"No, Louisa! Andrew was telling me how much he loved you! The words came from Andrew's heart in a way only a man who truly loves a woman can speak. I heard much the same emotion from my son before he came to California, and there was no mistaking what Marshall meant. And, if you'll remember, I confronted Andrew that afternoon at Easton's in your presence. Perhaps you did not understand him, but I certainly did. There is no doubt in my mind but that he loves you. He was emphatic. He swore what he'd told me in private was true, and I could see in his eyes he meant exactly what he'd said."
Emma took Louisa's hands and held them. Louisa lowered her eyes, and Emma waited for her to look up again. When she did, Emma stared deeply into her lonely, almost wild eyes. "Louisa," she whispered, "Andrew has always loved you, just as Marshall did, and there is no doubt in my mind that he loves you now. Nothing could change the kind of love he has for you. I came to realize sending you away would never have changed how Marshall felt about you. It would only have kept the two of you physically separated. Listen to me, Louisa. I know Andrew loves you at least as much as Marshall did," Emma concluded firmly. Then she sighed as if she were disheartened. "Yet it's not a matter of believing me, child, but of trusting him."
Louisa was not as calm as her now dry eyes suggested. "Emma, when I don't know my own feelings, how will I ever be able to trust him?"
"Give yourself more time, Louisa. You only need a little more time." They were words she uttered on many other occasions, for in the months that followed Louisa and Emma talked on this subject often. With slightly different words each time, the women said much the same things over and over to each other in their conversations, and it was a long while before Louisa could admit she loved Aaron as much as she did, and an even longer time before she began to hope, if not believe, Aaron really loved her, too.
Chapter Ninety-two
IT was obvious, even to William Easton, he was being shoved aside. Peter Melville had revised the conspirators' original plans, and no one contested his decisions. But it was not an easy defeat for Easton to accept. In fact it was not one he could tolerate. He had set his sights on becoming president of the Pacific Republic. He had been involved with planning the West's future almost from the beginning, and he could not imagine the schemes accomplished without visualizing himself in a ceremonial position. The honor could not rightfully be bestowed on anyone else, even though the moves of the game were always to have been flexible. The end, as Easton saw it, was always to have been the same: he would reign.
Now Easton realized would never ascend to the heights he had come to expect when he first mingled with these men of power and influence. In his place, Senator Edwin Taylor was being groomed. Taylor's ability to rally the mobs had given him the advantage over Easton. He had the notoriety and the presence to swerve thinking in favor of an independent West, and had already influenced a strong minority in favor of Western neutrality. Even among those who favored support of one side or the other, Taylor managed to sow seeds of doubt.
William Easton privately acknowledged Taylor would be more widely applauded and supported by the general population than he would ever be, and he quietly retreated to Crane's Nest. With his future undecided, he tried to settle unobtrusively again in Monterey, soothing his tensions and his sudden, blinding, sound-amplifying headaches with the almost magical powders Loo Kim supplied. As soon as his head seemed clear, Easton would set about making plans of his own for the days to come.
Peter Melville also returned to Crane's Nest. Surreptitiously the estate once again became the conspirators' headquarters. On drafting paper, plans for Santa Catalina Island were developed in detail. Supplies were secretly stored on the island and in other locations on the Southern California coast. Fortification and development of the island was not yet begun in earnest for fear of attracting too much attention so early in the game, but "mining" activities were gradually increasing. Was it true there was a rich lode just discovered on the island? The rumor surfaced from time to time, especially along the Southern California coast.
Marguerite Hill followed Melville to Monterey in February only a few days in advance of Aaron, who arrived at Melville's summons. When he disembarked from the ship, he looked like one of the crew, having thrown himself into the Catalina project with abandon. No one could fault him for enthusiasm. Since the first of the year he'd spent a fair share of his time at Casa del Sur at Melville's request. He kept Herman Brockheim informed of the plot's progress, and his visits to the hacienda soon became a pleasure. Hospitality his host never dreamed was being offered to him was extended to Aaron.
Esperanza Brockheim was her father's youngest child and only daughter. She was willful, and a student of nothing but her own whims, having outgrown her tutor, if not outsmarted him. She was very marriageable, but flatly refused the suitors who proposed. Her father's patience was wearing thin in this matter, and she knew her days were numbered. When Aaron reflected on Esperanza's choices, it was apparent to him she had decided to make the most of what freedom she had, for as long as she had it.
Esperanza was a surprise to all who saw her within the family circle, resembling her rather homely parents only in that she had her mother's Castilian coloring―jet-black hair and milk-white skin. Her sparkling brown eyes, her energetic body belonged to her alone. Esperanza's figure was fuller, her hips broader than Louisa's, a fact which made her more fashionable, if not more appealing than Aaron's slender wife. Yet her smooth, lithe flesh was very pleasing to his touch, very compliant to his needs when, by surprise, she first stole into his apartment within the hacienda, and treated him to her not very virginal charms.
She's learned more than conjugation of French verbs from her teacher, Aaron smiled to himself in the semidarkness of his room. And he carefully helped round out her education, finding her a very apt pupil, hardly an ingénue, though sweetly curious and willing. She was definitely less temperamental than Louisa Boyd Hudson, he thought, and, gratefully, she seemed not to have the least interest in making lasting demands of him. She asked a few inquisitive questions about his wife, about whom she'd heard a few flattering details, much to Aaron's amusement.
"If she is as beautiful as even you say, she has lovers, too. Tell me how to find a husband as tolerant as you, señor, because I hope to have many lovers, also." Esperanza sighed finally, and Aaron found himself frowning. In Esperanza's conclusions, Aaron again discovered unwillingly, he was opposed to Louisa being as generous with her favors as he was with his own. The thought of Alex Fielder, or a man like him, still haunted Aaron, though increasingly Aaron tried not to think about Louisa. When he did, he reminded himself he was only in California to play a dangerous game. The stakes were keeping his neck, and the neck of his former partner Mason Jennings out of the hangman's noose. If, at times, Aaron despaired of his role in the political affairs in which he found himself, when his loyalty to Marshall's memory was obscured he needed only to remember his friend Jennings. He certainly owed him something, the least of which was his all-out effort to save the man's life. And at these moments it was dear to Aaron his prize in this affair would not be Louisa. She had been only a source of extreme pleasure: a bonus, just as he'd originally thought of her. But she was also a complication, if she had not endangered him.
Aaron lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head, waiting for Esperanza to dress and leave his room, knowing it was best to forget Louisa; knowing it was smarter by far to take his pleasure with women, like the German's daughter, whenever they came his way. What did Louisa have that Esperanza lacked? "Nothing," was the very obvious answer, and Aaron managed to drive down all retorts that sprang to mind, reaching out to Esperanza again, forgetting all else when she slipped into his arms, murmuring his name as if she loved him.
Chapter Ninety-three
MONTEREY was much darker this time of year than when Aaron had been there with Louisa. The most apparent reason was the forbidding slashing rain which swept continuously over the coast during the last week. Little seemed to
have changed at the estate, in spite of the new focus of attention on Senator Taylor. He was definitely the man of the hour, much more prominent than Easton had ever been; obviously catered to like a head of state, his travels throughout the West in order to obtain support for neutrality were followed with intense interest.
During the week of isolating rain, a document was drafted and within days its subject matter was discussed from one end of the state to the other. In the public eye it became the manifesto for those who favored the state's neutral position in the pending armed conflict between North and South. Senator Edwin Taylor's supporters were accused of being responsible for the doctrine, but it was never acknowledged by the senator, nor by any of his associates. Yet it sounded very much like, and was, in fact, his handiwork:
Whereas the ability of the United States government to protect California on account of its geographical location is in doubt, and due to the needful preoccupation of its military forces with the coming conflict, the citizens of this state declare their neutrality in the issues which divide the nation, retaining their rights to conduct their affairs, both personal and business, as they see fit, according to their best interests. We, the sovereign citizens of the State of California and the Western territory will neither promote nor discourage the outcome of the issues which now divide the United States of America.
At first the document was rumor only, but its rumored existence quickly captured the attention of Washington. In Marguerite's bed Aaron speculated over what would happen if the people of the state rallied to the idea of neutrality. The possibilities seemed to rivet public attention, and opinions were varied. Everyone had a different notion about the number of citizens who actively supported a neutral West. The strongest support for neutrality was in Southern California, where voices were also most strident in favor of secession. These aims were fanned by secret contributions from the conspirators' treasury, and a great deal of vocal encouragement from drifters who collected on the edges of crowds at public gatherings.
Aaron and Marguerite laughed about the prospects of a separate nation on this side of the continent, but in a moment of lucid observation, Mrs. Hill named Peter Melville as a likely source of agitation. "Wouldn't he just love the opportunity to found a new country. It would be just like him: King Peter the First. You could be prime minister, Marshall. What great fun we could have at court!" she purred thoughtfully.
"And your husband, what side would he take?"
Marguerite sighed dramatically. "He would be a bit of a bother. He's very loyal, you know. His honor and all. Even now, he's on the verge of resigning his commission. Mr. Jefferson Davis need only summon him to the cause of Southern justice."
"And you? Where is your allegiance?"
"You already know the answer to that question, love," she smiled, rolling onto Aaron, touching his handsome face with gentle fingers. "My first loyalty is to my husband," and she burst out laughing, giggling helplessly for several minutes.
Aaron found her mirth off balance, though he laughed with her. What a mockery her marriage was; what a deceitful bitch she was, Aaron snarled to himself even as he fondled her. She was so beautiful, yet so treacherous, and he laughed the harder, realizing he was sympathizing with the woman's husband even; though he had no respect for the colonel, and only moments after doing his part to further degrade the man's reputation. But a cuckolded husband was to be pitied, regardless of the circumstances, Aaron thought. A wife could only too easily make a fool of her husband.
Quickly, however, his mind turned back to getting information from Marguerite. In spite of her behavior, she appeared to be her husband's confidante. How the man avoided knowing of his young wife's affairs was, beyond Aaron's comprehension.
"Where do you think the troops they've massed are headed?" he asked her casually.
Marguerite stretched out beside Aaron, and' propped herself on an elbow, stroking the length of Aaron's torso with long slender fingers, leisurely returning to his chest to twist the black hair there playfully. She stared into Aaron's face a few moments more before answering. "The general's quite upset over a letter that's been circulating. No one's actually seen any document, but it's made everyone nervous. They're gathering men wherever they think there might be unrest. The colonel's expecting to go to San Francisco any day."
"And you?"
"Why, I'll stay here, of course," Marguerite replied softly, staring deeply into the enormous pupils of Aaron's eyes, feeling herself drawn into those black pools. "Where I'll be safe from any real danger."
"Good," he whispered, pulling her against him. She gave him just what he wanted of her body and of the information she had. As yet the powers-that-be had no idea what the source of the unrest was. At the moment, a properly mounted campaign on the part of the conspirators had a very good chance of being successful, and when the skies cleared, Aaron sailed south again. His visits to the Brockheim household were a diplomatic assignment and at the top of Melville's list of Aaron's responsibilities. Melville wanted to be certain he kept the support of the powerful and influential German.
Aaron's duties were secretly sweetened in the cool shades of night by his host's agreeable daughter, and when the old German asked him to escort "my Esperanza to her brother in San Diego," Aaron only smiled pleasantly.
"It will be my pleasure, sir. I was intending to visit my own family soon," he added. The short sea journey was more circumspect than the eager señorita liked. She had rebelled against the idea of visiting her brother, which no one seemed to comprehend, since only weeks before she had begged to see him.' But that was prior to Aaron's return to Casa del Sur. Yet no one connected Aaron's arrival with Esperanza's sudden reluctance to travel, and her odd behavior only made her father's resolve more firm. No amount of tears changed his decision, and her bags were packed and she was escorted reluctantly to San Diego for a long visit.
Esperanza cried distressfully because Aaron would be returning almost immediately to the hacienda in Los Angeles, and her childish petulance and dramatic tearfulness made their brief voyage uncomfortable, at best. Aaron's relief at depositing her at her brother's house two days later was enormous.
It was a pleasure to then turn his attention to Luther Dobson, seeking out the man in his cluttered office, finding him listening skeptically and officiously to the story of a recently arrived ship's captain whose claimed cargo was in dispute. The duty Dobson levied was excessive, the captain declared vigorously, but Aaron's arrival terminated the argument, with Luther waving the fuming man hastily from the dishevelment which was his office.
"Well?"
"It's my bet it'll be a quiet revolution. All the paper is in Monterey just waiting to be confiscated: maps, and letters, enough evidence to hang scores of men up and down the coast."
Dobson gave Aaron a half-smile and shrugged his shoulders. Leaning wearily against his chair, he stared at Aaron, who seemed to sit with catlike anticipation of orders to spring for the very evidence he offered. "The order is still do nothing. Take no action."
Aaron's impatience with the imposed caution was mirrored in every fiber of his body. "What action will there be to take when the whole state rises up in favor of neutrality one day very soon? By then it'll be a damned hard, if not impossible, sentiment to stop."
Dobson shrugged his shoulders. "They're not doing anything as yet as one state after another secedes, so you can't expect too much on this coast. Just have to hope the pro-Union effort here succeeds." His voice was more wishful than certain. "Keep doing what you've been doing. Russell's mighty pleased."
"Great!" Aaron muttered disgustedly, then stood abruptly. "I'll be at the compound―at least overnight," he added as he left, but Aaron's horse seemed more eager to travel in that direction than he did. Yet he didn't halt the animal until he stood outside Louisa's front door.
Almost immediately, Carmen cheerfully gestured him toward the beach. "She is riding."
Aaron turned quickly in that direction, suddenly discovering he was more anxious
to see Louisa than he cared to admit. He raced after her trail in the recently disturbed sand, thinking of the few months they'd been separated. He believed his longing for Louisa had diminished. At times he'd even thought he might be free of her, yet during the time since he'd last seen her, Aaron had not anticipated holding anyone with quite the same emotion he now felt. What special power did Louisa have to make him follow her, even when he questioned the wisdom of his acts? She was only one woman, he reminded himself once more, yet again he felt himself drawn to her by some unexplainable and powerful force he knew he might never understand.
Chapter Ninety-four
THE wind blew in Louisa's face, tossing the hood of her cloak from her head. Though it was late in the season and the sky was a sharp, clear blue, the mountains to the east were still capped with snow and the air was distinctly bitter. Louisa was glad she'd worn her warmer boots and clothing, but she was definitely looking forward to another warm spring, and the hot summer sun.
The tide was at its low point for the day as she rode Coffee along the edges of the shore, totally unaware of Aaron's approach. In the whipping wind, Louisa did not hear Aaron until he was beside her, dragging her from her saddle and into his arms. She met his fierce kisses with passion and sweetness to stir his blood, and he knew instantly why he'd come after her.
Yet in a few moments she was scolding him. "We've had no word from you, Aaron!" she frowned.
"Were you worried?" he asked, holding her tightly, turning the horses back in the direction of the house. Independent as his mistress, Coffee persisted in trailing riderless behind them.
"Of course not. You're quite capable of taking care of yourself. And, I seem to remember, there's always someone to look after whatever demands you have. How is Mrs. Hill, by the way?"
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