Unlike most Alta California weddings, this ritual lacked formality. In Mexican society alcaldes were arbiters of disputes, not performers of marriages. They wrote and enforced laws, acted as judges of the first instance, justices of the peace, notaries, and land agents. Gabriel had once explained that the military left the system in place because a transitional government could not be formed until the treaty identified what would change and what would stay in place.
While not technically illegal, civil ceremonies were rare, the alcaldes preferring such unions to take place in the church. Perhaps that was why Señor Salazar frowned and rushed through his duty as quickly as a rabbit eluding a coyote.
They signed the register while their witnesses each placed their X on the proper line. Neither Pablo nor Catalina had learned to read or write.
“Come, my dear. You must be exhausted from our travels.”
Gabriel, always solicitous, drew her away to the door of the tiny office. He’d told her earlier that he had arranged a room at the same hotel they’d used for Sorina and Lance’s wedding. She wondered if the happy couple was still there. Sorina had said they were remaining a few more days before venturing to her property and then on to Monterey.
Carved from her grandfather’s vast holdings, Sorina’s ranch wasn’t as large as most. The land had been part of her mother’s dowry. She’d inherited it when she turned twenty-one. But she had enough cattle to produce a decent income, although she was more interested in the school she’d built.
Isabella shrugged and climbed into the gig, careful not to put stress on her arm. The gash had been deeper than originally thought and had bled profusely, but it had not become infected. Soon a scab would form, and if she kept it moist, she would have only a small scar. She was lucky.
What the hell were you doing out there all alone?
Gabriel’s furious question still rang in her ears. Her husband did not mince words when he was angry, and he was right. Venturing out alone had been foolish, even though the bullet could have been a stray one. Perhaps it had been intended for the deer she’d seen grazing nearby.
Poachers plagued the ranchos. Governor Pio Pico’s decision to sell all the remaining Spanish missions in 1845 forced thousands to go hungry. Large groups of Indian neophytes once attached to the missions now lived in small groups in the hills. Those who couldn’t find employment on the ranchos killed their food wherever they could get it, hoping it would be enough to feed their families. Gabriel said the situation would get worse as more Americans poured into California.
He didn’t think poachers were to blame for her wound and told her so in no uncertain terms. Logan was behind this. It was the quickest way to get her to sell her ranch. Her heirs were Tomas’s married daughters, whose husbands owned large holdings in northern California. If she died, her heirs would be eager to sell a ranch that was far away from their homes.
She’d told Gabriel his assumptions were wrong. Her stepdaughters would want to keep the ranch for their children. How dare he malign them.
The conversation had ended with both of them stalking off to their rooms.
That had been two days ago, and the air was still chilly between them.
Gabriel got into the gig and took the reins. “Are you hungry, querida?”
“No.”
“Determined to waste away, just to punish me for forcing you to marry me?”
“You didn’t force me.” It was true. She had only herself to blame for this quagmire.
“No, but you look like you’ve lost your last friend,” he persisted.
“It was a smart thing to do. I only hope you keep your part of the bargain.”
“What? You are claiming to not like my attentions? I’m heartbroken.”
She slanted a glance at him and saw his mischievous grin.
Sighing, she sat back and watched the activity on the street. It was hard to stay angry when Gabriel was being charming.
Street vendors were setting up their wares in the plaza. Baskets of ripe tomatoes and golden corn beckoned, along with fresh tortillas shaped by hand and cooked on a flat iron skillet over low fires. Her stomach growled. Perhaps she was a little hungry. Still, she couldn’t possibly eat, not after what she’d just said.
Isabella pushed a stray piece of hair under her black lace mantilla and folded her hands in her lap. They’d stay here one night, possibly two, then go back to the rancho. Gabriel wanted to go over the accounts and see what kind of financial stress the fire had caused.
I am losing my independence already. He will take charge and will relegate me to the ranks of the dowagers.
She idly smoothed a wrinkle in the soft fabric of her gown. Even though she was out of mourning, Mexican propriety required widows to wear a black gown if they remarried, so she had refurbished a black crepe with a lace overskirt and a more fashionable bodice.
But why should I care about propriety? This is the most improper wedding I’ve ever attended, and it’s my own.
“That ceremony was odd, Gabriel, was it not? Señor Salazar could have at least smiled.”
“He is a Catholic. He was unsure of how to proceed.”
“Perhaps it was not legal.”
“Au contraire, my love. Our esteemed alcalde is known to hate the Americans. He may not approve of a civil ceremony, but he knows the military governors are not in favor of them, either. That made him more eager to do it.”
How long Salazar remained in office would be interesting to see.
She fidgeted on the seat, and Gabriel raised his eyebrow. Her wound was fully hidden under her sleeve. Right now it itched, and she forced herself not to scratch it, fearing she might disturb the scab and cause it to bleed again. No need to faint on her wedding day.
“Are you in pain? Will it help if I rein in the horse?” He sounded genuinely concerned. A lump tightened her throat.
“No.”
The trip was short. Under normal circumstances they could have walked, but Gabriel made most of the decisions now, and he had ordered the conveyance.
Isabella waited in front of the hotel while Gabriel saw to the horses. Pablo and Catalina, who had chosen to walk, would be along shortly.
Offering his arm, Gabriel leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Try to appear happy. You’re a bride. Brides are supposed to be giddy with relief that a handsome devil like myself chose to relieve them of their lonely lives.”
“Or their property.”
He cocked his head as a lazy smile lightened his handsome features. “You’re recovering, I see.”
She snorted as they entered the lobby. Gabriel escorted her to her room, the one she’d occupied for Sorina’s wedding festivities. For propriety’s sake, he’d taken another room when they’d arrived, and she wondered if he planned to move in with her tonight.
Anticipation tingled in her core. She shrugged and opened the velvet drapes, letting in the gray morning light. Removing her gloves and her cloak, she turned to face him. “Shall I order tea and a light repast?”
“If you wish, my dear. I’m afraid I must go out.”
“You’re leaving me so soon?” She frowned.
He reached out and tweaked her nose. “Alas, this marriage of convenience business is too stressful for me to remain. Have your tea and a nap. I’ll be back for the noon meal.”
She studied his rueful expression, searching for a hint of desire. It wasn’t there. A wisp of disappointment washed over her. What was he up to? “Take your time. If you don’t return, I’ll dine without you.”
He bowed with an exaggerated flourish and left the room.
She watched the door close without moving. If he planned to confront Logan, he might be in danger. Surely he wouldn’t be so foolish. If anything, Gabriel was as cunning as a fox. But he was up to something, to be sure.
&
nbsp; A loud knock preceded Catalina into the room. Her eyes skipped around the space. “Señor de la Vega is not here?”
“No. He had an errand.” Isabella went into the bedroom and poured water in the ewer. “Catalina, see if Señora Grainger is still in the hotel. There wasn’t time to inquire last night. And ring for tea. I find I’m parched after the stress of this morning’s ceremony.”
If her maid thought her instructions odd, she didn’t show it. She closed the door behind her and left Isabella to rest.
She wriggled out of the gown and laid it out on the bed. Choosing a skirt and high-necked blouse, she felt much better. She strolled back into the parlor in time to open the door for a servant rolling a teacart. Catalina was behind him.
“I made the inquiry. The Graingers have not yet departed, but they’re out at the moment.”
A pang of regret stabbed her. She could use a friend right now, and Sorina was her closest. News of the marriage would travel, and Sorina was the only one with whom she could be completely honest.
“Then I’d like you to deliver a note to her, letting her know I’m here.”
She sat down at the small escritoire and dipped the quill in ink. I am staying once again at the hotel, she scribbled. I have news. Come as soon as you can. Blotting the ink, she waved it in the air to dry before folding it in half and handing it to her maid.
“I can pour my own tea. Take this down to the lobby and ask them to give it to her when she comes in.”
“Sí, señora.”
Sorina was her niece now. Sorina would jump up and grab her shoulders and twirl her around the room when she heard the news, laughing with excitement. When she was told the real story of how the marriage came to be, she would frown and tell Isabella she was a fool. Gabriel was a man any woman would want to keep for the rest of her life.
But Sorina didn’t know their history, and Isabella wasn’t about to enlighten her.
Chapter 18
Gabriel, still in his wedding finery, returned the gig and found Pablo in the stable.
“You don’t need to stay here, Pablo. Father may be needing you in my absence.”
“Your father told me to stay with you, Señor Gabriel. He is concerned about Señora Isabella. He will be much relieved when he learns of your marriage.”
“Very well then.” He saddled his horse. “I’ll be out for a few hours, and Isabella is resting in her chamber.”
He’d sent word to his father about the fire and was gratified when he was told to remain as long as Isabella needed him. When they returned to the ranch, he would tell him of the marriage. Isabella’s reputation had to be protected, and now that he was her husband, his own status would be enhanced.
People will think that’s why you married her in such a scandalous fashion.
The annulment would be a scandal of a different nature.
He mounted his horse and headed out. Despite the overcast day, many townsfolk were out for a stroll. Gabriel recalled more than a thousand people lived in and around the pueblo. How many more would arrive after California was officially part of the United States? Would it become a state? If so, would it be a free or a slave state? He knew from his time in Oregon this controversy raged among politicians.
He rode to the edge of town where a new boarding house had been built. The neatly painted sign said Rooms by Day or Week.
He found the room he was seeking and rapped on the door, knowing its occupant was a light sleeper. A muffled response invited him in.
The dim morning light revealed an iron bed frame pushed against the wall, a single wooden chair, and a washstand with a porcelain pitcher and bowl. A bedroll lay open on the floor nearest the window. In the bed was a tangle of red hair tumbling down a smooth white back and pert buttocks . . . definitely not Sean Mitchell’s.
“Excuse me, señorita. I’m trying to find Señor Sean Mitchell and was told this is his room.”
The back tensed, and a long, slim arm reached down to pull the covers up. Holding them to her body, the woman turned on the thin mattress and smiled. “Hello, Gabe. Didn’t know you were in the area.”
Momentary shock gave him pause, but Gabriel recovered and assumed his bored act. “Lita? When did you get into town? I thought you’d have latched on to some wealthy, elderly don in Santa Barbara by now and be happily married.”
The lazy smile turned into a deep chuckle. “And give up the pleasure of bedding whom I choose?” The woman’s gaze drifted down his body, settling on his crotch. “Well-endowed, dangerous gentlemen like you are worth waiting for. Why should I throw myself away on some doddering old fool who can’t give me pleasure?” She lowered the sheet to reveal full breasts, the nipples hardened as if expecting attention. “Care to join me?”
There was a time when he would have jumped into the bed fully clothed, knowing Señorita Lolita Montero would loosen the fastenings of his trousers with her teeth. He was surprised to find that her allure had vanished. “Ah, señorita, you present a tempting sight. But alas, I am newly married, and I must hasten back to my bride.”
“Marriage doesn’t stop you hidalgos. It seems to whet your ardor.” She smoothed her hands over her breasts and her hips. Gabriel gazed at her sensual display but felt nothing.
Instead, he reached into his pocket, extracting a gold piece. He flipped it in the air, watching the doxy’s attention rivet on the money. “Where did you say Señor Mitchell is this morning?”
“He said somethin’ about working with a stubborn horse. Don’t rightly know anything else.”
Juan Avila was still in town, and Gabriel recalled gossip about how Avila’s new horse had not won any races now that Mitchell was no longer his trainer. Mitchell, who had needed a cover when he’d been spying on the late Antoine Santoro, had worked for Avila and trained Bolero, his successful racer. Lately the horse had faltered.
The Avilas were often guests of Abel Stearns. He’d search for Mitchell there.
He flipped the coin onto the bed. “You’ve been most helpful, Lita. Go back to sleep.”
Her bottom lip thrust out in a pout. “If you change your mind, you can find me at the Copper Boot Saloon. I’m doing a couple of shows there.”
“Ah, yes, you also sing. I quite forgot.”
She chuckled.
Bowing low, Gabriel closed the door behind him and made his way back.
The sight of the female in Mitchell’s bed was not surprising, but seeing her lush, naked body reminded him of the woman he’d left in the hotel, a woman he very much wanted to bed.
Damn, why did I make such a ludicrous promise?
Knowing his bride, she’d make him keep his distance, for now. But he planned to tempt her until she weakened and succumbed to the pleasures he’d promised to give her. A gentleman always kept his promises, and he owed her. Hell, she’d saved his life once and didn’t even know it.
And I can never tell her.
First he must remove the danger, and he could only do it if he found out why her property was coveted by that scoundrel Logan.
He found Sean Mitchell in the barn next to El Palacio, Abel Stearns’ townhouse, chewing a piece of straw while he fed an apple to a magnificent stallion that must be Juan Avila’s Bolero. Another horse stood in the adjacent stall, waiting his turn.
“Up early, I see.”
“Vega, what might you be doin’ back in the pueblo?”
“Looking for you.”
“Now I’m right flattered, I am.” He patted Bolero’s muzzle and gave his final apple to the other horse. The horse nickered in response. “Let’s go over to the tack room so’s you can tell me why.”
“Did you get the note I sent to your lodging?”
“Must have missed it. Not that my landlord would know what to do with it, not being able to read.”
They ambled down another row of horses, all belonging to Stearns. Pulling up two stools in a small room full of saddles, bridles, and blankets, Gabriel got right to the point.
“Isabella Fuentes had some trouble at her ranch.”
Mitchell leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “What kind of trouble?”
“Someone burned down her storeroom while we were at the wedding, and the day after we returned, someone took a shot at her.”
He stood abruptly, knocking over his stool. “Is she all right?”
“For now. I’m pretty sure Logan and his friends are behind this, but I still can’t figure out why they want her property specifically, and I need to know.”
Mitchell idly stroked the grip of his holstered pistol but seemed to be listening carefully.
“Are you available to help?” Gabriel asked.
Mitchell hesitated, then righted the stool and sat back down. “Avila wants me to train a new horse before I head north, but I haven’t given him an answer yet. Does Señora Fuentes need protection?”
“No. I can handle that, but we need someone to do a reconnaissance of the property, someone with experience in the field—someone who might be able to see something that is out of place. Or if not, someone who can follow Logan and his friends and find out what’s so special about that piece of land. Are you interested?”
“I am. But what about Señora Fuentes? How do you plan to keep her safe? Widows are fair game to con men.”
Gabriel smiled at Mitchell, noting the earnest expression on his face.
“Let’s just say I shall never let her out of my sight.”
~ ~ ~
“You’re to be married! Madre de Dios. I don’t know what to say.” Sorina’s eyes were wide with disbelief, then sparkled as a broad smile spread across her face. “You will be my aunt. We will be related. Is that not the most wonderful thing possible? Does Grandfather know? Tía Consuelo? They will be so pleased. When will this take place? Will I be your attendant?”
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