Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  He had been banished from her mind for so long, she had denied within herself his existence, and now, now without warning, he had boldly and blatantly invaded her thoughts; and Beth was furious... and terrified, as she suddenly realized that her dream devil-lover and Rafael were the same person!

  It was something, she suspected sickly, she had known all along but hadn't wamted to acknowledge, and she felt slightly hysterical at the idea that even before she had met him she had dreamed of his kisses and his lean body against hers. Beth drew in a shaken breath. She was being foolish, of course. The man in her dreams had been faceless and she was acting like a silly, highly strung child to even think that she could sense Rafael Santana's presence—he was probably nowhere within a hundred miles of San Antonio. It soothed her somewhat to follow that line of reasoning, and grimly she fought down the almost overpowering urge to leave this place—to return to Briarwood with all possible speed.

  If Nathan and Sebastian noticed that Beth's smile was strained or that there were deep circles under eyes, neither made mention of it. Instead, Nathan, displaying an irritating inclination to attach himself firmly to his wife's side, drove Sebastian almost to the brink of violence. Beth didn't help his temper any by appearing to be touchingly grateful for Nathan's presence, clinging to him with such warmth that Sebastian finally had to excuse himself for a while to keep from openly showing his jealousy. He was discovering that captur-

  ing Beth's heart wasn't going to be as easy as he had first thought.

  And so, while Sebastian nursed what he was certain was a broken heart, Nathan and Beth leisurely explored the old Spanish town. Naturally they were directed with pride to the old Mission of San Antonio de Valero located on the little San Antonio River just across from the town. The mission had through the years been called simply "The Alamo," for a grove of alamo, or Cottonwood, trees that grew nearby, and it was here less than five years ago that General Santa Anna had deliberately annihilated the brave Texan defenders who had been determined to wres^ Texas from the oppressive Mexican rule. Staring at t}ie ruined mission church that had collapsed long before the terrible battle, Beth was saddened. The last bloody fight had taken barely ninety minutes, but during that time one hundred and eighty-three heroic men with a dream had died, and such grand men, Beth thought with awe—Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, Colonel William Travis, and many more— all heroes forever in Texas!

  On Thursday, after a night of dreamless sleep, Beth was finally able to shake her queer mood and truly begin to enjoy their brief visit to San Antonio. The inhabitants were friendly, and, though they knew no one in the town, Beth and Nathan were greeted almost eagerly as they walked about. Most of the people were Texans but there was still a large Mexican population, and both races seemed to welcome them unstintingly, the women smiling and the men doffing either their huge sombreros or the similar wide-brimmed hats worn by the Texans.

  That they were strangers was obvious from their fashionable dress. Beth's mauve silk gown with its slim-fitting bodice that ended in a point at her slender waist, the very full skirts and the long fitted sleeves gave evidence of this. Nathan was attired as stylishly as his wife, perhaps more so: his fair hair gleamed from under a gray chimney-pot hat; his double-breasted, tight-fitting tailcoat of dove-gray superfine was certainly more suitable for Natchez than the frontier town of San Antonio. His walking stick and his dazzling white gloves

  definitely indicated he was not from the local environs, and not unnaturally he attracted a few stares. Oblivious of that fact, Nathan continued his stroll with Beth, occasionally raising the monocle he had lately affected to make a closer inspection of some peculiar object that caught hia eye.

  Once he raised his monocle to gaze at a pair of those Spanish pantaloonlike garments, calzoneras. The outer part of the leg of the calzoneras was open from hip to ankle, the borders set with twinkling filigree buttons, and the whole fantastically trimmed with tinsel lace. The particular pair that aroused Nathan's obvious envy was worn proudly by a young Mexican caballero who stared haughtily back at Nathan. Beth had to smother a laugh, certain that Nathan would soon own a similar pair.

  It was approaching noon and Beth was about to suggest that they return to their hotel for lunch, when an aristocratic-appearing gentleman and his young wife accosted them. They were both well dressed, the woman in a flattering brown silk gown and the gentleman in a well-fitting buff broadcloth coat and embroidered silk waistcoat.

  Instead of passing them, the couple stopped and the gentleman said in a friendly voice, "We couldn't help noticing that you seem to be strangers, and we wondered if we could do anything to make you feel at home. Fm Sam Maverick, a rancher in these parts as well as a lawyer, and this is my wife, Mary. Are you new settlers to the area or are you, perhaps, visiting with relatives?" The man was courtesy itself, and Beth liked him on sight. Mary, her plain face welcoming, sent Beth a quiet, pleasant smile, and almost shyly Beth returned it. There were a few moments of polite conversation as the Ridgeways introduced themselves and Nathan explained that they were only stopping for a short rest in San Antonio before traveling eventually to Santa Fe, where they would be staying with his wife's friend, Stella Rodriguez. At the mention of Stella's name the conversation suddenly became more vivacious, as it turned out that the Mavericks had known Stella and her family for some time. In a very few minutes they

  were talking as if they'd known one another all their lives. At least Beth was, and Nathan, having met Stella only the one time in New Orleans, added little conversation but was content to see Beth enjoying herself and talking so animatedly.

  They all might have stood there talking indefinitely if Mary Maverick hadn't suddenly said, "This is ridiculous, standing on a street comer gossiping! Do come to our house. It is just over there on the corner of the square. You see that giant cjrpress? Well, that is our house it is shading. Please say that you will come... and stay for lunch, too?"

  Nathan and Beth gave the usual polite refusals that most people give at such an impromptu invitation, but Mary and Sam Maverick were warmly insistent. And as Beth was eager to continue the conversation and was finding the Mavericks so very friendly and Nathan was perfectly agreeable, shortly she found herself sitting comfortably on a chintz-covered sofa in the three-room stone house.

  The unexpected visit with the Mavericks proved as pleasant and enjoyable as Beth had thought it would. Nathan, too, his natural curiosity aroused, became quite involved in a lively discussion about the rewards and pleasures to be found in settling in the Republic of Texas. Beth had reservations, and, remembering the band of Kiowas they had seen and Stella's tales of raiding Co-manches, she blurted out, "But what about Indians? I understand that many lives are lost regularly because of them."

  Sam Maverick frowned and admitted reluctantly, "What you say is perfectly true, I cannot deny it. Indians, especially the Comanches, are our greatest threat—besides the ever-present one of an invasion from Mexico." He paused, but, seeing he had the riveted attention of his two guests, he continued seriously, "At first the Comanches did not attack us, but in the past few years their raids have taken a terrible toll. Why, in '38 the slaughter became so great that Bastrop County was nearly denuded of settlers. It was shocking and dreadful, the killings that took place. Entire families wiped out. Dreadful." His expression lightening, he

  added encouragingly, "But we hope we have seen the last of those vicious raids—soon, if all goes well, the frontier will be secured and safe for all Texans."

  Her face revealing her doubt, Beth questioned, ''How will you accomplish that? Apparently you haven't been able to appease them in the past—what makes you think that the future will be any different?"

  It was Mary who answered. Bending forward in her rocking chair, she said earnestly, "I would normally agree with you, Mrs. Ridgeway, but you see, a group of Comanches rode through here not long ago, and they expressed a wish for peace with us. Our gallant Texas Rangers have been able to strike back at those wicked creatures, often in
their own territory, and we believe that they have begun to realize that we Texans will not allow them to intimidate us the way they did the Spanish and the Mexicans. A meeting has been arranged by Colonel Karnes, he is the Commander of the Southern Frontier, and everyone is hopeful that a lasting peace can be achieved. The fact that the Comanches themselves requested the peace meeting is what gives all of us renewed hope." Her face suddenly doubtful, she added, "The only problem will be whether or not the Comanches are willing to return all of their white captives. If they do not, there will be no peace."

  "Captives?" Nathan spoke up in astonishment. "What the devil do they want with captives? Besides, I would think that any men captured by them would easily escape from simple savages."

  Mrs. Maverick looked uncomfortable and then said in a low voice, "They never take men captive, only women of childbearing age and small children." Her expression embarrassed, she continued with difficulty. "They take the women to use as slaves and for an even fouler purpose—to force those poor wretched creatures to bear them half-breed children! The captured white children are usually adopted into the tribe and grow up thinking they are Comanches."

  Beth was horrified and she moved uneasily upon the sofa, filled with a sudden, fierce terror, imagining herself in the clutches of some brutal savage and the humiliation she would suffer. Ghastly! Unbearable to

  consider! But the subject held a horrid fascination for her, and, unable to help herself, she inquired softly, "But do they survive?"

  Both of the Mavericks looked grim, Sam Maverick saying harshly, ''Some do, some don't. Some of them we never do know for certain what their fate is. The Parker children, taken during the Parker's Fort massacre in '36, are a good example... little Cynthia Anne was only nine, her brother John just six. There are rumors that she has been seen with the Comanches in the north, but no one knows for certain if she is still alive or what has happened to her brother. Those of their family that survived the slaughter pray that every little white girl sighted is their Cynthia Anne?'

  'Those poor, poor children," Beth breathed in horror.

  "It is something that every Texan has lived with these past few years," Maverick said heavily. "Despite our attempts to make treaties with them, they continue their depredations upon us. The Rangers do their best, but they are too few men against the savage hordes that kill and slaughter at will. It simply must stop! The Comanches must be made to realize that we Texans are here to stay, and more importantly, we will not be intimidated as the Spanish and Mexicans were. We will not buy peace by giving them gifts and bribing them to leave us alone!" Angrily Maverick finished, "This is our land and we will not be driven from it!"

  Perhaps both Mavericks felt that they had given their visitors a particularly gloomy and terrifying picture of life in Texas. Changing the subject almost abruptly, for the next several moments they stressed all the advantages: the huge tracts of land that were being given away—twelve hundred and eighty acres oi free land to each family, six hundred and forty acres to each unmarried man; the climate and soils that made it so incredibly effortless to grow a handsome living. If crops didn't appeal to one, why there were literally thousands of longhorn cattle that had been left by the Spanish settlers when many had fled back to Mexico in 1835. Texas, as far as the Mavericks were concerned, was a veritable paradise.

  By the time the Ridgeways had left the Maverick 158

  home, the subject of Comanches and Parker's Fort had long been dismissed from everybody's mind. Except that Beth dreamed again that night, a terrifying nightmare in which she was naked and defenseless surrounded by a group of leering Comanches, the lust in their eyes almost tangible, causing her to shrink away in the utter fright. The firelight flickered on their savage faces as they closed in on her and then suddenly they were gone, and there was only one Comanche remaining, a tall, lean Comanche with a bloodied knife and gray eyes ... a Comanche with the face of Rafael Santana!

  r

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Hacienda del Cielo was situated in some of the most beautiful country that Beth had ever seen. Almost sixty miles southwest of San Antonio, it was set in a rugged area of live-oak-covered hills with picturesque green valleys and inviting blue streams which were edged by towering cypress trees. As they drew near the hacienda, they saw great herds of cattle, their enormous curving long horns identifying them as animals unique to the Republic of Texas.

  They had left San Antonio at first light the previous day, and the ride to the hacienda had been without incident. Beth had been more than thankful, in view of her recent nightmares, that Sebastian and his four servants were still with them. It lulled her into a sense of security, and she preferred to forget the possibility of the danger that existed—danger from raiding Indians or the added peril that a roving band of Mexican bandidos who still ravaged the countryside might discover them; these bandidos pillaged, raped, and killed, apparently with the blessing, if not outright encouragement, of Mexico City.

  Nathan brought up the subject of Indians, though, and as they discussed what the Mavericks had told them, Beth admitted to Nathan, "I think, perhaps, you were right, Nathan, about this trip. It is dangerous. Would you think me very foolish if I confessed that I have lost my taste for it?"

  He didn't think that she was foolish, but he was amply surprised, and very relieved. Not even wanting to know what had brought about this devoutly longed-for reversal, Nathan asked eagerly, "Does that mean

  we do not have to go any farther? We can go back to Natchez?"

  Beth thought about it for a long moment, remembering her deep desire to see Stella and the baby Elizabeth. She did want to see Stella almost desperately but she was frightened, and the journey that had started out with so many hopes and dreams now gave her an unshakable feeling of impending danger. Taking a deep breath, she said slowly, "Yes. We can stay with Sebastian's relatives for a night or two, then go back to San Antonio and return home the way we came."

  Nathan was delighted, overjoyed in fact, and he made no attempt to disguise it. Wh^fi they stopped to rest the horses and oxen, he couldn't,contain himself. Happily, he burbled out the news to Sebastian, who had chosen to ride his horse rather than suffer the confines of the coach—even if it meant denying himself Beth's company and giving her husband a decided advantage. Astonishment written across his lean, attractive features, Sebastian said blankly, "Go back? You mean all the way to Natchez? You're not going on to Santa Fe?"

  "No," Nathan replied with a wealth of satisfaction. "Beth has decided that she does not want to go any farther. We will still accept your kind invitation to stay at the hacienda, but when we leave, we will go back to San Antonio and from there to Natchez."

  Sebastian looked hard at Beth, trying to discover a reason for this sudden and unexpected change of heart. Beth met his look steadily, but the expression in the violet eyes was embarrassed. She was being such a fool and she knew it, but if there had been an overpowering desire to embark upon this journey in the first place, it had been replaced with an equally overpowering desire to leave as soon as possible and to seek the safety of Briarwood. With difficulty she murmured to Sebastian, "I know you must think me the flightiest creature imaginable, but I find that I simply do not want to go any farther. I'll write my friend from San Antonio and explain everything to her."

  Sebastian asked helplessly, "Are you certain it's what you want to do?"

  "I'm positive," Beth stated firmly. ''Very positive." 162

  There was nothing more to be said, although it was obvious that Sebastian would have liked to discuss it further. But he let the moment pass, aware that whether Beth went on to Santa Fe or back to Natchez, she was still leaving his life within the next few days... unless he could convince her that she belonged with him. She must know of her husband's philandering with young men, he decided thoughtfully, must know that Nathan was not the ardent husband he should be. And with that in mind, wouldn't she be more inclined to accept an offer of marriage with a real man? A man who would never seek so
lace from another pair of arms—feminine or masculine? Sebastian's lip curled. Certainly never masculine! His mind made up, he resolved that before the Ridgeways began their long journey back to Natchez he would find some way to declare himself to Beth. That she seemed singularly unaware or uninterested in his suit he stubbornly refused to recognize.

  Beth was slightly subdued for the remainder of the journey, but catching her first sight of the hacienda as they rounded a hill and entered a wide, verdant valley, she was strangely glad that they had accepted Sebastian's invitation. At the far end of the green, grassy valley the hacienda sat like a gleaming white-walled fortress, portions of the red-tiled roof of the casa grande visible above the thick adobe walls and the trees that surrounded the living compound. A wide, blue, sandy-bottomed stream lined with cypress and sweet gum trees ran through the valley, and the dusty, tawny road that led to the hacienda was edged with sprawling sycamores.

  The outer walls soared some twelve to fifteen feet in the air; the top ledges were studded with tall iron spikes. Beth felt as if she were entering a medieval stronghold as the wide beaten-iron gates at the entrance clanged shut behind their party. It gave her an unsettled feeling as she realized that those walls were the only barrier between herself and the frightening savagery that the people here could and did face daily. Everywhere she looked, no matter how well-kept, no matter what signs of prosperity or wealth existed, there was some reminder that provisions had been made for protection

  from rampaging Indians; she was suddenly aware of how very lucky they had been to have gone so far unscathed and how very grateful she would be if they were able to reach Natchez without ever seeing another Indian. Those grim spikes reminded her that outside those walls, death rode a painted pony and struck without warning or mercy.

  There were actually two sets of walls. The outer walls provided a stout barrier of protection for the adobes of the peasants and vaqueros that lived and worked on the ranch. The area encompassed was several acres; it was here that the granary was located, as were the storehouses, the community well, and the stables. The inner walls, though high and wide and amply defend-able against attack, were simply to guarantee privacy for the casa grande.