by Connie Mason
“You have been a big help, niña,” Rod smiled gratefully, “so how could you displease me?” Instinctively Rod knew that Felicia was Wiling the truth. The child was but a babe, too innocent to make up such a tale.
On his way back to the casa Rod’s mind worked furiously, recalling all that Felicia had told him. It took but a moment to deduce that Elena’s pregnancy was the result of her illicit affair with Manuel. He should have known that Elena would stoop to deceit in order to protect her name as well as gain her own end. How gullible she must have thought him to concoct such a lie. Though Rod had little liking for what he was about to do, necessity demanded it be done. Elena had prevailed long enough.
Rod found Elena still lounging in bed. Now that her pregnancy had been revealed, she felt perfectly justified in giving in to the listlessness plaguing her of late. She was startled when Rod stalked into her room without warning, his face set in granite, mouth clamped tightly shut, his eyes fixed. Surely his animosity couldn’t be directed at her, could it? Elena shivered.
“What is it, Rodrigo?” Elena asked when he stood over her, glaring malevolently. “I thought you might be on your way to see Padre Juan about our wedding.”
“There will be no wedding, Elena. I never considered marrying you. Did you think me a fool to foist a bastard off on me?”
Stunned, Elena shot abruptly into a sitting position, allowing the sheet to fall about her slim waist, exposing her nude breasts pointing seductively in Rod’s direction. The aureoles had turned dark with pregnancy and Rod cursed beneath his breath at his own stupidity for even considering he might be the father of her child.
“I … I don’t know what you are talking about, Rodrigo,” Elena stuttered helplessly. “I’ve known no other man but you. Not even your father.”
“Puta!” spat Rod derisively. “What about Manuel? What about your trysts in the stables?”
“Who … who told you such a thing?” Fear clamped painfully in Elena’s breast.
“It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you were seen, that’s all you have to know.”
“Felicia!” ground out Elena, her black eyes spitting fire. “Wait until I get my hands on—”
If there was ever the slightest doubt in Rod’s mind it had been dispelled by Elena’s damning words. “You will do nothing, Elena,” he declared, cutting her off in mid-sentence. “How long has your affair with Manuel been going on?”
“He forced me,” Elena whined, playing on Rod’s sympathy in a last ditch effort to convince him of her innocence. “Si, he raped me. I could not help myself. I was alone, with no one to protect me from his attacks. It was terrible, Rodrigo.” Suddenly Elena was very pleased with her own quick thinking.
“Rape? I think not, Elena,” Rod refuted, his voice deceptively calm. “You went to Manuel willingly.”
Suddenly something inside Elena snapped and she leaped at Rod, fingernails bared, snarling. “Bastardo! Who are you to condemn me? You who jilted me for an Anglo puta! Si! I went to Manuel willingly! You taught me lust then abandoned me while my body yearned for the feel of a man deep inside me. It’s all your fault, Rodrigo! This child could well have been yours. It should be yours!”
Rod turned away in disgust, preparing to leave.
“Wait!” Elena cried. “What are you going to do? What about my child?”
“In two weeks I’m heading up a cattle drive to San Antonio. I expect you to be gone before I return.”
“Gone?” Elena was dismayed. “This is my home now. I am your father’s widow.”
“It was your home. I am making other arrangements for you. Until your child is born you will stay at the mission. Padre Juan will see to your comfort. I will leave sufficient funds with the good padre for your support. Once your child is born you may take what is left and go wherever you please. I cannot find it in my heart to punish an innocent child for your mistakes. The money I leave will provide generously for you and your child for a long time to come. Perhaps you should join your parents in Spain,” he suggested.
“You can’t do this to me, Rodrigo!” Elena seethed with mounting rage.
“I am within my rights, Elena. Rancho Delgado belongs to me and no one will think ill of me if I choose to have you live elsewhere as long as you are well provided for.”
Suddenly weary of the conversation, Rod turned on his heel. In his own mind all had been settled to his satisfaction if not to Elena’s. But the fiery Spanish woman was to have the last word.
“You’re not finished with me by half, Rodrigo!” she flung out at him hatefully. “Nor is your little mestiza friend who will live to rue the day she spied on me.”
That night a mysterious visitor arrived at the hacienda. Carl Darcy couldn’t have arrived at a more inopportune time.
TWO
HONOR’S PLEDGE
14
Julie’s jumbled thoughts were a million miles away as she stared bleakly out the window of her room in Mae Parker’s boarding house. From the moment she returned to San Francisco she felt strangely bereft and alone despite her father’s comforting presence. Murieta’s parting words had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. She knew she didn’t love the handsome bandit, that no one could take Rod’s place in her affection, but Murieta’s premonition of his own death had thoroughly upset her.
When Murieta’s men had returned, Julie and her father left the secluded valley because of ill feelings over Pedro’s death. Though Joaquin felt certain he could control his men, he hesitated to place Julie in danger. He realized the noose around him was drawing tighter and it was only a matter of time before he met his end. It was inevitable that his end would be a violent one considering the life he led. So he had provided Julie and Carl, still weak from his injuries, with a wagon, supplies and a generous purse of gold which no doubt was stolen, Julie surmised wryly, and they headed north for San Francisco.
Joaquin’s parting words still rang hollowly in her ears. “Think of me sometimes, chica, and know that my love for you stretches beyond this life.” It was a poignant moment but Julie still did not regret her decision to remain true to Rod.
The journey to San Francisco had been blessedly uneventful, for which Julie was eternally grateful. Carl Darcy was far too weak to defend them should the need arise.
San Francisco had changed drastically in the months since Julie had left with Rod. Raw, new buildings of untreated wood stuck out like sore thumbs among their weathered neighbors. The first thing she noticed was the absence of Marty Sloan’s mess tent along the main street. In its place stood a new building sporting a gaudy sign advertising food for the discerning customer. The prices quoted were so outrageous Julie’s mouth gaped open with shock.
The streets were more crowded than ever. Men seemed to be hurrying about with no purpose or destination. The noise was deafening, and several languages were distinguishable in the melee. But one thing about the sprawling city had not changed. The streets. Still a sea of mud. Still rutted and deeply groved by wagons, horses’ hooves and countless pairs of miners’ boots trodding a path to fame and fortune … or obscurity and death.
Julie made directly for Mae’s house, thanking God that there was one other thing besides muddy roads in San Francisco that hadn’t changed. Mae welcomed Julie and her father with open arms, asking no questions though she suspected something had happened between Julie and Rod that caused her to leave Rancho Delgado. Of course, finding her father was an incredible stroke of luck and Mae expressed her happiness for the girl.
It was inevitable that Julie should reveal to Mae the strange circumstances that caused her to leave Rod and the rancho. Though Mae expressed grave doubts that Rod had been behind Elena’s actions, she thought Julie had done the right thing in coming to San Francisco with her father.
From Mae, Julie learned that Marty had pulled up stakes and headed for the gold fields where her services were desperately needed. With all the new restaurants springing up in the city, her mess tent was receiving less and less pat
ronage. So one day she packed up all her belongings and headed toward Sacramento with Wong Li. Mae missed her greatly.
Under Mae’s expert ministrations, Carl healed swiftly. As he gained his strength, he began to question Julie concerning her future. Did she wish to return east? No, she decided. Did she want to obtain a divorce? She wasn’t sure. In fact, Julie had no idea what she wantd to do. Her troubled mind gave her little in the way of respite. Though her father was pressing her for a decision, she had no answer for him. It seemed her life was at an impasse.
Julie watched dispassionately from the window as her father walked toward the boarding house. It was amazing how much he had changed in a few short weeks, she thought. His too slim frame had filled out noticeably, thanks to Mae, and his scruffy beard was gone, revealing once more the dear face she loved. His sandy hair was neatly combed and he was fashionably attired in a business suit. No longer was there a resemblance to “Carlos the bandito,” who rode with Joaquin Murieta. Quick footsteps sounded on the stairs and Julie turned as her father entered the room.
Carl was struck by his daughter’s lack of spirit these past weeks. It was almost as if the life had gone out of her. She seemed to wallow in a mire without aim or direction.
“Where have you been, Papa?” she asked without curiosity.
“To rent a horse,” Carl replied in an effort to gain her attention.
“Are we going somewhere?”
“I am going somewhere, daughter, but you’re not.”
Carl finally gained her attention as Julie slanted him a puzzled glance. “You’re going without me?” Julie was incredulous. The possibility that her father would leave her again never entered her mind.
“Only for a little while,” Carl’s voice softened affectionately. “When I return, I will know more of what we are to do.”
For weeks on end Carl had sat back and watched Julie sink deeper and deeper into apathy, insulating her from life until he could no longer bear to see the withdrawn, colorless creature she had become. And all because of Don Rodrigo Delgado, the man she had married. It was obvious that Julie still loved the man no matter what he may have done. As Julie’s father, Carl felt it his duty to discover for himself the source of Julie’s unhappiness, even if it meant confronting the proud don himself.
After much soul searching Carl Darcy decided to pay a visit to his son-in-law and learn first-hand whether or not the man was capable of betraying the trust of a young, innocent girl in the vile manner Julie described. He had always heard Spaniards were a cruel race, but somehow he did not think his daughter could fall in love with such a man. Therefore, he was left with no alternative but to descend upon Don Rodrigo and learn the truth of the matter without Julie being the wiser. If he found out that the don was indeed the kind of man who would callously order his mistress to do away with his wife, then Julie was better off without him.
But if Julie’s husband was innocent of any wrong-doing, Carl decided they deserved a chance at happiness. To Carl’s way of thinking, he was duty bound to go to Rancho Delgado without Julie’s knowledge, using an assumed identity, and learn all he could about the character of Don Rodrigo Delgado. Once he had his answers, he could either take Julie back east or see that she was reunited with her husband.
For the next few days Julie railed and ranted against her father’s surprising decision to leave, but to no avail. Carl’s mind was made up. So one bright morning, leaving nearly all their resources in Julie’s keeping, Carl Darcy rode out of San Francisco, his destination, Rancho Delgado.
Carl’s departure left a terrible void in Julie’s life. Although Carl assured her he would be gone only a few weeks, she couldn’t help but feel depressed when his mysterious mission took him away at a time she needed him most. It just wasn’t like him to be so secretive.
As they so often did these days, Julie’s thoughts dwelled on Rod and the all too short moments of bliss they had shared as husband and wife. Was he happy now that he and Elena were free to express their love without hindrance or interference, she wondered glumly? Did he ever pause to wonder what had become of her? If she was dead or alive? There were times when she felt certain he cared for her. Not in the same way he cared for Elena, certainly, but the way he made love to her told her he cared. Or was he just a good actor?
There were nights when Julie ached for the feel of Rod’s strong arms about her, his mouth teasing, caressing, his hands tenderly discovering all the vulnerable places on her sweetly curved flesh. Would she ever feel that way again? Certainly she would never feel love again or experience the ecstasy she had known with Rod. No other man could ever make her feel as Rod did.
“Why don’t you go shopping, honey?” Mae urged when the sight of Julie moping about the house like a lost soul drove her to distraction. Her father’s departure over a week ago had left her more downcast than usual. “There are several new stores that should be of interest to you. Buy something pretty, anything to perk up your spirits.”
Sighing heavily, Julie made no protest when Mae literally shoved her out into the bright sunlight. The day was fine with a brisk, rather cool breeze blowing in from the sea.
For awhile she walked aimlessly through the busy thoroughfare looking idly in store windows. There were more women in San Francisco now than there were a year ago and suddenly she found herself taking an interest in the cut of their clothing, and their various hair styles. She even went so far as to exchange friendly nods and a few words with several of the ladies in passing.
Feeling far better than she had in months, Julie entered one store after another, spending hours trying on ready-made dresses. With the few coins she had brought with her, preferring to leave the bulk of her money safely at home, Julie purchased an attractive day dress in soft mauve with matching bonnet and shoes. Two new petticoats and a chemise completed her purchases as well as depleted her ready cash. Wearing her new clothes, and after arranging to have her old ones delivered to her lodging, Julie was ready to return home, tired but happy.
But fate willed otherwise. Once out on the street Julie became aware of the insistent clanging of bells. The next thing she noticed was the hordes of people rushing all in the same direction. Then the acrid smell of smoke and ashes assailed her nostrils and she no longer was in doubt as to the cause of excitement. Fire! A word so feared that just the mention of it caused panic. Once started, a fire could easily level every hastily erected structure in San Francisco with great loss of life.
Within seconds Julie was caught up in the shifting crowd and carried along with the force of their motion. She was not even aware of the direction she was being taken until she recognized the neighborhood in which she lived. A silent scream rose in her throat when she neared Mae Parker’s boarding house and saw flames shooting up into the air, returning in tiny stinging embers to dust her face and head.
The entire block was ablaze. Already flames licked along the sides and roof of Mae’s house, sending sooty clouds of smoke soaring upward. Dragging in deep gulps of charred air, Julie pushed frantically through the lines of men hastily forming a bucket brigade. The fire wagon had already arrived, pumping furiously and futilely into the seemingly unquenchable inferno.
Julie heaved a huge sigh of relief when she spied Mae’s round form standing at the edge of the crowd staring with glazed eyes as her livelihood went up in flames. Desperately she elbowed her way to the weeping woman’s side. “Mae,” Julie said, touching the woman’s shoulder compassionately. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Weeping, Mae turned into Julie’s arms. “Oh, Julie,” Mae sobbed, turning to the young girl for comfort. “It’s gone. All I own is going up in smoke.”
With a twinge of regret Julie realized that her own possessions, including the money her father left her, was being consumed by flames. In the face of such a disaster, commiserating with Mae was not difficult. But what could she say to a woman well past middleage whose very life depended upon her boarding house and all it contained?
“My money!”
Mae moaned, growing increasingly wild eyed as she watched the flames shoot to the roof and ignite. “I must have my money!”
The noise from the pump and from the throngs of people running about, some without obvious purpose, was so deafening that at first Julie failed to read any meaning into Mae’s words. Only when the stricken woman broke from Julie’s grasp and darted toward the blazing house did Julie realize what Mae had said. “No, Mae!” she cried, making a futile grab at her landlady’s billowing dress. “Come back!”
But shock inured Mae to danger and she turned exceedingly fleet of foot as she dashed past Julie, past stunned on-lookers, into the leaping flames after her cashbox stashed under her bed. Caught completely unaware, Julie could only stand and stare after Mae, her bluebell eyes glazed with fright and her mouth working up and down convulsively. She had to save Mae!
Concern over someone she cared about released her feet as Julie impulsively shot forward, propelled by a force stronger than self preservation, seemingly unconcerned that she raced toward certain death. Fate intervened in the form of a tall, carelessly handsome man whose brawny arms locked like two steel bands about her tiny waist, dragging her with grim determination from the jaws of certain death.
“Let me go!” screamed Julie, struggling against the restraint placed upon her by her rescuer. “I’ve got to help Mae!”
Just then a loud whoosh rent the air and Julie watched helplessly as the roof of Mae’s house collapsed inward, effortlessly snuffing out the kindly woman’s life. Mercifully, Julie fainted.
Julie awoke to the smell of ashes and brimstone, but the Hell she found herself in was all too real. She opened her mouth to scream when a soothing voice next to her said, “Are you all right, young lady?”