by Paula Scott
Roman silenced her. “It is important I tell you this.” He took a deep breath, reminding himself Steven said this must be done. “I am sorry. I never should have lain with you. It was a sin against God and against you.”
Sarita threw herself into his arms. “What are you saying? I am not sorry! I love you. I am your woman. I have always been your woman.” She tried to kiss him. “Please let’s return to the way we were before Texas. Before the gringos came to California.”
He set her away from him. “I am no longer that man who left for Texas. I never want to be that man again.” He despised her now, though he knew these feelings of hatred toward her were wrong. And he hated himself for ever having slept with her. Steven had promised him God would help him if he trusted God to deliver him. He pulled the cinch tight on Oro, and then saddled Steven’s horse, and then Rachel’s mount as Sarita continued to ramble on about how the Americanos had ruined their lives.
“We have done this to ourselves,” Roman told her. “Adultery is a sin. We are sinners, Sarita.”
“What has happened to you? God let your mother die! He let my mother die! The only reason I lived was that Tohic healed me. You know this! We must worship Tohic, not the God of the padres. The padres brought only disease and death to California. Tohic has always brought life and healing and . . .”
“Be quiet! Do not speak to me about your devils.” Roman bridled the horses and led them out of the stables. Sarita trailed after him, but when she saw he headed towards the hacienda where the family had gathered on the porch to see him off, she walked the other way. “I will be here waiting for you when you return,” she called as she left him.
Roman did not answer her. He continued to the hacienda where he found Steven waiting in the yard for Rachel to appear with her belongings. The three were to ride together till the fork in the road. Roman would head south to join Castro’s forces while Steven and Rachel continued north to Yerba Buena.
Rachel was set on leaving him. And his feelings for her were so volatile right now, he agreed with Steven that she was safest returning to Boston in the midst of war in California. Roman did not trust her father. Nor Sarita. Even his drunken Tio Pedro. And he felt it his duty to ride down to meet Castro and join in the effort to set California free to govern herself. He could not escape this war, just as he could not escape Sarita’s pregnancy.
He had not spoken with Rachel since kicking down her door last night. Steven had worked out the details with her for departure. It was all Roman could do this morning to maintain his composure as he waited for her to come out of the hacienda. Perhaps he would never see her again. Though he believed Steven meant what he said about not marrying, Steven’s intentions surely would change when they returned to New England together. Roman couldn’t begrudge him that. Steven loved her first.
When she appeared on the porch, Roman thought she’d never looked so lovely. Her hair was in a single braid down her back, like the day they’d visited the Indian village together, but shorter now thanks to his knife. She wore simple clothes—a black skirt and white blouse draped by a sturdy shawl. Peasant clothes. He smiled in spite of himself. For all her beauty, she was such a humble human being, more concerned with others than herself. By the look on her face, he could see this parting caused her great pain. She held tightly to Isabella’s hand. Both of them had been weeping.
Maria, Tia Josefa, and Tio Pedro stood on the porch with sad faces. Rachel looked at him with tear-filled eyes as he waited with the horses. After hugging Isabella, she embraced Maria, and then Tia Josefa, and said a kindly goodbye to Tio Pedro, and then she walked down the steps and handed her satchel to Steven.
She would not acknowledge Roman as he came quietly to her side to assist her onto her palomino mare. On her own, she climbed into the saddle without meeting his gaze.
Roman walked over and mounted his own horse as Steven settled himself in his saddle too.
The three rode out of the yard as the morning sun rose over the mountains. During the hour it took to reach the fork in the road, Steven and Roman talked about the ship journey. The long months at sea. Steven’s plans once he returned to New England. Rachel said nothing. She wouldn’t even look at Roman.
When they reached the fork, Roman dismounted and walked purposefully to her horse. He wasn’t about to let her leave this way. Reaching up, he swept her off the palomino into his arms. He captured her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I only want to say good-bye,” he said tenderly.
“Good-bye,” she said, trying to escape him.
He held her more surely, staring into her eyes. He longed to tell her he loved her, but the words would not come. “Vaya con Dios,” he said instead with a knot in his throat choking him. The same words he’d spoken to his mother all those years ago before she died.
Suddenly, he felt like a lost little boy. Hot tears scalded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Overwhelmed by emotion, he drew Rachel against him and held on to her with his heart breaking.
“God will go with us,” she whispered in his ear. “And God will go with you, Roman.”
He finally pushed away from her, his jaw clenched tight. Tears blurred his vision. “God took my mother. Now he’s taking you as well.”
“God is not who you think he is, Roman. God loves you. He loved your mother. I will pray in time you know God.”
At that moment, he wanted to rage against God. And shake Rachel senseless. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He wasn’t used to grief and wanted to destroy something. Anything to make the pain go away.
Steven came and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Trust God,” he said. “The Lord will not abandon you, Roman.”
“If you are stopped by anyone on the road, tell them you are my friend.” Roman pulled a paper from his shirt pocket. It was written in Spanish. Roman’s signature was there along with General Castro’s. “These are orders General Castro wrote for me. This should be enough for the soldiers to let you continue on to Yerba Buena in safety.”
Steven nodded. “Thank you, Roman.”
Roman reached out to shake Steven’s hand.
Steven enfolded Roman in his embrace, holding him tightly. “I will miss you, amigo.”
“I will miss you as well, my friend.” Roman hugged him back with all his strength and then pushed Steven away. He walked briskly to his horse and swung into the saddle. With a last nod to Steven, he galloped away without looking again at Rachel.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Rachel watched Roman go through a blur of tears. Steven held the stirrup for her to mount her horse. He did not seem pleased with her, which confused Rachel. She stepped into the stirrup and climbed into the saddle. Steven handed her the reins. “You ignored him all morning. Then, when he laid his heart bare for you, you told him you would pray for him. That was really something.”
Rachel was taken aback by Steven’s chastisement. “What was I supposed to do? He bedded my stepmother.”
“You are supposed to forgive him.”
“I will forgive him.”
“You did not offer forgiveness. You offered him a stiff back all morning.”
“That is not fair, Steven.”
“Christ does not say life is fair. At the cross, Jesus proved life isn’t fair. He took our place under God’s wrath. If life were fair, you and I would hang on that cross instead of Christ.”
“For heaven’s sake, do you not understand how I feel? Sarita will bear Roman a child.”
Steven smiled, a bittersweet twisting of his mouth. “I understand more than you know. You love him. If you did not love him you would not act so foolishly. You would offer Roman mercy instead of this righteous anger I have never seen in you.”
“I am angry. I have never known people like these Californios. They eat sin and wipe their mouths in satisfaction.”
“Are you their judge?”
“We are called to lead holy lives before God. Are we not?”
“True. But we are also called to gently lead the lost
to Christ. The lost do not understand holiness. We must awaken them with Christ’s great love. That love comes through us, Rachel.”
# # #
They rode for the better part of the day without speaking. Rachel prayed for Roman and for herself and for Steven. She could now see the mistakes she’d made. From the beginning, she’d thought herself better than Roman because she was a Christian and he was not. She realized her sin of pride and also the sin of unbelief.
Unbelief because she never truly considered Roman could come to Christ. He was a man driven by the flesh. Full of fury and lust and a longing for war. The worst of sinners, she’d told herself.
And yet Steven was right. She’d fallen in love with him. Absolutely, completely fallen in love with Roman. And now she had let him go. Rejected him, really.
“Steven, when two or more of God’s people request something on earth it will be done in heaven.”
Steven finally smiled at her as they rode along the narrow dirt road. “What shall we request?”
“That Roman be saved.”
“Let’s stop and rest the horses under that oak grove. We can pray there.”
Once they were settled beneath the shade of a mighty tree, and the horses left to graze nearby, Steven reached out and took Rachel’s hand in his. He bowed his head. “Lord, we come to you because salvation belongs to you and you alone. We know we can do nothing to save a man’s soul. Only you can bring salvation. Humbly, we ask you to save Roman. Not because we love him, but because you love him. In the name of your one and only son, Jesus, we pray. Amen.”
Steven and Rachel opened their eyes at the same time, their faces shining with light.
“He has heard us,” Rachel said.
“Indeed he has,” Steven agreed.
# # #
As Roman rode south a great battle raged inside him. The farther away from Rachel and Steven he traveled, the more convinced he became the two would soon forget all about him. Once they returned to New England, they would certainly resume their lives, with California only a distant memory. Perhaps they would marry on the ship and become lovers under the “approval” of their Almighty God.
Roman rode hard for miles, thoughts of Steven and Rachel battering his mind and bruising his heart. The idea of the two intertwined in a lover’s embrace tortured him. He couldn’t get the image out of his head.
Rachel and Steven are probably lying together even now in the cool of the shade of some great tree, their bodies soaked with sweat and passion. Remember how easy it was for you to kindle desire in her . . .
“No,” Roman said hoarsely, startling himself that he spoke out loud against the barrage of wicked thoughts. Steven and Rachel were not like this. They were not unrepentant sinners like he and Sarita. Their faith and dedication to God was real. Steven was his friend. Rachel was pure and lovely and untouched by any man except him. They would not do these dark things he envisioned them doing.
Turn around. Return to Steven and Rachel. I will be with you.
Roman recognized that voice deep inside him.
The voice of God.
Relief and elation bloomed in his chest. After a day of riding south, he skidded to a halt. Turning his horse around, he headed north. The meeting with Castro would have to wait. He would escort Steven and Rachel to Yerba Buena. Perhaps in Yerba Buena, Rachel would agree to wait for him. He could find a safe place for her to stay until the war was over. She could live in Yerba Buena with his great uncle and aunt. If he remembered correctly, they were devout Catholics. Once Sarita gave birth to the child, if God was merciful, the baby may very well favor Rachel’s blond Yankee father.
Hope soared in Roman. He rode to a nearby rancho in search of fresh horses. He wanted to travel at the greatest possible speed. He could leave Oro at the rancho with the assurance he would return with the rancho’s horses in the near future to trade them back for his stallion.
At the rancho, Roman discovered only Indian vaqueros and servants there. The gente de razón family had headed to Monterey to seek protection from the war. Usually, Californios generously provided horses to one and all, but the vaqueros said they could part with no horses. General Castro’s troops had taken most of the rancho’s horses already.
In California, before the Americanos came, no one needed money to travel. A man could ride the vastness of the country from one rancho to the next with everything for his journey provided for him. Food, fresh horses, supplies—whatever he required, the gente de razón would gladly give to their guests.
Roman had never traveled in California with money, but before leaving this morning, he’d been prompted by the thought that he needed gold in his saddlebags. Enough to buy his way to Mexico and back. Fortunately, he had this gold hidden away from Tio Pedro.
“I will pay you for horses,” he told the vaqueros. “This war has changed California. A man needs gold now to survive here.”
“Si,” one of the vaqueros agreed. “The Americanos cannot see past their coins. Everything is money to them.”
Roman bought two horses at the rancho and switched his saddle onto one of the fresh stallions, tying Oro to the back. He wouldn’t leave Oro in this new, inhospitable California.
By the time he reached the fork in the road that led to Rancho de los Robles, it was well past midnight. There, he turned Oro loose. The stallion would go home on his own. He changed out his saddle and led the other horse he’d brought north with him.
After releasing Oro, he rode like the devil was on his heels. It felt that way to Roman as terrible thoughts attacked his mind.
You will find her in Steven’s arms. He has already bedded her. You are a fool to put your faith in a God who took your mother.
Roman raced on, doing his best to outrun the torment of his imagination. He rode at breakneck speed, unsure of why he felt such a great urgency, but he knew once he found Rachel and Steven, he would know the truth and the truth would set him free.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Not long after Roman, Rachel, and Steven left the rancho, Luis Lopez arrived at the hacienda. Sarita couldn’t believe her good fortune. Certainly Tohic was helping them. “You will have no problem tracking Rachel and Steven down,” she told Luis. “Roman has headed south to join Castro. It will be easy for you to overtake the Americanos and do away with them in the wilderness before they reach Yerba Buena.”
“Why do you still want the gringa dead now that she has left Rancho de los Robles?” Lopez wanted to know.
“Roman might decide after the war to go after her. I don’t want any possibility of him returning to her. I want her dead. I want the birds of the air to pick her bones clean. And the Protestant too.”
Lopez laughed. “Such sinister plans you have for your stepdaughter.”
“If my husband does not die in this war, I want you to kill him too, cousin.”
“What will I get for all this killing for you?” Lopez used his fierce-looking knife to clean the dirt out from under his long, ugly fingernails, and then he motioned for Sarita to follow him. “I must water my horse if I will be riding the rest of the day to do your killing. You owe me something.”
“What do you want?” Sarita asked as she left the yard with him.
“I have not had a woman in many days.” He gave her a leering grin, his teeth a rotten mess.
“Take the gringa before you kill her. Take her as many times as you wish before she’s dead. She is a virgin. Surely, that will satisfy you.”
Lopez laughed. “I am not so easily satisfied.”
“I am your cousin,” Sarita argued.
“You are Roman’s cousin too. That has not stopped you from lying with him.”
They’d reached the creek, alone in the trees now where no one could see them from the hacienda. “I am pregnant with Roman’s son,” Sarita reminded him.
“How do you know the child is not a girl, and not your gringo husband’s?” Lopez tied his big albino stallion to a willow limb after watering the animal in the stream.
After tying his horse, Lopez walked toward Sarita standing there on the bank. “I will kill the gringos for you, but not for free.” He smiled wolfishly as he unbuckled his belt, dropping two pistols and his savage-looking knife onto the ground as he grabbed Sarita’s arm. “I’ll be quick taking my pleasure,” he assured her. “And quick to make sure you do not bear an Americano’s whelp, fair cousin.”
# # #
Steven and Rachel stopped for the night in a picturesque canyon with oaks and pines and some magnificent redwood trees guarding the glade. They prayed together before eating and then read their Bibles beside the light of their crackling campfire.
Roman had tied bedrolls to the backs of their saddles. The food he’d packed for them proved generous and tasty. It would be several days until they reached Yerba Buena. But it was summertime and the night balmy when they lay down to sleep.
Yet within a few hours, an eerie fog from the ocean engulfed their camp, and wolves began to howl. Rachel tossed and turned and prayed, and when she did manage to sleep a little, she had that awful nightmare of the man on the pale horse pursuing her.
When dawn finally arrived, she was incredibly grateful for the break of day.
Steven got up and rebuilt the fire and then crawled back into his bedroll, waiting for the morning sun to warm the glade, but the fog wouldn’t relent.
Rachel pulled her Bible out from under the covers of her bedroll and began reading Zechariah. “During the night I had a vision—and there before me was a man riding a red horse. He was standing among the myrtle trees in a ravine.”
“Steven, read Zechariah and tell me if the Lord reveals anything to you from this passage.” She waited for Steven to read the scripture as she looked out over the fog-shrouded ravine.
After reading, he asked her, “Did you have a vision during the night?”