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Updated: May 8, 2025
At ordinary times he would not have relied in vain. But Felipe's nerves were in a jangle these days, and his temper, since Buelna's dismissal of him, was bitter. His perception of offense was keen. He rose, his eyes upon the stranger's eyes. "My horse is mine," he observed. "Only my friends permit themselves liberties with what is mine."
Confusion seized upon him. All that was clear in his mind were the last words of Rubia. It seemed to him that between his lips he carried a poison deadly to Buelna above all others. Stupidly, brutally he precipitated the catastrophe. "No," he exclaimed seriously, abruptly drawing his hand from Buelna's, "no. It may not be. I cannot." Martiarena stared. Then: "Is this a jest, senor?" he demanded.
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