Bed of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A

relieved to hear the familiar squeaks as the portals swung slowly open.
    But just as the squeaking sounds faded away and she crawled inside the rocky walls of La Escondida, another noise filled the mountain air. And then another and another.
    A low growl. A gruesome snarl.
    A terrible shout.
    Sawyer had just met Mariposa.
     
    I t took all three men to carry Sawyer into the cabin. They dropped him in the yard three times, banged his head against the front door, and ended up dragging him up the stairs. By the time they finally laid him down on the bed Tia had prepared on the second floor of the house, they were completely out of breath.
    And Sawyer was bleeding profusely.
    “Where is Zafiro?” Pedro asked, looking all around the small, tidy room.
    “She and Tia are finding bandages for his wounds.” Staring down at the bleeding man, Maclovio withdrew a flask from inside his shirt and took a long, deep swallow of his homemade whiskey. “Sawyer. That is what Zafiro called this giant. How does she know what he is named?”
    “Maimed?” Lorenzo said. “Yes, he is maimed.” He sat down in a chair in front of the window. “He is also big. There is only one man I can remember who was the size of this man. El Maestro de la Noche.”
    “The Night Master,” Maclovio translated. Old memories crept through his mind. “Lorenzo, do you recall the time he stole our gold?”
    Lorenzo’s loud snoring was Maclovio’s answer. “Lorenzo is right,” Pedro said, wiping his sweaty brow. “This man, he is made of nothing but muscle. He is strong as Abraham, and even has the long hair. If we cut his hair he would lose his strength.”
    Maclovio gulped down more liquor and dried his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “That was not Abraham. It was Samson.”
    Pedro laid his hand on Maclovio’s shoulder. “You are wrong,” he said softly and smiled. “I am Peter the Apostle, and I know the Bible better than—”
    “You are both wrong,” Tia announced as she waddled into the room carrying rolls of cloth strips. Bending, she pressed a tender kiss to the unconscious man’s cheek, several of her tears splashing on his face. “He is Francisco. My dear little boy. I have finally found him again.”
    “He is not a little boy, Tia.” Her scarlet gown rustling, Azucar hobbled out of the hall and into the room. Looking down at the man on the mattress, she smiled and placed her gnarled hand over the bulge between his legs. “Leave us,” she demanded of all the people gathered around the bed. “What this man has come to me for is not something I will do in front of so many eyes. He is a stallion and will probably want me for the whole night. That is fine with me. As long as he can pay, I can perform.”
    Tia snatched Azucar’s bony hand away. “He is not your lover, Azucar! He is my Francisco, and I—”
    “He is like Abraham,” Pedro stated once more. “Strong like Abra—”
    “But the Night Master is dead now,” Lorenzo stated sleepily, just awakening from his moments-long nap. “There never was and there never will be another bandit like him.” In a reverent gesture he laid his hand over his heart and bowed his head.
    “May God the Father give eternal rest to Night Master’s soul,” Pedro murmured. Clasping his hands together, he began to pray silently.
    “What are you doing?” Zafiro asked as she stepped into the room, Lorenzo and Pedro’s solemn demeanors slowing her gait. Instantly, she looked at Sawyer, who lay stretched out on the bed…like a corpse. “He…he died?” she whispered. “Santa Maria, I did not realize that Mariposa’s attack was… She killed him? But Tia, you said he would heal! You said—”
    “He is not dead, chiquita ,” Tia quickly reassured her. “The men, they are mourning the death of Night Master.”
    “Night Master?” Zafiro stared at her men, her emotions racing from confusion to disbelief and finally to anger. “There is a dangerous man here in La Escondida, and you mourn a