Page 89 of Hidden Fires

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The tension in the house mounted. The chasm between Jared and his wife grew wider. His midnight rides became a nightly ritual. The muscles of his face, the nervous darting eyes, and the continual clenching of his fists indicated a restrained violence that had to erupt soon or destroy the man from within. His abrupt, curt attitude toward Lauren forbade her to approach him. He’d asked for her trust. Now, in the dawn light, that appeal seemed unreal. His behavior certainly didn’t inspire trust.

She ventured into the stables one morning and was alarmed to see boxes of guns and ammunition stacked against one wall. It was an arsenal of immense proportions. Her heart quaked. Before, she had been concerned about other people getting hurt. Now she realized there was a very real possibility that her own husband could be injured or killed. She prayed fervently that something would happen to prevent this entire fiasco.

Nothing did.

Unable to tolerate her own passivity, Lauren decided that if she couldn’t keep the tragedy from happening, she could at least erect obstacles for the perpetrators. Late one evening after Jared had left the house, she let herself quietly out the front door and ran to the stable. Pepe was working by lantern light mending a bridle.

“Señora Lockett,” he said in surprise as Lauren swiftly shut the door behind her.

“Pepe, do you know what is in those boxes? What they’re for?”

He licked his lips nervously and looked away quickly. “Sí, but Señor Jared told me not to tell.”

“Well, we’re not going to let it happen, Pepe. You and I are going to do something to slow them down.”

“But, Señora Lockett, he—”

“How can you keep a gun from firing, Pepe?” she asked, ignoring his discomposure.

“Señora, the guns—”

“You’re right. We’d never be able to handle all of the guns without them noticing. What can we do?” she wailed, twisting her hands. Then her eyes lighted on the boxes of shells. “The bullets! That’s it. Without a bullet, a gun is useless, isn’t it?” She was talking rapidly, musing aloud. “We’ll hide them. Of course, they might bring their own on the night of the raid, but at least they won’t have these.”

“You want to hide the bullets?” Pepe’s voice had risen an octave as he stared at her incredulously. His dark eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape.

She placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Pepe. I’ll take full responsibility if Jared or anyone else should ever find out.” Then her gentling tone changed and became brisk and businesslike. “Now, where are the shovels? We’ll bury the boxes out there,” she said, pointing to the back of the building. “Please hurry. I may be missed any minute.”

“Señora—”

“Please, Pepe,” she said impatiently. “Don’t be afraid of reprisals. Don’t you want to help your own people?”

He turned away from her, muttering to himself in Spanish and shaking his head, but he did as he was instructed. By the time they hauled the heavy boxes to the rear of the stable, dug the holes, and buried them to her satisfaction, Lauren was dirty and tired and her back ached abominably.

“If I can, I’ll try to get word to you when the raid is going to take place. Can you warn the people of Pueblo?”

“Si,” he said with the weary attitude of one who is ready to agree to anything.

“If I can’t get word to you, take it upon yourself. Ride into Pueblo and alert as many as you can. Tell them to take cover. Anything to protect themselves.”

“I will, Señora Lockett.”

“Thank you, Pepe. You’ve been a tremendous help. You’ll be a hero to your people.” She smiled at him before leaving the stable. Undetected, she made her way upstairs, where she washed away the damp soil clinging to her hands and clothes. When she fell into bed, her limbs were as heavy and sore as her spirit.

* * *

It was fortunate that she and Pepe had done their work the night before, because the next day it began to rain and it rained for several days. Large, heavy pellets of water fell relentlessly from the sky. The air was close and stifling, adding to Lauren’s pregnancy-related discomfort.

Confined to the house, Lauren paced back and forth in her room between the bed and the windows, unable to read or sew, or to concentrate on anything except her unforeseeable future and that of her child.

Then the rain stopped. The clouds hung low in the sky and the air was still thick with humidity, but the rain ceased.

And at dusk one evening, the mercenaries converged on the house.

Lauren heard the first clump of boots as she sat at the dinner table with Olivia, Jared, Carson, and the Vandivers. She toyed with her food, every now and then putting a bite into her mouth and forcing herself to swallow it, praying that it would stay down.

She was deathly afraid of Kurt Vandiver now. Since he had accosted her and made his lewd threats, the sight of him sickened her and made her tremble in fear.

When the sound of the heavy treads was heard on the porch, the others at the table started, glancing at each other quickly and tensely. Kurt rose from the table and rushed out of the room to the front door even before the knock echoed through the still rooms.


Tags: Sandra Brown Historical