by Paula Scott
Finally, a grim-faced Roman walked over to where she waited with their horses. “Chief Anselmo has never seen a woman with golden hair. He wants you as his wife. Those are his other wives.” He motioned to the naked women standing shyly behind the big chief now.
The news shocked Rachel. “Certainly, you told the chief this is not possible.”
“I told him you would not make a good wife. That you are a Christian and you would insist he return to the Christian ways practiced at the mission.”
“What did he say?” Rachel squirmed in her saddle with the big chief’s gaze intently upon her.
“He said he could not give up his other wives as the great Father in heaven would insist he do. He has many children with these wives.”
Rachel looked around for the Rancho de los Robles vaqueros. To her relief, the cowboys waited in the distance upon their horses. “Are we in any danger?”
“Only your braid is in danger. I told Chief Anselmo I would retrieve some of your hair for him.”
“You want to cut my hair?”
“Just a little.” Roman removed a large knife from his belt. “You’ll have to dismount for me to do it.” His mouth was set in a grim line.
Her knees trembled as she stepped off her horse. Roman helped her down. “I’m sorry. I knew of Chief Anselmo’s weakness for women, but I did not think he would dare ask for a white woman.”
“It’s all right.” She closed her eyes, her heart pounding. Roman gathered her braid into his hand and gently sawed off the bottom four inches of it, leaving her hair hanging loose below her shoulders now, restrained only by the sombrero she wore. Wordlessly, he returned to the chief with the hair still tied at the end of the braid.
Appeased by the golden hair, the chief loaded Roman down with gifts from the village. Rachel was relieved beyond measure as they rode away from the rancheria a short while later. All those naked people appalled her. And the chief frightened her.
“Chief Anselmo and his people won’t hurt us,” he assured her. “He said he would pray for you in the presence of your hair.” Roman grinned at this.
“I do not think this is funny. The chief had all those naked wives, and he looked so wild and fierce.”
“Chief Anselmo is an honorable man. It is normal for a chief to have many naked wives.”
Rachel ignored Roman’s teasing wink. “He was raised at a mission. He must know it is a sin against God to have more than one wife.”
“You should pray for him.” Roman grinned at her indignation.
“I will.” Rachel stiffened in the saddle.
They rode for miles in silence.
“We will stop here for lunch,” he announced as they came upon a pleasant stream an hour later. The afternoon was almost hot, the sun brilliant in the cobalt-blue sky.
Roman dismounted from his horse and came to Rachel’s horse to lift her down.
“I am able to dismount by myself,” she informed him.
Ignoring her opposition, he reached up and captured her waist with both hands, swinging her down into his arms. “Yes, you are a wilderness woman now, having paid a wild Indian with your hair,” he teased.
“I found the matter at the Indian village not funny at all.” She stood stiffly in his arms.
“I did not like giving Chief Anselmo your hair, but I thought it best to make him happy. If war comes to Rancho de los Robles, Chief Anselmo has promised his band of warriors will join us in fighting the Americanos. The Indians jaras are deadly.”
“What is a jara?”
“An arrow. They poison the tips of them. Come, I am famished.” Roman led her over to his horse, where he unloaded the contents of his saddlebags, pressing food and a serape into her hands. He then picketed the two horses and told Rachel to follow him to the creek.
In the shade beside the creek, they spread out the serape and sat down to eat. Roman paused and bowed his head when Rachel prayed before they ate. After her offering, he quickly wolfed down the food and drank some water from the creek before lying back on the serape and closing his eyes as if greatly content.
“What are you doing?” She was still eating.
“Resting,” he told her without opening his eyes. “You should rest too when you finish eating.”
“Where shall I rest?”
He opened one eye to look at her. “Here beside me.”
“You promised not to touch me,” she reminded him.
He closed his open eye. “I’m not going to touch you. I’m going to rest.”
Within minutes, he breathed evenly in sleep.
Rachel couldn’t believe he could sleep so easily, though she knew he’d been working himself to the bone slaughtering the cattle and avoiding the hacienda. Cautiously, she lay down beside him, keeping a good two feet between their bodies. She’d been having nightmares regularly now, which interfered badly with her sleep.
It really was pleasant to nap beside the rushing stream in the cool shade of the big oak trees. Staring at Roman’s face, so strong and striking in sleep, she was filled with a sense of well-being there beside him.
When she awoke sometime later, he was leaning over her, propped on one elbow. The jagged ends of her hair were in his fingers. “Tia Josefa can fix this,” he said softly. “She cuts Tio’s hair and mine. Chief Anselmo said your hair is the color of the wild wheat at harvest time.”
Rachel was in no hurry to wake up. Perhaps Roman playing with her hair was only a dream. Her eyes felt so heavy. She closed them and drifted back to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ever so gently, Roman brought his lips down to hers when she closed her eyes. He kissed her cautiously, waiting for her to resist. When resistance didn’t come, he deepened his kiss, edging closer to her body until he pressed his full length against hers.
She moaned with pleasure, her mouth warm and sweet from sleep.
He could not believe his good fortune. A wave of intense desire washed over him. Deepening the kiss even more, he was delighted when she responded with another throaty moan.
Trembling now, he began to run his hands over her body.
I give you a wife. Do not treat her like a harlot.
The voice so shocked him, he rolled away from Rachel, and jumped to his feet.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, slowly coming to her senses after the nap and languorous kiss. Her face reddened. “You promised you wouldn’t touch me.”
“You welcomed my kiss.” His own cheeks burned now with that heavenly voice ringing in his ears.
“I was asleep.”
“You were awake before I kissed you.”
“I was only half-awake. I thought I dreamed of you kissing me.”
“Did you hear a voice?” He’d heard it so clearly. Surely, she must have heard God too.
“I heard nothing.”
“You had to have heard it.”
“What did you hear?”
He ran his hands through his hair. Maybe he was going loco.
“Tell me what you heard,” she urged. She got to her feet and put her hand on his arm. “Please, Roman, I want to help you know God.”
“Then pray God will reveal himself to me. I cannot believe in a God I cannot see.”
“To believe without seeing is called faith. It is faith that pleases God.”
“Then I cannot please God,” he said in frustration. “I must see God to believe he is real.”
“Jesus is real. He loves you. He died on the cross for you.”
“I do not see how this is possible.”
“With God, all things are possible.”
Rachel began to pray out loud for him. Much to his embarrassment, his eyes burned as she prayed. He put his hands to his eyes, willing the hot tears away.
Something holy and unexplainable was happening. After praying, Rachel wrapped both arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. He pressed his face into her hair, holding on to her as if his life depended on it. He considered riding to Mission San Juan Bautista to fin
d a priest to marry them tonight but was afraid they would run into General Castro, who lived in the village. The general might take her prisoner or ship her out of California if he took her there.
With her father now riding with the rebels in the north, marrying Rachel had become something not so easily accomplished in California.
I give you a wife. He heard the voice again, deep in his heart, reassuring this time. Like a promise. Not only did he realize he loved her, she was his only link to God with Steven gone now.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded.
She smiled tenderly at him. “We have had quite the day, haven’t we?”
“Quite the day,” he hoarsely agreed. “We’ll have to ride hard now to return home before the sun is gone.”
# # #
After they mounted their horses and had ridden for a while alone together, the vaqueros returned and trailed them once more. When the hacienda finally came into view, a group of unfamiliar horsemen were in the yard. Dogs barked unceasingly. Chickens clucked in the trees, clearly afraid of these visitors. Unease swept over Roman.
He waved his vaqueros up beside them. All the cowboys untied their lassos and laid the ropes and their long lances across their laps. Their formerly happy mood suddenly became very serious.
Upon riding into the yard, they found Tio Pedro talking with a man who had dismounted a sweat-soaked mustang. The rest of this filthy band of visitors remained seated on their horses. They appeared to be Californios, but they were poorly dressed, a rough-looking lot. Swarthy men with hard eyes and worn-down horses. All of the strangers leered at Rachel, which set Roman’s teeth on edge.
“Go into the house,” he told her as he swung down from his horse and helped her dismount. His eyes never left the men.
As Rachel walked past the mounted crew, they watched her like hungry wolves. One of the men even saluted her. He only had three fingers on his hand, and sweat ran down his ugly face. Roman knew this man, famous for his cruelty to horses, Indians, and women.
Rachel hurried into the house.
Sarita made her way out onto the porch as Rachel rushed inside. She was dressed in a snug red gown that made the most of her curvaceous figure.
“My fair cousin Sarita,” a burly man cried, swinging down from his horse with a yellow, broken-toothed smile.
“Rachel, wait,” Sarita called her back, causing the hair to rise on the back of Roman’s neck. “Luis, this is my stepdaughter, Rachel Tyler. She is an Americana. Isn’t she lovely?”
“Go into the house, Rachel,” Roman commanded as he strode up onto the porch. “Luis Lopez,” he acknowledged. “I thought you had returned to Sonora with Juan Garcia.” He gave Rachel a warning look, and she turned and fled.
The three-fingered man, Juan Garcia, saluted Roman with his crippled hand the way he’d saluted Rachel. “I am still here, amigo. They won’t let us back into Mexico. We are too cruel, says our government.” The three-fingered man laughed. It was an ugly sound. “We are headed north to fight the Americanos. Come with us, amigo.”
“Have you spoken with General Castro?” Roman asked.
“General Castro is organizing a cavalry near the southern shore of San Francisco Bay to drive the Americanos out of California,” Luis said. “The Americanos stole General Castro’s horses near the Cosumnes River south of Sutter’s Fort. General Vallejo was sending the horses to Castro for his soldiers. Now these Americanos, calling themselves the Osos—the Bears—have captured General Vallejo. The Osos have raised a ridiculous flag made from one of their wives’ petticoats in Sonoma plaza. They painted a bear that looks like a pig in pokeberry juice and a five-pointed star above the words ‘California Republic’ on their flag.”
The news shocked Roman.
“Kill the Americanos, all of them,” Sarita passionately told Luis.
“For you, I would kill them all, fair cousin.” Lopez gave Sarita a brawny squeeze. The thickset man was as strong as an ox. And ugly, with small, sharp eyes in his wide, cruel face.
“So you have taken an Americana for your woman,” Lopez said to Roman. “I am shocked, amigo, that you would soil yourself with a Yanquia, even as lovely as she is.” He nodded toward the door where Rachel had disappeared.
“She is not his woman,” Sarita snapped. “She is my stepdaughter. Her stupid father forced a betrothal on Roman because Tio Pedro . . .” Sarita glanced over at Tio, in deep conversation with the leader of the band, and then lowered her voice. “Because Tio owes gambling debts to my husband he cannot repay.”
“Silencio, Sarita,” Roman ordered.
Lopez smiled his ugly, broken-toothed smile. “Much has changed for you, amigo, since we rode together in Texas, killing the Americanos like dogs.”
With his meaty arm around Sarita’s waist, Lopez turned Sarita away from Roman to speak to her privately but kept his voice loud enough for Roman to hear. “How could you marry the Americano and not my friend, Roman, fair cousin? I see you have broken his heart, but not for long, eh? He has a golden woman now. Do you think he will share this golden woman with me? I have never had a golden woman before.”
“Go near her and I will kill you,” Roman said.
Lopez laughed. “The Americana has made you crazy, amigo.”
“I am pregnant,” Sarita suddenly announced, abruptly silencing the two men.
Lopez kept his brawny arm around her waist. His other hand had dropped to the pistol tucked in the waistband of his filthy velvet pants. “Has your Yanquio husband planted this seed in you? Should I kill him now?”
“It is Roman’s seed.” She turned to Roman. “I carry your child.”
“How do you know the child is mine?” Roman felt surprisingly calm despite wanting to kill Luis and never see Sarita again.
“It is yours,” she insisted.
“You are sure?” He glanced around to see who else could hear them. Tio Pedro was on his way to the porch but not yet within hearing distance. His uncle’s ears weren’t that good to start with.
“I swear.” Sarita pulled away from Luis to grab Roman’s arm. “I will bear you a son. A pure-blooded criollo.” She hung on to him in desperation now.
Lopez laughed. “She still loves you after all your whoring in Texas. You are a lucky man, amigo.”
Tio Pedro arrived at the porch, accompanied by the leader of the band, Juan Padilla. “Get into the house with the other women,” Tio Pedro told her sharply. “We have men’s business to discuss out here. General Vallejo has been taken prisoner by a group of renegade Americanos calling themselves the Osos.”
Roman yanked his arm away from Sarita and strolled into the house ahead of her, ignoring his uncle. He needed to see Rachel. He had to tell her not to leave her room until these bandidos departed the rancho.
Pacing into the house, his thoughts tumbling with Sarita’s accusation that he’d fathered her child and General Vallejo now a prisoner in Sonoma, Roman decided he would move Rachel to his room this very hour.
Her room was near the stairs. Much too dangerous. He knew what men like Lopez and the three-fingered Juan Garcia were capable of doing to a woman. He wasn’t about to leave her unguarded with such evil men roaming the hacienda tonight. He would order the maids to hide as well. And he would tell Tia Josefa to lock his sisters in their rooms until these terrible men were long gone.
Tio Pedro followed him into the house, filling his ear with talk about rescuing General Vallejo. “Ramon Carrillo is the brother of Francisca Vallejo. He is out there with those men. He is one of Castro’s lieutenants along with Padilla. Padilla’s band are irregulars for Castro, I tell you! We must join our brothers to free General Vallejo!”
Roman turned impatiently on his uncle. “Vallejo is probably their willing prisoner. You know the general wants the United States to annex California. Vallejo is most likely in the pot with the Americanos, stirring up war to move this acquisition forward for the United States.”
“Think about what you are saying, Roman,” Tio
Pedro pleaded. “Padilla says the Osos are a motley, wild-eyed gang of adventurers in greasy buckskins. They admire the terrible grizzlies. This is why they call themselves the Osos. Governor Pico has accused these Americanos of the blackest treason the spirit of evil could invent in their hearts. We have all been called to arms to fight this evil. We must ride with Carrillo to free General Vallejo.” Tio Pedro panted in exertion, trying to keep up with Roman striding down the hall.
Roman stopped searching for Rachel and Tia Josafa long enough to deal with his uncle. He put a hand on Tio Pedro’s shoulder. “Please, Tio, you must calm down. Being upset this way is not good for your heart.”
“Si,” Tia Josefa agreed, sweeping around a corner, holding her skirts out of the way of her rushing slippers. “Pedro, you cannot be serious about riding with these men. They are building fires in the yard even as we speak. Can’t these filthy men go to the fields to set up their camp tonight?”
“No, Josefa, I will not send these men to the fields. I would invite these soldiers of California into our home if there weren’t so many of them,” Tio Pedro huffed.
“Not one of these ruffians will step foot in this hacienda,” Tia Josefa said with a sternness that surprised Roman. “I have hidden our daughters and even the maids. These men are no good. I feel this in my bones, Pedro. I am afraid.”
Relief flooded through Roman upon hearing that all of the women were safe. He’d always appreciated this about his aunt. She was wise and quick to deal with trouble.
“Do not speak unkindly about these men, Josefa.” Tio Pedro straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “They are Californio soldiers assembled by Castro.”
“Are you sure these are Castro’s men?” Roman asked grimly. “Garcia and Lopez are outlaws. I know this for certain. The rest of these men I do not know, but they do not look like hijos del pais to me. They appear to be highwaymen at the dawn of opportunity.” Roman did not hide his disdain.
“The dawn of opportunity is to rescue General Vallejo!” Tio Pedro cried. “I will ride with these men at first light. And tonight I will share my brandy with my brothers.”