Her Inheritance Forever

by Lyn Cote

  Letting the insult to her mother pass, Alandra accepted the papers but did not bother to read them. “Tell me what the reason is and then I will read the document and see if I agree with your interpretation.”

  Benito, his son, and the señora exchanged obvious disgruntled glances. It was plain to see that they were not used to an independent female. Benito cleared his throat. “Very well.” Though his look said that she was unladylike in the extreme, he began, “Your father’s will states that if his male heir had no issue, then all his land and possessions would come to my son.”

  Alandra felt her mouth drop open. Shock pierced her like a frozen arrow. “Are you mad? That is not Spanish or Mexican law. I am the daughter of Esteban Carlos Sandoval and his only surviving heir. English law favors male heirs, not Spanish law.”

  “You are correct,” Benito said with a smug smile. “But this will alters the normal inheritance practice. Wills are written for that very purpose. Since your father was leaving Spanish society and moving far away, your grandfather allowed his son to make this disastrous marriage without family retaliation.”

  Family retaliation. The phrase was an ominous one, stirring crosscurrents in her. What had they threatened her parents with, beyond being disowned? And was this visit family retaliation?

  Benito continued, “Your grandfather gave your father the money to buy this land and made your father agree then to bequeath it back to the Sandoval family if his male heir left no male heir to carry on the name of Sandoval. This land is to stay in the hands of a Sandoval.” He paused to give her a pointed look. “And you, as a female heir, will change your name when you marry.”

  Though churning inside, Alandra brushed this nonsense aside with a wave of her hand. “Rancho Sandoval is mine. You are mad if you think you can come here and take my land, my inheritance, with this.” She tossed the paper onto the table in front of her.

  “There is no need for you to lose your inheritance,” Benito said with an aggravating grin. “Fernando will marry you and the two of you will keep this rancho, these six thousand acres, in the Sandoval family.”

  “What?” Scully objected.

  Sudden fury surged through Alandra so intense that it made her actually feel hot around her collar. She stood, and so did Scully. “I am the dueña here. A mere piece of paper cannot change that.”

  Señora Isabella shook her head in disapproval.

  “Isn’t that what my father just said?” Fernando snapped. “This mere piece of paper changes everything.” As courtesy dictated, both men, though angry with her, had risen as she did. She felt Scully agitated, restraining himself.

  But Fernando continued, “Do you think we would come here if we could not prove this in court in Mexico City? You, a mestiza, without social or governmental connections, expect to keep this land in spite of this will?”

  His contemptuous expression infuriated her. And his using the word mestiza. No one had ever said that word to her face. She burned, hot waves coursing through her. He had nearly threatened aloud that he would make certain that the courts accepted this document. And there was nothing that she, an inferior, a half-breed, could do about it. Her hand itched to slap his sneering face.

  “This sounds mighty convenient to me,” Scully said in a rough voice.

  Ignoring Scully, Fernando summarily dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Mi prima, you have never even been to Mexico City. How far do you think you will get taking legal action against our family? You may be powerful here.” He now glanced with disdain at Scully and the armed vaqueros near the door. “But you have no power where it counts. And be warned, since women rarely understand the legalities of any document, they rarely win in court.”

  The final insult that she would lose because she was a stupid woman nearly did her in. She clenched her jaw and for just a second imagined her vaqueros shooting all three of these intruders where they were. Of course, she would never do that. It was only her rage at this man’s effrontery.

  Scully cleared his throat. “Miss?”

  Catching Scully’s cautionary tone, she slapped a cap on her fury. I must not show emotion. It will only make this Fernando more sure that he can defeat me, a weak emotional female. She inhaled deeply, sobering enough to respond with intelligence, not passion. She smiled at Scully. “Gracias, but I can handle this.”

  Picking up the parchment document again, she looked steadily into Benito’s eyes. “I will study these. Until then, you will be where? The inn in San Antonio?”

  Benito took a step closer to her. “Of course, you may read the will, but I must keep that document in sight until I lock it back in my box. And if you want us to go to San Antonio, we will. And there we will set this document before the magistrate immediately. We do not wish to go to court against a blood relative, but we will if we have to.”

  “Nice of you,” Scully muttered. “Decent.”

  Alandra glared at Benito. She knew she could order them off her land, and Scully and the vaqueros would enforce it. But she was unsure of her legal ground. She must read the documents carefully and consider if they were legal, and if so, how to counter them. This was not just about her, but about every person who lived at Rancho Sandoval, some twenty families.

  She sat down and began reading, ignoring the three strangers. The document was long and involved, but it did indeed transfer her ranch to Benito’s son if her father’s male heir died childless. When she was done, she looked at the three of them, sitting across from her. And she wished, oh so much, that she could wipe the self-satisfied grins off the father and son. Glancing sideways, she glimpsed Scully’s stony expression. The Anglo was not convinced either.

  A thought occurred to her. “My father and brother have been dead many years. Why do you come now to make this claim?”

  “Fernando was not ready to take a wife,” Benito said, his tone condescending.

  Why had her father signed this unwise document? As she looked into the smug expressions of the two men, she wondered if a pistol had been held to her father’s head while he had signed this.

  Alandra held herself with a tight rein. With Scully at her side, she rose again and handed the parchment back to Benito. “I will consider this. You may stay another night.”

  She looked to her housekeeper. Then she turned and again ordered two vaqueros to stay with the visitors at all times. Alandra looked to Scully then, and the two of them walked outside.

  “What do you want to do now?” he asked, looking dour.

  She did not want to admit that she had no clear plan. Her anger still simmered. She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks, trying to cool them. “I cannot believe that the document is real.”

  They heard the sound of riders coming then, and looked up.

  Four

  Scully and Alandra halted, waiting for riders to approach. In spite of the cool sunshine, the sight of friends warmed him. But why hadn’t Quinn and his wife come? Caution flared in Scully’s middle.

  All three riders swung down from their saddles and walked toward the señorita. To Scully, it looked like the start of a duel. Antonio, Carson, and Ash confronted the three Creoles who had followed Alandra and Scully outside. The meeting was as tense as a bowstring. Uneasy, Scully let his hand settle over the pistol on his hip, ready.

  “Buenos tardes, señorita,” Ash said with a nod. “We heard you had company.”

  “Who is this negro?” Fernando asked with disdainful glance at Ash.

  Scully didn’t like the man’s tone or expression. But Ash was able to take care of himself. Scully grinned, waiting to see what he would do with this arrogant Mexican.

  Carson moved forward and gave the señorita a quick hug. “Alandra, we came as soon as we could. Ma wanted to come but she couldn’t.”

  Scully didn’t like the sound of that. What could have happened to Mrs. Quinn in two days?

  The Mexican Creole repeated his question, “Who is this negro?”

  Ash held out his hand, a challenge. “I’m Ash, Quinn’s
foreman.”

  “And mi amigo,” Miss Alandra added, slanting a look at Fernando sharp enough to strip the skin from his skull.

  Ash held his hand out for a few more moments and then, grinning, put his hands on his hips. “I hear that you’re family of Señorita Alandra’s who’s come to visit.” His mouth twisted into a mocking smile.

  Carson stepped forward. “My father is Desmond Quinn and I am called Carson.” Doffing his hat, he bowed to Isabella. “Sir—” Carson then bowed to Benito. “—my father and mother asked me to welcome you to Texas.”

  “Carson,” Alandra said, “my relatives have just shown me documents which they insist are legal.” She pursed her lips. “These documents say that they have inherited Rancho Sandoval, not me.”

  Carson looked to Scully, who nodded in return. “May I see these documents?” Carson asked.

  “You are a mere boy,” Fernando said dismissively, not even looking at him.

  Carson flushed at this comment. “Still,” he persisted, “my father, who was appointed Alandra’s guardian, would wish me to—”

  “Señorita Sandoval is the only one who is concerned in the document,” Benito cut him off. “I am not showing the document to anyone else.”

  “Not even a judge?” Ash asked with another taunting grin. “From what I hear, you people sound like you already own Rancho Sandoval. But that is something you will have to prove.”

  Scully didn’t know how Ash did it, but he’d come out on top in this verbal skirmish. The three Mexicans looked as if they’d just bit into an unexpectedly spicy green chili pepper. And wanted to spit it out but couldn’t.

  His chin heavenward, Fernando turned away. He offered his arm to Isabella and they headed with formal dignity back into the casa.

  Benito shook his head at the señorita, ignoring Ash and the others completely. “It is good that we have come, Alandra. Here on the frontier you have had to mix with all kinds of low company. Fernando and I discussed this after breakfast.” He cast a disdainful look at Scully.

  Scully had been aware that he had been an unpleasant surprise to these two at the breakfast table that morning. He’d kind of enjoyed putting their teeth on edge. And had been as “Anglo” as he could.

  “We must remove you from the company of those who are beneath you.” Benito glared at Scully.

  “Well, that puts us all in our low places.” Ash chuckled.

  Flushing, the older gentleman ignored Ash and continued, “Alandra, the sooner you leave this place, the better. Tomorrow we will all go to the church at Bexar and you and Fernando will be married. Afterward we will return here and Fernando will confer with your foreman about the running of the ranch in Fernando’s absence. Then we will leave for Mexico City as soon as possible.”

  Scully moved closer to the señorita. He gripped the handle of his pistol.

  Benito turned his back to Scully. “Alandra, you will take your place in Mexican society. You will no longer count angloamericanos, mestizos, and Negroes as friends.” He actually snapped his fingers. “Come now. You must begin choosing your clothing for your wedding and instruct the servants to begin boxing up all the portraits and valuables for the trip south.”

  Alandra looked up into the man’s face, defiance firing her dark eyes.

  Scully was glad she wasn’t looking at him like that. He had seen friendlier expressions on Mississippi River pirates.

  “Perhaps, señor,” the señorita suggested, “you should go inside for your health. The wind today is particularly sharp.” Then she turned to Ramirez. “Please go inside and tell my people to ignore any orders these strangers give them. And then join me at your house, por favor.”

  Then haughtier than even Señora Isabella, the señorita strode away toward the Ramirez house. Scully moved with her, proud of her.

  “Pa’s not going to be happy.” Carson hurried to catch up with Scully, and so did Ash’s son.

  “I too am not happy,” the señorita snapped, but followed it with a grin for the boy.

  “Don’t you let those coyotes bother you,” Ash said, walking with them. “They can’t make you do anything you don’t want.”

  Scully noticed that the señorita was wringing her hands. That wasn’t like her.

  “Carson, why didn’t your mother or father come?” she asked, sounding as concerned as Scully felt.

  But Ash replied in a lowered voice, “Mrs. Quinn is expecting and is having some troubles. She didn’t think she should be riding right now. And Quinn, you know, wouldn’t leave her, and neither would my Reva. Her ma had a change of life baby too, that younger brother of hers that’s just a year older than Carson here.”

  “Qué?” Alandra whispered, looking surprised. “I didn’t know.”

  Scully felt his neck warm, embarrassed to hear this. And worried too. Mrs. Quinn, though a handsome woman, was not in her first youth.

  Slowly, Alandra digested this information, worry opening inside her like a half-healed wound. “Does she need me?”

  “Ma said that you shouldn’t worry about her,” Carson replied. “She will be fine. She just couldn’t come and she felt bad about it. Really bad, Lonnie.”

  Alandra stopped and put her arms around Carson, who was as close as a brother to her. “I know she’ll be fine. Tía Dorritt is a strong woman.” And she has shown me how to be strong too. The starch came back to her spine. These interlopers will not win.

  Just as the five of them reached the open door of Ramirez’s small adobe house, her foreman and his son caught up with them. “Please come in, señorita.” He motioned for her to enter first. Señora Ramirez was making tortillas, and seeing guests she wiped her hands on her full white apron.

  “Please, señora, go on with your work,” Alandra said with a smile. When she was a child, this good woman had given her sweets many times. “I am sorry to intrude. We needed a place to talk without interruption but we can talk outside. It is no problem.”

  There were two benches under the overhang of the roof, and Alandra moved to the one beside the door. Tightening the white rebozo of the softest wool around herself, she stared out over the ranch she loved, the browns and tans accented with lush greens, set against the low-feeling cloudy sky.

  Carson, Emilio, and Antonio picked up the other bench and set it down to face the first. Alandra sighed, feeling overwhelmed, as if invisible weights were being loaded upon her head and shoulders. Soon everyone but Scully was sitting there, sipping coffee that Ramirez’s wife brought out. Scully stayed on his feet beside her.

  Alandra looked up at him. “Why are you standing?”

  He nodded toward the nearby barn where the four men who’d come with the three Mexicans were lounging. “Keeping an eye on them.”

  Alandra frowned. Perhaps they had orders to report anything they saw or heard to Fernando and Benito. “We will all speak quietly and in English.”

  Scully nodded. And Alandra turned back to the men opposite her. She did not know how to start. There was so much to discuss, so much at stake.

  Ramirez spoke up first. “Señorita, tell us what you want us to do. Shall we run these strangers off your land?”

  Alandra wanted to say, yes, do it now. But I cannot act rashly. That would be unwise. She bit her lower lip and then said, “I fear that would not stop these people. If it were not for the rebellion here, I would go straight to San Antonio and enlist the aid of the governor and magistrate there. But I do not know how things are in Bexar now. And what may happen next.”

  There was a moment of silence while the men evidently thought this over. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. This week she’d been living a bad dream. Wicked men had come into her life, to steal her, to rob her, to destroy her peace.

  “You think the Mexican judge and all would back them?” Scully asked.

  Before she could reply, Ash spoke up. “It all hangs on what happens in this rebellion. If the Mexicans win, I think these strangers will win. But if the Texians win, that might end their case. The señorit
a is right. It’s hard to know what’s going on with courts in Bexar and what will happen in the end.”

  Alandra tried to imagine Texas not under Mexican rule, Texas under the control of Anglos. What would that mean? How could she even hope that her own people would lose Texas? Few Anglos respected Tejanos.

  But she could find no fault with Ash’s reasoning. This attack on her right to her inheritance might hang in the balance, awaiting the outcome of the fighting, the rebellion.

  Scully stood beside her, a silent but commanding presence. Strength seemed to flow from him to her. She sat up straighter.

  Carson added, “These three are from Mexico City and I don’t doubt they have powerful friends in the courts and government.”

  “They said as much to me today.” Alandra choked on revulsion, recalling their open threats. The thought of her father’s family and their power and influence in the Mexican capital made her hands grip the rough bench on either side of her.

  Ash’s mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something sour. “And there is always the chance that it will stand up in any court because it is valid.”

  Alandra opened her mouth to object.

  Ash held up a hand to stop her. “Señorita, we don’t know what pressure was put on your father to sign that document. I’ve heard of sad, terrible things that happened to Creole ricos who wanted to marry against their family’s wishes. They might have threatened your mother’s life.”

  Alandra nodded. “I have considered that.” The thought of what her parents had suffered to be together made her feel as if a spigot had been turned and all her strength was being drained from her again. She had never faced such pressure. They left Mexico City so Carlos and I would be free.

  “I’ve heard you talk about these people before. Who are ricos and Creoles?” Scully asked.

  “Ricos are the wealthy. Creoles are highborn Mexicans, sons and daughters of the pureblood Spaniards,” Alandra answered. “Only Spaniards from Spain were allowed to govern in Mexico City under the crown. This is one of the main reasons that Mexico wanted independence from Spain. Creoles were not permitted any role in their own government.”