Rainbows and Rapture by Rebecca Paisley Page A

turned to look at the black stallion pawing the ground nearby. “What’s that frenzified monster’s name, anyway?”
    “Quetzalcoatl,” he said absently.
    “Quetza-what?”
    “Quetzalcoatl.”
    “What the hell kinda name is that to give a horse? What’s it mean?”
    “Quetzalcoatl was an Aztec god.”
    With her finger, she flicked a small twig into the fire. “Don’t you git tired o’ sayin’ such a hard word all the time? Why don’t you give him a nickname? Blackie’d be a good one, don’t y’think?”
    His mind refused to concentrate on her questions. He could only ponder what she’d said about her disbelief in all the tales the men had told about him. He’d heard the stories before. He’d heard others much worse.
    Russia Valentine was the only person he’d ever known who hadn’t believed them. She’d been acquainted with him for just twenty-four hours, and she’d already decided he wasn’t the man people had told her he was.
    So who did she think he was, then?
    His mental question angered him. “I don’t care who you think I am!”
    “What?”
    “You can believe I’m Satan, and I won’t care a single, solitary damn. But think carefully about this, Russia. The stories you’ve heard about me might be greatly exaggerated, but many are based on fact , do you understand me?”
    “Yeah. It’s only when you talk Spanish that I don’t understand you good.”
    He clenched his teeth. “Dammit, aren’t you going to comment on what I told you?”
    She wondered what kind of comment he wanted to hear. “You’re the big bad Boogy Man?” she offered.
    He closed his eyes, completely out of patience. Short of holding a knife to her throat, he couldn’t think of a way to frighten her. Hell, even if he did hold a knife to her throat, she’d probably guess his motive!
    “Beandom!” Russia squealed when Nehemiah trotted out of the darkness and into the flame-washed area. “Whatcha got there, darlin’?”
    The cat dropped a mouse tail next to Santiago’s foot. Russia smiled. “He brung you a tail this time. He loves mouses, but he don’t never eat the tails. I reckon they don’t taste good, but since I ain’t never ate one, I don’t know fer sure. It’s another present fer you, Zamora.”
    Santiago looked down and saw the huge green cat eyes peering up at him. “I don’t like dead bugs, and I like mouse tails even less.” With that, he proceeded to lay out his bedroll.
    Russia felt miffed at him for not appreciating her cat’s efforts at friendliness. “That’s some chip you got on your shoulder, Zamora,” she taunted. “’Course that don’t surprise me none, seein’ as how there ain’t nothin’ but wood higher up.”
    He flung his blanket to the ground. Only a few minutes ago she’d told him he was smart, and now she said he was wood-brained! Santa Maria , was it even possible to understand her? More importantly, why did he even try? “Go to sleep, Russia.”
    She threw a pebble at him.
    He felt it hit his bottom. It didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t believe she’d dared to do it! Slowly, he turned to face her. “You threw a rock at me.”
    “And hit you dead square in the ass.”
    “I’ve killed men for doing less than what you did.”
    She smiled. “Zamora, I done tole you that you ain’t a good liar, so why do y’keep lyin’?”
    He wondered how she knew he was, indeed, lying. “I’m not a patient man, Russia.”
    “Well, drag me in the bushes and leave me fer ripe!”
    “You—”
    “Look, Zamora,” she cut him off. “You tole me yourself that you don’t want me to be nice to you. Throwin’ rocks at folks ain’t nice. It’s mean. So why ain’t you happy I did it? Jist how the hell do you want me to act with you?”
    “I want you to leave me alone! Now go to sleep!”
    She wrinkled her nose at him, then pulled Nehemiah beneath her covers, situating him next to her breasts. “I know he hurt your little kitty feelin’s, Doo Dip, but he’s hell-bent on