Page 102 of Vaquero
“Muuuuum!”
“Allow me, Mamita,” Julio replied. But first, with one hand he reached over his shoulder and ripped his shirt over his head, then tossed it over the pit and smothered the fire. He wouldn’t put it past Meg to burn herself saving Dom. God, this woman never quit. Not once had she hesitated in her zeal to save this boy. Her boy.
My boy.
Even now, Meg cast Julio a savage, “Help me, damn it!” that made him smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his chest swelling with pride and more love than he’d known was possible. This was what real mothers did. They fought for their children even when they were on their last legs, and Meg was barely holding on. Maybe he’d been wrong about that whole divine decision thing. Maybe he wasn’t the one meant to die today. Maybe the man who’d had to die was the Julio he’d been before he’d met this amazing mother bear.
Her stubborn head bobbed. “Yeah, well, it’s out now, Juarez. Hurry up! This cage is heavy!”
Silly, wonderful woman didn’t seem to realize the fire was out.
Easing the heavy cage out of her trembling hands, Julio turned it until its hatch faced him. A single padlock was all that stood between Dominic and his weary Mum. “Are you ready to get out of there?” Julio asked, as he tried the smallest keys first.
Nodding vigorously, the sad boy bounced his tummy against the bars, tears streaming down his face. “Me Muma. Me M-m-mum.”
“Then your Muma it is,” Julio promised quietly, as he pulled the hatch open and angled Meg’s son—never Zapata’s!—head first and out between the bars.
The moment she had Dominic in her hands, Meg’s butt hit the concrete. She started cooing and murmuring, calling him her brave little boy. Telling him she was so, so proud of him. That she loved him and would never, ever leave him.
If only Meg had been Tomas’ mother. He would’ve lived.
“Oh, baby, baby, baby,” she cried when Dominic broke down, sobbing into her chest. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Promise. I’ll never let you go. Ever. I love you too much to lose you again.” Then, “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” she murmured, as she covered his head and face with kisses.
Tears filled Julio’s eyes, his heart broken at the sight of true and holy motherhood sitting cross-legged there on the ground with her hand extended to him. Covered in tears and sweat and blood, but smiling and at peace, all because of that sweet little guy snuggled under her chin. He couldn’t help it; he turned away. Because those were the purest kind of kisses, and they were breaking his heart. Those were mother’s kisses, the sweetest blessings a child could ask for. They were warm, moist stamps of love incarnate. What Tomas should’ve had every day of his short, tragic life.
Rage ignited deep in Julio’s gut all over again.God damn Bianca! God damn Zapata—!
“Julio,” Meg cried, her grimy, sweaty face dripping with tears. “Get your ass down here. I need you. Now. Come on! Sit with us. Please. Dom needs you, too.”
Before he complied, Julio scanned the battlefield one last time. Coltrane and her men were efficient and quick. No one moved except them. Except Meg and Dominic.
Madre de Dios…How gloriously righteous motherhood glowed. How perfect. The light in her dewy green eyes shimmered like nothing else in the world. Certainly not like the weak light off stones or gems, wealth nor power. She was everything Julio had ever wanted in a woman. Like him, Meg knewfamiliawas the only thing worth dying—and living—for.
Julio dropped to his knees in homage before this woman. This angel. With tears in his eyes,he gathered his newfamiliainto his arms. He sheltered them, and, silently, he vowed to die for them.
His cheek landed on top of Meg’s sweaty head, and relief shuddered out of her. But when one tiny, dirty hand reached up though the tears and tangled arms and latched onto Julio’s ear, it was Dom who shattered what was left of Julio’s warrior’s heart. The sweet child held onto that ear until he’d wiggled out of Meg’s arms and burrowed into Julio’s.
As thin and fragile as he was, Julio worried he might hurt Dominic. But that little boy seemed to want what only Julio could offer—a father’s embrace. Which Julio gave freely. As soon as his arms closed around Dom, the boy snuggled under Julio’s chin, sobbing and hiccupping, seemingly inconsolable. But oh, so still. With each shuddering breath he calmed. One little hand flattened over Julio’s sternum, those five fingers fluttering as if, somehow, Dominic knew he was finally safe.
Humbled, Julio smoothed a big, manly palm down the little man’s back, giving Dominic the same comfort he’d once given Tomas. Pouring his heart into his second son.
Leaning back on her palms, Meg looked up at Julio, her emerald greens still brimming. “Told you he needed you, Daddy.”
Dios! That word!The pain that always came with it ripped through Julio’s gut like a lightning strike. But suddenly, as if someone had finally flipped a switch, the pain blossomed into comforting warmth instead of icy despair. He hadn’t sunk into the sucking black hole of regret like he had before. Instead of wanting to die for all he’d lost, at last, Julio realized how much he’d found. He was free.
With a shudder, Julio took a deep, satisfying breath. He was going to be a father and husband. A daddy. As if this were a lesson he hadn’t yet learned to the Lord’s satisfaction, he bowed his lips to Dom’s sweaty head and whispered, “Si, Padre. You are right. I do choose life. I will always choose life. Your life.”
Meg ended his prayer with a reverent, “Amen.”
