“Did you hear
that?”
Carmena
inclined her head toward the distorted glass panes over the steel-lined sink.
She stared through a column of steam spiraling over a dainty porcelain cup, but
the freshly brewed coffee never reached her lips.
Angela, the
housekeeper of Holiday Ranch, and her nine-year-old daughter, Gracie, turned to
the open window, and they all heard it again. Martino’s warning, distant but
clear enough.
“Sound the
alarm!” Carmena shouted. She jumped to her feet, and her seat toppled over.
“God willing, the men will hear it up in the canyon!” Chair legs screeched
across the adobe tiles. Angela and Gracie hurried after Carmena to the enclosed
rear porch. Carmena slipped on her muddy boots, and the frantic group bolted
out the door. They looked up at Turtle Hill.
From the
back patio, Martino, Angela’s eleven-year-old son, was only a dark speck
against the backdrop of the small mountain. The boy ran like a jackrabbit over
scrub and rocks down to the ranch, yelling as loud as he could.
“Soldiers
are coming! Soldiers!”
* * *
Carmena
sprinted toward the stables, issuing orders to Angela over her shoulder. “When
you see any of the men, stop ringing the bell and head over to the barn. Get at
least three milk cows up on the ridge!” In the same breath, she pointed at
Gracie and yelled, “Get on upstairs to your hiding place!”
The
wide-eyed girl pouted at the harsh reprimand and gripped her mother’s skirt as
Carmena dashed to the stables. Angela struck the rod inside the iron triangle,
and the wild dinging alerted Jesse, one of the wranglers. She saw him hotfoot
it from the farrier’s shed, holding the top of his hat on his silvered head as
he raced to the stables after Carmena. Just as Martino staggered to the base of
the immense hill, Angela dropped the metal baton and spun around. Ignoring her
daughter’s tears, she stomped her foot and fisted one hand on her wide hip.
She pointed at
the house and spoke in her heavy Spanish accent. “You heard Carmena. Go up to
your room and hide!”
Angela’s
cotton skirt fanned in a circle as she hurried out the back gate. The
housekeeper made her way to the barn and scuttled past the stables where Jesse was
sliding a thick pad onto a nervous stallion.
* * *
“Hold still
now, Dandy,” Jesse said to his horse as he hefted a worn leather saddle,
carefully setting it on the pad. Veins bulged on the back of his hands as he
gave a sharp tug and secured the leather straps around Dandy’s belly. Normally standing
stock still while being saddled, the horse stomped his hooves, and his ears
flipped forward and back.
Jesse
recognized the tension in Carmena’s clenched jaw as she yanked lead ropes off
the tack hooks outside of each stall. He helped her unlatch the doors and
attach one rope after the other onto the halters of their best studs and
broodmares, a few of which were in foal.
“Who’s goin’
up?” Jesse asked.
“You take
this bunch. I’ll get the other mares out of the paddocks. Maybe they’ll follow
Dusty up the hill.” Carmena unlatched the bar on the last stall and hooked a
lead rope onto Dusty’s halter. “Damn it! I should’ve taken them up the hill
like Carlos said!”
The wrangler
kept silent and gathered the rest of the lead ropes as Carmena guided the
horses out of their stalls. The animals fidgeted, and like Dandy, they
nervously flicked their ears and pounded their hooves. Jesse’s soft cooing
gentled the horses a bit as he coaxed them to the center of the outbuilding.
Once the muscular equines were gathered behind Jesse’s mount, Carmena wasted no
time in throwing a pad and saddle on Dusty.
“Where the
hell is that boy?” she demanded.
A moment
later, Martino stumbled into the stables. He hunched over and planted his hands
on his knees, his chest heaving as sweat dripped off his grimy forehead.
Carmena
pulled the knot out of her bandana and tied her long, unruly hair into a frizzy
bundle. “Where are they? How many?”
Still out of
breath, Martino drank in air between his words. “No more—” he gasped, “than a
dozen. They’re comin’ at a—slow gait. Still—a couple miles out.” His slim body
heaved up and down, fighting to regain his breath.
Jesse
climbed onto his saddle and checked the horses behind him. In a level voice he
said, “Lucky thing they ain’t in the mood fer breedin’.”
Carmena snapped at Jesse. “Do you have to be
so damn calm all the time?”
He smiled
and pressed his thighs into Dandy’s sides, and the powerful stallion strode
forward, leading a parade of horses out of the stables just as Gracie staggered
inside. She cradled a baby goat in her arms, and its wooly nap bulged between
her short fingers. Tears streamed over her pudgy cheeks.
Martino held
a hand in front of his sister and gently pulled her out of harm’s way as the
procession of horses filed out of the barn. The weight of the goat threw Gracie
off balance, and she tottered back a few steps over the hay-strewn floor.
“Carmena, are
they gonna take Hannah?”
“Dammit,
Gracie!” Carmena scolded. “Put that kid down, and go on up to your room!” Then
she turned her furious gaze to Martino. “Grab some of those ropes!”
A jerk of her
chin indicated the lassos hanging on a large metal hook. Martino fetched them
while Carmena placed a bridle over Dusty’s head. In a single movement, she
jumped up, swung a leg over her mount, and sat atop the mare. She hung the
offered lassos around the saddle horn then glowered at the little girl still
clutching the wooly baby goat.
“I won’t
tell you again to get on up to your room and hide, Gracie. Now! You need to
follow orders so you don’t get hurt!” She turned to the boy. “Martino, help
your mother tie up some goats with the milk cows and get them up to the ridge.
Then run over to the high meadow and tell the men what’s happening. They
probably didn’t hear the alarm.”
Carmena
gripped her bridle with one hand, held the lassos in place with the other, and
squeezed on the horse’s flanks with her thighs. “C’mon, Dusty!” The beautiful
tan mare galloped into the sunlight toward the paddocks.
Gracie stood
her ground near the large wooden doors. The tiny goat uttered a “ma-a-a” in her
arms. Martino ushered her outside, speaking tenderly the way his father would
when his sister didn’t want to go to bed. “You heard Carmena. Go on up to your
room.”
“But what
about Hannah?” She rubbed her cheek against the animal’s short bristles.
“The captain
doesn’t want a baby goat, so take Hannah up to your hiding place, but keep her
quiet and I’ll tell Carmena I said you could bring her inside. Now get a move
on.”
“Gracias,
Martino!” Gracie smiled and wobbled away, the pet goat snuggled in her arms.
Martino walked backward, watching his sister until she disappeared through the
side gate leading to the back patio off the kitchen.
Then he
rushed to help his mother gather the cows and goats penned in the barn.
* * *
“What was
that?” Carlos, the ranch foreman, stared up toward the tree line.
Javier,
Angela’s husband and father to Martino and Gracie, tilted his head. “Sounds
like a woodpecker.”
“I thought
it was the alarm,” Carlos said.
Javier shook
his head. “Nah. Believe me, I can hear the chow bell in my sleep. I didn’t hear
nothin’. Besides, them woodpeckers can imitate anything.”
Both men
faced the direction of the ranch in the valley below and listened. Steers
grunted as they basked in the sun-warmed grass, ground squirrels twittered
under the oaks, and scrub jays chirped from the high branches overhead.
Javier
squinted at the cloudless sky. “Got a couple hours to go yet. I still say it
woulda been easier to take the cattle and sheep to the east meadow down below
instead of bringing ‘em up here.”
Carlos
scanned the area. “I’ve been keeping a record each time the soldiers visit.
It’s been just over eleven weeks since they were here last. I don’t want to
take any chances.”
“I bet that
scalawag Franz is havin’ a hog-killin’ time helpin’ hisself to more of our
stock,” Javier said. “But why thieve from us? There’s lots a good ranches
between here and San Antonio.”
“We’re about
the only ones in Texas who breed thoroughbreds and saddlebreds.”
“I bet the
captain’s out to sea when it comes to the lieutenant takin’ our best horses and
cattle or else I’d wager he’d clean Franz’s plow for sure.”
Carlos
rubbed under the rim of his hat. “Even if they do come in the next few days,
I’m pretty certain the cattle are safe up here.”
“Only ‘cause
Franz is too dim-witted to send his soldiers to search up here for anythin’. Maybe
you shoulda convinced Carmena to bring the horses up, too.”
Carlos
kneaded the tension out of his neck. “Let’s give it another quarter hour before
we see how Martino’s doing with the sheep. Then we can all head down to the
ranch for lunch.”.”
I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Chapter 1 of Eve's Amulet~Book 1.
Get your copy today at Amazon.com or any book retailer.
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