"Depends on where you're talkin'. And when." Monty's horse shifted its weight from one back leg to another. "Up around the border, near Tamaulipas where the pretty Señorita and your aunt's sister are from, I don't think there's many actual soldiers there these days. Just a bunch of informal militia. Course back about ten years ago, when the French took it over, the place was swarmin' with 'em. Soldados Franceses everywhere. They were a rough lot, from what I hear. I'd left Mexico just before they came, though, so can't say for sure."
French soldiers? Ten years was a while ago. But if the episode had been frightening enough, it could leave scars on a person's mind. Especially a young girl's. Scars. Is that where the scar on Alejandra's cheek came from? It looked like it could be about ten years old. Definitely not recent.
Horns and handguns. No wonder she spat the word soldados like she might tear him apart with her bare hands. But why exactly did she think he was a soldier? Had he ever actually told Alejandra what he did for a living? A Texas Ranger was a far cry from a soldier. They didn't even wear uniforms, just dressed like a cowpuncher. He did wear a badge for most of his assignments, though. Could that be the connection for her?
"Monty, you have any idea if the French soldiers wore uniforms? Or maybe some kind of badge?"
Monty squinted, his face taking on that faraway, calculating look again. "Seems to me they did. Always wore gray jackets with gold buttons parading down the front, and some kind of gold badge sewn over the heart."
A rock settled in Edward's stomach, weighing him down. Did Alejandra think he was a soldier because he wore a badge? Is that why she changed so suddenly when she saw his badge three days ago? But surely she'd seen it before. He thought back to the first time they met in San Antonio. He'd been on his way to an assignment then. But it had been undercover, so he'd left his badge off. The rock in his stomach threatened to rise with the bile climbing into his throat.
God, what do I do? Alejandra thought he was a soldier? Thought he was as evil as whoever had hurt her all those years ago? His nails dug into his palms as his hands clenched.
"Patience, amigo. It's going to take lots of persistence to prove you're different."
Edward jerked his head to look at Monty. "What are you talking about?"
Monty's mouth twitched. "To show that pretty Señorita you're a good soldier. And if her past is as bad as you think it is, she may not ever trust you."
The man was too good at reading minds. That's probably why he could outsmart even the cleverest longhorns.
Edward turned back to the sea of brown and black hides stretched across the pasture before them. "Patience and persistence, huh. Anything else?"
"Not unless you plan to turn in your badge."
Turn in his badge? Not likely.
~ ~ ~
Alejandra bent low over the soft cotton cloth as she threaded her smocking needle through the layers. "So do you have names picked out for a boy and girl?"
Anna's lips pinched as she rolled her eyes. "We've had a boy's name picked out since before Emmaline was born. Martin Timothy, after both our pas. But girl's names seem to be a problem. We had trouble agreeing on Emmy's name, and can't agree on a girl's name this time, either." A smile touched her mouth as her gaze dropped back to the gown she stitched. "I think I'm just going to hold out until she's born and hope Jacob's so overwhelmed by the birth he gives in."
A giggle rose before Alejandra could hold it back. "You two are quite a pair. Although, the way Señor O'Brien looks at you, I can't believe he'd deny you anything."
They settled into an easy silence, which Anna finally broke with a soft chuckle. "My sewing was so bad when I was a girl. Until Mama died and I had to do the mending. I patched so many holes in Edward's clothes, my stitches became the smallest among the women in our circle. And Edward didn't just get holes in the elbows and knees of his clothes. He would get big tears in the strangest places—along the sides, the backs, the shoulders. I mended and patched them all." Her mouth pulled into a rueful smile. "And he was always growing. I let out more hems than I could count."
An image of a lanky, brown-haired boy flitted into Alejandra's mind, squeezing something in her chest. She had to stop thinking about him. Latching onto the only part of Anna's comment that didn't pertain to Edward, she asked, "How old were you when your mama died?"
A deep sigh drifted from Anna.
Oh, no. What had she been thinking to ask about such a distressing topic? "I'm sorry. I…"
But Anna shook her head. "No, I don't mind you asking. I was eleven when Mama died. It was hard. Really hard. I lost her just when I was trying to learn to be a young lady. Then having to teach myself how to run a household and take care of Papa and Edward." She breathed another sigh. "I wouldn't have made it through without God's help." Glancing at Alejandra, she added. "But I guess you know what I mean, don't you? How old were you when your mama passed away?"
Alejandra inhaled a deep breath, willing down the anger that always surfaced when she thought of Mama's death. "I was twelve. And yes, it was hard." She tried for a carefree chuckle, but it came out sounding more bitter than anything. "But I had to do it myself. I didn't have God to help."
Anna's eyes shone in a sad smile. "He was there, Alejandra. I promise. Even when it didn't feel like it."
Anger welled up in Alejandra like boiling water. "He was there? When the soldiers ripped my mama from me and slashed her with a sword? If he was there, why didn't he stop them from murdering her, while I was forced to watch? They took away the madre who gave life to me, and left me with only this scar to remember her by." Her fingers found the mark on her face, and the touch brought back the searing pain of sharp metal ripping her flesh.
But then warm skin touched her hand, resting across her fingers that covered the scar.
"Alejandra, you may not be ready to hear what I'm about to say. But tuck these words away, and pull them out again later, as your heart needs them. Sometimes things happen that don't make sense, and it's hard to believe God can love us and still let those things happen. But God has a plan. His plan for your mother was to take her to a better place. And His plan for you is to give you a hope and a future."
She settled her other hand on Alejandra's bare cheek, framing her face between both palms. "But, Alejandra, moving forward into that future requires forgiving God for the past."
The burn of tears threatened to choke out her self-control. She had to restrain them. Couldn't let herself dwell on Anna's words now. That would be the end of her.
Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Alejandra pulled back. Away from Anna's gentle touch that just might be her undoing. She flicked the back of a finger under her eye where a single tear had escaped her barrier. Then she took up the tiny gown in one hand, and her smocking needle in the other. She couldn't meet Anna's eyes. Couldn't face the disappointment she was bound to see.
Silence stretched between them again, as Anna resumed her sewing, too. But the quiet was torture. Too many memories fought for attention. She couldn't let them surface, or she would lose control. Clearing her throat, Alejandra searched for a new conversation topic. One that would surely be safe. "Would you like me to put out your nativity scene? Since today is Las Posadas?"
Anna's brows almost met as her forehead wrinkled. "Las Posadas? What does that mean?"
"It's the celebration when we set out the nativity. Then Papa would lead our friends in a parade to the scene. The same way Joseph and Mary searched for the inn."
A light filled Anna's eyes. "What a great idea." But her mouth pinched. "Unfortunately, we don't have a crèche. But I'll make sure Jacob remedies that before next year."
They didn't have a nativity set? "Do you…celebrate Navidad?"
Anna blinked. "Christmas? Oh, yes. That's one of my favorite holidays. It might be simpler this year, because of my…condition." She motioned toward her expanded middle.
Alejandra sat straighter. "But that's why we're here. Tell me what you normally do, and I'll make sure it's taken c
are of." Finally, she'd be able to really make a difference.
A smile spread across Anna's mouth. "Okay, then. I guess we should talk about the Christmas dinner first."
Chapter Eleven
The day before Navidad—or Christmas as the Americans called it—a special mood seemed to fill the air. A sense of anticipation. It shimmered in the eyes of the vaqueros as they sat around the breakfast table. The spark even shone in Edward's eyes. Until she shot him a hard glare. That snuffed it out quickly enough. It still didn't seem fathomable that a woman as kind and sweet as Anna could have a brother who was a soldier.
As soon as the men left the house and the breakfast dishes were cleared, Anna brought out a huge bowl that had been tucked in the storage closet. She uncovered it for the women to see. "I thought we could string some popped corn for the Christmas tree."
Emmaline clapped her hands. "Goodie!"
They settled into chairs around the fire in the living room, and with the group of them working, had several strings of popped corn assembled in no time. Although, Alejandra still wasn't quite sure what they would do with it now that the strings were complete.
The front door opened, and the sounds of scraping and shuffling echoed from the hall. "Did someone ask for a Christmas tree?" a male voice called.
"Papa!" Emmaline squealed, jumping up from her perch on the floor and leaping toward the hall.
A man appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders not disguised under the wool coat. Edward. Her stomach did a flutter before she squashed the feeling. He carried something as he shuffled backward. Something big and bushy.
A tree. Alejandra stared at the man-sized pine tree Edward and Señor O'Brien hauled into the room and leaned against a wall in the corner. When Anna talked about a Christmas tree, she'd thought it would be some kind of decorated evergreen clippings or maybe even a waist-high shrub. Not this massive tree. They'd need to string popped corn all day to have any hope of making the strands wrap around these branches more than twice.
Emmaline danced around the men as they worked to secure it in a wood platform Señor O'Brien brought in. "May I string the corn now? Please?"
Edward chuckled, the rich sound rising from his chest. "All right, Emmie-bug. Bring a rope of it over."
The child scooped an armful and carried it to the tree, plopping it on the floor. "Where do we start?"
"Well." He squatted beside the girl. "The first thing every cowgirl needs to learn is how to take care of her equipment." He picked up the popcorn string at one end, and began looping it loosely over his hand. "You have to keep your lasso from getting tangled up. See?"
He was so gentle with the child. Holding the loop and following her around while she placed it just so on the tree. How could this man be a soldier who murdered people and tore apart families? It didn't make sense.
After the tree was garnished, Anna called for Emmaline to take her daily nap.
"Mama, can I please stay up and watch the tree a while longer?" The little girl turned those pleading blue eyes on her mother. How in the world could Anna say no? But one look at her friend showed a resolute expression that wouldn't allow her mind to be changed.
Alejandra stepped forward and scooped up Emmaline's hand. "Come, niña. I'll tell you a story about my favorite Navidad before you go to sleep?"
Emmaline gripped Alejandra's hand with her soft chubby one as they left the room and headed up the stairs. The trust in that action started a longing in Alejandra's chest. How wonderful it was to have a child to love.
~ ~ ~
Alejandra settled back in her chair and eyed the activity as their big Christmas meal dwindled to a close. It looked to have been a success, if the empty plates and dishes strewn across the mahogany wood surface was any indication. The food had been a challenge, for sure. The tamales and roasted turkey were familiar, but Anna also taught her how to make mashed potatoes, and a thick gray substance she called gravy. And then there was the apple pie, with a filling not unlike a sweet tamale, but the outside was so different from the corn batter. But, oh, she could still taste the amazing flavor on her tongue.
At least a few of the vaqueros seemed to like it, too. As she watched, Miguel reached for the pie tin that had only a single piece left. But Donato was too quick for him, grabbing the pan and almost dumping the sweet onto his plate.
"Hey." Miguel frowned, like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. Then a glimmer touched his eye, and he reached to scoop a forkful of pie from Donato's plate.
Donato elbowed him soundly in the side. But as the men loaded the sweet treat into their mouths, the friendly dispute ended as looks of pleasure came over both of their faces. Donato's eyes drifted shut as if he could savor the flavors better that way.
Warmth crept into Alejandra's chest. How different was her life now than just three months ago? Life had been steady enough with Papa in their little hut at Las Cuevas. But now, surrounded by this unlikely mixture of friends, a peace touched her spirit like she hadn't felt in a long time. If only Papa could be here to feel it, too.
A quiet sniff sounded beside her, and Alejandra glanced at Mama Sarita. The woman met her gaze, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. She reached for Mama's hand, and the older woman returned her squeeze. They'd lost so much, the two of them. But they had each other. And she wouldn't let that change.
Her eyes scanned the faces around the table again, snagging on the empty chair across from her. Edward. Anna had said he was called on an unexpected assignment this morning. What kind of work took a man from his family on Christmas day? Nothing respectable. That was for certain.
Señor O'Brien rose from his chair, and a hush came over the room. As he moved to a small side table in the corner, some of the men exchanged smiles. Did they know what was happening?
"Normally, Anna does the honors on Christmas," Señor O'Brien said as he picked up a stack of brown paper bundles and examined them. "But something tells me she's been on her feet more than she ought this morning, so I'm taking this job."
He began handing a package to each of the men. Not going down the row, but looking at the paper on each, then taking it to a specific vaquero.
Alejandra eyed Juan, who was one of the first to receive a paper bundle. His gnarled fingers fumbled with the paper, but he finally split the seam to reveal a bright red pañuelo. Or what did the Americans call it? A bandana. Something like that.
A smile split Juan's craggy brown face, lighting his eyes. He held the pañuelo up in one hand and a gold coin in the other. "Muchas gracious." He looked to Anna first, and then to Señor O'Brien who still passed out packages.
Anna's eyes shimmered as she met the older man's gaze. "You're welcome, Juan. It's only a small token, but given with all our love and appreciation."
Alejandra had to swallow down the lump in her throat. These people acted like part of the same family.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to find Señor O'Brien holding a brown paper package out to her, a warm smile twinkling his blue eyes. "For you, Señorita."
What? She took the bundle without thinking. He moved on, leaving her to finger the coarse surface of the paper. The package was small—not much larger than the length and width of her hand. Alejandra glanced at Mama Sarita, who held a similar package, but she watched Alejandra.
"Open it, mija."
Her fingers found the slit, and eased the two edges apart. White cloth peeked up at her. Alejandra opened the paper wider…and gasped. A beautiful white handkerchief lay in her hands, edged in lace, and with her initials A.D. embroidered in lovely script in a corner. She lifted the fabric and fingered the delicate edging. Something hard rolled out, and Alejandra grabbed at it. She caught it by the edge, and raised up a shiny gold coin.
Turning to Anna, she found the woman watching her with a soft smile. "It's been a long-standing custom that Jacob's Pa would give the men a five dollar gold piece each Christmas. My first year here, when I was just the cook, I made them all a new handkerchief. Papa O'B
rien's not with us anymore, but we love the traditions."
Alejandra gazed at the elaborate handkerchief in her hands, then looked back at Anna. "You made this? Anna, it's beautiful."
Anna's smile wobbled and her chin ducked just a bit. "You like it?"
"I love it." A rasp tinged Alejandra's voice, as the sting of tears burned her throat.
~ ~ ~
Edward nudged his horse into a canter as the Guadalupe River came into view on his right. After two weeks, he was getting close to home, and his muscles itched to be off the horse. If he was honest, they itched to take Alejandra in his arms, but that wasn't likely to happen. Not unless she'd had a sudden change of heart, or maybe hit her head with a frying pan. Not that he wished for the latter.
If she would just look at him without venom in her eyes. She acted like she had some kind of vendetta against him. Like she saw in him all the evil soldiers she'd met in the past. But how could a simple metal badge stir such a reaction? Whatever happened to her at the hands of soldiers in her past, must have been horrible, indeed.
As he neared the fencepost that marked the turn-off to the Double Rocking B, Edward reined his gelding down to a walk. The animal would need the long driveway to cool his muscles before they reached the barn.
The ranch buildings nestled at the end of the road struck a chord in his chest. He'd been gone a lot the last couple weeks since Christmas. Most of his trips lasted several days, and the most recent had kept him away almost a week. It had never bothered him before to travel all over the Southwest section of Texas. But the ranch had a new draw these days.
Alejandra was such an amazing woman. A hard worker, for sure. She had that house and kitchen in perfect order the first week she arrived. And her devotion and kindness to Mama Sarita were admirable. They weren't even blood relatives, from what he understood. She'd become a good friend for Anna too, especially now that the doctor told her to stay in bed until the baby was born. Not many women could be patient when Anna got cranky.
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