Paxton and the Gypsy Blade by Kerry Newcomb Page A

off a black soft-brimmed hat with a long red feather in the band and, eyes and gun not wavering from Jase, bowed. “Regrettably not at your service.”
    Colleen watched as the tall, broad-shouldered man with the heavy paunch stepped through the door. Long black braids entwined with silver wires hung below his shoulders. A full black moustache dropped from the corners of his mouth in an oriental manner, and dark, bushy eyebrows gave his lean face a menacing cast despite his ready smile and the merry glint in his coal-black eyes. He wore a blousy white shirt and a red vest covered with ornate silver stitchery, and a matching red sash. Just below the sash rode a broad leather belt, from which hung a rapier with a leather-wrapped hilt and a brass hand guard. Dark breeches that hugged his legs vanished into high black boots that were polished to a bright sheen.
    â€œJase … Jase—” Colleen stammered.
    What Sanchez wanted could only be limited to a very few things, none of them good. “It’s all right, Colleen,” Jase said, trying to calm her and simultaneously edging away from the beds so she and the twins would be out of harm’s way if he saw a chance to use the pitcher. “What are you doing in my house?” he demanded of Sanchez.
    Three other men, all bearded and roughly dressed, with kerchiefs bound around their heads, crowded into the bedroom behind Sanchez. “Waiting for you to stand very still, señor,” Sanchez said in a voice that only a fool would take as friendly. “And lower your arm slowly and drop the pitcher before I grow nervous and, in my fear, accidentally squeeze the trigger, no?”
    Arguing with a half-inch ball of lead was pointless, and Jase did as he was told. The pitcher bounced once on the rug, hit the hardwood floor, and shattered.
    â€œGrandma?” Joseph asked, startled awake by the noise. Confused, he turned and saw Sanchez. “Who are you?” he asked, his eyes full of wonder.
    â€œStep back now, Señor Paxton,” Sanchez said, ignoring Joseph and still sounding as if he had nothing more on his mind than a pleasant visit. “We wish to hurt no one, but we have a mission which we must accomplish. Señora? If you would be so kind as to join your husband?”
    â€œI most certainly will not!” Colleen took two steps and stood between Jason and Sanchez. “Not until you tell us what you want.”
    Sanchez shrugged, and motioned with his free hand. At his signal, the three men hurried past him toward the beds. “Very well, señora. We are here for the children.”
    â€œNo!” Colleen cried.
    Jase suddenly broke to intercept the three pirates. Sanchez jammed the pistol into Jase’s stomach, effectively blocking his progress. “You’re mad,” Jase wheezed. “Absolutely mad. I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”
    Colleen snatched Jason out of his bed, threw him beside Joseph, and lay half-across them in an attempt to protect them with her body. Awakened to pandemonium, the twins were crying. The three men hesitated. Sanchez spoke sharply to them in Spanish. “I am sorry, señor,” he added with a soft disappointed clucking sound. “I’ve told you that we have a mission, and I must carry it out, so please tell your wife not to be such a foolish lady.”
    Colleen clutched the twins to her bosom and clawed and scratched with her free hand at the first pirate to reach her. “Get away!” she screamed. “Get away from me, damn you!”
    The first pirate grabbed her arm, the second leaped over the bed and caught her other arm. Together they separated her from the boys and hauled her backward off the bed. The third jumped over Jason’s bed and grabbed Jason’s arm and one of Joseph’s legs as the boys tried to crawl after Colleen.
    The twins howled in fear. Colleen raged as the two men holding her unceremoniously dumped her