Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1)

by Paula Scott

  In his bed that night at Castro’s house, it wasn’t thoughts of the war that kept Roman awake. All he could think about was Rachel. He was weary beyond measure, but she rushed through his thoughts like water over a falls. Was her sickness completely gone? Was she safe from harm? Was she happy in his home? Was she smiling even now, out in his vineyard with the man of God at sunrise or sunset or any hour in between? He’d had a long day in the saddle, but his night missing Rachel was longer.

  # # #

  Sarita was delighted when a group of buckskin-clad Americanos arrived at Rancho El Rio Lobo. After several days of allowing these dirty, unshaved foreigners to rest in his hacienda, Joshua rode out with the Yankees without so as much as a word of where he was going or why. Sarita knew Joshua satisfied himself now with that stupid servant, Rosa, and that pleased her just fine. With Roman alive, all she could think about was returning to him. This war would help her.

  She placed her hand on her womb, praying again to Tohic that this child growing inside her was not the gringo’s. “Please let the seed be Roman’s,” she whispered. “Oh, Roman, soon, my love, I shall come to you, and we shall build a life together.”

  She hurried to her room and began to pack only her most beautiful gowns. With her body ripening with the babe, her breasts had grown fuller than ever, spilling over the necklines of her gowns in marvelous abundance.

  “You won’t be able to resist me, my love,” she spoke to the empty room as if Roman stood there with her. “This babe is only the beginning. I will bear you many blue-blooded sons of the gente de razón.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  A week had passed at Rancho de los Robles. Dominic and Steven now rode the hills with Roman and his vaqueros. The two men asked to ride along as Roman set about his ranch work. After Steven informed Dominic he would be staying at Rancho de los Robles indefinitely, Dominic sent his sailors back to Yerba Buena, to The White Swallow at anchor in San Francisco Bay. Dominic was not about to leave Steven alone with the Spaniard. Steven, bless his soul, was determined to befriend Roman Vasquez. Dominic wanted to make sure Steven survived his unwavering love for his enemies.

  He also found himself quite distracted by a certain redhead who still refused to speak to him since he’d given her brother a beating. He noticed Maria looking his way often when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, but when he tried to smile at her, she immediately turned away.

  Her stubborn streak both delighted and disturbed him. And her dancing at night after dinner fired his imagination. The girl was magnificent. She deserved a stage in Paris, though he couldn’t imagine sharing that infuriating little redhead with France. Men would flock to her, and she so eager for the world’s attention, would be caught up in the intrigues of men.

  He wondered what his parents would say if he sailed into Boston with Maria by his side. What would he do about his engagement to Sally? How could he bring a Catholic girl home to his Protestant family? His devout mother would faint dead away if she ever saw Maria dance.

  If the United States took California, Dominic was certain Yerba Buena, the sleepy village on San Francisco Bay, would become one of the greatest cities in the world. His land there would be priceless. He could build his docks and charge any fee he desired for ships to unload their wares. He could also build his New England-style mansion on the heights overlooking the beautiful, wind-swept bay.

  He watched Steven riding his horse alongside Vasquez. The two men talked amicably as they pressed the cattle to another pasture. Presently, the vaqueros were doing most of the work herding the cows, though Vasquez was by far the most skillful horseman Dominic had ever witnessed. Vasquez was deep in conversation with Steven. The minister could befriend anyone. Or anything. Even a snake. Dominic hated snakes. As a boy, he’d developed a fear of snakes, and to this very day, they greatly distressed him.

  Vasquez hadn’t really spoken to him since the fight, but he acted politely as their faces healed and bodies mended.

  “It is the Lord’s will for us to love Roman and share Christ with him,” Steven had told Dominic that morning as they walked to the stables together to saddle their horses. As usual, they found their mounts already saddled for them. Life in California was a pleasure in so many ways. Don Pedro treated them like the most honored guests, seeing to their every need, though Dominic suspected it was Roman who really oversaw all their needs since Don Pedro had a drinking problem and didn’t get out of bed until after noon each day.

  “We’ll probably have to drag that Spaniard kicking and cursing to God,” Dominic told Steven.

  Steven smiled that patient, gentle smile of his. “Maybe you are the one kicking and cursing our Savior, my friend.”

  Dominic’s face had heated at the rebuke. He still felt compelled to ride along to protect Steven as he went out with Vasquez, though the thought of spending another day in the saddle made him groan. His backside actually had bruises from bounding along the past several days chasing wild Mexican longhorns across the hills.

  When Roman finally announced it was time to return to the hacienda after another endless day of herding cattle, Dominic felt like hugging the Spaniard.

  Instead, he rode up alongside Vasquez and put his hand on his shoulder in a companionable way. “I have enjoyed these days working cattle with you,” he told Vasquez. It wasn’t the truth, but at that moment, knowing soon he could climb down from his horse when they reached the hacienda, Dominic really did feel a fondness for the brooding Spaniard.

  Vasquez surprised him with a friendly smile.

  Steven smiled too, looking up into the vast blue sky for a moment and nodding to God.

  The three men rode back to the hacienda in affable conversation until they came upon a half-eaten calf near the house. Vasquez got down from his horse and stood over the remains. “A bear,” the Spaniard said solemnly. “This kill is fresh and close to the hacienda. This is not good, amigos. We will have to hunt this bear.”

  Dominic glanced around in alarm. “How big a bear?” He tried to keep his voice steady.

  Roman pointed to massive paw prints in the dirt. The claw marks on the forepaws were several inches long. “A big one. We must kill it quickly.”

  Dominic no longer concealed his dismay. “We are going after the bear right now?”

  “It will be dark soon. It is too dangerous to hunt the bear at night. We will go at dawn. You can stay in your bed, amigo.” The Spaniard grinned at him.

  “We will go with you. Won’t we, Dom?” Steven announced quite bravely.

  Dominic nearly jumped off his horse. “Steven, this is a large bear. Have you ever seen one of these Californian bears? I have heard they are man-eaters.”

  “We will do as Roman does. No one will be harmed.”

  Dominic looked at Steven, so calm and trusting, then at Vasquez. “How will we kill it?” he asked the Spaniard.

  “We will capture the bear with our riatas. Tio Pedro will be thrilled to hold a bear baiting in honor of you Yankees.”

  “What the devil is a bear baiting?” Dominic asked.

  “A bear and bull are chained together for a fight.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Dominic shifted in his saddle, as frightened as a little boy.

  “What do the animals do once they are chained together?” Steven stroked his jaw in contemplation, clearly trying to picture this practice.

  “They kill each other.” Vasquez walked away from the dead calf and climbed back onto his horse.

  “And this honors one’s guests?” Steven looked baffled.

  “It is the Californio way,” Vasquez replied.

  “What if these animals get loose? Will we just be standing around with an enraged bull and bear trying to eat us?” Dominic couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “I will give you my riata. This rope has saved my life many times, Captain Mason.” Vasquez gave him a cheeky grin.

  Steven grinned too. “Maybe you should practice with this riata before we hunt the bea
r tomorrow, Dom.”

  “Steven, you can’t be serious about hunting this bear.” Dominic was aghast.

  “Roman needs our help.” The smile did not waver on Steven’s face.

  “They will be catching this bear with a rope! Then chaining this bear to a wild bull. A wild bull! Steven, are you hearing what he’s saying?”

  Steven gave Dominic a reassuring smile and then turned to the Spaniard. “Must we really chain the bear and the bull to fight?”

  “Not if this disturbs you,” Vasquez offered.

  “Good. We will not be chaining the bear to the bull for a fight,” Steven reassured Dominic.

  “So what will we be doing with this bear?” Dominic squirmed in his saddle.

  “We will use our riatas to capture the bear. Then either you or I or one of my vaqueros will kill it with a knife.”

  “A knife? Are you insane? Doesn’t anyone own a blasted gun around here?”

  “The knife is long. It’s more like a lance,” Vasquez explained.

  “Hunting a bear with ropes and knives? I have just purchased the finest rifle made today. It is on my ship. How long do you think it will take for us to ride to the ship and return here with my rifle, Steven?”

  “We do not need a rifle.” Vasquez spoke with complete confidence. “I assure you, Captain Mason, my vaqueros and I can kill the bear this way. Only once have we lost a man on a bear hunt. And only two horses.”

  “You’ve lost a man? And two horses?” Dominic gave Steven a disbelieving look.

  “That was an unfortunate year. During my father’s time. I have never lost a man, myself. Nor a horse while hunting bears. Come,” Vasquez said. “You must be hungry after a long day. Let’s get home and eat.”

  Dominic urged his horse up close to Steven’s mount, speaking softly but urgently to him. “I won’t be able to eat or sleep tonight. We cannot go on this bear hunt in the morning. This is absurd!”

  “Roman has offered you his very own riata. I have heard a man’s riata is sacred in California. Isn’t this true, Roman?”

  The Spaniard’s green eyes sparkled with mirth. “My riata is like my woman, but I will give it to you tomorrow, Captain Mason.”

  “Please call me Dom. If we are going to die together, certainly we can be friends.”

  The Spaniard laughed and then grew serious. “I will not allow the bear to kill my friends. I would give my life before letting the bear harm you.”

  “There is no greater love than for a man to lay down his life for his friends,” Steven said happily.

  “Does it say anywhere in the Good Book not to hunt bears without a gun? I think the Bible should say something like that.” Dominic wasn’t smiling.

  “When David was but a boy, he killed a bear with his sling. Samson used his own two hands to kill a lion. It is the Lord who destroys our enemies, Dom. We will trust in the Lord tomorrow to deliver the bear into our hands,” said Steven.

  “Well, I need time to let my hair grow like Samson’s. I can’t go bear hunting until my hair reaches the waistband of my britches.” Dominic was still afraid, but he was laughing.

  Roman and Steven laughed as well. “You don’t have to go,” Roman offered. “The women will be sewing tomorrow. You can fashion a dress for yourself with my sisters.”

  “Yes, you should do that. A blue dress to match your eyes,” Steven said.

  The men rode toward the house, Steven and Roman still teasing Dominic about the bear. God certainly did have a sense of humor, Dominic decided. He hated bears nearly as much as he hated snakes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Roman waited for everyone to seek their beds before slipping to the other side of the hacienda to find Rachel, who’d retired early to her room. He’d drunk brandy with Dominic and Tio Pedro after dinner, and the brandy gave him courage to bring her a proposal. He knocked softly upon her door until she opened it. Though she was in her nightdress, he pushed into her room, quickly closing the door behind him.

  “Have you been drinking?” Her anxious gaze searched his.

  “I am not drunk.” He went and made himself comfortable on her bed. He didn’t feel drunk—relaxed, perhaps, but not inebriated.

  “This is improper.” Her cheeks bloomed with color. She looked so fetching in her white nightgown with her hair flowing loose down her back, he could hardly restrain himself.

  “Si,” he agreed, a crooked smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

  “You must leave.”

  “I will leave after we talk.” He patted the bed. “Come sit with me, pequeña.”

  “I will not come near you on that bed.”

  “We have shared a bed before.”

  “Stop this right now.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Toying with me.”

  “I assure you, pequeña, I am not toying with you. I’m serious about my intentions. Come, sit with me, and I will tell you my proposal.”

  “I will not sit with you.” She walked to the door, waiting there to usher him out.

  He stretched out on her bed, careful to keep his spurs and boots from damaging the fine bedcover his own mother had sewn.

  Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “If you will not sit with me, I will make myself comfortable here.” He grinned. “I have held you in my arms, all softness and warmth and nothing more. We are well past propriety, little dove.”

  “How dare you remind me of such a thing!”

  He sat up on the bed. “I cannot forget such a thing. I close my eyes and see you in my bed. In my arms . . .”

  “Stop this! We should not be alone together. This is highly improper.” Her voice trembled with indignation.

  He got off the bed and walked over to her beside the door.

  She backed against the closed portal.

  Capturing her chin, he raised her face to his. “Let me make you my woman. I will be so gentle with you, pequeña.” His lips descended on hers. His kiss was soft and explorative and hot with brandy. His hands at her waist pulled her firmly against his body, not roughly, but with gentle, unbending strength.

  After kissing her mouth for a long time, he kissed her cheeks, tasting salty tears there.

  “Why are you are crying?” He rested his cheek against the top of her silky head. “I know every inch of you,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t hurt you, Rachel.”

  “You do not understand,” she said tearfully.

  “What is there to understand? I lie awake at night thinking about you. All day, you are in my thoughts. I have worked from dawn to dusk exhausting myself, and still I cannot escape these memories of you. Please tell me what is there to understand? I am but a man, and you are my betrothed. It is natural.”

  She pushed him away. Walking to her bed, she retrieved her open Bible lying there and began to read. “My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” She stopped reading.

  “Go on,” he said. “Read more.”

  “My lover is mine, and I am his; he browses among the lilies. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.”

  “These words are written in your Bible?” He was surprised.

  “These are God’s words of love. We cannot sin against God. Only in marriage is this kind of love allowed between a man and a woman.”

  “I cannot marry you,” he said curtly.

  “If you are not to be my husband, you have no business here with me.”

  Overcome by the sudden conviction that he was sinning against God trying to make her his woman without marrying her, Roman opened the door and walked from her room shaken and unsure of himself. What was happening to him?

  # # #

  His head hurt from the brandy he’d consumed last night. As they rode out
early the next morning to search for the bear, the Gavilan Peak incident weighed heavily on Roman’s mind. After the scraggy-bearded explorer Captain Fremont met with Thomas Larkin in January, Larkin brought Fremont to meet General Castro. Castro said Larkin had assured him Fremont’s mission in California was peaceful. These buckskin-clad Yankees were not an American military force, but merely civilian explorers, mapmakers, and guides under the command of Captain Fremont, who happened to be a military officer, Larkin assured them. Castro allowed Fremont and his men to winter in the San Joaquin Valley out of respect for Larkin, but Fremont then brazenly ignored Castro’s command to remain inland away from California’s settled coastal areas.

  These Americanos had committed depredations against the Californios in the valley. Fremont’s soldiers had even invaded a rancho near San Juan Bautista. One of Fremont’s drunken men held a gun to Don Angel Castro’s head while another attempted to rape his daughter. A tough old soldier himself, Don Angel wrestled the gun away from the rascal and chased the Americanos out of his home. After this, General Castro notified Larkin of his decision to expel the Americanos from the Monterey area.

  These American ruffians then built their crude fort at the top of Gavilan Peak, just thirty miles from Monterey, daring to fly an American flag on top of the peak as they defied General Castro’s orders to leave the province. Castro had put together a cavalry of nearly two hundred Californios, and with three brass cannons, ran the Americanos out of the region in March. Fremont and his men then headed north to Sutter’s Fort. General Castro asked Roman to join his northern forces, but the general presently seemed more bent on fighting Governor Pico in the south than the Americanos taking over the north.

  Roman told Castro he would ride with him, but only against the Americanos in the north if war with the United States became imminent. He would not quarrel with Californios in the south. This had been one of California’s biggest problems. The Californios in the north couldn’t get along with the Californios in the south, leaving the two factions always warring for power in the province. It was the Yankees Roman wanted to fight. Until today.