Journey of the Heart (29 page)

They moved so well together that Cait felt she was floating above the ground and hardly noticed the bumps and stones through her slippers. She looked up at his face and met his eyes, and as they circled and turned, neither’s gaze fell. Cait realized that while their gaze was keeping her from the dizziness of a turning dance, she was dizzy with something else: delight in the same current of attraction she had felt with Gabe before.

* * * *

Mrs. Preston had stopped in front of Charley Wilson on her way to dance, and nodded toward Sadie.

“It looks like Mrs. Preston has roped me a partner,” said Sadie with a grin. “Why don’t you and Mrs. Burke go on ahead so you don’t miss any of the waltz,” she told Michael.

The Burkes moved off and Sadie was watching Charley make his way over to her when suddenly out of nowhere Juan Chavez was standing in front of her. “You did say you would dance with me, didn’t you, Miss Hart?”

“I suppose I did, Señor Chavez,” she said reluctantly.

“Shall it be this waltz?”

“Why ever not,” Sadie answered lightly.

They danced as well together as Sadie remembered. What was surprising to her was how graceful Chavez was without ever letting himself relax. She thought of his nickname and realized anew that he combined the grace of a wild animal with the same moment by moment alertness. Here he was, engaging in a most civilized occupation, yet she felt he was ready to respond to anything that might happen. He made a very exciting partner, she had to admit, for she was herself made to be awake to every nuance of his movement.

When the music stopped and the fiddle then struck up a reel, Chavez took her hand and led her back to where she had been sitting. No one else had returned and when she sat down, Chavez pulled up a chair next to her.

“You are enjoying your visit with your brother,
señorita?”

“I am,
señor
, despite all that has happened.” Just because she had enjoyed her dance didn’t mean she had any illusions about
El Lobo!
she told herself.

“You mean Eduardo?”

“Yes, Señor Chavez. I met him only once but he was a good man, it seemed to me. We are all sure that someone here is responsible,” she added, surprised at her own daring.

“And that someone no doubt is Juan Chavez?” he asked quietly, but with such a steely tone that Sadie was forced to look straight at him. In the shade, his eyes looked more hazel than green and not as shut and cold. She realized the question he was asking: Did she, Sadie Hart, believe he’d killed Eduardo?

“You are Mackie’s hired gun,
señor
. And you have been seen up there more than once.”

“So, tell me, Miss Hart, do you normally dance with murderers?” he asked coldly.

She dropped her head. “There is no proof, Mr. Chavez. I guess I do believe a man is innocent until proven guilty.”

“And perhaps you like a little taste of danger?” he added ironically.

Sadie looked up at him again and gave him a shamefaced grin. “I should not be dancing with you,
señor
. And you are right: I like to take risks. But the truth is,” she added quietly, “I just do not feel that you are a killer.”

“Believe me,
señorita
, I have killed men.”

“Oh, I believe you.” said Sadie calmly. “But not, I think, in cold blood.”

“What if I told you I did kill Eduardo?”

He was pushing her, she could tell, but she had no idea why. “I would say you were lying, Señor Chavez,” she responded, looking straight at him and challenging him with her eyes.

His face softened so that it was hard to believe it was the notorious
El Lobo
sitting next to her. “I would be lying,
señorita
. Though how you can know that…. But you are right; it is not my way to kill unless threatened. Of course, I would not have you make me out an angel,
señorita
.”

“Don’t worry,” said Sadie with an ironic smile.

“So, we understand each other? I am a bad hombre, but not so bad you can’t dance with me. And you are a good woman, but not so good that you can resist me!”

Chavez had pulled closer while they were talking and Sadie realized his thigh was pressing against hers. She could feel the conchos on his pants through her dress and they were warm from his body heat. She imagined that when she went home, she would find that she carried the impression of one of them on her leg.

Chavez picked up her hand and stroked her fingers gently. “I like you very much, Miss Sadie Hart,” he whispered.

Sadie was mesmerized by the pleasure she got from his soft touch and wished the moment to go on forever. She was aware of nothing else and then suddenly Chavez was being pulled out of his chair.

“What the hell do you think you are doing with my sister, Chavez?” Gabe’s voice was low, but it vibrated with fury.

“Gabe!” said Sadie, jumping up. “Mr. Chavez and I were merely talking.”

Chavez put his hand gently on her shoulders as if to thank her and then moved between Sadie and Gabe. “Your sister is a grown woman, Mr. Hart. Surely she has the right to talk to whomever she wants.” Chavez kept his voice low also.

“Well, she sure don’t want you either talking to her or pawing her, for that matter,” Gabe declared. “Now get the hell away before I do something I’ll regret. I’d hate to spoil Mrs. Mackie’s birthday.”

“Neither of us wants to do that,” agreed Chavez with a thin smile. “
Adios, señorita
.”

“
Hasta luego, señor
,” Sadie answered emphatically.

“There will be no ‘
luego
’ for either of you, Sadie Hart,” growled Gabe. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t force his company on you again. I know you don’t want to cause any trouble for the Burkes, Sadie,” he added more gently.

“Actually, Gabe, you don’t know anything! I have been taking good care of myself for the last ten years and I don’t need my big brother all of a sudden stepping in and telling me what to do. I was enjoying Señor Chavez’s company.”

“You couldn’t have been enjoying his hands all over you!”

“His hands were most certainly not all over me, Gabriel Hart. And if any man’s ever are, you can rest easy knowing it’s because I want them there. I know how to defend myself very well from unwanted attention.”

“Not from a cold-blooded killer, you can’t.”

“I don’t believe Mr. Chavez is responsible for Eduardo’s death, Gabe,” said Sadie more calmly.

“And pigs can fly,” snorted Gabe.

“I did not say Mr. Chavez was a complete innocent, Gabe. But he has told me he has only killed in self-defense and I believe him.”

“You really believe that killer, Sarah Ellen?”

“I believe you, Gabe, and you’ve killed some men in your time.”

Gabe stepped back as though she’d slapped him. “The Regulators weren’t hired bullies, Sadie, gunning down innocent people. We were fighting against men like Mackie, not working for them.”

All the fight went out of Sadie suddenly, like the air out of a balloon, and she sat down, feeling limp and wrung out. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I have no admiration for what Chavez does for a living. But I believe him about this for some reason.”

Her brother sat down next to her. “I’m sorry too, Sadie. I’d no cause to light into you like that. When I left Texas, you were still a girl, my little sister. I was just afraid he’d bullied you into letting him touch you.”

“Well, he didn’t, Gabe.” She smiled. “I accept your apology. And they are starting up a reel. Will you dance with me?”

Gabe smiled and offered his arm. As they walked over to the dancing, Sadie realized, confused and conflicted by her reaction, that Juan Chavez had no need to bully her. She had enjoyed his touch, and God help her, whatever he was, she would like him to touch her that way again.

Chavez was furious at Gabe’s high-handed interference. What did the man think he was going to do: rape his sister in public! Two things
El Lobo
did not do: kill in cold blood and force favors from women. Any woman who was with him was there because she wanted to be. Miss Sadie Hart was no exception.

Except she was, he thought, with a wry smile on his face. Oh, she was enjoying his company and his touch, no doubt about that. But she should not have been. She should have been frightened and intimidated by the wicked Juan Chavez.

This time his smile was slow and appreciative. He suspected it would take a lot to scare Sadie Hart and for some strange reason that made him feel pleased. Not exactly happy, but then, he hadn’t been happy since he was eight years old.

He should want her to feel threatened, he thought, for his attentions to her were part of his job. But at least he had made her brother very angry, and that was certainly part of his responsibilities.

His own anger had faded as he walked across the courtyard and he realized he was in front of the dessert table. On the other side, unwrapping cheesecloth from a rich, dark cake, was Mrs. Burke. There were pieces of pie and cake already sliced in front of him. He could have picked up a plate and gotten out of her way easily. There was something about this woman that disturbed him, and he did not want to spend time around her, though he couldn’t have told anyone why, which bothered him even more.

“Would you like some pie, Señor Chavez?” From the strained tone of her voice, Chavez knew that he had the same effect on Mrs. Burke as she did on him.

“
No,
gracias, señora
, but I would like to taste the cake you brought.”

Elizabeth picked up a knife and held it in her hand for a moment as though she was speculating what it was good for.

“That is a sharp knife,
señora
. I hope you are only going to cut cake with it,” said Chavez ironically.

Elizabeth looked over at him and as always, was surprised at how much of a gringo he looked despite his name and his fluency in Spanish. The green eyes were somehow familiar, as was the teasing edge to his voice.

“It takes a sharp knife to cut this cake, Señor Chavez, because it is so moist with fruit and brandy,” she answered, her voice steady this time. She carefully sliced one of the cakes and putting two thin slices on a plate, offered them to Chavez. She hoped he would just go, once he had what he wanted.

Chavez picked up a slice in his fingers and lifted it halfway to his mouth. As the rich odor of spices and brandy reached his nose he stood very still, as though frozen in place. He wasn’t in New Mexico anymore, he was in his mother’s kitchen. It was Christmastime and he had snuck in to steal a piece of her black cake. He had just been lifting it to his mouth when his sister caught him….

“Señor Chavez? Is there something wrong with the cake?”

Her voice brought him back. But the disorientation of those few moments left him dizzy and he looked over at Elizabeth Burke as though he’d never seen her before.

“Are you all right?” she asked him gently.

“
Si, señora
.” he made himself bite into the cake, though he was terrified that somehow he’d be transported again to the past. It tasted as delicious as it smelled and he complimented Mrs. Burke politely, relieved that nothing more had come back to him.

“It is an old family recipe,
señor
. I usually only make it at Christmas, but it seemed appropriate for a birthday too.”

“I am sure Mrs. Mackie appreciated your effort, Mrs. Burke.”

“Thank you, Señor Chavez.”

Chavez took one more bite and then setting his plate down, he turned and left. Elizabeth stood open-mouthed in amazement. The Chavez who had come to the dessert table had been the man who frightened and disturbed her. But after that strange moment when he seemed frozen in place, he felt a different person altogether. Almost a familiar one, although that was a foolish thought. How could such a man be familiar to her? But if he was not familiar, he was most certainly more vulnerable in those few moments. Then she almost laughed aloud at her fancies. Juan Chavez vulnerable?
El Lobo
, Eduardo’s probable killer? She must have been imagining things. But why did she suddenly feel a stirring of sympathy for the man? Because, she told herself, he had become real to her. He wasn’t just the hired gun or the coldblooded killer. In his eyes, for those few seconds, she had seen something of the boy he must have been, and the man he was, as capable of confusion and fear as anyone.

* * * *

“
Madre de Dios
,” Chavez whispered as he walked off. What had happened to him back there? He never remembered the time before the hacienda. He couldn’t let himself. During the first few weeks of captivity, when he had remembered, he had tried to block the memories, for if he remembered his father and mother and sister alive, then he had to remember them dead. All of them dead, except for him.

Damn Mrs. Burke and her black cake. Somehow the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg had brought back memories of his childhood. Not just a memory; he felt like he’d been there in his mother’s kitchen. The present had become the past and it seemed as though the very earth under his feet had shifted.

“Chavez, I saw you chatting with Mrs. Burke. I hope you convinced her of our desire to be better neighbors?”

It was Mackie who had come up behind him and he hadn’t even noticed. “
Si,
Señor Mackie. Mrs. Burke and I had a nice chat about recipes.”

Mackie clapped him on the back and laughed. “Recipes, eh? Next thing you know she’ll be giving you cooking lessons. Good job, Juan.” Mackie slapped him again and moved on.

“Good job.” He always did a good job. He always did just what his employers wanted, he thought bitterly. Truly,
El Perro
might be a better name for you than
El Lobo
, Juan,
verdad?

* * * *

Michael had seen Chavez by the dessert table and when Elizabeth joined him a few minutes later, he took her hand. “I hope that man wasn’t disturbin’ ye,
a ghra?”

“Just his presence usually does, Michael, but this time he seemed more human…almost familiar,” Elizabeth added wonderingly.