Marco and the Devil's Bargain by Carla Kelly Page A

sack of dung I rescued.”
    If this was a rebuke of her own failure to trust, so be it, Paloma decided. Minute by minute they were being drawn deeper into Antonio Gil’s web. It was useless to struggle. She understood the greatest issue and nodded, even though she quailed inside. If he were here, dear Father Damiano would only remind her that her adventure continued.
    â€œ Very well. Let us go inside. I am cold.”

    Doesn’t this silly woman know that we must hurry?
    Anthony couldn’t help himself. As he paced in the hall, he wondered if he would ever look at medicine as anything but a business. Probably not. Why was she taking so long?
    He heard a door open and close, and then the juez de campo stood there at the end of the hall, just watching him. It was hard to tell about Spaniards, with those heavily porched eyes that could look so menacing. Maybe he didn’t mean to be menacing, because Spaniards were a strange breed. What wasn’t hard to tell was the man’s utter devotion to his wife. Anthony felt a momentary pang, because he knew he had gotten in the way of that devotion with his demand. The moment passed, as he knew it would.
    The man wasn’t going to say anything. Damn him for making me uncomfortable , Anthony thought. “Where’s your wife? I have to do this.”
    He hadn’t meant to sound so peremptory. All it earned him was the type of stare only a Spaniard could exhibit effectively—one that “looked down the long nose.” Catalina Gill had raked him with a glance like that when he didn’t measure up.
    â€œ She’s convincing Toshua to be inoculated. He’s the Kwahadi who saved your nearly useless hide.”
    â€œ An Indian? Who cares?” God help him, why could he not keep a civil tone?
    â€œ You do, if you have any plans to survive more than a day or two near the sacred canyon, provided we live long enough to find it.” Señor Mondragón’s expression changed to tender as he looked over Anthony’s shoulder. “Ah, my love, who goes first?”
    Anthony turned around, happy to admire the pretty lady. For a small woman, she had quite an air about her.
    â€œ I will go first,” she said, faltering slightly. “Only if you will hold me, Marco.”
    â€œ I was going to insist upon that,” her husband said.
    Anthony felt like stepping out of the way of the glance the two shared. “And the Indian?” he asked, striving for a professional tone. True, the love was not directed at him, but it had been a few years since he had seen any at all. Toward the end, Catalina had been anything but kind to Anthony Gill.
    â€œ He has a name, and it is Toshua,” Paloma replied with no little dignity. She took a deep breath and looked as young as he suspected she might be. “He will be inoculated if I do it, not you. I will watch you closely, Señor Gil.”
    She pronounced it “heel,” as he was used to hearing, without a hard gee in sight. Maybe, if he cared enough, he could teach these two some English. It was obvious they had no idea what was probably going to come their way, once the colonies became the states and more people like him started moving west.
    Anthony looked from the woman to the Indian, who only raised one eyebrow. It was enough. “Certainly,” he said, easily convinced by that simple expression, mainly because there was nothing remotely tame in Toshua’s eyes.
    â€œ Where will you do this?” Paloma asked. She stood beside her husband, her hand in his.
    â€œ Where did you sleep last night?” Anthony asked. “That might be the most comfortable place.”
    She gestured, and Señor Mondragón opened a door. She turned to include the Indian. “You, too, Toshua. You should watch, I think.”
    The Indian surprised Anthony by hanging back. He shook his head. “This is your private place,” he told her, as though she needed