Rio Grande Wedding Read Free Page A

hair with brown and yellow stripes weaving through the braid.
    She knelt beside him, eyes concerned but not suspicious. “¿Cómo está usted?” she asked.
    Abruptly he remembered where he was—and why. He bolted upright, sending waves of agony from his thigh to his gut, and he put a hand to the bolt of pain in his head.
    Cursing softly, he willed himself to sit there without showing his pain or the waves of nausea washing over him. To his disgust, his hand trembled. He lowered it and forced himself to speak evenly. “I have to find Josefina,” he said in English, so there would be no question of her understanding. “Please. I have to go.”
    Her hand pushed him—all too easily—back against the soft couch. “You can’t even sit up yet.” She rocked back on her heels and Alejandro liked the strength in her features, the no-nonsense way she met his eyes. “I might be able to help if you tell me who she is, how I might recognize her.”
    Could he trust her? He looked at the room behind her, darkened by twilight. It was clean and simply furnished, with plants in groups around the windows and a painting of the mountains over the fireplace. Even that small survey, moving only his eyes, brought fresh waves of dizziness, and he let his head fall into his waiting hands, breathing slow and deep to stall the nausea. “Madre, ” he whispered.
    Her cool hand lit on his forehead, and she swore softly. “Look, I want to move you to a more comfortable bed. Do you think you can walk a little way?”
    â€œNo, no.” It was dark. He could not bear to think of Josefina out there, alone and afraid, hiding until he could find her. “I must go.”
    A tightness marked her mouth, and she stepped back. “Go ahead. Give it your best.”
    Alejandro worked his way to a full sitting position and halted, waiting for the dizziness to subside. He was a strong man. Healthy. He did not drink spirits or weaken himself with tobacco. In all his life, he had never been ill, not even with a cold. In a moment, his head would clear and he would stand up, and though it would hurt, he would leave here and find Josefina.
    But he waited, and the dizziness did not abate. He felt his head drifting above his body somewhere, above the dull, steady throb of his leg. Suddenly, nausea flared in his belly and he swayed, feeling cold sweat break on his forehead and down his back. He closed his eyes, fighting it, but found himself resting his face in his hands.
    â€œSeñor,” she said quietly. “Have a little water.”
    She pressed a glass into his hand, and to his shame, had to help him lift it to his lips. The taste was cool and sweet against his parched lips, however, and he drank greedily. His stomach settled and he nodded.
    The woman put the glass aside and put a strong hand on his elbow. “You have been shot. Was it in the raid last night at Wiley Farms?”
    He met her gaze. If she knew that, and still listened to his plea to keep the officials out of it, she was not likely to care if he told the truth now. “Si.”
    â€œThere’s infection in the wound, which is what is making you so ill. I can get some antibiotics and you’ll be better in a couple of days, but in the meantime, you aren’t going to be able to walk more than a few feet without falling on your face. Not on an infected, gunshot leg.” She paused. “Let me help you.”
    Even in his present state, he was bewildered by her kindness. “Why?”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “I don’t really know.” Gripping his elbow, she said, “Let’s get you settled. Then you can tell me what I need to know to help locate Josefina.”
    He had no choice. He nodded.
    â€œCan you stand up? There is a more comfortable bed in the back room.”
    He hoped so. Bracing himself, Alejandro gritted his teeth as he leaned on her. Even with her help, it took every shred