The Furies by John Jakes

than usual.
    “I’m sick of seeing her parade herself,” Manuela said to her companions. “She thinks she’s a queen, living with a major—”
    Only a step away now, Manuela reached out and twisted a lock of Amanda’s hair around a stubby finger. She breathed out the smell of wine as she went on. “But she’s an ice queen, this one. I have a friend who belongs to a sergeant in one of Cordoba’s platoons.”
    Amanda said, “Let go,” then pulled back. But Manuela held the lock of hair. Amanda winced.
    “And I hear Cordoba’s marquee is silent all night long. Never any sounds of pleasure. Just the ice queen farting in her sleep.”
    Amanda’s cheeks darkened as she realized she’d been spied on. She supposed she should have expected it.
    Manuela kept winding the strand of hair tighter around her finger. “Probably the major regrets taking an Anglo into his tent. Anglos are as weak between the legs as they are in their bellies—”
    Amanda wrenched suddenly, tearing away. Manuela stepped back with a curse. Then she squatted, fingers digging in the mud until they closed on a pointed stone.
    A barking dog and half a dozen ragged boys from San Felipe came running along the sunset-reddened bank, drawn by the promise of a fight. Amanda’s stomach flipflopped. Manuela meant to do her physical harm—
    “You’d better get her away,” Amanda warned the other three women. “I don’t want a quarrel. But if she pushes it—”
    “Yes? What will you do?” Manuela demanded. She spat. “Nothing!”
    “She lost her captain three days ago,” one of the older women blurted. “He was knifed in an argument over cards—”
    Amanda understood the reason for the girl’s haggard look. But that didn’t lessen her fear.
    Manuela held out the rock, showing Amanda the point. “After I finish with this, the major will need another companion.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “I do. He may be surprised when I come back in your place. But I don’t think he’ll be disappointed. I think he’ll welcome a woman who knows how to spread herself properly.”
    Amanda’s racing mind sorted the ways she might deal with the situation. Appealing to logic wouldn’t work. Manuela obviously had a gut hatred of Texans. And now the loss of her captain had removed any reason for restraint.
    The boys had stopped nearby, smirking and nudging one another in anticipation. Manuela shuffled forward again, her bare feet squishing in the mud.
    “The fact of it is, I need a man. I’m sure you won’t mind surrendering yours since you bring him no happiness—”
    Determined to try to bluff her way out, Amanda said, “Unless you want to get hurt, leave me alone.”
    “Perhaps if you beg me, Anglo.”
    “ Beg! The hell I will, you”—unthinkingly, she resorted to the kind of slur she would never have used when she was calm—“you greaser bitch.”
    Manuela licked her lower Up. “I am going to make you hurt for that, Anglo.”
    “All right.” Amanda nodded. “Turn your wolf loose.”
    “What?”
    “I mean go ahead and fight. You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
    Briefly startled, Manuela laughed with false bravado. “Eh, the ice queen shows a little fire! What are you going to use to fight me?” She ground her heel on one of Cordoba’s shirts. “Dirty laundry?”
    Before Amanda was quite prepared, the girl rushed her. The point of the stone slashed toward Amanda’s eye.
    Amanda lunged aside, lost her footing in the mud. As she fell to her knees, the stone raked her temple. A second later she felt the trickle of warm blood above her eyebrow.
    Snarling obscenities, Manuela jumped around behind her. She seized Amanda’s hair with one hand, used the other to smash the stone against her scalp. Amanda pitched forward, gasping. Manuela stepped on the back of her neck, driving her face into the mud.
    Sputtering and fighting for air, Amanda rolled aside frantically as the young girl started to kneel on her stomach. Mud clogged her eyes, her