Return of the Fox

by Pamela Gibson

  “Do as I say. Now get out. And send Slade to me.”

  Gabriel swiftly moved down the alley, slipping inside the first door that would open. He entered a store crowded with women’s clothing. A filmy red wisp of cloth fell onto his face as he crouched beneath the back window, peering out to see if the banker emerged. He did not. He’d probably used the front door.

  Standing upright, Gabriel pulled the cloth off his neck. It was a negligee of sorts. He pictured the soft body of his wife encased in the clingy fabric, her dark hair swirling around her shoulders. He owed Isabella a bride gift.

  And I must give her reasons to remain married in case she thinks she is safe.

  Folding the wisp of a garment, he stuffed it into his shirt and fished out a coin sufficient to cover the cost, leaving it on the windowsill. Opening the door cautiously, he looked both ways down the alley and slipped out.

  He’d arranged to meet Mitchell in the saloon where they’d met before. Such places were lively, and men having a quiet drink generally went unnoticed. Mitchell was already there, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in front of him.

  “You act like you got yer balls twisted in a bear trap. What’s up?” Mitchell handed him a glass of whiskey.

  “Do you know anything about the apothecary shop?”

  “It’s owned by a snake oil salesman from Liverpool. Came by ship. Stayed.”

  “Apparently, he’s one of the gang.”

  “No shit.”

  Gabriel scanned the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Taking a swig of his drink, he sat back in his chair. “What did you find out?”

  “Banker’s been in town for a year. Loaned money right and left to the hidalgos, mainly the ones with gambling debts. Has lots of payments coming due in a year or so. Makes big loans and charges big interest.”

  Gabriel nodded. It was as he feared. Most of his father’s friends had all their wealth tied up in land and cattle. But gambling was a fever for most. Especially horse racing. And compound interest on borrowed money would bankrupt them if they couldn’t pay.

  Land would be changing hands.

  “What does this have to do with my wife? Tomas Fuentes didn’t borrow money from Yankee bankers, and I know Isabella hasn’t.”

  Mitchell leaned forward, both his hands flat on the table. “An interesting rumor is circulating that an old Mexican by the name of Reynaldo Ocuna walked into the general store owned by Manuel Garcia in San Juan Capistrano and plunked down a gold nugget as payment for goods.”

  “Gold? If there was gold, the Mexican government would have mined it years ago.”

  “Just passing along rumors, laddie.”

  “Where did he find it?”

  “He was a cagey old coot. He didn’t say. He’s known to live out in the hills near an old mission estancia. The river that runs by it comes from farther up the mountain.”

  “On Isabella’s property.”

  “That’s right.”

  Now it was starting to make sense. The snippet of conversation about the machinery arriving within the month might be mining equipment. If the gang had heard the rumor and had also heard the story about the actual short-lived gold discovery near San Fernando Mission years ago, they might be desperate to get their hands on Isabella’s land.

  Greedy fools.

  Gabriel let out a breath. If the gang thought there were riches to be made, they might not give up.

  We might not be out of danger yet.

  “Where did you get this story?”

  Mitchell laughed, a rich, throaty chuckle. “Now, laddie, I don’t reveal my sources. Just know it’s someone who makes it her business to extract secrets while bringing her ventures to a satisfying conclusion.”

  “Ah, the young lady in your room, the incomparable Lolita.”

  “I gather you two know each other.”

  “You might say that.” He thought back to the early days of his escape when a woman with a warm body helped him forget his despair.

  “If you ask me, she’s a pain in the backside, but sometimes she drops snippets of gold, if you get my drift.”

  “Did she say anything else we can use?”

  “If yer askin’ me which one she was servicing, the answer is no. She did say she expected to be wearing diamonds by the end of the year and retiring from her business.”

  “Another besotted fool in her clutches.” Gabriel grinned. “I assume it’s not you.”

  “Let’s just say Lita and I have known each other for a long time. She knows I’m fixin’ to head north, see what’s happening in the rest of this new territory. Alone.” He finished his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table. “Before you leave, I heard an interesting rumor.”

  “Another one?”

  “This one involves you. Lita tells me you got hitched.”

  “True.”

  “Well I’ll be damned.” He slapped the table. “That was quick. Was the bride the fair Isabella?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ve got quite a stake in this.”

  “You might say so.”

  Mitchell laughed. “You surprise me more and more each day. Now that you know what the weasels are up to, you might be in danger yourself. Gold is a powerful motivation for those who are evil. You’ll want to make sure your wife knows everything.”

  Gabriel sat back in his chair and mulled over what he’d just learned. No need to return to the hotel yet. Isabella should be deep in the throes of her siesta by now, and he wanted her to sleep. When she woke up, they had a lot to talk about. She’d never mentioned any metals being found on her property, but he’d never asked. Maybe Tomas had said something in passing that she dismissed. It would be worth exploring.

  “When will you be leaving? Will you still have time to check over Isabella’s ranch, now that you have an inkling about what might be drawing Logan and his friends?”

  “I’m heading that way tomorrow. As you know, Juan Avila’s Rancho Niguel is on the coast, not far from her place. I promised to help train his new filly before I go north. I’ll follow the river that runs through Isabella’s property, see if there’s anything that sparkles in the water.”

  “There won’t be. But you’ve given me an idea.”

  Mitchell scowled. “Don’t go doin’ anything foolish, laddie. Logan and Smith won’t get their hands dirty, but Slade’s a devil.”

  Gabriel laughed. “They’ve seriously underestimated me, my friend. They believe what they see, and I won’t be disabusing their impression. To them I’m a useless fribble. Totally expendable. They probably wonder what a beautiful woman like Isabella sees in me.”

  “You’re a canny one, laddie. Still, be careful.”

  Words he’d lived by for many years.

  Chapter 21

  Isabella stretched and stared at the ceiling. She willed her body to relax. Instead, her muscles tightened. Where had Gabriel gone? Why did he keep secrets from her?

  She sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “Catalina.”

  “Sí, señora?”

  “I cannot sleep. Let us go out for a bit. I believe we passed a mercantile when we arrived. Two buildings away.”

  “If you’re in need of something, I can fetch it for you.”

  “Nonsense. I wish to peruse the goods. With the Americans in charge, we no longer have to rely only on trading ships. I fancy a bolt of cloth for a new gown. Shall we see what the store has to offer?”

  Catalina shrugged and came closer to help her back into her gown. “Will Señor Gabriel be returning soon? Today is a special one for you, señora. You should not be without your husband.”

  No indeed.

  “He had urgent business.” She tidied her hair in the looking glass, straightened a fold of the gow
n she’d worn to lunch, and picked up her reticule.

  “Did you wish to leave word with Señora Grainger?”

  “No need. We won’t be long.”

  Isabella locked the door and deposited the iron key in her reticule. Mexican rancheros did not lock their doors. This was something the hotel had installed the day before they’d arrived, most likely at the request of the Americans who did not travel with servants to protect their belongings.

  They made their way outside into the blistering heat. The heavy fabric of her high-necked, long-sleeved blouse stifled her, and she longed for one of the short-sleeved, lighter weight muslin creations favored by Sorina, who had lived for a few years in England.

  The street was busy. Carretas with hides, barrels, building materials, and other goods rumbled down the dusty street. A few men walked, but most rode horses. Where could they all be going?

  Americans did not favor siestas. Gabriel had explained that gringos thought it wasteful. He’d said many lived by what was called the Protestant work ethic, a combination of hard work, discipline, and frugality, which had origins in their religious beliefs. As a result, they were always moving, seeking, doing. When did they think and contemplate and refresh? She shook her head. This new culture was very bewildering.

  She lifted her skirt and stepped over a pile of horse dung. Passing a saloon, Isabella tiptoed to the open door and peeked in. Men played cards at rough wooden tables while others lounged against a long bar. Someone played a tune on a guitar and sang words of longing for home.

  A tug on her sleeve made her turn. “Señora, we must not linger in this doorway. I’ve heard from other servants that it’s dangerous for unaccompanied women to do so.”

  Catalina was right. They continued their stroll to the next group of buildings, found the shop she’d seen, and opened the door. After being in the bright sunlight, Sorina had difficulty seeing in the shop’s dark interior. When her eyes adjusted, she made out tables where various items were displayed. A shelf held the bolts of cloth she sought. She wandered over to touch the fabrics until she found one to her liking.

  “Look at this, Catalina. Is it not pretty?” She held up a cloth the color of indigo.

  “The color suits you, señora. You should buy enough for a day gown.”

  “I believe I will.”

  She carried the bolt to the merchant and gave instructions for the amount of material she needed. Her stepmother had taught her to sew, a pastime she enjoyed, even though she had many servants more skilled in dressmaking than she was.

  Waiting for her purchase, she idly picked up a hand-painted teacup. Dainty and colorful, it was part of a set. The next table held more serviceable items. A brass lantern, similar to those on ships that held sperm oil from whales, was polished to a bright hue among an array of sturdy cooking pots.

  The jingling bell told her someone else had entered. Isabella glanced toward the door, noting the stunning woman who had just come in and was probably adjusting her eyes to the dim interior. Her hair, a deep red, covered her shoulders and hid the puffed sleeves of her stylish dress.

  “Señor Luna. Has the scent I fancy arrived?”

  “Good afternoon, Señorita Montero. The ship from Boston anchored two days ago. I purchased an array of scents. I’m sure one will be to your liking.”

  The woman pouted. “But I favor violet water. Tell me you have at least one bottle.”

  “Allow me to check my inventory.” He disappeared through a door behind the counter.

  Isabella continued her perusal of another shelf. This one displayed tinctures and tisanes and something called Gay’s Canchalagua, a tonic that promised to cure all manner of ailments.

  The strong scent of violets and some other flower drifted toward her.

  “If you’re ill, I wouldn’t touch that with a leprechaun’s walking stick.” The woman pointed toward the brown bottle. “Comes from New York.”

  Isabella smiled and turned toward her, noting the woman’s beautiful eyes, an unusual green with a slight slant to them. “I’m not ill. I’m waiting for my purchase to be wrapped.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I took a spoonful of that stuff for a cough and puked for a day afterward. I thought Gabe would give up on me for sure after holding my head over a bucket.”

  “Gabe?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to stand a little straighter, thrusting out her prominent chest as she took a deep breath. “A friend of mine. In Santa Barbara.”

  “I see.” An uncomfortable thought crossed her mind. Many men had the given name Gabriel. This woman wouldn’t be talking about Isabella’s elusive husband. “It is good to have friends who are attentive.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her sly smile did not reach her eyes. She moved away and peered out the window.

  “Señora Vega. You must see this shawl. It would suit you to perfection,” Catalina called out. Isabella put down a can of tea and ambled over to where her maid stood.

  “The colors are beautiful, but I have a new shawl. Would you like to have it, Catalina?”

  Her eyes brightened, then she hung her head. “It is too fine a garment for me.”

  “Not at all.” She picked it up and took it over to the counter. Was the strange woman laughing? Isabella glanced out the window and saw nothing that was amusing. She faced the counter as the proprietor brought out her cloth, wrapped with strands of hemp. “Please add this to my purchase.”

  He wrapped the bundle tightly and gave it to Catalina while Isabella counted out the number of pesos. Mexican money was still in use, but Gabriel said that might change. She and Catalina opened the door, nodded to the other woman who still smirked, and left.

  “Who was the señorita?” asked Catalina.

  “She didn’t introduce herself. The proprietor called her Señorita Montero.”

  Isabella dismissed the encounter, not understanding why it had unsettled her, and they made their way back to the hotel. Gabriel was probably back by now, wondering why his bride wasn’t waiting for him.

  It is a temporary marriage. Do not forget.

  Was that what her heart wanted?

  She unlocked the door and closed it behind her. No Gabriel. The elaborate gilded clock in the hotel’s salon had said half past four o’clock. Shouldn’t he be back?

  “Shall I bring you a cup of tea, señora?”

  “Thank you. I would love one.”

  Catalina left for the kitchen, and Isabella changed into a dinner dress. She wandered over to the window, then back to the horsehair sofa where she unwrapped her bundle and imagined the gown she would make from the cloth.

  Catalina came back with a tray that contained a few sweets along with the hot beverage. Isabella munched and sipped, fingered the cloth, and got up. This waiting was irritating. She’d begin her ablutions.

  Why was Gabriel so late?

  “I’ll take this back to the kitchen, señora, and then I’ll redo your hair.”

  “No need. I can tidy it myself.”

  Isabella parted the curtains again. Summer daylight faded late, and she still had a good view of the street. A few horsemen rode by. A man bent his head in conversation with another across the street. A dray pulled by oxen stirred up dust.

  No Gabriel.

  Where is that man?

  They were scheduled to meet with Lance and Sorina at six o’clock, a dining hour favored by the Americans. As it was their wedding day, it would seem odd if she showed up alone.

  Wedding day.

  The day had not been remarkable. Not that she’d expected it to be. The one she’d dreamed of having with Gabriel long ago had been decidedly different. She’d pictured a gown in the first stare of fashion, the chapel at Mission San Juan Capistrano full of well-wishers, and an impatient bridegroom, ready to whisk her
off to his private quarters at his father’s ranch.

  Then her dream had been shattered.

  Her reverie ended abruptly as the door opened. Gabriel sauntered into the room like he owned it.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Am I late? Did you miss me, wife?” He grabbed her around the waist and planted a noisy kiss on her lips.

  “Ugh. You smell of horse.” She wrenched away and turned her back.

  “I had business to conclude.”

  “In a barn?”

  “Yes. I met Mitchell.”

  He walked past her to the sleeping chamber. “Did Pablo bring my valise? I need to change if we’re dining with the Graingers.”

  Isabella gave him a moment to attend to his private needs, then followed him into the room. He wasn’t going to postpone this conversation. “You can dress while you talk.”

  “Very well.” He stripped off his shirt, poured water into the basin, and soaped his face. Isabella’s breath caught as she watched him lean closer to the mirror and apply the straight edge to his face in deft strokes. His back was smooth and muscled. Her fingers itched to touch his warm skin, to trace every ridge and indentation with her palms. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and clasped her hands together.

  “What did he say?”

  Water splashed in the bowl. “Hand me a towel, would you? I’ll tell you later when we have more time.” She got up and brought him the towel, standing close enough to smell his spicy shaving soap.

  Unable to resist touching his bronzed skin, she smoothed her hands over the muscles on his arms. Heat pooled between her thighs.

  Startled, he dropped the towel as a slow grin spread across his face.

  Gabriel turned, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Do you want something, querida?”

  His voice was silky and sweet, like melted chocolate. She wanted something all right . . . to jump into his arms and never let go. This man who stood half naked in front of her wanted something, too. She could see it as her eyes moved down his torso. If she gave in, she would be lost. He could take over, make all her decisions for her, run her ranch. Her workers already deferred to him. All her gains would be lost.