The Bloody Border Read Online Free Page A

an asset to Belle’s mission as he might have to a raiding party of the Wasps, Quick-Stingers, Raiders, all three of which names had been given by Texans to the Pehnane .
    Although interested in her companions and grateful to them for saving her from the Mexicans, Belle wondered why she found herself in the position of needing to be saved. However, knowing how little regard for discipline and orders such men usually possessed, she hesitated to ask a question that might mar their relationship, Almost as if reading her thoughts, Ysabel launched into an explanation.
    “Right sorry about not being on hand when you landed, ma’am,” he said. “We come down and got the fire started ready. Then Lon allowed he heard something, so me ‘n’ him went back to keep the hosses quiet. Didn’t want no French patrol sneaking up and asking fool questions. We left Miguel, one of our boys, to tend to the fire. He warn’t there when you landed?”
    “Those men told me they killed him,” Belle replied.
    “The bastards—Sorry, ma’am. Only Mig’d been with us a fair time. They must’ve been slick to get up close enough without him hearing. Time we figured whoever the boy heard’d gone by, you’d landed and the fuss started.”
    “You came in time,” Belle stated, satisfied with the explanation. Then she looked at the Kid. “What did the Yankee sailors make of it?”
    “Figured us to be Mexican smugglers tangling with deserters, from what they said,” he replied. “That wig of your’n sure got ‘em puzzled, though.”
    “Damn that wig!” Belle snapped. “I knew I should never have left it.”
    “Too late for worrying now, ma’am,” Ysabel pointed out. “Go fetch the hosses up, boy. We’d best get going.”
    “But your friend—,” Belle protested, looking back towards the darkness around the fire.
    “He’s dead. ma’am. Scum like that don’t take prisoners—except maybe in a pretty gal’s case and they kill her when they’ve done. Sooner we pull out, the happier I’ll be. Those shots could’ve been heard by more’n the Yankees.”
    “Then we’ll get going,” Belle agreed, turning back to find that the Kid had made another of his silent, eerie departures.
    Soon he returned, leading four horses. All were fine animals, but one of them more than the others caught the eye. A big, magnificent white stallion, it looked almost as wild and dangerous as the youngster it followed; leading might be too strong a word in its case, for it walked free behind the Kid.
    “Don’t go near nor touch that white, Miss Boyd,” warned Ysabel, following the direction of the girl’s gaze. “My grulla’s bad enough, but I do swear that damned white’s part grizzly b’ar crossed with snapping turtle. Not that I need tell you anything about hosses.”
    “He looks that way,” Belle smiled, accepting the tribute to her equestrian knowledge. “Which horse shall I take?”
    “The bay. T’other’s ole Mig’s. We didn’t bring but him along. Figured the less who knowed what brought us down here the better.”
    “I agree,” the girl said, then a thought struck her. “But you don’t know why I’m here, do you?”
    “No, ma’am,” Ysabel admitted. “We’ll put those boxes of your’n on the pack hoss and move out.”
    “Aren’t you interested in why we’re here?” she asked.
    “Sure I am. Only I figure you can tell us just as easy while we’re riding as do it here.”
    Loading Belle’s trunks on to the horse took little time as they had been designed to fit the official C.S.A. pack saddle used by the Ysabels. While the men attended to the loading. Belle approached and gained the confidence of the horse allocated to her. Although a powerful mount capable of speed and endurance, it would not be easy to handle. So she counted the time well spent. Swinging into the low-horned, double girthed saddle—experience had taught her that the Texans rarely used the word cinch—she felt the horse move restlessly beneath