“Hah!”
“Los tetas esta que bonitu, ” Ignacio continued, speaking to his companions while he gazed appreciatively at — oh, Lord — her breasts.
“Don’t you want to know what he said now?” Rafe asked, obviously enjoying her discomfort.
“No. Yes.”
Helen could see the gears grinding in Rafe’s mind. But then his expression softened. “I shouldn’t be teasing you like this, Prissy. You’ve really had enough harassment for one day, and there’s nothing funny about it — whether from an Army sergeant or a bozo bandit. I’ve been pretty hard on you myself.”
His gently spoken words touched Helen like a kiss. And she nodded her acceptance of his apology. In truth, she couldn’t have spoken over the lump in her throat.
And she really didn’t need Rafe to translate, anyway. One of Ignacio’s sidekicks held two hands cupped in front of his chest, chortling al his leader’s words.
Helen felt her face flame.
Ignacio spat out a big mouthful of Spanish words then, and Rafe answered him. Back and forth they conversed, their exchange tense. Ignacio’s little band raised their guns higher.
Shaking his head incredulously, Rafe turned back to her. “You won’t believe this. They think you — ”
“Do not waste our time, senor,” Ignacio interrupted him. “We know she ees Elena, your mistress. She ees famous throughout the West for her secret trick, el corcho tornillo. The Americanos call it the corkscrew. Men pay much gold for her services at Madame Rose’s fancy house in Hangtown.”
“Let me get this straight,” Rafe said with an insufferable chuckle. “You’re telling me this is 1850. You think I’m this dangerous Mexican desperado, the Angel. And you think Helen here, the prissiest prude in the West, is a prostitute with a specialty for corkscrewing? Helen the Hooker?”
“Si.” They all nodded with silly smiles spreading across their filthy, whisker-stubbled faces. One of them even rubbed his groin in anticipation.
And Rafe, the brute, began to laugh uproariously.
Chapter Three
“Not on your life!” Rafe asserted as he took one gander at the two huge horses being led toward them from a string that followed behind the bandits.
“What’s wrong?” Helen asked.
“I’m not in the mood for riding. I think I’ll just walk.”
She looked at him kind of funny, but he didn’t care. One of the horses — a big black beast baring its yellow teeth — was sizing him up with eyes the size of bloodshot eggs. A regular Mr. Ed with an attitude. It was probably a stallion, he decided. Or a gelding. Oh, yeah, it must be a gelding, just waiting for some yahoo to pay for its lost manhood.
The animal threw up its head, made a loud neighing sound and stared him right in the eye as if to say, “Wait till I get you on my back, sucker.”
“Uh uh,” Rafe protested, starting to back away. “I don’t think so.” He’d been playing along with this funny business thus far, just to see how it would unfold. Time to bow out of the senseless charade now.
“Rafe, look out!” Helen shouted in warning, but it was too late. He bumped into Sancho, one of the bandits who’d snuck up behind him when his attention had shifted to the horses. “Ah ha!” Having the advantage of surprise, the short, older man wrestled Rafe to the ground, grunting and wheezing the whole time. “Stop yer damn squirmin’. Ow! Bastante mierda! You bit me, you cabron.”
Meanwhile, Pablo, the younger outlaw, stopped Helen from rushing forth by pulling her arms behind her back. “You are in big trouble,” Helen threatened, squirming unsuccessfully against Pablo’s tight hold on her.
Rafe tried to resist being restrained, using every street trick he could, but he was severely impaired because he was trying to watch out for Helen. But Rafe did get in one good punch to the dude’s nose, causing a spurt of blood.
Even though he lacked agility and superior strength, Sancho finally won out by pressing Rafe onto his stomach in the dirt and sitting his 300 pounds heavily on Rafe’s buttocks. Then he proceeded to tie Rafe’s hands behind his back.
After the lardo stood up, Rafe struggled to a kneeling position.