“My grandfather was long dead. I’d lived with my grandmother as long as I can remember.”
“But you can’t remember more?” he asked me, unblinking as he awaited my response.
I shook my head. Not that I can tell you, I thought helplessly.
“Could your father and mother be looking for you right now? Posting handbills in every seaside town? I shall tell every captain we meet to keep watch.”
“You could,” I said tonelessly.
“You said you went swimming every night after work?” he asked, his frown deepening as he studied me. “Do you mean in the dark? Alone?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling a little at his surprise. “Have you never been swimming at night? When the phosphorus alights all around you, like a thousand glittering stars?”
He blinked, those long, dark eyelashes like a thick fringe. “No, I haven’t.”
“It’s glorious,” I said, grinning now, remembering. “I’ll have to take you sometime. I mean…we, uh…we should ride down to Tainter Cove some evening with the rest of your family so you all could experience it.”
He stared at me, as if thunderstruck. I didn’t know if it was because my suggestion had been completely unladylike, or that he was remembering the morning he found me on that very beach.
“No,” he said, gently taking my hand. “I think that we should do that on our own. Swimming at night, I mean,” he said, a smile teasing the corners of his lips.
“Javier, I…”
He stepped closer to me. “Zara.” He placed my hand against his chest. I felt his heart, pounding beneath my fingertips. “Do you feel what you are doing to my heart, my sweet?” He swallowed hard, and I found myself staring at the strong muscles of his neck, extending down to his collarbone, the breeze teasing his shirt slightly open. His skin—so copper-brown and smooth—urged me to reach up and touch it.
“Zara,” he whispered again.
“No,” I muttered, beginning to pull away. I felt his grip tighten, urging me to stay in place. “No,” I said more firmly, now wrenching out of his grasp, aware that he’d had a hand behind my waist. “We can’t do this, Javier! We can’t!” I cried.
“Zara,” he said, following after me, step for step. “Forgive me! I forgot myself,” he pleaded. “It’s only that—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, continuing to retreat. “You don’t understand. I want to kiss you, I do. It’s just that…Javier, I’m not from here. Not from your world.” My momentum with this partial-truth strengthened me, clarified my thoughts, bringing me back to earth when he threatened to cast me into orbit. “I’m a common girl, a worker in a restaurant,” I said, hoping that reminder would anchor him in thoughts about why we, together, were all wrong. “You are the ranchero, head of this vast, beautiful, amazing land, with big responsibilities. You need a woman from a fine family, not a girl given to swims in the ocean at night.” I added weight to that last word, as if it was the most scandalous thing possible. “What would people say?”
“I do not care what they say,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never cared how the tongues wag among people who have nothing better to do than gossip.”
“But your mother does,” I tried desperately, aware that he was getting closer to me again, wearing me down. And I’d backed into a small cleft in the rocks.
“My mother thinks that you’re a perfect match for me,” he said.
“She doesn’t know me. Know where I came from. I don’t know myself!”
“She recognizes something unique within you, Zara Ruiz,” he said, lifting a hand above me to the rock, leaning closer, “something that I keep discovering myself.” He put his other hand on the rock above me, on the other side. “Here I am, Zara. Vulnerable to you. I know what you could do to me, in this position, legs akimbo,” he said with a slight, teasing smile. “But I want you to know I shall not harm you, just as I trust you shall not…harm…me,” he whispered, his hot breath on my ear sending shivers down my neck.
There was nothing in his action that made me fear for my body—only my heart. I stared up at him, waiting for him to straighten and meet my gaze, wondering how much pain he’d feel when I left him, for my own time. “Javier, please. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” he said, leaning closer again, his lips so close to my cheek that I could feel them pass by, slowly, a whisper away.
I closed my eyes, feeling frozen between what I wanted—to accept him—and the distant call to run.
His lips hovered over mine, slightly parted.
Waiting.
And then I was lifting my chin, unable to deny him any longer.
I wanted this.
I wanted Javier to hold me.
Even if it did cost me a piece of my heart when I left.
CHAPTER 11
“Javier! Zara!” cried a voice at the mouth of this small canyon.
My eyes sprang open.
Javier dropped his hands, storm clouds of emotion visible on his face. Giving me one last anxious stare, he forced himself to turn away.
“Javier!” cried another voice.
It was Jacinto and Estrella. “Please, Javier!” Estrella cried. “You must come quickly!”
Grim-faced, Javier glanced at me and offered his hand, and we scurried down the rocks just as the children rode up to us. “What is it?” Javier growled.
“It’s Mamá and Adalia,” Estrella said, plainly having been crying. “They’re arguing. Adalia is saying she wants to go home to her own family. She’s going to take the baby!”
I swallowed hard. Had I influenced her when we talked? Set this plan in motion? I thought of the young woman’s deep grief, of her talk about just not being whole anymore, and her warning to me. And hadn’t I just about kissed Javier? What was I doing?
“She’s having the maids pack their trunks,” Jacinto affirmed glumly. “Mamá sent us after you. She wants you to talk some sense into Adalia.”
I thought about the quiet girl with the eyes that missed nothing. Of the deep grief within her, obviously longing for her husband even while surrounded by his family. Maybe that made it harder, being with them all, constant, living reminders of the man she’d loved. He might even have looked like one of them—or all of them.
Javier helped me down from the rocks and back into my saddle, giving me a rueful look. But I evaded his gaze because while a part of me so wanted to know what it would be like to have him kiss me, the rest of me knew it would be the worst possible thing. The dude was already taking over my mind 24/7. The last thing I needed was to actually fall in love with him. Because where would that leave me? Stuck in 1840. And while living in the Wild West was somewhat intriguing, I didn’t know if I could do it forever. I just didn’t think I had it in me.
Still, I watched as he moved to his little brother and patted his leg, then went and spoke quietly to Estie, handing her a handkerchief. She nodded, apparently reassured by him, and sniffed one last time. Then we all headed out of the canyon, back to the villa.
I imagined the babe wailing in his mother’s arms and the women screaming at each other. But it was worse. Doña Elena stood in the library, staring out the window, hands clenched in front of her waist, looking grief-stricken but keeping utterly silent. Adalia had retreated to her room, Francesca presumably with her. “I’ll go and try and talk some sense into Adalia,” Javier said. “Might you try and bring some comfort to my mother?”
I gazed, doubtfully, in her direction, then shrugged. “I can try.”
He gave me a tiny, grateful smile, and I turned away, suddenly glad for the task ahead. Better to focus on the tough old lady than Mr. Hottie.
I tentatively moved into the room, and Doña Elena faced me for a sec. “Ahh, Zara,” she said, eyes sweeping past me to the empty doorway, as if hoping Adalia would reappear. “How was your ride?”
“Lovely,” I said, coming to stand beside her, looking out. I’d heard that the vaqueros were gathering a hundred head of cattle for us to take to the charread
a—to sell—as well as neighbors’ cattle that had wandered onto Ventura land. In the distance, I could see them driving a group south, whips curling in the air, a cloud of dust behind them. Men on horses cut left and right, disappearing into the dust for moments before reappearing on the far side. “We came back because the children said you and Adalia were…at odds?”
“She wishes to leave us,” Doña Elena said dully, the pain evident in her voice. “After all Dante did for her, all we’ve done for her. She wishes to ‘go home to her own.’ And she intends to take my grandson with her.” The last of this came out of her mouth tinged with grief and bitterness.
I swallowed hard. “Sometimes, no matter how good things are someplace new, we are pulled home.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms before turning back to the window. “To make the most out of our lives, Zara, we must embrace what is, rather than what was.” She let out a mirthless laugh, and she lifted a hand. “I was born and raised in España. Do you think I did not often wish I could return? Of course I did! But my place was with my husband, in Mexico. And then when we came here, when we started with nothing but a sod hut fifty miles from the last town, do you think I did not hunger for Mexico? Of course! Of course,” she repeated, more softly.
“But Doña Elena,” I said gently, “you had your husband. Adalia, she still mourns Dante.”
“Life is as full of death as it is of birth,” she said, brushing past me to pace a bit, then returned to my side. “I have lost a husband, a son, and two daughters as tiny babes. We must take full advantage of life, every moment we have, Zara, to combat death. Otherwise, we drown in the darkness. I fear…I fear that Adalia is running, thinking that if she leaves here, she will leave behind her grief over Dante as well. But I think she will only find more of it, without the comforts of his home and his family around her.”
“Maybe she only needs to try it for a time, to discover that for herself,” I said gently. “She and Álvaro might return to you later, and be more settled, once she has had the chance to find out.”
She stared at me and nodded, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wrung her hands and looked again to the window. “I’ve treated her as a daughter. Loved her as a daughter. And now she…” She brought up a hand to her nose, blinking rapidly.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “If you do not leave the choice to her, if Adalia has to decide against you rather than feeling your permission to leave or stay as she wishes, she might consider the door to your home shut to them forever.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Outside, the vaqueros were getting closer with the cattle. A shirtless boy opened a gate for them in a corral, while a small girl did the same on another. Each then hurriedly climbed up the fence, clearly worried about getting trampled. Doña Elena stared in silence as we watched the men drive the cattle in, neatly turning them in an arc toward the open gate. Perhaps the older woman was thinking about what I’d said, perhaps not.
At last she moved, and I thought she might leave without another word to me. But she paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me. “Thank you, Zara.”
“Of course, Doña Elena,” I said.
But I wondered if she’d be thanking me if she knew about my earlier conversation with Adalia.
CHAPTER 12
So it was that we were a somber crew at dinner and retired early to our rooms soon after, given that we were to leave at sunrise. I think we used it as an excuse to escape the tension that clouded every room Doña Elena entered. I hadn’t seen Adalia or her baby since I’d returned, and I guessed they remained hidden away in their rooms.
Estie and Jacinto were both wide-eyed and worried, looking back and forth between Javier and their mother. I thought it sweet of Javier when he finally pushed aside his half-eaten meal, rose, and touched Estrella’s shoulders, then Jacinto’s, and then gestured for the younger children to come with him. “Come, you two, I need your help in the stables to prepare for our ride tomorrow.”
They waited for their mother’s nod of dismissal from the table before scampering off to take their big brother’s hands. Javier gave me a soft smile before leaving, but he said no more. I felt both grateful for it and a little sorry for myself. Could he not have invited me, too, away from this table? I wanted to be with him, I admitted. Especially if there were little sibs to keep us at arm’s length from each other. That was what I’d have to finagle on our trip tomorrow and the days that followed. Company. Constant company. No more rides alone. No way.
So as soon as I could, I went to my room.
And that’s when I found it. A perfect scallop shell fossil, carefully cut from a rock like those we’d seen today, with a note underneath. I unfolded the paper and took in Javier’s perfect, elegant script, swirling across the page.
My dear Zara,
Our sojourn might have been brief, but I wanted you to have a piece of it to keep. This was a fossil that Dante and I found as boys, one of two. He always had one and I the other. I wish for you to have mine now, and I will keep Dante’s, so that we might remember those brief moments we shared.
I look forward to escorting you to town tomorrow and pray that you might save me a dance. And, at some point, a kiss. For as much as Adalia’s decision has distracted my family, I confess that I cannot free my mind of anything but you, Zara.
Yours, Javier
I smiled and reread it, trying to decipher deeper meanings—everything from “My dear Zara” to the fact that he was giving away his own fossil, something clearly very close to his heart, a treasured memory with his brother. And the thought of dancing with him…or kissing him…my heart did a double-flip.
I sighed, squirmed out of my gown, slipped on my shift, and climbed into bed. Then, still holding the fossil, running my fingers across the scalloped edges that made me think of a fairy’s gown, I went to sleep.
The trip south was not bad. It was horrible.
Three hours into the ride, my butt and legs had passed from ache to total numbness, which made me afraid of stopping, because I had no idea how I was going to get down. But there was no way around it. We stopped when we neared a spring, to allow everyone the chance to fill up canteens and a water barrel in the back of the wagon, and for the women to trade out rides. Everyone seemed to wander off as soon as we came to a stop, and it was only my own painful bladder that made me realize what they were after—a bit of privacy among the tall, swaying grasses or behind trees and bushes. But I honestly didn’t know how I was going to see to any of that. I’ll just have to pee my bloomers, I thought glumly, and pray no one notices.
But then Javier was there, walking his mare toward me, looking almost shy, as if curiosity pressed him to approach. I’d noticed him keeping his distance all morning, busying himself with correcting his brother’s riding form, shouting at the vaqueros to keep a sharper eye on the cattle trailing behind us. But as we settled into a decent pace, I felt his eyes slip to me again and again.
I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice. I chatted with Estrella, riding beside me, and then Maria, slightly behind us, one of six ladies’ maids who would attend our party.
Now here he was, and I couldn’t very well look away or pretend I didn’t see him. “Zara?” he asked. “Are you not wishing for a chance to stretch your legs at least? Or trade out with Frani in the wagon for a while?”
I sighed heavily. “I’d like nothing more than that. It’s only that—You see, I’ve never ridden this far before…”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “And you can’t feel your legs?”
“Yes,” I admitted, feeling my face flame.
His smile broadened. “Happened to me too, the first time my father took us on a long trail ride.” He sobered, all business. “Come. I’ll see to you.”
“No, I…oh…” I began to protest, but he was already taking firm hold of my front leg and pulling it free from the hook. Then he slipped my back boot out of the stirrup and reached up. “Come, Zara. Trust me,” he said.<
br />
I had little choice. I knew all of this was already drawing attention. The longer I hesitated, the more they would all stare. I leaned over, and he took my waist and brought me down to the ground, but my deadened legs folded beneath me.
“Whoa,” he said, catching me as I collapsed, sweeping me up in his arms. “Forgive me,” he said, with a devilish grin. “It is far worse than I thought.”
“Why do I doubt that?” I asked. But I could hardly demand he put me down. My legs and rear end were on fire with a thousand pinpricks. Which was probably a good sign. He carried me over to a boulder and gently set me down, ignoring all the faces beyond him, pretty much gaping at us. If this were happening in my own time, they all would have had their smartphones out, taking video to post later. You would’ve thought we were a couple of giraffes rather than the ranchero and his guest.
“I’ll fetch you some water,” he said and straightened.
But Maria was already there, offering me a metal canteen.
“Rub your legs and wiggle your toes,” Javier said to me. “It will get the blood flowing again.”
After drinking deeply from the canteen, I handed it to Maria and set about following his instruction, wincing a bit as I did so. Doña Elena came by, watching me with some dismay. “So you are unused to the saddle, truly? Not only the sidesaddle, but riding at all?”
“I’d say that’s right,” I said. “I guess I’m from a town, more likely to walk than ride.”
“Hmph,” she sniffed, moving on, as if this was distressing, disappointing news. I supposed if she wanted to marry me off to her son, she hoped I’d be decent at this frontier stuff. And I was clearly failing on the horse-girl count, big-time.
“Do not mind her,” Javier said with a laugh, sitting down beside me and pulling his own canteen to his lips. “She was always a fine horsewoman, and she expects nothing less of everyone she meets. It is hardly fair. Especially if it is as you say—that you grew up in a town and are more accustomed to walking.”
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