Chapter 3

"How about that coffee?"

Tom's question brought Miranda out of her reverie.

"Oh... yes. It'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

"Well in the meantime you can give me a hand."

She walked over to the wagon where Tom had wedged a pole over a rock and under the wagon.

"If we both put our weight on this end, we should be able to raise it enough for me to get the wheel back on."

But even though they could raise the wagon, as soon as Tom reached for the wheel, Miranda could no longer hold it up. After the third unsuccessful try, Tom threw down the pole in disgust.

"We'll probably have to unload the whole wagon, or at least most of it to make it light enough for you to hold up."

"But that will take the rest of the afternoon."

"Yes, but I don't know any other way to do it," Tom said.

"Perhaps I could be of help."

The voice came from behind them. Tom and Miranda were startled to turn and find a man had come within a few feet of them without their being aware.

He swung down from the saddle and walked over to Miranda.

Tom offered his hand.

"We surely could use your help. I'm Tom Willis. This is my wife Miranda."

"Ramon Vasquez," said the stranger.

"Lucky for us you came along. I figured by taking this shortcut we would save time, but be unlikely to run into anyone."

Miranda studied the ruggedly handsome man. He was somewhat older than the newly weds but his dark weather-beaten skin complemented his taut, slender figure. The sombrero and poncho covered his head and frame, but the Colt was slung low on his hip and tied to his leg, a sign it was worn to be used fast and frequently.

"We're on our way to Sierra Verde," said Tom.

"It's our honeymoon, " volunteered Miranda.

"Congratulations Senor," said the Mexican looking to Miranda, "you are indeed a lucky man."

She reddened.

He reached to place the pole back into position. As she also took hold of the pole, their hands touched and she glanced into his eyes. They were strong and powerful. She looked away quickly.

"Ready," said Tom.

They easily raised the wagon while Tom fitted the wheel back on the axle and attached a holding pin. He was still bent on one knee checking the wheel as the man walked up from behind

"Not the best of repairs, but it should hold until we can get it to a smithy in town," noted Tom.

The young husband began turning as he started to get to his feet.

"I certainly want to thank you Mr. Vasquez. I'd be glad to pay..."

The gun barrel caught him on the side of the head and Tom fell unconscious into the dust.

"Tom!" screamed Miranda, looking to the stranger. "What have you done?"

"Oh Senora, he is just taking a little siesta."

Miranda ran to Tom and cradled his head in her lap.

"But... why? What have we done to you?"

"Senora, it is not what you have done. It is what you are about to do."

She looked at him quizzically.

"What do you want, our money?"

"That will do for a start, but first you will step away."

She slowly, warily backed off. He pulled the unconscious figure into a sitting position leaning him against the wheel they had just repaired. Looking in the wagon, he found a rope and tied Tom securely to the wheel. He was tying the last knot when Tom began to revive.

"Wha... what happened?"

"You had a slight accident Senor. Your head collided with my gun barrel."

Realizing what had happened and finding himself tied, Tom looked into the eyes of the standing man and sneered.

"Why you..."

"Now, now Senor, there is no need to become unpleasant. I helped you fix your wagon, did I not? So, I am simply claiming a just, if somewhat expensive, payment for my efforts."

He looked to Miranda.

"The money please."

"No!" shouted Tom, don't tell him anything."

"Very well Senor, if she will not tell me, you will."

"There's no way in hell I'll tell you where it is" shouted Tom.

"Oh no, well let me see if I might convince you," said the stranger turning to Miranda.

"Mrs... Willis was it? Take off your skirt."

"Now wait a minute! You can't do that!" yelled Tom.

Miranda stood paralyzed.

"Oh can't I?" said the Mexican.

"Don't do anything Miranda. He can't make you!"

"Wrong again, Senor."

The gun was out of the holster in a flash and pointed straight at the young woman.

"You wouldn't shoot a woman."

Oh?"

The hammer cocked slowly.

"You're bluffing," said Tom.

"Can you afford to take that chance, Senor?" said Vasquez taking aim.

Miranda's face was filled with fear.

"Tom?" she pleaded.

"Or maybe, " said the Mexican, "I'll start by wounding her."

He redirected his aim at her shoulder.

The terrified young woman was nearly in tears.

"My God, Tom, he's going to do it!"

"All right! All right!" screamed Tom, "It's in my wallet."

The pistol lowered.

"If you will be so kind Mrs. Willis, " he said motioning with the gun toward Tom.

Miranda walked to Tom, knelt and removed the wallet from her husband's pocket. She threw it at the feet of the stranger who picked it up, inspecting it long enough to find the cash, and put it in his saddlebag.

He put a foot in the stirrup and was about to mount up.

"You dirty thieving Mexican son-of-a-bitch!" Tom exploded.

Vasquez swung back down and walked over to the young couple. He motioned Miranda to stand aside. She silently and fearfully obeyed.

"Senor, it is true I have not had a bath since yesterday, I am most assuredly a thief and I certainly don't deny my land of origin."

His voice grew deadly calm.

"But you Senor have insulted my mother and for that I demand satisfaction."

"And just what else do you think you can do?" challenged Tom.

"Let me see, you have insulted the woman who means the most to me in this world. I think it only fitting that I return the favor," he said, turning to look up and down at Miranda with a lustful eye, "and I think I am going to enjoy this very much."

"No!" screamed Tom, pulling futilely at the ropes.

Miranda began backing slowly, fearfully away.

"Don't go too far Mrs. Willis, or should I call you Miranda since we are about to get on very intimate terms?"

"Look, I apologize." said Tom, "Just let her go."

"A little late for that Senor. Miranda, come here."

Her mouth dropped open in alarm. She glanced back and forth between the two men not knowing what to do.

"Run, Miranda, run!" yelled Tom.

She started to turn.

"Not a wise choice, Miranda."

The gun was leveled at her.

"Then kill me if you must! I will never submit to you!" she cried.

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Willis, I have no intention of harming you. But if you don't do what I tell you, I will kill your husband without hesitation and take what I want anyway."

Miranda's hand went to her mouth in alarm.

"So if you will be so kind as to remove your skirt."

Her eyes darted back and forth from husband to stranger, fear freezing her into immobility.

"No, Miranda, no!" shouted Tom.

Once again the hammer cocked, this time the gun was pointed at Tom.

Tears appearing in her eyes, the young woman slowly unbuckled her belt, unbuttoned the skirt and let it fall at her feet. her white petticoat was all now that covered her legs.

She closed her eyes.

"And now I think the shoes."

"Don't do it Miranda!" Tom implored.

Vasquez was looking at her with a sardonic smile, but the gun was still leveled at Tom.

Silently she stepped out of the soft moccasins.

"What shall we see next, Senor? If this is your honeymoon, perhaps we are both enjoying this view for the first time, eh?"

"You low life..."

Ignoring Tom, Vasquez tilted his head slightly.

"The hair. Yes, the hair. Take down your hair Miranda."

Slowly she undid the bun and her hair cascaded down her back. She looked at him pleadingly.

"Please, don't do this."

"Ah, but Mrs. Willis, we are just getting started."

He looked into her eyes.

"I promise you one thing. You are going to enjoy this just as much as I am."

She could not hold his gaze. She wanted with all her being to be defiant, to stand up to him, but could not. Part was the threat of harm to Tom, but it was more than that. This man had power in his eyes, in his manner, an assurance that instantly rendered her afraid, compliant, unable to resist.

He looked to her blouse.

"No, please," she begged.

"Oh, but yes, Miranda. Show us what you have hidden beneath.

"Miranda, don't do it!" Tom shouted nearly in tears himself.

"Listening to him will make you a widow," said Vasquez with that emotionless voice which told her he was deadly serious.

Slowly, falteringly, she unbuttoned the blouse and sleeves. She looked to the stranger, imploring him with her eyes.

He simply gestured with a short nod of the head and resignedly she let the blouse slip off her shoulders and fall to the ground.

Miranda hung her head, burning with embarrassment and shame.

Vasquez smiled broadly as he looked at her ample breasts.

"Come here Miranda."

"No, no!" Tom's voice was screaming but it was as if she couldn't, wouldn't hear.

She stood next to her tall, handsome captor.

He placed his hand at her throat and let it drift slowly down between her breasts.

Tom's struggles were intensified, but to no avail.

"Look at me Miranda," his voice now gentle, seductive.

She gazed into his eyes as his hand closed on her breast. She gasped slightly, started to retreat.

"Ah, ah, Miranda. Mr. Willis, notice how her nipples hardened?"

It was true. They were erect and, to her shame, Miranda did not try to back away again. The touch of this man was electrifying. She was very frightened, very ashamed, and very excited.

"I don't know about you Senor, but in my experience when a woman's nipples get hard, she is either very cold or very excited. Now Senor, if you haven't noticed we are in the desert in mid August."

Tom looked to Miranda who, reddening with shame, dropped her head.

Shocked into silence, Tom nevertheless continued to struggle with his bonds.

"And now Mrs. Willis, let us see what all the mystery of womanhood is really about!"

He stood back as Miranda untied her petticoat. She looked into the man's eyes one last time with supplication, but at this moment she was not sure whether it was to beg him to stop or proceed.