She knew now why Ignacio hadn’t wanted to bring her here. It was entirely likely that political messages were being passed through the outlaws to the Englishman, or the other way around.

She determined that she would stay as far away from the Englishman as possible so as not to hear or see anything she shouldn’t. She wasn’t about to give the bandidos any excuse to keep her prisoner once Rip had delivered the promised ransom.

She wondered if Cruz was searching for her and whether he was angry with her for leaving the hacienda. He didn’t know her very well if he thought she could have stayed at the house once she knew the immigrants were in danger.

She had learned from Betsy as they talked through the night that the little girl was five years old and came from Pennsylvania. Her father’s name was Joseph Randolph and her mother’s name was Susanna. They had been traveling with her two uncles and her aunt. She had another aunt and uncle who had stayed in Pennsylvania. The nine- and ten-year-old boys who had been stolen by the Comanches were her cousins, Franklin and Jeremiah Randolph. Sloan fought back the tears welling behind her eyes at the memory of the carnage the Comanches had caused.

The Texas frontier was harsh and wild. Annexation meant inviting the civilized world to come and tame it. That couldn’t happen soon enough for Sloan.

She blinked her eyes to clear them. There was no time for womanish emotions now. Betsy must be subdued before Ignacio lost patience. The little girl’s life depended on it.

“Give me the child,” Ignacio said, his beefy arms outstretched to take her.

“She’s quiet now. I can handle her,” Sloan replied quickly.

At that moment, Betsy awoke abruptly. Terrified, not recognizing where she was or what was happening, her tiny hands turned into claws that raked Sloan’s cheeks and chin. She kicked out with her hard-soled shoes and left bruises on Sloan’s thighs.

When Betsy gasped a breath and opened her mouth to howl in rage, Sloan covered the child’s mouth with her hand.

“Take it easy, Betsy. It’s me, Sloan, remember? You’re safe with me,” Sloan said in a voice made breathless by her efforts. “No matter how hard you fight me, I’m going to hang on to you.”

Betsy reached up with her hand and grabbed a hank of Sloan’s hair that had come free of its binding and pulled hard enough to bring a muffled cry to Sloan’s lips.

Sloan lowered her head, but it wasn’t enough to ease the pain. She dropped off her horse on the opposite side from Ignacio, taking Betsy with her.

“Chingada!” Ignacio shouted, spurring his horse around Sloan’s mount.

Sloan had dropped to her knees in the mesquite grass and altered her grip on Betsy. She turned the child to face her and pulled her into her embrace, capturing Betsy’s punishing hands, which still gripped a handful of Sloan’s long sable hair.

“It’s all right to be angry, sweetheart. But no one’s ever going to hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you again.”

Ignacio reached down and grabbed Sloan by the hair. He yanked hard, pulling Sloan to her feet with Betsy in her arms.

“Puta! Bruja! We cannot stop. We are late already. If you do not get on your horse right now, I will-”

“You will do nothing,” Sloan said, gripping the child tightly. “Or my father will pay you nothing.”

Her dark eyes sparkled with fury; her body was rigid with anger. She held her head high, ignoring the pain where he grasped her hair, and dared the leader of the bandidos to do his worst.

Several of the bandidos snickered. One of them, a gaunt youth with a pockmarked face and lank black hair clubbed into a long tail down his back, said, “It would be worth giving up all those reales to have such a woman.”

“Maybe Alejandro would like to have a piece of this one, eh, Ignacio?” Felipe said. “Too bad her father has so much money.”

Sloan froze at the name Alejandro, but realized almost instantly it could not be the same man who had killed Tonio. That man was dead.

“Shut up, Felipe. I will handle this,” Ignacio said.

Felipe laughed. “Are you sure she is not too much for you, Ignacio? Perhaps I should give you some help.”

The bandidos laughed at the idea of the older man helping the younger one.

“Bah!” Ignacio jerked Sloan’s hair one more time. “Get on your horse.”

Sloan might have been able to manage such a feat if she were not worn out from supporting Betsy’s weight. But her legs were trembling with fatigue and her arms were numb. It wasn’t a case of having a choice.

Despite the fact she knew Ignacio was at the limit of his tether, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’ll have to help me.”

“Chingada!” Ignacio turned to the boy with the pock-marked face and said, “Ramón, put her on her horse.”

Ramón quickly dismounted. His palms dug into Sloan’s ribs, his fingers creeping up to grasp at her breasts as he lifted her enough so she could slip into the saddle and settle Betsy before her. Sloan jerked herself away and glared at the boy, who smiled insolently back at her. As Ramón remounted, Sloan gathered the reins in her hands.

“Now, we ride!” Ignacio said, digging his spurs into his horse’s flanks.

Sloan tightened her hold on Betsy as her mount was caught up in the frantic race toward the live oak.

Short minutes later, Ignacio raised his hand to stop his small band of cutthroats and robbers. Sloan watched the frown form on the Englishman’s face when he saw her. She frowned, too, with the realization that she could easily identify him if she saw him again.

She quickly turned away from the Englishman’s scrutiny. She accepted Felipe’s help getting down from her horse but kept Betsy clutched in her arms.

“Felipe, you will guard the woman while I speak to the Englishman.” Ignacio didn’t wait to see if Felipe followed his order.

Sloan followed the bandido with her eyes as he walked the short distance to the Englishman. The next thing she heard was, “You fool! This meeting was to remain secret. Secret! Do you understand? Your brother’s life hangs in the balance. Alejandro will be here tomorrow night, as will the Hawk. You’ll ruin everything. Get rid of the woman, and do it now.”

“I cannot,” Ignacio replied.

“Why not?” the Englishman demanded.

There was silence, and Sloan knew the bandido was looking for a way to explain that the combined will of his band of cutthroats outweighed his own. “The woman says her father will pay a ransom for her safe return.”

“Bloody hell! You’ve jeopardized everything for a handful of reales? I’m paying you well for your help. If it’s not enough, I’ll find someone else to do the job. Get rid of the woman!”

“I will see what I can do,” Ignacio said at last.

Sloan had found a spot against a grounded limb of the live oak and settled down in the grass with Betsy in her lap. She had offered no threat to the bandidos since her capture, and she was certain that as far as they were concerned, she was nothing more than a helpless woman. She was sure they did not know she could speak their language-and that it might be just such knowledge that saved her life.

She listened carefully as Ignacio approached Felipe and spoke to him in Spanish.

“You heard the Englishman?”

“Who did not?” He turned and eyed Sloan, who focused her attention on the exhausted child in her arms. “Will the Englishman pay us for the ransom we will lose if we kill the woman?”

“We will be well paid for the work we do for him,” Ignacio said. “It is enough.”

“It is not enough for me,” Felipe replied curtly. “How will he know if we kill the woman or not? We will take her away and tell him we have done the deed. He will never know the difference.”

“I do not think-”

“You are an idiot! You never think,” Felipe interrupted. “She has not seen Alejandro, only the Englishman. I will take her away from this place. When you have finished your business and the Englishman is gone from here, we will send a message to her father and collect the ransom.”

Sloan held in her sigh of relief as Felipe walked away from her toward the other bandidos. It appeared the immediate danger was past. But she would keep her eyes and ears open-just in case things changed. She shifted Betsy into a more comfortable position in her arms. It was bound to be a long, long day.

Sloan didn’t see Ignacio’s eyes narrow or his nostrils flare in anger as he watched Felipe march away from him. She didn’t see him walk over to where Ramón was grooming his horse. Nor did she hear what Ignacio said in low tones to the boy whose features had been left distorted by disease.