Will returned the man’s confident grin. “Have Dr. Enders there, too…and make sure he’s sober. A hatchet wound can be a pretty horrible thing, especially if it doesn’t land right and the victim lives.” In spite of Hugo’s dark complexion, Will could see him pale at the remark. He wanted Hugo to think about what could happen if he lost. He had already seen Will use a hatchet, so he knew that Will certainly had a chance of winning. If Hugo was nervous enough, he might miss his mark when he turned and fired.
Hugo dabbed at his still-bleeding lip again. “I am going to the chapel now. I will ask Father Lorenzo to bless me and to pray that tomorrow my bullet finds its proper mark, so that Santana will indeed marry the best man.” He glanced at Santana before walking out.
Dominic looked at Will. “I will have Delores prepare a room for you. Hugo’s room is on this end of the house. I will put you at the other end so you do not have to see him any more tonight.”
“Gracias, Dominic. I am sorry to bring your family this disruption, but I have thought about this for many months, and I know I have to do this.”
“I for one am glad,” Hernando said. “I have said nothing all this time because I knew it was my father’s decision, but I have never liked the thought of my sister marrying Hugo, nor of Hugo getting his hands on La Estancia de Alcala.”
Dominic sighed resignedly. “I have watched Hugo grow from a spoiled, demanding little boy into a spoiled, demanding man. I did not want to see the kind of man he truly is, because I could not bear the thought of how he might treat Santana. So far he has been quite respectable, but his eyes tell me that once Santana is his wife, he would treat her very differently.
“I also do not like the thought that he would take her to San Francisco, away from those she loves and who love her. If you win this, Will, I would like your promise that you will not take my daughter away from here, that you would not take her to your home far in the East. I am an old man, and I love Santana. I would not like spending these last years of my life never seeing her again.”
Will looked at Santana, an aching need stirred by the sight of her standing there so proud and brave, looking ravishing in her coral dress. It pleased him to realize she probably dressed so beautifully in the hope he would get there that night. He turned his gaze to Dominic. “I have no plans of ever leaving California. I have too much invested here. And it will take many years to harvest your forests. I have no reason to take Santana anywhere. And I have no intention of interfering with or trying to take anything that Hernando will inherit rightfully. The only thing I would want is full rights to the forest once you have passed away.”
Dominic nodded. “It is a fair request, if you become my son-in-law.”
Will looked at Santana again. “First your daughter has to agree to marry me. I have promised her that if I win this duel, she is a free woman. I will not demand her hand.” He looked back at Dominic. “I don’t want Hugo to know that. I am only telling you because I want to set your mind at ease. Santana hardly knows me. I won’t demand anything of her. I am only doing this to keep her from Hugo’s clutches.”
Dominic nodded. “Then you are a more honorable man than I thought. I will go to the chapel later myself, to pray for you, not Hugo.” He closed his eyes. “God forgive me. His father and I were very close.”
“I will go to the chapel too, with Father,” Santana said. She walked closer to Will. “I will also pray for you, Will Lassater,” she said softly. “And if you win the duel, you need not make me a free woman. It is true I do not know you well, but I know enough to see what a fine husband you would make for any woman. Gringo you are, but I am telling you now that I will marry you if you are the victor.”
Their eyes held, and Will could not imagine anything more glorious than having Santana’s naked body pressed against his in bed. “I would find it a great honor to call you my wife,” he answered, searching her eyes, seeing there a look that told him she had changed from child to woman. He longed to kiss her full lips again, to taste her mouth, her neck, her breasts, to claim her virginity. If not for the presence of Dominic and Hernando, he would grab her close and relish the feel of her in his arms. He forced himself to look past her at Dominic. “I rode pretty hard and fast to get here. I would like to go to my room and clean up, then maybe eat something. After that I intend to get some much-needed sleep.”
“Of course. Hernando, go tell Delores to prepare a room.”
Hernando left, and Dominic came from around his desk and reached out his right hand. Will shook it. “I do not fully approve of my daughter marrying an Americano, but I want only her happiness. Come. I will show you to your room.” He took hold of Santana’s arm and escorted her out. Will followed, watching the graceful flow of Santana’s walk, her slender waist, her beautiful shoulders. What would Gerald think of his marrying a Spanish woman? He missed his brother, looked forward to the day when he and his family could join him in California. For the moment, though, nothing mattered but the fact that he had challenged Hugo Bolivar to a duel. After tomorrow he might not need to worry about Santana or Gerald or the mill. He might find himself lying in a grave next to Santana’s mother.
Santana wrapped her shawl closer against the early-morning chill. She sat in the open buggy in which she, her father, and Hernando had ridden to the grove of oaks a half-mile east of the house. Teresa had stayed behind with the children. Dominic had tried to convince Santana she should not come, but she would not hear of it. Will Lassater was risking his life for her that morning. If he was wounded, she wanted to be with him. No matter what happened, he should know she cared.
Her stomach felt tight, and she had not eaten any breakfast. Nor, according to Dominic, had Will. He had left his room before sunup, and Hugo had proclaimed that he had backed out of the challenge and run off like a coward. Hugo had ridden alongside Dominic’s buggy on his shiny black horse, maintaining a cocky pose as though he were some great Spanish warrior. His lower lip was swollen, but he pretended it did not bother him. He always traveled with several guards, and they were with him now, one of them carrying a case with a pair of fancy pistols inside. A man had been sent hightailing to Rancho de Rosas the night before to get the pistols from Hugo’s gun collection.
To Santana’s delight, Will was already at the dueling site when they arrived. She had taken pleasure in seeing a slight fear in Hugo’s eyes when he saw Will practicing throwing his hatchet. With amazing speed and accuracy he landed it into the narrow trunk of a young oak. He walked up and yanked it out, walked back and threw it again, landing it in almost exactly the same spot. Hugo seemed to flinch at every thud. Will’s Palomino was tied not far away, and now Hugo had dismounted and handed his own horse over to one of his guards. A few men from La Estancia de Alcala who had heard what was going to happen had already filtered in to watch, and now a sizable crowd was gathering. A cool mist still hung in the air, holding in it the scent of the ocean, even though the water was several miles away.
Santana had worn a mint-green dress with short sleeves and a scooped neckline, but the morning was so chilly she was glad for her white knit shawl. Her hair was wrapped in one thick braid around her head, for she felt she looked older that way, and what was happening here was not child’s play. These two men were fighting over her hand, and one of them would most likely die. She did not see it as an act of love on Hugo’s part. He was simply saving his pride, and had probably agreed to this duel only because he was sure no one could best him. It was Will who was taking the greater risk. He had instigated all of this just to keep her from having to marry Hugo, and she loved him all the more for what he was doing.
Yes, she loved him, in spite of his still being very much a stranger to her. If he was killed, a part of her would die with him, and the rest of her would die when Hugo Bolivar made her his wife. Will had to be the victor. She had prayed so hard that he would be.
Dominic called the two men together, and it seemed to Santana that even the birds knew the gravity of the Situation. Usually in the e
arly morning the air rang with their singing, but this morning all was silent. The sun was barely up over the mountains to the east, and it shone through the mist in a soft red color. There was no wind. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, then stirred the tree branches when it flew off.
Santana felt weak and tingly all over, her nerves stretched to their limit. None of this had seemed real until this moment, as her father explained how the duel would take place, and Will and Hugo watched each other with hatred in their eyes. Hugo had dressed in a black suit with a white ruffled shirt, rings on his fingers, knee-high black boots, the fine clothes of a Spanish gentleman. Will wore a simple plaid flannel shirt, cotton pants, and worn leather boots, a powerfully built, barrel-chested man who was obviously much stronger than Hugo. But this was not a duel of strength. It was a duel of skill, and Hugo was one of the best with a pistol. Still, Will had a skill of his own, with the wicked hatchet that he gripped tightly in his right hand.
“You will stand back-to-back and you will each take ten paces as I count them,” Dominic was saying. “At the count of diez you will turn and fire.” He glanced at Will. “Or in your case, throw the hatchet.”
Santana watched Hugo’s face. It seemed pale, and beads of sweat were showing. Surely he was terrified of taking a hatchet between his eyes, or in the middle of his chest. Or he could be maimed for life if Will’s aim was slightly off. Her heart pounded with dread as Dominic had Hugo and Will stand back-to-back. Will had not looked at her once, and she knew it was because he was concentrating all thoughts and energy on the duel. His life hung in the balance. Dominic began counting, the men began walking, and Santana felt an odd pressure build in her head as the intensity heightened. Her ears were ringing from the dead silence in the air, and her father’s voice sounded as though he were standing in a small, stuffy room.
“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis.” Santana felt almost faint, and she scrunched a handkerchief in her now-sweaty hands. “Siete, ocho, nueve—”
Santana’s heart stopped as, before her father reached the count of ten, Hugo turned and fired. Shouts rose from the small crowd that watched, and Santana stood up in the buggy as Will’s body pitched forward, blood quickly staining his upper back. Hugo stood motionless, his smoking pistol still raised, while Dr. Enders rushed over to Will. Hugo glanced at Santana, an evil grin moving across his lips, then turned his gaze to Dominic.
“You did say diez, did you not?”
Enraged, Dominic glared at him, fists clenched. “You know that I did not! And this ends our agreement, Hugo. I will not allow my daughter to marry a coward.”
Hugo’s grin faded. “I heard the tenth count.”
“You heard no such thing! You were afraid Will Lassater could throw that hatchet before—”
“Get away from me!” they heard Will say. Everyone’s attention moved to him again as he struggled to his knees. He rested there a moment, then managed to get to his feet. Already the entire left side of the back of his shirt was soaked with blood, but he managed to turn around, still gripping his hatchet. Hugo’s eyes widened in terror, and he slowly lowered the pistol, which by the rules had been loaded with only one shot.
“Your aim…was a little off, Hugo,” Will said. “Maybe it was because…you were so nervous about feeling my hatchet…buried in your skull. Or maybe it’s because you knew…you were doing a cowardly thing…to shoot before Dominic reached the count of ten.” He took a deep breath, and it seemed to be a struggle for him just to stay on his feet. “I believe…I still have…my turn coming.”
Santana could now see a hole and blood at the upper left part of his chest, where the ball from Hugo’s pistol had apparently gone all the way through him.
“You have shown all of us,” Will went on, though every word seemed an effort, “the coward that you…really are.” His eyes blazed with bitter hatred. “Will you stand there now…and let me have a shot at you…to save your honor? Or will you…turn and run?”
Hugo straightened, his face bathed in sweat. Santana was almost certain she saw tears in his eyes.
“Go ahead, you stinking Americano! I will not run from you!”
Will raised the hatchet. “Take my advice, Hugo. Don’t move…not even one inch. If you do, you risk being maimed for life…or dying a terribly slow death. Let it be quick.”
Everyone watched in stunned silence. Hugo made no move. Will flung the hatchet, and it whirled with lightning speed through the mist. It all happened in less than two seconds. Hugo squeezed his eyes shut as the hatchet headed straight for his head; then he cried out and fell away as the weapon skimmed the left side of his head, taking off part of his ear and a bit of his scalp before landing in a tree behind him. Hugo dropped to his knees, shivering and holding his hand to the left side of his head. Blood poured through his fingers and down his arm onto the sleeve of his black silk jacket.
One of Hugo’s men rushed to his side, calling for Dr. Enders, who ran over. He pulled some gauze from his bag and told Hugo to press it tightly against the side of his head, that he could do little for him until the bleeding slowed. Will half stumbled closer, refusing to let anyone help him walk. He stood over Hugo, and the others backed away.
“I could just as well…have put that between your eyes,” he told Hugo, “but I like to think I am a better man than to do something so barbaric…even if you do deserve it. Consider yourself lucky today, Hugo…but also defeated. If you had not shot at me before I had a chance to turn…we could call this a draw…but your own cowardliness has made you…the loser. Get the hell off this ranch. Let your own men tend to your wound. I prefer…never to set eyes on you again!”
Hugo managed to get to his feet. “This is not over,” he growled.
“It is for me,” Will answered. “If you choose to keep it going, my hatchet will find its proper mark the next time.”
Hugo glowered at him, but for the moment he was defeated. He looked over at Santana. “If you marry this Americano, you will be marrying beneath yourself. But it no longer matters to me. I want nothing to do with a woman who sells herself so cheaply!”
Will grasped the front of Hugo’s shirt, yanking him forward with surprising strength, considering his injury. “You will not insult Santana, either here or in San Francisco. If I hear you have, you are a dead man. Every person here knows I have a right to kill you…whenever it pleases me. You don’t play fair, Hugo, and in that case, neither do I. Now get the hell out of my sight…before I go get that hatchet and bury it in your skull!”
Hugo sneered. “Someday, I will find a way to destroy you!” He turned and ordered one of his men to help him to his horse, then told another guard to go to the Alcala home and get his belongings. Still holding blood-soaked gauze to the side of his head, he rode up to Dominic. “This is the end of our friendship. I am sorry to lose it, but if you take this Americano as a son-in-law, there will never again be any dealings between us.”
“Even if Will Lassater does not marry Santana,” Dominic said, “I would want no more dealings with you anyway, Hugo. I will not do business with or be the friend of such a coward. It is good that your father is dead and did not see what happened here today!”
Hugo sniffed, then jerked his horse around, stopping beside the buggy to glare at Santana. “Someday…” he said, his dark gaze raking over her as though he were ripping off her clothes.
“Coward!” she spat at him.
He glared at her a moment longer, then rode off. Santana turned to see that Will had finally sunk to his knees, and she realized he was probably about to pass out from loss of blood.
“Get him into the buggy and take him to the house!” Dominic ordered. “Come with us, Dr. Enders. And no drinking until you have tended to his wounds.”
A bleary-eyed Marcus Enders, whose face was continually puffy and whose eyes were constantly bloodshot from too much drink, followed the men who helped Will to the buggy. He climbed in beside him, quickly ripping off more gauze and stuffing it into the front and back of Will’s shi
rt. Santana climbed into the back of the buggy herself, sitting down and placing Will’s head in her lap. She leaned close, stroking his hair.
“You must live now, mi querido, so that we can marry. Please do not die. It is only this moment that I have realized how much I love you. Te amo como jamas he amado.”
Will opened his eyes to look into her beautiful face. “I love you as I have never loved before,” she had told him.
“Te amo, carina mia,” he answered.
Eleven
“Well, well, I don’t believe my eyes.” Noel Gray strolled into the room where Will lay resting. “When the messenger came and told me the real reason you left the mill four days ago, I figured you had completely lost your mind.”
Will grinned, then grimaced as he used his right arm to brace himself so he could sit up straighter in bed. “I’ve been up and about a little. I’ll be out of here in a couple of days. It’s not that bad. The shot went right through me, apparently missing anything vital, and Dr. Enders does a pretty decent job as long as he’s sober. I won’t be chopping at a tree anytime soon, but I can run things otherwise. How’s everything going at the mill?”
“Well, we brought another big one down with no mishaps, but some of the wood at the lower end shattered. I only came to verify that you’re all right and see if everything I was told is true. I’ve got to get back to camp pretty quick.”
Will ran a hand through his hair. “What would I do without you?”
Noel pulled up a chair. “Without me you probably would have stayed put to run things because you’re the only other one who can. Then you wouldn’t have come here and gotten yourself in this mess. Then again, you probably would have come anyway, just closed down the mill first. Apparently you decided this was pretty damn important. I thought you had put Senorita Lopez out of your mind. You haven’t mentioned her to me for months.”
The Forever Tree Page 14