Untamed Fire
by
Donna Fletcher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Untamed Fire
All rights reserved.
Copyright©2012 by Donna Fletcher
Smashwords Edition: 2012
Printing History
Untamed Fire
Kensington Publishing Corp/Zebra Books
October 1991
Cover art
Marc Fletcher
EBook design
A Thirsty Mind
Visit Donna’s Web site
www.donnafletcher.com
http://www.facebook.com/donna.fletcher.author
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Author’s Note
Titles
About the Author
Prologue
Spain 1798
“Don’t be afraid to touch her,” Don Felipe said. “After all, she belongs to you.”
Rafael Cabrillo, twelve years old, stared at the sleeping twin girls in the double cradle, Annabelle and Calida Calvez. His blue eyes rested on the little girl whose tiny mouth opened in a big yawn. Her small fingers were curled tightly in fists and were tucked snugly against her chest. He reached out hesitantly. “She’s so tiny I might hurt her.”
“Nonsense, my boy,” Don Felipe insisted. “Annabelle is already one month old and is as strong as can be. She will grow even stronger and someday make you a proper wife, obedient and faithful. I will make certain she is taught accordingly. Now take her hand, after all, she is your betrothed.”
Rafael extended his fingers until they covered her curled ones. Instantly, as if his touch was a command, her fingers unfurled and latched onto one of his, squeezing tightly. “She knows she belongs to me,” he boasted proudly.
Don Felipe placed his hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “Will you care for her always?”
Rafael’s expression grew serious. He raised his chin and stuck out his thin chest. “Always, I pledge I will protect and provide for her always.”
“I have chosen wisely for my daughter. You will make a good husband.” Don Felipe patted Rafael on the shoulder before leaving to join his wife and the other guests in the room across the hall.
Rafael returned his attention to Annabelle. She still continued to clutch his finger as she slept soundly. The possessive hold pleased him. “I will look after you forever, Annabelle. I will let no harm come to you.”
As if the tiny girl heard and understood, she opened her eyes, released his finger and returned to a contented slumber beside her sister. Rafael could have sworn that just before Annabelle closed her eyes, she smiled at him.
~~~
Screams that seemed to go on forever woke Rafael from a deep sleep. He sprung up in bed, his wide eyes darting around the dark room and his heart thumping wildly. Had he been dreaming? Silence filled the warm night air. No piercing screech and no agonizing wails of a woman were heard.
He waited almost expectantly, knowing any minute it would come... and it did. The screeching wail that had penetrated his sleep and his heart once again ripped through the night. He jumped out of bed and hurried into his clothes. He raced out of his room following the anguished cry.
At the end of the hall Rafael met with chaos; men running back and forth, women weeping and clutching their rosary beads. He maneuvered around the confusion and mounted the steps two at a time to the second floor.
“No! My Babies! My Babies!” Dona Isabel screamed while Rafael’s mother Dona Maria tried unsuccessfully to console the distraught woman.
Rafael stood silent, his back braced against the wall watching. Several other women joined his mother in offering their support and comfort, but nothing appeased the hysterical woman, she continued to scream for her babies.
Rafael remained still, catching a word here or there as people passed by.
“Kidnapped—”
“Both gone!”
“—Nowhere to be found.”
“—Vanished—”
Rafael didn’t want to believe what his quick, young mind was telling him. They were wrong, all of them. They had to be.
The hall grew less boisterous, the women having taken Dona Isabel to her room where endless weeping could be heard.
Rafael didn’t hesitate. He had to discover the truth for himself. He walked down the hall to the door of the nursery. It was open and lit so that no corner could harbor a shadow or a secret. He stepped in and looked directly at the double cradle. Annabelle had to be there. She had to. He had promised, pledged his protection to her.
He ran over to it, grabbed the side and swung it down. It was empty. Only the white lace shawl that had covered both girls lay crumpled inside.
“No,” Rafael whispered. “No, she can’t be gone.”
Shouts just outside the door startled him and he turned, watching the play of two shadows against the open door.
“We’ve looked everywhere, Felipe,” the man said. “They’re gone.”
“They can’t be. My daughters couldn’t have vanished so quickly. Continue the search.”
The shadow nodded. “We’ll continue, Felipe, but the kidnappers have had several hours start. They could be anywhere.”
Rafael could hear the fear in Don Felipe’s voice when he spoke. “I’ll never find them. Will I, Gaspar?”
“Of course we’ll find them, Felipe. You must never give up hope.”
The shadows moved away and Rafael turned and stared at the cradle. He picked up the shawl, hugged it close to his chest and wept.
Chapter One
Los Angeles 1818
Rafael Cabrillo kept a tight rein on his mare and traveled at a steady gait down the rutted road that led to the San Gabriel Mission. He sat tall and straight in his saddle, a posture befitting his heritage and importance in the community. He held his head erect and his chin slightly tilted upward, another sign of his noble upbringing. He kept his fixed glance straight ahead, turning only now and then to give a respectful nod to the old women busily preparing their noonday meals in front of their small adobe houses.
He heard their whispers and occasionally caught one crossing herself in protection. He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement. It was protection for their daughters and granddaughters that they sought in their prayers. Of course they never suspected it was their sweet little ninas themselves who sought him out and not he them.
He rode through the open gates of the mission and stopped before the church. Two young boys greeted him with enthusiastic offers of help. He tossed each a coin before handing the reins of his white mare to one and directing the other to tell Padre Jose he was here.
Rafael walked over to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. The spro
uting water added coolness to the surrounding area. It was a welcome relief from the late morning sun that often baked Los Angeles.
Rafael hoped the padre would be able to accommodate him immediately. He was anxious to return to the hacienda and see to the conditions of his vineyards and orchards. If the matter hadn’t been important he would have sent one of his vaqueros to tend to it, but it concerned his mother, Dona Maria and that made it his responsibility alone. He was confident the padre wouldn’t disappoint him. He would know of just the right peasant girl who would make a suitable companion for his mother; one who would be obedient to his commands and mindful of her position.
~~~
“Hurry! Hurry! Juan fell!” the little girl screamed. “He’s bleeding. He’s hurt. You must hurry.”
Gabriella Alvardo felt her stomach wrench. She cast a silent prayer that her brother Juan was not seriously injured as she grabbed her youngest sister Teresa by the shoulders. “Where is he?”
The dark-haired, skinny Teresa was near to tears. “At the far-side of the orchard.”
Gabriella felt a sense of panic grip her. Juan was their youngest brother, only five years old and small for his age.
“You must hurry, Gaby,” Teresa pleaded, pulling her by the arm. “His mouth was covered with blood.”
Gabriella rushed from the back of the church, where she had just finished hanging the padre’s clean vestments, to the front. Quickly genuflecting before the altar, she raced down past the numerous wooden pews and out the open, front door. It was as if God had heard her frantic prayer and produced a miracle. There, before her eyes, was the most beautiful white mare she had ever seen.
Gabriella hastily crossed herself in thanks, grabbed the reins from the startled, young boy, placed her bare foot in the stirrup and with only the slightest difficulty hoisted herself up into the saddle.
She was off in a flash. So intent was she on rescuing her brother that she didn’t hear the angry shouts of the tall man she sped past.
“She stole my horse!” Rafael shouted for the third time at the padre.
Padre Jose patted his perspiring brow with the sleeve of his brown robe. “Senor Cabrillo, I have known Gabriella Alvardo since she was a baby. She would never do such a thing.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
Padre Jose shook his head so rapidly he grew dizzy. “Never. Never, senor, would I imply that.”
Rafael clenched his fists tightly in an attempt to stem his temper. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the young girl had mounted his mare and took off. Bella was his pride and joy. Nobody but he rode her. She was like a young virgin that he had broken and she obeyed no one else. Yet when the peasant girl had mounted her, she had bolted to her command. He felt betrayed.
“I am certain Gaby will return the horse.” Padre Jose assured him.
Rafael leaned over the thin, short man like a menacing demon bent on revenge. His blue eyes heated with fury and his temper was on the verge of erupting. “When?”
“I-I-I cannot be certain.”
“Well, I can, Padre. If she doesn’t return in ten minutes; I’ll have her hanged for stealing my horse.”
“Ay de mi,” Padre Jose cried, folding his hands in prayer and shaking them to the heavens; Gabriella’s only hope.
~~~
“Juan, how could you?” Gaby scolded, grabbing her little brother by the back of his neck.
“It was just a trick,” Juan tried to explain.
“A stupid trick,” she yelled. “Teresa thought you were hurt badly.”
“It was only berries I squished all over my mouth.”
Gaby hoisted herself back into the saddle and reached down for Juan’s small hand. Spying the berry juice smudged all over his fingers, she grabbed him by his skinny arm and pulled him up behind her. “Don’t you dare touch me with those sticky fingers.”
“But what will I hold on to?”
“The saddle,” she ordered. “At least I’ll be able to wipe that clean and it won’t stain the black leather.”
Juan obeyed for about five minutes. Then his red-stained fingers did what they had been itching to do since he had seen the white horse. He patted her beautiful white rump, ignoring the red stain that grew deeper with each tender pat.
Gaby wasn’t far from the mission when she spotted Teresa running toward them, frantically waving her hands. What had happened now? Hadn’t Juan’s antics been enough for one day? She had tons of chores yet to finish for padre Jose, not to mention the chores Madre had waiting for her.
“Gaby, you must hurry and return the horse,” Teresa said between taking great gulps of air to catch her breath.
“It’s all right, Teresa, calm down,” Gaby said trying to reassure her little sister, always the one to worry. “I’m returning her now.”
Teresa shook her head. “You must hurry. The horse belongs to Senor Rafael Cabrillo, and he’s mad, very mad. He’s yelling at the padre and he says he will have you hanged.” The ten-year-old girl began to cry.
“He can’t do that. Can he?” Juan asked his voice quivering anxiously.
Gabriella knew the powerful ranchero could do anything he pleased, but didn’t want to upset the children. “Of course he would never do such a horrible thing. When I explain to Senor Cabrillo, he will understand. But I must hurry as Teresa said, so you both must walk the rest of the way.”
Gaby left both children in tears, no amount of reassuring assuaged their fears. They worried for her and she couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t sure if the senor would understand. She had heard many stories about him and believed only a few since some were too outrageous to give thought to. But one thing was certain—he was powerful—mucho powerful and not a man to cross.
She rode into the mission courtyard trying to persuade herself that she could convince Senor Cabrillo that she was not a horse thief. As she approached the two men at a slow gallop, her concern faded, giving way to anger.
The imposing ranchero stood with his hands braced on narrow hips. His confident stance warned he wielded power easily and the proud tilt of his head betrayed his arrogance. Gaby was familiar with his imperious demeanor, having spied him on occasion in church and town. Then there were the young women who chatted endlessly about his handsome features, wishing he would notice them and perhaps dare make one of them his wife.
Foolish dreams. They were peasant women; he was a noble Spaniard.
She had no choice but to show him respect, but she refused to cower. She had her pride and though she was not of noble birth, she was of strong stock. She would show this Spaniard courage and hold her head high.
Gaby reined in the horse within a few inches of the two men. She looked down into the bright blue, hostile eyes of Senor Cabrillo. They glared at her with such murderous intensity that it sparked her own hostility, and she opened her mouth prepared to battle.
“You stole my horse,” Rafael accused and reached out for her.
Gaby moved with haste to avoid the forceful hands that grabbed at her. Her quick efforts proved ineffective. His large hands locked firmly on her narrow waist and he yanked her off the horse. She stumbled hard against him, her large breasts slamming against his taut chest. He held her there for a moment, as if stunned by their intimate contact and then recovered roughly shoving her away from him, though keeping a rigid hold on her arm.
“I meant no harm; I simply borrowed your horse, senor,” she snapped attempting to pull free, but finding his grip impossible to break.
“Borrowed?” he repeated with anger and looked down upon Gaby as though she were witless.
“Yes, borrowed.”
Rafael was incensed by her curt tone. “When you borrow, you ask permission. I don’t recall you asking permission.”
“It was an emergency, I didn’t think —”
“You’ve finally said something that makes sense. You didn’t think.”
“Senor Cabrillo, Gabriella has returned your horse. No harm has been done,” the padre said, sweeping hi
s hand out toward the horse, his glance following. “Madre de Dios!”
Rafael followed the man’s wide eyes and nearly swore aloud as he hurried to Bella’s side. He stroked the purplish red stain on her rump and then examined his fingers. He contained a sigh of relief realizing it was only berry juice and not blood as he first feared.
He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, hoping to gain control over his mercurial temper that was rising by the minute. He was only partially successful. He turned, marched over to Gaby, grabbed her roughly by the wrist and dragged her over to the horse. “What is this?”
If Gaby had her brother Juan in front of her, she would have given him a good whack in the head. “Berry juice,” she answered softly.
“And how do you plan on removing this from her white coat?”
“I do not know, senor. If you tell me what must be done, I will gladly see to it.” Guilt over her brother’s careless actions had her softening her tone. She had not meant for anything to happen to the beautiful horse.
Rafael stared into her deep brown eyes. The color matched the rich earth when it was ripe and ready for planting. He grew annoyed with himself for the unexpected thought and spoke in a brisk tone. “You will get a bucket and scrub brush. Then you will wash the area gently, very gently.”
“Si senor,” she said with a slight bow of her head. She couldn’t blame the ranchero for being angry with her. She had had no right to take his horse without permission. She had reacted out of fear and look where it had gotten her. In serious trouble with a powerful man and if that powerful man wished to inflict punishment on her there was no one who would dare stop him.
It was then she realized that her impulsive nature had gotten her into trouble again. When was she going to learn to think before she acted?
“Padre, I wish to speak to you,” Rafael said and walked over to the fountain, expecting the padre to follow, which he did.
“She must be punished for the damage she has done.”
The padre felt droplets of sweat trickle down his neck from the morning heat and the weight of his robe. He smiled uneasily and reminded once again. “Senor, no harm has been done. Gabrielle will see that Bella is cleaned.”
“It isn’t enough.”
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