Laurie Kingery - The Outlaw's Lady

A wave of longing passed over Sandoval as he continued to look at her. He wanted to drink in the sight of her sleeping until she woke up, even if it took hours, but he knew he couldn’t. Even if Delgado wouldn’t become impatient and come looking for him, he didn’t want to frighten her if she woke and found him staring down at her.

Sandoval stepped carefully and soundlessly backward, letting the blanket fall back into place across the doorway. He called again, louder this time: “Miss Hennessy? Tess? It’s time to wake up. It’s Parrish, and I’ve come to take you to Delgado. He’s ready to have his picture made.”

He heard her utter a quick, involuntary cry of alarm and the pallet rustled. Sandoval imagined her pushing herself up into a sitting position and stretching, perhaps trying to remember where she was.

“I…I guess I fell asleep,” he heard her murmur. “Wh-what time is it?”

Sandoval smiled to himself. There were no clocks in the canyon hideout. The banditos rose with the sun and, when not going raiding, ate and slept when they wanted.

“Late afternoon, Miss Hennessy. You slept through lunch. But no matter. I am sure you needed the rest after your journey, and Delores will be making supper before long.”

“Oh! I—I didn’t mean to sleep so long! I’ll be right out.”

He forced himself to sound casual, even disinterested. “Take your time, Miss Hennessy. Delgado merely thought you might want to take advantage of the afternoon light,” he said, stepping back outside. “With your permission, I’ll have Esteban and Manuel pull your wagon of supplies over in front of Delgado’s hut.”

She joined him three minutes later, one side of her face still faintly imprinted with the mark of the wrinkled pillowcase, and tendrils of escaping hair curling around her face. “Your new garments become you,” Sandoval told her. It was the truth. Her dark-blue skirt and long-sleeved blouse had masked the delicacy of her bones and her womanly form. Her neck was long and elegant, rising above the gleaming, golden cross necklace he spotted just above the drawstring. She was more beautiful in these simple garments than most women would be in satin and lace.

He swallowed with difficulty, trying to look away. “I hope they are comfortable?”

She nodded, gazing down at them. “I daresay they’re more practical than what I wore here.”

“One might almost think you a señorita in a Mexican village, were it not for this,” he said, reaching out and touching the thick plait that ran halfway down her back. “It’s an unusual color for a mexicana.” He saw her blush then, and let go of her hair. What had he been thinking, to take such a liberty?

Then she looked very directly at him and asked, “Who’s Alma?”

The question surprised him so much that he replied in the same straightforward way. “Delgado’s former mistress. Why?”

She blinked at the information, but went determinedly on. “These are her clothes. I was wondering if she minds my borrowing them. Is she here somewhere?” She peered beyond the little creek as if she expected the woman to be standing just beyond it, glaring at her.

“She is no longer with us, Miss Hennessy,” he told her.

Tess gasped. “He killed her? Why?”

He could have kicked himself for phrasing the information that way as he saw the color drain from her face and her eyes widen. “No! I meant that she and Delgado are no longer together,” he said quickly. “The last I heard she was living in a village somewhere in the state of Zacatecas.”

“What…what was she like?” Tess asked. “Was she beautiful? Why did she leave?” Her blue eyes, alight with curiosity, made her face even more appealing.

“Very beautiful. But very temperamental. She didn’t leave willingly. Delgado got tired of her jealousy and her scenes, and left her there with a promise to visit her often. He’s never gone back.”

Tess looked thoughtful, and perhaps would have asked more, but at that moment Delgado stepped out of his adobe, once more dressed in his fancy Mexican colonel’s uniform, complete with ornamental rapier at his side.

“Ah, there you are!” he called, catching sight of them. “Come, come, Señorita Hennessy. I know you will not want to lose the light.”

It was many hours till sundown, but once Delgado was ready to do something, there was no gainsaying him, and they walked toward his hut, just as Esteban and Manuel arrived to move the wagon.

“You have had a little siesta, yes?” he said to Tess, as the two men muscled the cart over beside them. “I hope you feel rested.”

She nodded.

“And you find your quarters cómodo—comfortable? You have everything you need?” His eyes raked over her, and Sandoval saw him taking in her different appearance now that she had changed from her Anglo garments. If he had any thoughts about her wearing his discarded mistress’s left-behind clothing, it didn’t show in his opaque gaze.

“Yes, it’s fine. I—I don’t need anything.” She darted a glance at Sandoval, and her blue eyes flashed another story. Except my freedom.

“Bueno. We will commence then,” he said, as the two henchmen carried out an ornately carved ebony wood chair padded in red velvet. It was practically a throne.

Tess posed Delgado in the chair, much as she had posed Sandoval—had it only been yesterday?—and took his picture, then disappeared under the canvas to begin the development process. Sandoval saw Delgado fidget as he waited, sweating in the heavy uniform, for Tess to reappear.

“Is that something I could do for you, Miss Hennessy?” Sandoval called, stepping forward.

“I—I suppose it would make things quicker,” she said. “I’ll show you what to do after I take the next picture. If you came in now, the light would harm this one.”

When Tess emerged, she said, “Why don’t we pose you in a more active way this time? You could draw your sword, for example.”

Delgado beamed. “I believe you have the soul of an artist, Señorita Hennessy.” Grinning, he struck a pose, his right arm holding the sword dramatically aloft, his left hand on his hip.

As he had suggested, after Tess removed the collodion plate from this exposure, Sandoval ducked under the canvas with her. It was hard to force himself to pay attention as she showed him how to use the metal dippers to lower the plate into the developing bath, rather than to savor her nearness in the murky half light, but he didn’t want to ruin her pictures.

When she was ready to take the next exposure, she suggested, “This time, Mr. Delgado, why don’t you do like so…?” She lunged forward as if to parry with an imaginary rapier.

Delgado was clearly delighted at her idea and slid into the pose. “Señorita, you are un genio, a genius, truly! I already know I will be very pleased with your work, for the world will see Diego Delgado for the warrior he truly is.”

Tess couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm but laid a finger on her lips. “No talking now, Mr. Delgado, until we have made the exposure.”

Sandoval could hardly hide his own amusement as he ducked under the tent to develop picture after picture. If Tess was at all intimidated by her situation, she was hiding it well, and she was demonstrating a natural flair for appealing to Delgado’s vanity and sense of the dramatic. Sandoval knew Delgado saw himself not as a mere bandit leader, but something more heroic, more like Robin Hood leading his merry men, and Tess had instinctively sensed that, too.

They had taken perhaps half a dozen pictures, and Sandoval had just emerged from the tent after developing the last one, when Delgado decided he wanted to have Tess take his picture while he sat on his stallion.

Sandoval saw Tess glance skyward. “I’m afraid we are losing the light, Señor Delgado,” she said, pointing to the sun, which was beginning to make its descent behind the canyon wall. “Perhaps we could do that tomorrow?”