Austin stopped and looked at her. “The baby probably died inside the mother. If it can’t turn around it most likely suffocated. Then it becomes a race to save the mother. That is one of my best mares.”
“I’m sorry,” Espé said. “I don’t know anything about horses.”
“Then what are you doing here?” he stopped at a spigot and pumped the handle several times until water came gushing out. He cupped his hand and splashed water on his face, using the bandana to wipe the dirt, sweat and blood from this skin. Espé mumbled under her breath. Austin rubbed his hands through his hair. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I don’t know,” Espé said louder.
Austin looked at her and his brow furrowed. He took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. “Go home, Espéranza. Wherever that is. Just go home.”
She watched Austin turn on his heel and head back into the house. Instead of following him Espé walked back the short distance to town. On her way she saw the small chapel. She found comfort in the church back home. Perhaps she might find comfort at this church as well, so she started the trek up to the hill.
Now, Espé sat on the bench looking down at the town. Miss Viola’s house rose in the distance. It was larger than most houses in town. She heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel behind her. She turned and the man that haunted her dreams walked toward her.
Chapter 6
“May I join you?”
Espé looked up at the man standing next to her. She gave a little sniff and nodded, scooting over to allow the man to sit down. The scent of earth after a summer rain assaulted her senses. She took a moment and just sat with him.
“I didn’t catch your name, last night.”
Espé turned to see his face. His blue eyes stared at her intently. She looked back down at the handkerchief she was worrying in her hands. “Espéranza.”
“Espéranza.” He rolled the name off his tongue. “That is a beautiful name. I’m William, but most folks call me Bill. Or Pastor.”
Espé’s eyes shot up to his. “Pastor? You are the pastor?” He nodded and she gave a little giggle. “I thought you were the gardener.”
Bill laughed. “I do like being outside, but I admit I would fail miserably if that were my profession.”
She glanced back at the garden longingly. “My Mamá had roses.”
Bill raised his eyebrow. “She did? Where was that?”
Espé wondered how much she should say. It wouldn’t hurt to tell the pastor where she was from, would it?
“We lived in Florida. Near the sand.”
“Like a beach?”
“Si.”
“I bet you find this part of Colorado very different.”
“It is colder,” she finally replied. Bill laughed, the sound warming Espé from the inside. She had never felt anything when being around a man. Why was this one different?
“I didn’t see you come back down to the dance last night.”
Espé shook her head. “No. I was tired and I went to bed. The traveling must have caught up with me.”
“How long was the ride? Five days?”
“Six. They had to stop the train while we were traveling.”
“Why did they stop the train?”
Espé shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Bill clasped his hands together and placed them between his knees. “Why did you come out this way? You knew what a matchmaker entailed, yet you appear like that isn’t what you want. Beans mentioned to me that you’ve avoided almost all interaction with everyone.” His bright blue eyes seemed to see right through her. Espé shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “All the other brides seem happy. I know there are some mix-ups with the beaus, but that will all be worked out. Why are you so unhappy?”
Espé wiped away her tears and then cleared her throat. “It isn’t what I expected.”
Bill knew as a pastor, he shouldn’t be touching this woman, but at the moment his heart was more man than minister. While his inner voice screamed “be careful,” he gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “What was it that you were expecting?”
Espé shoved her handkerchief back in her pocket. “I didn’t think I would be this lonely.”
“Tell me more,” the pastor said softly.
Espé suddenly shifted on the bench. “Have you ever had someone betray you so badly that you didn’t know what to do?”
Bill nodded. He remembered feeling that way after his father had died. His mother left him on his own and headed back to New York City to be with her family. Granted, he was an adult and his relationship with her was strained, but he never wanted her to leave. “Yes. My mother left.”
Espé nodded with empathy. “It was my Papá . He was dictating me to do something that would change my life forever. I didn’t want to do it.”
“Was it that terrible? I know sometimes our parents seem harsh, but they have our best interests at heart.”
“It was terrible.”
“So, you came out here?” Espé nodded. Bill placed his hand back on his lap. “Was it really that terrible?” he repeated. “This thing that your Papá asked?”
“I thought so at the time. But if I simply did what he wanted; I’d still be close to my family.” Espé sighed and looked at the sky. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. It looks like it is going to rain.” When Bill nodded and then shook his head, giving a sharp laugh, Espé narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No. No, I’m not. I just remembered what a good friend of mine said about the weather. She said It is a sad day when you have to resort to talking about the weather.”
“Hmmm.” Espé didn’t understand, but then again, she didn’t understand most American expressions. “Would you like me to help you?” she asked. Bill looked confused. Espé pointed to the garden. “You should get your rose bushes pruned before the rain arrives.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to bother you with that.”
“It isn’t any trouble at all. In fact, it might keep my mind off what happened today.” Espé stood and started toward the garden area.
Bill quickly followed her. “Do you want to share what happened?”
Espé ignored him and let herself into the garden and started picking up the branches that were scattered on the ground. “You should plant flowers here,” she said pointing to the dirt along the church wall.
“I have some seeds,” Bill offered. “Maybe I could get them in the ground before the rain starts?” Espé nodded and Bill disappeared for a moment before returning with a paper envelope. He handed it to Espé, who was drawing furrows in the dirt with one of the branches. “They were from that friend I mentioned. Miss Viola grew the prettiest flowers in her garden. I think these are marigolds.”
Espé poured the seeds in her hands and used her fingers to drop them into the grooves in the soil. She covered them with dirt and then stood, brushing the soil from her fingers.
“You finish pruning, just tell me where to put these branches,” she said.
Bill started cutting the lilac bush. “You can put them in a pile over there,” he pointed to a corner of the small yard. “I’ll chop them up for compost. Espé started moving the branches to the pile. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Bill didn’t ask any more questions.
He was certainly unlike any other pastor Espé had ever met. The padres at the church in St. Augustine were kind men, but most of them were very serious looking. They were nothing like the handsome man she was working alongside right now. In fact, she never recalled one of the padres ever working in the garden. This pastor was very unique indeed.
Once she was done adding all the waste on the ground to the compost pile, she moved to a bench near the garden gate and watched Bill finish up his pruning. His red hair was damp around his collar and it curled up around his neck. Espé could see freckles on his skin and she started counting silently. Her grandmother called them angel kisses. Bill certainly had been kissed by many angel
s.
His muscles rippled under his shirt as he opened and closed the shears. The fabric would pull tight and then release; repeating with every cut he would make.
Her shoulder still felt warm where he placed his hand on it. She wondered if the rest of his embrace would be just as warm. Espé silently chastised herself. It was totally inappropriate to think such things about a man of God.
Bill finished trimming the bush and put his tools in a wooden box by his feet. Espé hadn’t noticed it when she was cleaning up. He gathered the rest of the branches and walked them over to the pile before returning to where Espé sat on the bench.
“Mr. Redburn made me go visit Mr. Waterman’s ranch today.”
“I don’t think anyone could make you do something you didn’t want to do.”
Espé brushed some dirt from her skirt. “Well I did. It didn’t go so well and I don’t want to tell Mr. Redburn I don’t like the match he made for me.” Bill raised his eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. “His children are lovely, but Mr. Waterman just seems so … so… angry.” Espé relayed her interaction with the rancher starting with the dance and finishing with him telling her to leave. “So, I left.” She looked at Bill. “And here I am.”
Bill gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you made your way here.”
“Actually, I was just really tired from walking. I saw the bench and wanted to rest before continuing back to the house.” She looked around the garden. “It is so peaceful here. I bet you enjoy the quiet.”
“Sometimes,” Bill said.
“I’ve always been surrounded by people. I think I’d enjoy the quiet.” Bill didn’t say anything.
A carriage pulled up alongside the church and the driver pulled the reins for the horse to stop right by the gate.
“Uh-oh,” Espé whispered under her breath.
“Something amiss?” Bill asked.
“Si. Mrs. Grant took me to the ranch. And I left without telling her.”
“That wasn’t very smart. Or safe,” he gently admonished
Mrs. Grant stopped in front of the church and stepped out of the carriage. Espé cringed. She had left the woman without a word.
“Miss Martinez, I must speak to you immediately.” The widow lifted her skirt so it wouldn’t fall in the dirt along the path.
“I just didn’t want to be there,” Espé whispered to Bill. Then turning, she spoke more loudly, “Mrs. Grant,” she called to the woman approaching them. “I am sor…”
Mrs. Grant held up her hand. “Save it, child. I simply made an excuse that you weren’t used to being around that many people at once.” She looked from Bill to Espé. Espé realized he was still holding her hand. Mrs. Grant noticed as well. “Well this is interesting.”
“What?” Bill responded, releasing Espé’s hand.
“She doesn’t seem terrified around you.” She pointed to the bench. “Let this old lady sit down.” Bill stood and Mrs. Grant made herself comfortable, adjusting her skirt until she was satisfied.
“Now. What is going on here?”
“I was just helping Bill plant flowers and clean up the garden,” Espé replied.
“Yes,” Bill quickly replied. “Espé was just helping me.”
Mrs. Grant looked amused. “Well now, isn’t that interesting. First names already?” She turned to Espé. “Now why did you really leave?”
Espé noticed Bill started fidgeting, as if he didn’t want to hear what she was about to say. Finally, she spoke her truth. “Mr. Waterman doesn’t like me. Not one bit. And I don’t like him. He looks angry and he speaks loudly.”
Big fat droplets of rain started to fall from the sky. Bill picked up his toolbox, he grabbed Espé’s hand and they dashed between the drops to the inside of the church.
Even though it was only a short distance, the small party was soaked by the time they entered the church. Espé turned and noticed Bill was quickly turning away, fixing his gaze on something out in the garden. It was obvious that he had, for a moment, been staring at her. His eyes, which were once the color of bright skies now appeared stormy. He didn’t appear angry… it was something else totally different.
Mrs. Grant cleared her throat and flicked her eyes down to Espé’s chest. Her blouse was clinging to her chemise. “Oh goodness,” she said quickly turning away while trying to pull the fabric away from her body. The more she pulled, the more the wet cloth stuck to her skin.
She tried not to look at Bill, but she was totally aware of his nearness, and she desperately hoped that he would not think badly of her. Of all the men she had met in Florida, back in España, or here in Colorado, for some reason, this man was the only man whose opinion of her mattered.
Thinking quickly, she untied the shawl around her waist and tied it around her neck, using it as a covering. Mrs. Grant’s expression softened. She appeared to approve.
She took Espé’s hand and pulled her deeper into the church. “How about we go into the sanctuary and have a nice cup of tea and you can tell me exactly what is going on here.”
Chapter 7
A warm cup of tea and some towels brought Mrs. Grant and Esperanza slightly closer to being comfortable. They would both need to go back out in the miserable downpour in order to get home and properly dried. For now, the corner of the nave where the Ladies Auxiliary had their meetings was all the comfort available.
Mrs. Grant took a kettle from the stove and brought it to the table were Espé and Bill were sitting. She poured the water in a chipped pot and dropped in two tea bags. She gave the water a quick stir and popped the lid on the pot before returning the kettle to the stove.
“Now, dear,” Mrs. Grant began, her eyes softening as they looked at Espé. “Tell me again, why you think Mr. Waterman wouldn’t be a good match for you.”
Espé’s words came out in a rush. “Mr. Waterman made it perfectly clear that he does not want me as his bride. The man was rude, insulting, and he seemed to be only capable of barking out orders. He barely answered my questions and he wouldn’t even look at me. And did you notice the way Maya and little Lucia acted afraid of that man?”
Espé’s eyes were watering. She had not even been that humiliated by her father’s attempts to sell her off to the Viscondé!
“Now, now, dear, Austin is a good man. Maybe it was something else they were afraid of?”
“I can’t imagine what,” Espé said.
Mrs. Grant poured the tea into three cups and pushed one toward Espé. “I’m sure the servant girls were—“
“Servant girls?” Espé leaped to her feet. “You are calling them servant girls? They have names! They are—.” Suddenly she paused and looked at the two faces staring back at her. “Oh, I see now. They are foreigners to you. Just like I am a foreigner to you! Just like Maya and Lucia are to that arrogant, insulting miserable excuse for a man!” Stomping over to the window, Espé cringed as her heeled boots pounded marks into the church floor.
Mrs. Grant opened her mouth to contradict Espé’s indictment against Austin Waterman. But she immediately recalled another time she and two ladies from the Auxiliary had visited poor Mrs. Waterman before she died. She heard angry yelling from the barn and heard one of the servant girls crying out as if in pain. Had Austin been beating one of the girls? Surely not. No! He was a good Christian man. He wouldn’t do something like that. He couldn’t. Mrs. Grant had known him for years, and he never exhibited any sign of violence before. Perhaps the stress of his wife’s illness caused him to change.
When Maya brought tea into Mrs. Waterman’s room, half an hour later, she was favoring her right leg. Her cheeks were splotchy and her eyes red and swollen. Mrs. Grant tried to engage her in conversation, but the girl silently pleaded for them not to discuss it and she limped back to the kitchen.
Turning to Esperanza, Mrs. Grant began, “Surely, there’s some other reason—”
Espé held up her hand as she stared intently through the raindrops pounding the windowpane. There was a lone figure walking up the
hill to the churchyard. Espé squinted her eyes hoping it would bring the figure in focus. Suddenly she jumped from the window and ran towards the door.
“That’s Maya!” Espé’s anxious voice cut off the older woman. She darted out into the drenching rain to escort the young lady inside. Maya was holding her arm at an angle. Espé gently lifted Maya’s arm, tucking it against her body and placed her other arm around Maya’s shoulders.
When they arrived at the door, Maya started pulling back from entering the church.
“Por favor, señorita, eso no es posible, no tengo dinero para dárselo al padre, aunque necesito confesarme,” Maya said to Espé. Maya’s words were slurred as she was trembling from the cold. Her hair was dripping wet and she could barely speak as Espé took her shawl from around her shoulders and wrapped it around the girl. It didn’t do any real good, but her desire to help earned her a smile.
Bill held the door opened as Espé ushered the poor girl over to the stove. “Do you have towels, sheets or blankets?” Espé asked Bill as she began to rub Maya’s arm that wasn’t against her middle. “We need to get her dry as quickly as possible.”
Bill ran to a closet and grabbed several towels, handing them to Espé. She wrapped Maya in them. Mrs. Grant looked mortified at the water puddling on the floor and dripping on the furniture. Espé was sure the widow was going to say something, but she stopped abruptly at the defiant glare Espé sent towards her.
When Maya was a bit warmer, Espé turned her anger on Mrs. Grant. “You say that Mr. Waterman is a nice Christian man. Does it look like that now?”
“Espé,” Bill warned. “We can’t go jumping to conclusions. We don’t know what happened.”
“I can tell you what happened. This poor girl walked here in the rain and cold to get away from the man that is abusing her. Someone will need to get the doctor. I don’t know where one is.”
“I can do that,” Bill said. “Mrs. Grant, why don’t you make Maya some tea.” Mrs. Grant nodded and went over to the stove. He then turned to the injured girl. “I take it you came to see me here at the church. How about we talk as soon as I get the doctor?”
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