“Ooohm. Ooohm. Ooohm.”
“What the hell are you doing now?” he grumbled, coming to his feet.
“Meditating. Ooohm. Finding my center. Ooohm. I do this every morning and every night. Ooohm. You should try it. Ooohm. It cleanses the spirit. Ooohm.”
“I’d like to cleanse something,” he walked away with a shake of his head. She really was a fruitcake.
After relieving himself in a bush, with a sleepy-eyed Pablo following him to keep guard, Rafe came back to the clearing.
Helen no longer sat in the lotus position. Instead, she was moving through her karate exercises, in slow motion. The deliberately decelerated, inadvertently sensual moves were like an erotic dance of seduction. She twisted her body like a ballerina, stretched her arms, spun and bent, all in one connected, smooth movement.
He felt himself grow hard.
The only sound in the dusky clearing was that of crickets, and a faint breeze riffling the leaves, and breathing. Mostly his.
“What in God’s name are you doing now?” he choked out.
“Forms,” she answered without looking at him and continued her unconsciously sexual motions.
“Forms?” Pablo whispered and rushed off to his comrades. “She does corkscrews, gargling, and forms,” he babbled excitedly to his friends. “Can we have her now, Ignacio? Can we?”
“No, no, no. We mus’ wait till her husband ees dead… if he ees her husband. One more day,” Ignacio interjected quickly. “We cannot risk the wrath of our Blessed Lord for taking another man’s esposa. We are honorable men.”
Honorable? Rafe thought. Like snakes.
“Dios mio! I cannot wait till we get to Sacramento City an’ we can have her all to ourselves,” Pablo said then, quickly overcoming his initial disappointment.
They all made salivating noises of appreciation and anticipation.
“After we get our reward money in Sacramento City, the sheriff weel hang El Angel Bandido. Si, we can wait one night,” Ignacio told them. “Then Elena weel be all ours.”
There were more drooling sounds.
But Rafe just smiled, watching Helen, because he knew something they didn’t.
She is mine, mine, mine.
Chapter Six
Helen agreed to let Rafe share her blanket.
But then, she really had no choice. The bandits decided not to risk taking turns guarding them through the night, untied.
“Tie them up again,” Ignacio ordered.
“Why?” Rafe asked. “You can trust us.”
“Do you think we are estupido?” Ignacio countered.
Luckily, it was a rhetorical question.
After a lengthy argument, the bandits concluded that: one, Rafe really was the Angel Bandit, and therefore dangerous; and, two, Helen was a lunatic who attacked innocent men with weird hand and leg gyrations in the midst of fits.
Ignacio approached with a length of rope.
Helen had to give Rafe credit. He tried to wrest Ignacio’s gun from him; however, just as he gained the weapon and had a stranglehold on the leader, Sancho came up from behind and walloped him over the head with a rock. Her efforts to waylay Pablo proved equally useless since he, too, held a revolver.
So much for Rafe’s plan for them to escape during the night!
After the brief scuffle and Rafe’s foul expletives over the goose egg rising on his crown, the outlaws tied them together, lying on their sides back to back. Rafe’s arms were pulled backward around her waist and the wrists tied. Her arms were bound in a similar manner, back and around his body. In addition, the bandits secured one ankle each to a stake several yards away.
“Are you guys related to the Marquis de Sade?” she asked.
“What’s a mark-key-sod?” Sancho inquired.
“Our arms and legs are going to be numb by morning,” Rafe protested, ignoring Sancho’s dumb query.
“Would you rather be tied belly to belly?” Ignacio chortled.
“Nude,” Pablo added.
“Well…” Rafe said, considering.
“NO!” Helen said, absolutely.
“This is no way to spend a wedding night,” Rafe grumbled.
“It’s not our wedding night,” Helen hissed, for his ears only.
“Abstinence ees good for the soul,” Ignacio said. “Besides, you’d best be saying your confession tonight, Senor Angel. By mañana, you may very well be a real angel. Heh, heh, heh.”
They were all silent at that macabre reminder. Then Sancho conceded, with a sympathetic sigh, “Alz, mierda! Perhaps we should let El Angel Bandido have his last night with Elena.”