Kathryn Albright - The Rebel and the Lady

She stepped forward, afraid for what she saw in his eyes—so close to despair. “Your way made more sense, Papa.” She took his hand.

“I thought there was time to take my family to safety in the spring.” He placed his free hand over hers and squeezed. Searching her face, his gaze lighted on her with love—and worry. “But now there is no time.”

Esteban watched him dispassionately. “Then you know what you must do.”

Father’s jaw clenched. “I will do what I must to survive this. To keep my family safe.”

“What are you saying?” Victoria asked. Father was a proud man. He believed in the cause—a free Texas. They had talked of it often in his study and when riding across the ranch together.

He released her hand. “We will submit.”

“You would give up everything to protect us?”

She couldn’t let that happen. His dream was her dream. She loved this land. She couldn’t let him give up his beliefs because of worry for her. “No, Papa. Commancheros, droughts, fires—there have been many enemies over the years. Santa Anna is but one more.”

“A most formidable one,” Father said, his slight smile only for her. “Don’t worry, pequeñita . I can fight another day.”

At overhearing the words, Esteban’s brow furrowed. “You must not say such things or when next we meet, one of us will have to kill the other. I do not want to be that man.”

Father turned, shielding her with his body from Esteban. “We must all choose our side. You have not told me anything I did not already know. Which makes me wonder again—why are you here?”

Esteban smoothed the feathered plume on his helmet as he considered his reply. With a glance in Victoria’s direction, he said, “Please, señor , I know your daughter will not have me as her husband.” He swallowed hard. “I must respect her decision in this, but still I do not wish to see her hurt. You cannot protect her. Not against so many. And once the officers see her…” The words trailed off, and he struggled with finishing his thoughts. “She is a rare beauty, Señor Torrez. I…I am afraid for her.”

The letter opener dropped from her hand unheeded and clattered to the floor as a new fear rose up inside her. The officers would not dare to touch her, would they? She was no camp follower. Her lineage could be traced back nine generations to the Acalde in Madrid, Spain.

“So your general makes war on women?” her father said.

“No. Of course not. But Victoria is beyond compare. And Santa Anna has…appetites. I…I am afraid for her,” he repeated awkwardly. A slight flush came to his cheeks.

“Then what do you propose?”

“To take her far from here—as far away from the fighting as possible.”

Victoria couldn’t believe he would separate her from her family. She needed to stay here and help. “That is impossible, Esteban!”

Father turned to her and studied her face, lifting the point of her chin with his fingers.

Shocked that he would consider Esteban’s words, she grasped his forearm. “No! I wish to stay with you. I am strong. I can fight.”

His gaze hardened. “In this, Victoria, you will do as I say.”

“Father,” she said once more, “do not send me away.”

Her father gave little indication that he heard her, instead he turned to Esteban. “Where would you go? Where does the army go next?”

Esteban looked affronted. “I cannot tell you that!”

“You’re an officer,” her father pressed. “Surely you know Santa Anna’s plans.”

“Even if I knew, I would not tell you. You would make a traitor of me when I am here to help you.”

A slight nod was the only indication her father understood the truth of Esteban’s words.

Esteban thought for a moment. “Where does she have family?”

“Monterrey.”

“Too far. I cannot leave my men for that long. Is there no one closer?”

Father looked at Mama and silent communication seemed to flow between them. “Your cousin, Gertrudis? Juan and his family?”

Mama nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. “Bejar. The Texians have control of the city now. Perhaps she will be safe at their hacienda until we can bring her back.”

It didn’t make any sense to Victoria. She moved closer to whisper in her father’s ear. “But, Papa. If the Texians are in control, surely that will be where Santa Anna goes next?”

Under the guise of a bracing hug, she felt his slight nod. “Go to Juan,” he said softly, urgently. “His family is well thought of in Bejar. He will be able to protect you.”

Papa let go and turned to Esteban. “You will escort her there? I have your word as a gentleman that you would guard her honor?”

With a formal bow and a click together of his boot heels, Esteban answered solemnly. “With my life.”

She barely heard his answer. The strange look between her parents, the things her mother said—what was it that they wanted of her? It dawned on her then. She must warn her cousin Juan that Santa Anna was near, so that the people of Bejar could prepare themselves. Excitement thrummed through her.

Didn’t Esteban understand? She tried to keep the urgency from showing on her face. Was he so intent on getting her to safety that he hadn’t evaluated the consequences? Or, more likely, did he suspect that she, being a woman, gave such things little thought?

“You must trust me, Victoria,” Esteban said, mistaking her hesitation for fear. He started to leave, but at the door he stopped. “Wear dark clothes. Pack only what you can carry on your horse and meet me in the stable in fifteen minutes.” He walked through the doorway.

She turned to her parents. “I will warn Juan. You can count on me, Papa.”

“The journey will not be easy,” he said, a worried look on his brow. He crossed to her writing desk and withdrew a sliver of paper, and then dashed off a quick note. Straightening, he blew on the indigo ink and then folded and handed it to Victoria. “This tells the approximate size of the army and the names of the generals here, but you must let Juan know there are two other armies to the south gaining ground. He must prepare immediately.”

She tucked the paper in her fist and glanced between her mother and father. “What will become of you?”

Father shook his head. “For now I’ll do as the soldiers ask. This General Romero appears to be a respectable man. I do not think we will come to harm.”

He folded her into a hug, and she drew in the scent that was his alone, mixed with the tobacco of his favorite cigar. “Get dressed now. There is little time.”

She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck and shoulders.

“ Vaya con Dios ,” her mother said, tears wetting her face. “Be strong.” With an extra squeeze, she let go and stepped away.

A lump formed in Victoria’s throat. Would she ever see her family again? She could not allow herself to believe otherwise. She clamped her teeth together, afraid her parents would see her trembling. She must be strong as her mother said—strong and resilient. Pulling herself up tall, her shoulders back, she memorized her parents’ proud faces. “A Torrez has safeguarded this land for generations. Now it is my turn and I am ready. I will make you proud.”

The first night of their journey north, when Victoria dismounted from her horse, her legs would not obey her. She crumpled to the ground, and only the mare’s intelligence, or perhaps its weariness, kept the beast from trampling her. As conditioned to riding as Victoria had been all her life, she still ached in places she did not know could hurt—her thighs, her knees, her hips. Esteban treated her with courtesy and care but dared not slow his pace to accommodate her. She wouldn’t have wanted it, anyway. She had to get to Juan to warn him. If only her body was as strong as her resolve.

Late into the night of the fifth day, they reached the town of San Antonio de Bejar. The moon cast the church tower and adobe houses in a pale-blue light, the sight surreal in her state of exhaustion. Her eyes kept drifting shut as she struggled to stay in her saddle. Sleeplessness and the aches and pains from the trail had taken their toll. She could barely keep Esteban in her vision. He sat taller in the saddle, alert for trouble as they entered the small town. He’d changed from his soldier uniform into a cotton shirt and canvas pants for the journey. The common peasant clothes along with a serape made it possible for him to ride all the way to her cousin’s door without being challenged. She glanced around, aware for the first time that no one had stopped them, no one had questioned them.

Guards should be posted. The soldiers had no idea that Santa Anna was so close—right on her heels. Things would change once she spoke with Juan. She was sure of it.

Her horse stumbled. She grabbed a hank of mane and adjusted herself in the saddle, as her eyes drifted closed again. The sound of subdued voices carried to her. Vaguely it registered that Esteban had dismounted and talked quietly to a couple in the doorway of an adobe house. They were dressed in their night clothes. She looked up at the starlit sky with the dipper constellation overhead so large and clear. How late was it? A chill went through her and she gathered her heavy cloak closer.

Esteban led her mare down the street and they stopped before another house. A man stepped through the large doorway—her cousin, Juan.

She hurried to dismount, feeling Juan’s firm hands helping her at the last. She turned to face him. Drawn and worried, his face appeared older by more than the passage of two years since she’d last seen him. “The soldiers…you must warn them…” Her tongue, thick and dry, did not want to work.

“You are a long way from home, prima . Come inside and tell me what has happened.”

“Esteban…” She remembered her manners.

Juan’s lips pressed to together. “He is already getting some food from my cook and then will be on his way.”

“You will let him go? He will not come to harm?”

Juan nodded. “Yes. Although I am afraid he has seen how unprepared we are here and will take that information with him for his own use and that of the Santanistas.”

“We will prepare. We will tell the soldiers at the fort.”

Her cousin opened his mouth to say more, but then clamped it shut, his jaw tightening.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You will learn soon enough. Come inside for now.”

Chapter Two

Jake Dumont paced the length of the small room, trying to rein in his temper. Exhausted after traveling over half the country, he didn’t need the setback Lieutenant Colonel Travis had just thrown in his path.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Jake demanded. “Brandon came here to fight. He wouldn’t turn tail.”

“I’m not suggesting he has,” the colonel said from his seat behind the small wooden desk. “Bowie sent him and another soldier to San Patricio five days ago.”

“I was told you were in charge.”

“I am—of the regular recruits. Jim Bowie heads the volunteers.”

It was frustrating enough falling farther behind his brother due to the winter storm that blew through the Arkansas Territory with a vengeance, but then a day out of Béxar his horse had been startled by a cougar looking for an easy meal and had suffered an ugly clawing on his flank. To arrive and find he’d missed Brandon by less than a week had him ready to hit somebody.

He studied the map on Travis’s desk, committing to memory the lay of the land and nearby towns. San Patricio was a far piece to the south.