Awaken My Heart

by DiAnn Mills

  Marianne led Diablo from his stall and quickly saddled and bridled him. She had to flee from the house. Mama’s excitement over Marianne’s upcoming marriage had left her with a pounding headache. She was tempted simply to give in to the overwhelming depression threatening to engulf her and ride Diablo to the ends of the earth. But those actions would not glorify God. Gown fittings, Spanish lessons, Catholic instruction, all prepared her for marriage to Don Lorenzo. Even Mama, with all the goings-on, found time to drill her in Spanish culture. She didn’t want to think of such things a moment longer.

  Glancing about to make certain no one lurked in the barn, she breathed a sigh of relief. In her present temperament, she sensed an urgency to be with God and allow Him to be her solace.

  “I see you’re going riding.” Clay Wharton’s voice jarred her senses and filled her with dread. “Since this is my last day as a single man, I think you should allow me to accompany you.” He spoke in a dangerously low tone, and a stab of fear caused her to tremble. Carmita had told her about his involvement with a young Spanish girl in San Antonio de Bejar and how the governor had ordered him to marry.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Wharton.” Marianne refused to glance his way. Gratefully, Diablo wouldn’t permit Clay to step any closer. “I prefer my solitude today.”

  An awkward silence followed while she led Diablo toward the front of the stable where Clay leaned against the door. She felt his deep piercing gaze bore through her, and her stomach knotted. Silently she prayed for the young girl who was to be his wife. She would need strength to soften Clay’s demeanor.

  “Miss High and Mighty, you were almost my wife.” Clay cocked his hat. “So don’t act like you’re better than me.”

  Marianne thought it wise not to speak her mind. She still had vivid memories of the time when he had attempted to abuse Juan’s daughter. Lifting the latch, she turned to him. “I hope you will be happy in your marriage.”

  “If I had my druthers, I would have preferred being married to you.” His half-smile sickened her.

  “You speak rather boldly, Mr. Wharton. Have you forgotten both of us are betrothed to those not privy to this conversation?”

  “Does it matter?” He stepped closer. Diablo snorted. The stallion’s ears laid back flat against his head.

  Marianne reached under the stallion’s muzzle to soothe him. “Your bad manners may not affect you, but they offend me.” She lifted her chin. This time she made sure her chiding stare captured his. With more confidence than she truly felt, Marianne slid open the door and allowed morning sunlight to cast its glow inside. “Miss Phillips,” he said. “At the risk of being accused of, ah, let me say, behaving like less than a gentleman, I would like to ask you a question.”

  “Yes, Mr. Wharton.” Reluctantly, she faced him.

  “What exactly did you do for Armando Garcia that he let you go free?” He pushed back his wide-brimmed hat. “Especially after he said he’d kill you.”

  She dug her fingernails into her palms and glared at him. Clay chuckled and stepped away from the door. How had this uncouth man become her father’s foreman? Oh, how she longed to disparage him. “Your question doesn’t deserve an answer. My father or Don Lorenzo would not appreciate the way you have elected to address me.”

  “But you’ll not reveal a word of this, because you know I’m right.” His mouth twisted in a triumphant sneer. “Your father may have his weapons, his daughter, and his cattle back, but he still thirsts for revenge, just as I do. Neither of us will rest until that dirty Mexican is lying in a pool of blood.”

  Marianne gasped at Clay’s words. A pitchfork rested against the side of a stall, and she wrestled with the thought of using it on him. Shaking so much she feared she might fall, Marianne led Diablo from the stable and hoisted herself onto the saddle. Without looking behind, she rode away from Clay Wharton and his wicked tongue.

  She swallowed her temper and focused her attention on God’s grace, His provision for her during the kidnapping, and in the life to come. Juan had told her about the governor’s ruling in the matter of La Flor. Marianne had rejoiced with him, knowing the people in the village must be overjoyed. Yet she kept her praise sealed inside when in the presence of Mama and Papa, for both suspected her of inappropriate behavior during the time of the kidnapping and that Armando had released her because she sided with the people of La Flor.

  Marianne repeatedly pushed away the tender feelings for Armando. But she was losing the battle. She did care for him, and the realization frightened her. How she longed to tell her mother and to ask for help in understanding this invasion of her heart, but to reveal her innermost yearnings invited trouble. Papa had arranged for her to wed Don Lorenzo, and nothing could change the course of events. In time, she prayed she would love the respected Don Lorenzo. She admired his gentle ways, and he lavished her with attention. He ordered many fine gowns and expensive gifts for his bride-to-be. He seemed to look forward to the wedding and sharing his vast home with her. How wicked of her to think of Armando while betrothed to a kindly man.

  Always, when burdens raged through her mind, she raced Diablo across the plains of her father’s land. With the wind blowing through her hair, she felt liberated from all of the demands. It was the only time she felt somewhat free.

  I know God will see me through this. He has a plan for my life—a wonderful plan.

  Up ahead, where the spring-fed Medina River lent itself to bald cypress trees, she decided to stop and allow Diablo to drink of the cool water. The white stallion heaved from running, and she walked him for several minutes before leading him to the river’s edge. She smiled as three white-tailed deer skirted the opposite side and disappeared in one fluid, graceful movement.

  Sitting on a shady bank, she watched her beloved horse nibble at the grass. Diablo lifted his noble head as though guarding her safety. My solidat, she thought fondly. The stallion snorted.

  “I’m fine,” she called to him, laughing. “My prince, do not worry so.”

  A while later, he snorted again and raised his head to stare upstream. Alarmed, Marianne hurried to his side and swung up on the saddle. She trusted her stallion’s instincts and made ready to leave. She focused her sights on the Medina’s upward flow, but saw nothing. Uneasiness crept over her. How many times had Juan and Mama warned her of this? Had she not learned her lesson weeks ago?

  Before giving Diablo full rein to carry her safely back to the stables, she took one last glimpse up the river. A dun-colored horse seized her attention, and she lingered beneath the trailing branches of a tree to see the rider.

  Her heart pounded. She wanted to believe the lone horse carried Armando, but if wrong, she must not tarry a moment longer. She heard the splashing of water and the steady steps of the dun. Slowly, the horse emerged from the growth of trees and brush to the banks of the river.

  A surge of joy swept over her as Armando rode into view.

  Chapter 17

  “Armando.” Marianne urged Diablo into Armando’s path.

  Clearly startled, he allowed a slow smile to spread over his handsome face. “What are you doing here?” He turned in his saddle to scrutinize their surroundings.

  She felt her spirit suddenly take flight. Seeing him real before her and not a vapory figure from her dreams warmed her heart and sent chills up and down her bare arms. At once she regretted not wearing more acceptable clothing, although her manner of dress was common to him.

  “I stopped Diablo to rest in the shade and drink from the cool river.”

  “You are alone?” He leaned on the saddle horn.

  “Si,” she said. “I left without permission.” She studied the man before her, dressed in brown calzoneras and a white shirt open at the neck. “I despise staying confined in the casa on such a beautiful day.”

  Armando tilted his head and gave her a stern look. “It’s not safe, Marianne. Comanches lurk about, and no one would ever find you. We must keep constant watch at La Flor for raiding Indians.” He paused. “Do
you know what they would do to a lovely señorita?”

  The softness in his tone swept over her. “Por favor, don’t scold me,” she said. “I know you’re right, but I’d rather risk the danger than deny myself happiness.”

  Armando dismounted, and without hesitation she followed his lead. “Dangerous as it may be, I am glad to see you.” A smile curved at his full lips. “But perhaps the next time Juan or one of the vaqueros should accompany you.”

  “Having someone ride with me is not the same. I crave quiet beauty.”

  He stood by his gelding with nearly twenty feet between them. She felt uncertain about approaching him, afraid of her own unbridled emotions and still bound to Don Lorenzo by her father’s pledge.

  An awkward silence settled like a cloud of dust. Many times in her musings she’d spoken openly to him without reservation, but now she merely stared, speechless. She remembered his parting words from their last meeting. He’d asked her to forget him, an impossible task when her waking and sleeping hours were consumed with Armando Garcia. She knew her eyes revealed the carefully guarded secret.

  “I’m happy for La Flor,” she said. “At last your people can live in peace.”

  “Gracias, señorita. We have great joy in the village.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “Much singing and dancing. La Flor’s people love to celebrate.”

  Marianne recalled Isabella and her enticing body. “And little Rico? Is he well?”

  “Si. And what of you?”

  Regret swirled inside her until she managed to swallow her tears. “I’m well, Armando.”

  He took a step forward. “Why do I not believe you? Your angelic face tells me of sadness.”

  She moistened her lips. “You must be mistaken.”

  Armando glanced about the trees before turning his attention back to her. “Emilio tells me you are to marry Lorenzo Sanchez de la Diaz y Franco.”

  Marianne smoothed her pale blue riding skirt. She dreaded her reply. “It’s true. Mi padre arranged the marriage for me.”

  “A bride should be radiant, glowing. I hear Señor Sanchez is a good man.”

  Was it her imagination, or did she detect a note of sorrow in his features?

  “He appears to be very kind.” She listened to the birds call to each other. If only they could talk of more pleasant things.

  “Then why are you unhappy?”

  Marianne could not bring herself to answer. She attempted to pray, but for what? Permission to lie or strength to tell Armando the truth?

  She no longer could keep silent. “I fear my heart belongs to another.”

  He started toward her and stopped. “And does the man who has stolen your heart know of this?”

  “No. I don’t believe he fathoms how deep my feelings are.”

  Diablo snorted in protest at the advancing man, and she soothed the stallion.

  “Why haven’t you told him?” Armando’s gentle questioning seared her soul. He brushed back his sombrero and raked his fingers through raven hair.

  She willed her heart to cease its incessant pounding. Her words must sound strong. Instead they tumbled from her lips like a baby’s babble. “The man I love doesn’t believe we could ever be together. We come from different worlds.”

  “And you love each other?”

  She shook her head and felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not certain if he cares for me…in that way.”

  An eternity followed.

  “He’s afraid of his feelings for the señorita. He cannot give her the fine things she deserves.” He walked toward her again, and she commanded Diablo to keep his stance. Releasing hold of her horse, she watched Armando step closer. “Mi ángel,” he whispered. “Let me hold you.”

  Marianne fairly flew into Armando’s arms. The moment he grasped her waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her world spun in the dizziness of twisting emotions. The scent of him, a mixture of leather and the freshness of the forest, the touch of his strong hands encircling her, never had she imagined such fervor.

  “Mi ángel,” he repeated, and pulled her so tightly that she could feel his heart racing as rapidly as her own.

  Marianne felt a tear slip from her eye, then another. Caught up in his embrace, she wept tears of joy and sadness. How could their love be forbidden?

  Armando buried his head into her hair, and he quaked ever so slightly. Slowly, he swept his fingers across the soft curve of her shoulder and pressed her away to arm’s length. With the thumb of his free hand, he gently brushed away the wetness gracing her cheeks. Marianne forced a smile, not wanting him to see her tears.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have reached for you, and I have no excuse except the need to hold you. Now, I have made you cry.”

  She took a breath to gain composure. “I’m crying because I thought I would never feel your arms around me. Even at this moment, standing before you, I feel I’m in another world.”

  A disconcerted look swept over his face. “How can two people find love in so short a time? We should be enemies. Instead we are here, like this.”

  Marianne shook her head, and another errant tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t want to marry Don Lorenzo.”

  “Hush.” His sable gaze searched her face. “You have no choice. Your padre has decided this. I cannot give you the wealth or title the don has to offer. With me, your soft hands,” and he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, “would soon become rough and calloused. The work is hard and relentless.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She touched his cheek. “I’ve never felt this way before, and I never will again.”

  “You’re young.” He grasped her fingers upon his face. “One day you’ll look back on this, and it will all be a young woman’s fond memory.”

  “No, Armando. I shall never forget you, and I can learn to work and take care of you.”

  “But what of the danger?”

  Her eyes widened with his question.

  “Señor Phillips would not rest until I was dead for stealing his daughter. And Señor Sanchez, is he not an honorable man? Do you expect him to merely step aside while his betrothed chooses a desperado over him?”

  Armando’s words pierced her heart. He spoke the reality of their hopeless situation, even if she didn’t want to hear it.

  “But it’s so unfair for me to spend my life with the don when I don’t love him.”

  His dark gaze bore into hers. “Do you love me, Marianne?”

  “I do with all my heart.”

  “And I love you, more than I thought possible.” He paused and kissed her hand again. “Then do this for me. Return to your home as I asked you before. Take your position with the don as his wife.” He sighed deeply. “If you truly love me, mi ángel, this will make me most happy. I want to remember you as the beautiful señorita—not watch you grow old too soon from living as a fugitive’s wife.”

  This time Marianne could not stop the flow of emotion. “Por favor, Armando. Must I live my life without you?”

  “Indeed you must,” he said. “I beg of you. Ride Diablo from here and back into the arms of the one you should marry. I have nothing to offer you but unhappiness. My comfort will be in knowing you are taken care of without want.” Armando moved beyond her grasp. His eyes held his sorrow no matter how incessant his words. “Someday you will have children, and you will want those children to have the best of everything.”

  She struggled to contain her emotion, desiring him to see her smile. Marianne knew he spoke out of love for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe marrying Don Lorenzo was the answer.

  “My heart will always be with you,” she said. “I don’t need wealth to make me content, but neither do I want you hunted down by my father or the don. I’ll continue to ask Dios for a way.” She turned and walked toward Diablo, then whirled around to face him. “Whatever Dios asks of me, I will do. For your life, I will do anything.”

  She took one last glimpse of her beloved Armando and sealed it to memo
ry—the way he stood proudly, the light of love in his dark eyes, and the faint smile upon his lips. “I beg of you to forgive me for so selfishly wanting you,” she said. “I will never forget you—never.” Grasping the stallion’s reins in her shaking hands, she pulled herself onto the saddle and allowed Diablo to carry her home. The home she did not want.

  Armando and Emilio rode the open range from that morning until sunset looking for mustangs. Having rounded up five mares, they added them to the valley’s herd.

  In the shadows, the two leaned against the corral admiring the increasing sturdy stock of horses. “Armando,” Emilio said, then wiped the accumulation of dirt from his round face, “you have been quiet all day. Is something wrong?”

  Armando breathed deeply of the night air, noticeably cooler than the steamy temperatures of earlier today. Or perhaps his chance meeting with Marianne had caused his discomfort. “Early this morning, I took a long ride along the banks of the Medina River, a long way from La Flor.” He paused. “I saw Marianne with Diablo.”

  “Did she see you?” Emilio asked.

  Armando stared out over the horses and fixed his sights on a prized red roan that had been captured earlier. “We talked for a while. If I ever wondered about her feelings for me, I learned of them today. She admitted she had feelings similar to my own, strange as the circumstances may be.”

  “Isn’t the news good?”

  In the shadows, Armando glanced at the man’s face. His earnest questioning slashed into Armando’s soul. “You know she is betrothed to Señor Sanchez, and a life with me promises heartache and sorrow.”

  “Her father might forgive.”

  Armando chuckled to keep from weeping like a small boy. “He’d see me dead first. Marianne and I would spend our lives on the run. Even if the gringo chose not to track me down, La Flor is not a rich hacienda.”

  “I understand.” Emilio nodded his head. “I’m so sad for you.”

  “I’ll work, and I’ll forget.” Armando felt ashamed of his friend seeing him despondent. Instead he vowed to cover his wounded heart. “Ah, I hear rumors of you and Isabella.” He attempted a smile. “And did I see her with you keeping watch last night? Perhaps a kiss in the dark?”