Marco and the Devil's Bargain by Carla Kelly Read Free Book Online

hair. She sank back, patting her head where it hurt the worst. “There is nothing to fear,” Paloma said, wondering how to reason with this cousin whose torments she had endured for years, this cousin she thought she knew—unkind and vengeful but essentially harmless.
    â€œ My dear, you should lie down,” she said, wishing she did not sound so timid. This was not the voice of a juez de campo’s wife. Maybe she was foolish to think she could borrow some of her husband’s power.
    â€œ You would say that!” Teresa shot back. “I let down my guard and this Comanche devil murders us all! You would like me to lose this baby, would you not? This is your fault. You are barren and you are jealous of me.” Her cousin looked around again, as if to seek approval from people already turning away in disgust. Two of the braver women—older women who had lived their entire lives on the edge of danger in Comanchería—had helped Anthony Gill to his feet and were leading him inside.
    Paloma saw the sympathy in their eyes, but all she felt was shame that Maria Teresa was a relative, and horror that her cousin thought her capable of such meanness. “You know I would never even consider such a thing,” she said, keeping her voice soft as she sought to reason away her cousin’s lunacy.
    â€œ You planned this whole thing!” Teresa clutched her belly and backed away from Paloma. “Rodrigo! Saddle my horse!” she shouted to her only guard, who stood there as stunned as everyone else. “I will tell Antonio how dangerous you are and he will pay a visit to your husband!”
    â€œ That is enough,” Luisa said. She tightened her grip on Maria Teresa. “Let us gather your possessions. You should leave.”
    â€œ You cannot reason with a crazy woman,” Toshua told Paloma, helping her to her feet. For good measure, he turned to stare at Teresa as her hostess dragged her inside. Whimpering under his glare, Teresa hurried ahead of Luisa. “I could ride ahead and kill them both before they were a league away. Just say the word.” His face hardened. “I doubt even her husband would mourn her.”
    â€œ No, Toshua. That will not solve any of my problems,” Paloma said firmly.
    The Comanche shrugged. “It would solve the main one.” He looked around. “We are all tired of Señora Castellano.”
    â€œ Just let her go and do no harm,” Paloma said. Her head ached, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart . Tell the world that I am barren ? she asked herself, wretched. The world already knows .
    They stood together in the courtyard, nearly shoulder to shoulder, waiting while Rodrigo, looking like the most put-upon of men, saddled his mount and Maria Teresa Castellano’s horse. He kept his head down as the other guards teased him, making whooping noises that turned Toshua’s expression sour.
    â€œ My People do not sound like that,” he muttered to Paloma.
    No, you don’t, she thought, remembering the day the Comanches rode through the open gates of her father’s hacienda near El Paso, silent, painted men sitting so carelessly on painted and masked horses, careless because the men in the field—her father and brothers among them—were already lanced and scalped. She glanced at Toshua and looked away, uneasy even after more than a year of his presence on the Double Cross.
    When she didn’t say anything, he turned away. She looked toward the open gate, yearning for her husband with a fierceness that surprised her, even though only a day had passed since they kissed goodbye in Santa Maria. She knew he would sit her on his lap until she was calm. It was what he already did every four weeks when she went to the storeroom and returned with her monthly supplies and tears on her cheeks. “Patience, chiquita , patience,” he used to tell her. Now he just held her in his arms. She