The next day at the ranch was pretty tense. I managed to avoid Doña Elena and Javier most of the day after breakfast, and I convinced Maria to bring me my lunch, claiming illness.
Because I was sick in a way. Sick at heart, sick with grief, sick with worry. That was how I justified it anyway.
When I didn’t show up for supper, Francesca came to check on me, carrying a tray of tea and churros, looking perfectly put together, as usual. Like a mini-Elena. “May I join you for a moment? Or are you convalescing?” she asked.
No, no, I thought, staring out my window. I’m flat-out spent on the “convalescing” front. I just don’t want to go out there to face Doña Elena. Or your brother. “Come in,” I said.
She set the tray on my table and glanced at me. “Well, I must say that you look well,” she said. “Your color is high. Or is that a fever? Should you not be in bed?”
“No, I don’t think I have a fever,” I said. “Please, sit, Francesca. Stay with me for a while.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, her delicate, dark brows arcing together. “I will not tax you?”
“I’m certain,” I said, gesturing toward the chair.
She took a seat by the table and poured me a cup of tea. “I take it you are not ill?”
“No. I just needed…to be alone.”
“Ah,” she said, wise eyes scanning mine. “Is it my older brother or my mother who has caused this? Or Jacinto, begging you for that game of backgammon? Or Estie, wanting to braid your hair?”
I matched her gentle smile. “No, none of them. Or, well…maybe all of them.”
Francesca’s smile faded, though, as she set down her cup. “Zara, I needed to ask you about something. I heard Mamá and Javier arguing…”
Noise downstairs made us look up, then to each other. The front door opened and closed. Then we heard Javier say, “What a surprise, to see you here,” his tone tight, displeased.
Frani rose. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing toward the door, clearly more interested in the newcomers than me now.
I followed her out into the hall but held back, peeking over the edge of the railing toward the front door below as Frani paused partway down the stairs.
“Miss Ventura!” cried a low voice in an English accent. I saw the sweep of a hat and a dark head bob in a bow. “How is it possible that you are even prettier than when we met at the rodeo?”
Frani giggled and hurried down the rest of the stairs. I moved left, trying to see a bit better…
There, I thought, peeking around a column. The man had two others behind him. Doña Elena stood a few paces away, clearly unhappy. Javier, not much better. Only the children looked delighted at the prospect of visitors.
“Madame Ventura,” the man said grandly, taking her reluctant hand in his and kissing it. “It has been far too long.” He went on to kiss Frani’s hand like a proper gentleman and then shook Jacinto’s hand in grave, ceremonious fashion, which moved him more clearly into my line of vision. Mateo and Estie were next. “Ah, you are all here,” he said. “But what of the mysterious guest I’ve heard so much about? She is the talk of the entire Alta California coast! I was so disappointed not to meet her at the rodeo.”
Now I knew him. The one Frani had flirted with at the rodeo—the man twice her age. The reason why her eyes were so bright, a blush at her cheeks.
“Señorita Ruiz has taken ill today, Captain Craig,” Javier said, now sounding oddly stressed. “Perhaps you can make her acquaintance at a later date.”
Just then Captain Craig glanced up, and his hazel eyes met mine before I could duck away. “Perhaps,” he said, with a secretive glint to his smile.
Javier started to follow his gaze upward, but I moved safely out of sight. I felt childish and silly, but I deeply desired to know what all the fuss was about. Why Doña Elena didn’t like this guy. Why Frani did. Why Javier seemed to be hanging back, not the normal gracious host he’d been with every other captain who came to visit.
I needed the distraction. To think of anything but me, the Venturas, and my time-slip conundrum.
I took a deep breath and let it out. I couldn’t hide away for days at a time, could I? No matter how uncomfortable I might be in Doña Elena’s company, wasn’t it sensible to make the most of every hour I had here until it was time for me to head home?
As the group moved into the library, I went to my room, combed out my hair, swept it up into some sort of messy bun—I didn’t bother to look—pinned it, and then headed down the stairs.
I found Doña Elena and Javier arguing in hushed tones in the foyer outside the library. “We do not entertain those of his ilk, Javier,” she whispered. “Send him on his way. If Lieutenant de Leon heard that we’d entertained him, here on Mexican soil…”
“I cannot simply toss him out the door, Mamá,” Javier returned, so quietly I barely heard him. “And he was on ‘Mexican soil,’ at the rodeo, right under Leon’s nose. There is no law against that.”
“That is far different than having a Unionist here, in our very home!”
Javier took a long, deep breath and pinched his nose. “We need to conduct business with him and others like him. It is unwise to turn him away.”
“Unwise? Or have you welcomed him because you want to hear more of his treasonous—” She broke off when she finally saw me, and she gave me a tentative smile. “Why, Zara, my dear. You are feeling better, I see.”
“Indeed,” I said. “I heard that we had guests, and thought it might be the perfect medicine for what ailed me.”
Javier and Doña Elena both frowned at me in confusion.
“Ahh, there she is! I take it this is your mysterious Miss Zara Ruiz?” Captain Craig appeared in the library doorway, as if he’d been standing just inside, listening.
We all turned in surprise to face the man as well as the three others with him, each dressed immaculately in crisp white shirts, long blue jackets with brass buttons above tight-fitting trousers and polished boots.
Javier was immediately at my side, his actions conveying protectiveness and caution. And yet his words were nothing but genteel. “Captain Craig,” he said, “may I introduce our guest, Señorita Zara Ruiz?”
“So lovely to meet you, Señorita Ruiz,” the captain said in admiration, taking my hand in his and hovering so close to it that I could feel the warm breath from his nostrils. “I’ve been hearing the most fascinating stories about you.” He kissed my knuckles then, his lips warm and dry.
Captain Craig was a few inches shorter than Javier, and yet still had a few on me. And while he was trim, I imagined he was quite fit under that uniform, like the high school baseball players at home versus the football players. Except, you know, about ten years older. And the English accent…I had to admit it. While I loved the sultry nature of my native Spanish, the crisp allure of a proper man’s English…well, it could make a modern-day girl swoon.
I turned to greet the others, who were his first mate, Abraham, his steward and his cook. Abraham said, “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ruiz.”
The captain boomed, “You do know you’re the talk of Alta California, do you not? Tell me, Miss Ruiz,” he said, clapping Javier’s shoulder as he turned his face but didn’t release me from his gaze, “how did this lucky dog happen to have you wash up on his shores?”
“Because,” I began, searching for the answer that would appeal most to this sort of man, “some sea captain keeps a less-than-perfect account of his passengers. Trust me when I say that when I catch up with him, there will be a dire reckoning.”
Captain Craig’s eyebrows shot up at the center, his face alight. “Quite right, quite right,” he said with a laugh, clapping Javier on the shoulder again. Javier did not look half as amused. “And I’ve heard you are quite an accomplished musician,” he said, offering me his arm. “I was sorely disappointed to miss your performance at the rodeo—perhaps you would indulge me now with a song?”
Javier took a step forward. “I do not think that Señorita
Ruiz should tax herself.”
“What?” Craig asked, looking at me with wry surprise. “Since when is music taxing? I’ve always found it quite therapeutic. Do you agree, Miss Ruiz?”
“Why, yes,” I said.
He smiled, his grin a fine display of even, white teeth. He wasn’t as handsome as Javier, but he was plenty cute. And that accent. That accent. I could see why Frani had her crush. Not that he could compete with Javier.
I glanced over his shoulder and saw that Abraham, the first mate, was now offering his arm to the young girl. The two went over to the big oil painting above Javier’s desk, as if he’d inquired about its history. Doña Elena, catching sight of the action, bustled in after them to chaperone. She paused to dismiss the younger children from their map puzzle and send them upstairs. Mateo and Frani were apparently allowed to stay behind, though her expression told me that she’d rather sequester the whole lot, keeping them away from the evil presence of this Captain Craig.
“I’ll make a bargain with you, Miss Ruiz. Play one song,” Craig lifted a finger, shushing Javier’s obvious next step to intervene, “one song for us, and we shall be on our way. In addition, I shall host you and the Venturas for dinner aboard my ship on the morrow. It appears that Madame Ventura would be far more at ease there than with us here.”
“I’m afraid we cannot,” Doña Elena intervened, pausing in her herding of children up the stairs. “We must always be ready to host other guests here. We are never certain when another ship might arrive.” She cast a look to her glowering son and faltered. “Perhaps Javier can meet you there, if he must,” she sniffed.
“Indeed,” Javier said smoothly to his mother. What was this? Did he want to meet with this Craig, just not under the nose of his mother?
“I understand that you have a great deal to look after here, Madame Ventura,” Craig said with a level tone and gaze, as if he could see through her lie. “Perhaps, Javier,” he said, turning toward his host, “you would like to bring along your enchanting younger sister, and this fine young man, Mateo. And your guest, Miss Ruiz?” His eyes slid to me with a charming grin.
“Oh yes, please, Mamá,” Frani begged, instantly at her arm, fairly bobbing in excitement.
Elena’s head whipped toward her child, instantly shushing her, then glanced at Javier, but he evaded her gaze. Why? Because he wished to go? Clearly, he was far more open to this Unionist than his mother was…
She paused for a breath and then, spreading her hands, said, “I am grateful for your kind offer, Captain. But I fear a ship is no place for my children. I cannot speak, of course, for Señorita Ruiz, but—”
“Oh, but I would love to accept,” I interrupted smoothly. If Javier was going, I wanted to see just what he was up to.
“And Mateo is of age too,” Javier said, ignoring his mother’s look full of daggers. So he wanted his little brother in on this…
“Excellent,” Captain Craig said. “We shall serve a fine meal for you all to enjoy. And if you change your mind, Madame Ventura, you and the others are more than welcome,” he said with a genteel bow.
“Thank you, Captain Craig,” she managed to reply. Jacinto, Estie, and Frani looked totally depressed at this turn, and I felt a little guilty. At least quiet Mateo looked jubilant.
“Very good! Well, we do not wish to divest you of further hospitality this night, arriving here unannounced, but I did wonder….”
Staring down her nose at him, but also seeing an opportunity to get rid of them sooner than later, Elena bit. “What is it, Captain? We’ll see to it at once so you can be on your way.”
His smile grew, catlike. “It’s that song we hoped to hear from Miss Ruiz…”
She glanced at me, clearly caught.
“Of course,” I interceded. “Let me fetch an instrument, and I’ll join you in the library. The music room only has a few seats.”
“It would be my pleasure to escort you,” Captain Craig said, firmly taking my elbow.
“Zara hardly has a need for an escort down our hall,” Javier said, lifting a confused brow and waving behind him. “Señorita Ruiz knows the way to our music room and back.”
“So miserly of you, friend, not to accept my feigned excuse,” Craig said good-naturedly, patting him on the chest. “Now stand aside. I have no desire to steal your girl. I only wish to see what other fine instruments your villa holds. I’m a musician myself,” he said, with a nod toward Elena, “and I might not have another opportunity to see this room.”
He took my elbow and pulled me aside, before Javier could protest further. I caught Javier’s puzzled expression, as well as a hint of warning as we passed. What was that supposed to mean? Did he like this guy or not? It was impossible to tell.
Together we walked down the tiled hallway. The captain dropped my elbow and tucked his hands behind his back, assuming the most benign, gentlemanly escort stance possible, which made me feel more relaxed. Perhaps he’d missed my playing but had seen or heard what happened to Lieutenant de Leon at the rodeo…
“Ah, splendid,” the captain said, as we entered the music room and he gazed around at the various instruments. He went immediately to the harpsichord and sat down, playing a classical tune so lightly and prettily that I had no choice but to smile with him. “Come, Miss Ruiz,” he said, patting the bench beside him before immediately continuing on. “Do you play the harpsichord too? Perhaps we can play a duet. It’s a fine instrument.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I do not play the harpsichord. Only guitar.”
“Ahh,” he said, hands still dancing over the keys. “Pity, that. But I would like to know,” he said, so quietly that I had to come around the corner of it to hear him better over the music, “who sent you here, my dear? Are your loyalties with the Mexicans or the Americans? Or are you simply a clever, pretty girl, angling for a wedding ring?”
“I…I’m an American,” I said, opting for the closest thing to the truth. “And I did not come here for any reason you have imagined. Now if you will excuse me.” I turned and went to the wall, pulling down the guitar. He abruptly left his song and slid from the bench.
I was turning around when I found him right beside me. “An American, you say,” he said, giving me a penetrating look. “Does that mean you stand for the Unionist cause?”
I frowned. “All I know is that the United States is what is most familiar to me,” I said. “Perhaps I lived in one of those United States? My amnesia,” I said, putting my hand to my head, “keeps me from saying more.”
“Indeed! Such a mystery you are, you delightful little minx. Perhaps a convenient little miracle too,” he said in a whisper. “I’ve been trying to woo the Venturas for years. Maybe all I needed was a pretty girl to seal the deal.” He touched my chin as if I were already in on his plan.
I narrowed my eyes and edged away from him in confusion. “Shall we go back to the library, Captain?” I asked tightly.
“Indeed,” he said, gesturing grandly toward the door. I hurried along, passing Frani, who stood in a small alcove worrying a hangnail, clearly waiting for Captain Craig to come out again. She cast me a jealous, angry look, and I rolled my eyes as I walked on, leaving the two alone to chat. She wanted that dude? Fine! I was hardly in competition for him.
I hurried down the hall, hearing the sailors’ laughter in the big room now, and saw Javier waiting for me ahead. I took a breath, relieved to even have him in sight. But when I reached him, he took my arm and pulled me around a big column.
“Ow!” I said. “Javier, what—”
“What do you think you are doing?” he interrupted, shaking me once.
I frowned up at him in confusion. “Entertaining your guest!”
He seemed to catch himself and lifted his head, eased his grip. “Be cautious around him, Zara. He is not all he seems to be.”
“I understand. He seems to think I might be willing to assist him in his work of wooing you to the Unionist cause.” I left out the fact that he also suspected me of trying to get
Javier to propose.
He let out a sigh and took a step away as if to begin pacing, chin in hand. He looked worried. Seriously worried.
I lifted a brow. “Javier, is he…a threat to you?” I thought this was just a tiff between Doña Elena and Craig, with Javier somewhere in the middle.
He let out a humorless laugh, hands on his hips, and shook his head. “Yes. And no. There are things you don’t yet understand—about how it is here, what it is to be in my place, the decisions I must make.”
“No, I don’t. Not really,” I said.
“Do me a favor?”
I waited.
“Don’t allow him to get you alone again? Always have an escort?”
“It’s not me you should be worried about, Javier. It’s your little sis. You saw him flirting with her at the rodeo—well, just now, she was waiting for us outside the music room in that little alcove.”
“Wh-what?” he said, his head snapping in that direction.
“Go,” I said, even as he was already in motion.
Taking a firmer grip on the neck of the guitar, I turned and entered the library, forcing a smile as others all around welcomed me with anticipation. Doña Elena sat in the corner, back ramrod-straight, hands clasped in her lap, Mateo at her side. Abraham, the first mate, continued to chat with the other two sailors, doing their best to ignore their silent hostess. I reached for a stool someone had placed in the center of the room, as Captain Craig entered, Frani on his arm, Javier directly behind them.
I didn’t look at Doña Elena then. It had to be the last thing she wanted to see.
I sank to my seat, settled the guitar on my lap, placed my fingers over the strings, and wondered, What would be right? Perfect for this moment? I had no idea if the songs I knew had been written before 1840, or if I was stealing a future artist’s idea. But what choice did I have? I knew what I knew.
As soon as the song came into my head, I didn’t question—I set to it, strumming fast, my fingers wildly flying over the chords of the verse, then slowing, quieting. My fingers strummed through the following chorus, then swiftly plucked out each note of the verse. The acoustics of the library were wonderful—I briefly wondered why this wasn’t the music room—and then I was lost again in the song. I remembered, distantly, that it was about a torrential love affair that was halted, then rediscovered in time. Belatedly, I felt the heat of my blush as I wondered if these people knew this song…and its context.
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