Bed of Roses by Rebecca Paisley Read Free Book Online Page A

Sawyer?” she finally whispered. “Who…who is well-known and feared in two lands?” God, please do not let him say what I think he is going to say!
    Sawyer opened his eyes and saw her eyes staring down at him. Jewels, he thought. Blue as the heart of a flame, the color of those pretty eyes. “Gang,” he mumbled. “The Quintana Gang.”
    Zafiro’s heart lurched as if someone had prodded it with a poker. A gamut of emotions twisted inside her.
    Shock.
    Fear.
    Anger.
    And finally resolution.
    He knew. Sawyer knew who they all were, and now there was only one thing she could do.
    Santa Maria.
    She would have to kill him.
     
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    “H is fever is finally breaking, chiquita ,” Tia announced. “When he awakens he is going to be able to talk to us. He will still be tired, but he will speak to us normally instead of ranting like he did when he had the fever.”
    From the threshold of Sawyer’s room Zafiro watched Sawyer move his legs and arms. Sweat poured off his face, shoulders, and chest as though he’d only just emerged from a bath.
    His health was returning just when she would take his life.
    But when would she do it? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Her decision to kill him was already four days old. But the first day she’d been too busy with a second attempt to build a chicken coop. She still hadn’t completed the task, and in her opinion one couldn’t commit a slaying when one hadn’t finished one’s chores. The day after that she’d gone to the convent to advise the nuns about Sawyer’s encounter with Mariposa and also to have them borrow Rudolfo’s gun again. Of course, she hadn’t told them why she needed the gun. Telling a group of nuns that she would soon be a murderess just didn’t seem to be the right thing to do.
    When she’d returned to La Escondida from the convent, she’d seen to all the chores. After having climbed up and down the mountain and then toiled for hours, she’d been too weary to carry off an assassination.
    Yesterday had been Sunday. Taking a life on the Lord’s day was something she refused to even consider. And today…well, today she hadn’t found a second of time for the killing. Tia hadn’t left Sawyer’s room since daybreak, and Zafiro was not going to perform his execution in front of the dear woman who believed him to be her son.
    Another dilemma also plagued her. What manner of death would she choose for him? The decision deserved much careful thought.
    She had the gun, yes, but what was the most comfortable way to die?
    “Now that I know he is out of danger, I go to rest, Zafiro,” Tia said. Stifling a yawn, she swept her hair out of her eyes, then tried to swat Jengibre off the bed, to no avail. The chicken merely positioned herself more comfortably within the nest of sheets.
    Tia let the hen be. “Zafiro, you will watch Francisco for a few hours and make sure he sleeps peacefully?”
    Zafiro couldn’t imagine a more peaceful sleep than death. “Si, Tia. I will do what I must to give him a long, long rest. Please go sleep now.”
    When Tia was gone Zafiro fidgeted with her skirt for a while, then paced around the room, her heart skipping beats every time she concentrated on what she was about to do. Finally, she stopped in front of the window and gazed out at the peaks of the Sierras.
    “Forgive me, Grandfather,” she whispered to the mental image she had of him. “I know you never killed. Not once, and neither did Maclovio, Lorenzo, Pedro, or my father. But there was always another way for you and the men. Some way to avoid spilling blood. For me there is no other way. I must kill this man because I can think of no other way to protect our people.”
    Her head bowed low, she left the room, but returned shortly and laid an array of items on the floor near Sawyer’s bed. As she closed and locked the door, tears burned her eyes.
    Santa Maria, she was about to destroy a life. Slaughter a young, healthy, and vitally handsome