you run. Why, Brazos? From the time you were boys, you were best of friends. You were the one who pleaded his case to his folks when Miguel decided to become a priest. You were the one he came to when he stumbled across church records that referred to the silver. By God, Brazos, you were his friend!”

Tyler’s voice rang with passionate appeal as he asked, “Why do you pretend as though he never existed? What happened to him, to Juanita, to you? Are you guilty of something, brother?”

Brazos whirled around, swinging. His fist caught Tyler square on the jaw and sent him sprawling against the whitewashed porch planks. “I told you to shut the hell up,” he said through set teeth. “It’s not like that at all. You don’t know, Tyler.”

Tyler sat up, rubbing his jaw, his gaze reflecting the anguish Brazos knew lived in his own eyes. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I don’t know. When you returned from Mexico, all you ever said was that Miguel was dead. You offered nothing more, even to Miguel’s family.” Climbing to his feet, he dusted himself off and fastened a compassionate gaze upon his brother. “What happened, Brazos? It’s eating you alive, I can tell.”

Eating him alive
. Brazos inhaled deep breaths, gasping for air as though he’d run for miles. In truth, he’d been running for years. The terror clawed at him, even here on his brother’s front porch, beneath the wide open Texas sky. He shut his eyes, fighting a silent battle against the monster lurking within him.

In his mind, a scream echoed,
Oh, God. Miguel
.

He shivered violently, his hands fisting repeatedly at his sides. Then, as if from far away, he felt a touch on his shoulder Brazos lay his hand atop his brother’s, and the warmth Tyler Sinclair shared spread through him, replacing the icy, evil cold. When he could speak, he said, “Please, let it go, Ty. I can’t talk about it.”

“I want to help you.”

Brazos sighed explosively. “I wish you could, brother, but I’m handling this the only way I know how. C’mon, I’m hungry again. Let’s go see what your Miss Bridget left us for supper.”

They were halfway through the meal when Brazos buttered a roll and said, “You offered your help. I reckon you know by now that I could use it regarding another matter. I gather you’ve met my wife?”

“Feisty little thing. Pretty, though.” Tyler gave his brother a hard look. “I’ve the papers she asked for in my jacket pocket. She’s already signed them; all we need is your henscratch to make it legal. But as your attorney, brother, and since an annulment is a legal document, I have to ask you one thing. Did you truly not bed the woman during seven weeks at sea?”

Brazos bent his attention to the roasted pork on his plate and asked gruffly, “She give you any details?”

“No.”

“I didn’t bed the woman during seven weeks at sea.”

“Pull the other one, brother.”

“Pass the gravy, would ya?”

Tyler gave him both the sauce and a dubious look. Brazos pretended not to notice and waited until they’d both finished their meals to ask, “So, what’d you think of her fiancé?”

Tyler’s brows lifted in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Madeline. Didn’t she bring Emile with her?”

“No. She was alone, except for the baby, that is. The little girl is awfully cute, but I wish she hadn’t chewed an arm off the doll I keep in my office.”

“Buy a new one,” Brazos said, laying his napkin on the table and standing. “So, she didn’t bring Emile with her.”

“You want to sign the annulment now? I know that Cousin Judge is home tonight. You could ride the papers over and be done with it.” He led the way into the hallway, where he’d left his jacket draped across the back of a chair. Pulling the document from his pocket, he handed the paper to Brazos, saying, “I’ll ride with you, if you’d like. In fact, it might be a good idea to check on your lady friend while we’re out.”

Brazos carried the papers to Tyler’s desk and glanced at them briefly. At the bottom, he noted the signature: Madeline Christophe Sinclair. “What lady friend?” he replied, inking his name above Madeline’s.

Tyler pointed toward the annulment papers. “Her. Madeline’s out at the beach house. She said she’d like some time to herself, so I offered her the family cottage. No one’s using it now, so…Brazos?” He followed his brother out the door. “Brazos, what’s going on?”

“You take the papers over for me, all right, Ty? I’ve some unfinished business to take care of.” Brazos paused at the bottom of the front steps and looked back. “Oh, and Ty? Thanks. Maddie and I needed that annulment something fierce.”

Tyler watched his brother saddle a horse and gallop out of the drive, heading south. Walking back inside, he shook his head bewilderedly as he slipped into his jacket and picked up the annulment papers from his desk.

He’d tucked the documents in his pocket and had lifted his hat from the rack when he stopped. For a full moment he stood thinking. Then, very carefully, Tyler returned his hat to the hook. Walking into the parlor, he poured himself a tall glass of bourbon.