Liz Ireland by A Cowboy's Heart Page B

pretty one. A cold chill shot down Will’s spine. So they had seen her.
    The Indian nodded, but said nothing.
    “Where is she?”
    Night Bird shrugged. “I do not know your Mrs. Murphy,” he repeated.
    Will wasn’t buying the stone wall routine. “One of your partners seems to,” Will pointed out.
    The Mexicans began rattling off Spanish so quickly that Will could understand nothing more than a repetition of the name la bonita and San Antonio.
    “They know nothing,” the renegade said. “This woman was your sister?”
    Was? “No,” Will told him. “She is this man’s wife.” He pointed-to Oat.
    Night Bird stared at Oat for a moment, uncomprehending. Apparently, his memory of Mary Ann didn’t square with the idea of her being the wife of an old whiskey trader. Oat, Trip, Paulie and Will exchanged edgy glances, wondering what could be going through their captor’s head.
    After a minute more of his strange contemplation, the renegade turned his head and rattled off some more Spanish to his compadres. The group of three threw back their heads and laughed—and laughed and laughed and laughed.
    “I don’t see what’s so funny!” Paulie cried.
    Will frowned; if he hadn’t been trussed up like a chicken
    he would have gone right over and throttled her. Here he was trying to divert the renegade’s attention, and she insisted on scolding him!
    “Oat’s a good man,” she insisted belligerently, “better than a skunk like you.”
    Night Bird turned. Despite the peals of mirth he had set off among his cohorts, his face was as blank, expressionless and cold as ever. “La bonita is better off now where she is.”
    “Where is that?” Will asked, knowing the answer.
    Dead. Maybe it would have been better if Night Bird had kept denying seeing her at all. Having Night Bird tell them the truth about Mary Ann’s fate was going to panic the others for sure.
    The renegade looked at him through clear eyes. “San Antonio.”
    San Antonio? Will looked at the Indian skeptically.
    “La bonita wanted to go to San Antonio.” Night Bird nodded toward one of his men. “Francisco was willing to take her.”
    I’ll just bet! Will thought heatedly, giving the man called Francisco another quick look. Despite a rather shabby appearance, he didn’t have the look about him of a man who would turn down the opportunity a damsel in distress presented. “So why didn’t she go with him?”
    Night Bird’s lips set into a taciturn line. He said nothing, but jabbed a finger at his own chest.
    “Because of you?” Will asked.
    Night Bird nodded.
    Paulie’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You mean she was willing to ride to San Antonio with a bunch of banditos but she decided not to when she discovered you with them?”
    Night Bird nodded curtly. “But I want the white man’s money. I do not want his women.”
    Paulie shot a glance at Will. “It’s just like I told you all along, Will. Mary Ann went to San Antonio.”
    Will levelled a gaze on her with more than a share of doubtfulness in it. “If she made it there.”
    Paulie thrust her chin forward stubbornly. “If she didn’t, I bet it was her own fault, not this fellow’s.” She nodded toward Night Bird.
    “You’re talking about him as if you two were old friends.”
    “Well, you have to admit what he says makes sense. Everybody said Mary Ann was scared of Night Bird on account of her hair.” She looked up at their captor, then asked, “Do you really prefer blond scalps to other kinds?”
    Night Bird flinched at the blunt question. “I do not take the white man’s women or his hair.”
    “You see?” Paulie told Will. “He just wants money, like he said.”
    Trip’s gaze darted anxiously between the pair of them. “Maybe you two should have this discussion sometime later.”
    Night Bird continued to stare at them blankly, though the Mexicans behind him remained perplexed that the four hostages could be infighting at such an insecure time in their