About the time I finished with that task, I heard a soft knock at my door, removed the key to peek out the hole, and saw a maid’s gray skirts. I reinserted the key and opened the door to invite the maid inside, spying the paper-wrapped bundle under her arm. Seeing my conundrum, she gestured for me to turn around and silently laced me up without ever saying a thing. Then she politely bobbed once and left. I locked the door behind her, sank onto the soft cot, and worked free the string from the package. It was the bronze-brown gown on top, and I decided it was most suitable for the rest of the day and into dinner.
It was truly lovely, and I hurriedly slipped it over my shoulders, wishing I had a mirror to make sure but feeling as if the gown suited me well, now that it was properly sized. I could breathe well in it, but it hugged my breasts, waist, and hips before it fell in abundant skirts, as was the fashion. The bodice allowed a bit of cleavage to show but nothing like the scandalous necklines I’d spotted among the prostitutes in town—or even the blue gown that Captain Mendoza had given me.
I bent to slip my new stockings over my battered feet and then the boots again. I wound my hair into a tight, low knot so that I could pin my new hat atop it. A hundred times I wished for a mirror or even a window where I might catch a bit of my reflection, but I just had to go with my best guess and then wait for Javier to confirm I was on track—or gently tell me how I had to fix it.
But when he knocked at the door and said, “Zara, it is Javier,” and I opened it, I felt as if I’d been dressed by Cinderella’s mice and birds, crafted into some sort of princess by the way he gaped at me. “Heavens, woman,” he said, stepping tentatively toward me and taking my hands in his, “Will I never cease being surprised by your beauty?” He spread apart my arms to brazenly look me up and down and then lifted one arm to urge me into a slow spin.
I laughed and felt the heat of a blush rise on my cheeks as I completed my turn. “And you don’t look half-bad yourself,” I said.
“Half-bad?” he said, pretending to take offense at my modern phrase. “I am head to toe the Don de la Ventura, do you not see?”
He lifted a freshly shaven chin, and I admired his clean hair, neatly washed, oiled, combed, and pulled back into a leather band at the nape of his neck. His new shirt smelled of fresh cotton and the sea, and was crisply tucked into his new breeches. His boots came to his knees, and as I looked back into his melted-chocolate eyes, I noticed that this man—this glorious, handsome, wonderful man—made my own knees weak. Literally weak. I’d always thought it was an odd phrase until now.
“No, Don de la Ventura,” I whispered, stepping closer to him. “Not half-bad at all.”
CHAPTER 23
JAVIER
It was with pride that I escorted Zara down the stairs, transformed as she was. She was every bit the lady on the outside now, as I’d known she was on the inside. In the foyer, between the small restaurant and the hotelier’s desk, the men milled. And as one they turned to watch us, looking as proud of Zara’s restored appearance as I was.
But my mind was quickly captured by the look of hesitation in Hector and Rodrigo’s eyes. Clearly, they had not found Mendoza.
“What of Rafael and Patricio?” I said to Hector, not bothering to ask about the captain. “They have not learned anything either?”
Patricio himself moved through the group then, clasping me arm to arm in greeting and pulling me closer to thump my back. “My friend, I am relieved to see you and your lady safely arrived.” The shorter man turned toward her, took her hand, and bowed smartly over it. “You are most fetching, Señorita Zara. I beg you to attend a party I am hosting this night.” His round face dimpled as he grinned at her, as if she might be on his arm rather than mine.
I was relieved to see her eyes widen, and knew she remembered him. Back at the old mission, she’d struggled to place him, but clearly her head was clearing. But a party? I grunted in dismay at the thought of it. I leaned closer to my friend. “Patricio, what of Mendoza? What have you and Rafael learned of him? I expected news, man!”
“Peace, peace,” Patricio said, waving me down and reluctantly looking from Zara back to me. “The man is about but taking the utmost care to stay out of sight,” he said under his breath, his smile finally fading as he noted my fervor. “He booked passage on the Siren’s Quest, captained by Señor Flores, which is due to embark tomorrow morning. He registered under an assumed name and paid with a pretty gold coin from the Ventura chest.”
“Did Rafael not tell you?” I growled. “I wanted you to see that he could not do such a thing!”
Patricio frowned, scoffing at my concern. “Is this not better, my friend? This way, we know exactly where he’ll be and when. Rafael and I agreed that blocking passage might have simply frightened him away. He’d ride north, for Oregon, I’d wager. Find passage there.” His face soon returned to his easy, homely, engaging grin. “This way, we can sup together. Enjoy the evening. Attend the party. And capture your enemy come morn.”
I wasn’t ready to smile with him. “This way,” I muttered, “my enemy remains free to prowl about all night. Who’s to say our presence won’t scare him away?”
“He’s not here, Javier,” Patricio said earnestly. “Not in town. He arrived, purchased provisions, and then left to wait for dawn tomorrow to emerge from the shadows. I have checked every manifest and spoken myself to every captain of the ten ships harbored here, every proprietor of every hotel.” He reached up to pat me on the shoulder. “Take your ease, friend. Relax for a night. You need the rest, as does your lady. As well as a modicum of distraction?”
Zara turned from chatting with Rafael, who had just arrived and was fawning over her “refreshed countenance,” but I slowly shook my head in answer to the silent question in her big, brown eyes. As frustrating as it was to not have Mendoza in immediate custody, I had to admit that my friend’s plan was the next best thing. Maybe even his party was fortuitous. For if I was to soon send Zara home to her own time, I wanted every hour with her that I could manage to capture. So I could remember it…forever.
That night, Patricio sent his own carriage to collect Zara, Rafael, and me. Our men all went there on horseback separately, so as not to draw attention. According to Patricio, his mother had been looking forward to the Feast of John the Baptist’s nativity for months and had been importing goods for it all along. There was to be a dance and everyone in town of note would be invited. In town, people were already celebrating, but hardly in a Christian fashion. For many, it was nothing more than Summer Solstice, an excuse to drink and carouse. There’d be a fair amount at the Casales estate as well, I was sure, but in a far more genteel fashion.
“You established guard duty among the men?” I asked Rafael as we bounced along the dirt road out to Hacienda de Casales, one of the finest homes in the region.
“I did,” he said with a single nod, “though I don’t think it’s truly necessary. Would not this party be the one place in town that Mendoza would want to avoid carefully? He got what he was after.” He paused to glance at Zara, who stared out the tiny window of the carriage. “Why would he engage any of us further? What would he hope to gain?”
His words mollified me. “You’re likely right. I simply want to be overly cautious.”
Rafael nodded again and smiled. “Of course. None of us want further harm to come to your lady. But tonight, my friends, you can simply enjoy. Tonight you may revel. Tomorrow you shall see justice done.”
“We hope,” Zara said.
“We shall, we shall,” Rafael insisted. “The rat cannot escape this hole.”
“How can you be so certain?” I asked. “What if he’s caught wind of our plans?”
“We have a man watching the stables where Mendoza boarded your mare. Two men on every side of the town, keeping watch. He’ll likely come to town again tonight, for food and supplies, perhaps for diversion. If he does, he shall not shake those who follow him. Captain Flores of the Siren’s Call will be in attendance tonight. You may spe
ak to him directly about how you would like to proceed come morn.”
I offered my hand to Zara and after a moment, she took it, but she returned to looking out the window. Because she wanted to see this new land? Or because she was thinking of the golden lamp? I’d dispatched two men that afternoon to check every shop in town and on the outskirts—even other traders who might have come across such an item. Hastily, I’d sketched its shape, described its missing spout and the odd lettering barely visible about the circumference. I’d given each man three gold coins—more than enough to purchase it, if they found it.
Patricio’s family’s estate north of town sprawled across hundreds of acres, from crashing sea to green, rolling hills. The fields were verdant, crops of wheat and corn and grapes all showing the height of summer’s pulse. As the only son in his family, he was expected to return to the hacienda and run the estate in time; he and I had both chafed under that expectation, which had drawn us together. For now, while his father lived, Señor Casales allowed his son to explore his business as a shipping broker in town, recognizing that he developed certain relationships that would benefit the estate over time. But I knew that Patricio would end up returning to the hacienda in time. It reminded me of my discussion with Zara—and the idea that I might return to the sea in time, leaving the rancho in Mateo’s hands. En tiempo… The words rolled through my head and I looked to Zara as the carriage pulled up before the beautiful, pristine hacienda. In time…
Where would Zara be if that ever transpired? In my own time? Or hers?
I ground my teeth together and exited first, turning to help Zara descend the tiny stairs in her voluminous skirts.
Señor and Señora Casales stood there, waiting to greet us, with Patricio’s little sister, Camila, beside them. Patricio was already mingling among the guests, his loud laugh helping me immediately find him in the crowd. I shook my head. “Everyone loves Patricio,” I said to Zara as we strode forward. “He has an uncanny way of becoming everyone’s dear friend.”
“Including yours,” she said.
I introduced her to Señor, Señora, and Señorita Casales. Camila hovered over my hand and turned with me to look for her brother. “He is over there with the Diazes,” she said with a small shake of her head, as if half-amused and half-chagrined. “It’s impossible to keep Patricio where he is supposed to be.”
“Indeed,” I said with a laugh and squeezed her hand as we headed in his direction. He now was flirting with three young women, each in impeccable gowns and elaborate hair ornaments. I was glad the proprietor had encouraged us to purchase both comb and hat for Zara. Even in her fine golden-bronze silk and smart little hat, she was outdressed by the majority of these women. But still, none was more beautiful than she, to me. And I knew I wasn’t the only one to think so; many men gazed our way, and their eyes were not on me.
Servants moved among the crowd, serving champagne in crystal glasses. Outside of Mexico, I had never seen more than twenty goblets in one room; here there had to be over a hundred. Patricio joined us then, grabbing two glasses and handing one to Zara and one to me. Clearly, he’d already been imbibing; his grin was wider, his gestures more exuberant. He took a third from another passing servant and lifted it high between us. “To your health and restoration, my friends. Cheers.”
We clinked our glasses against his, mine sloshing a bit over the edge, and I had no choice but to smile along with him. He was simply so full of life, my friend, intent on squeezing every moment for everything it was worth. Hadn’t he been the one who first nudged me to admit that I had more than a passing interest in Zara? Now his small eyes twinkled as he looked from me to her and back again, raising a brow as if our marriage vows were surely about to be said. But there would be no marriage vows, I told myself. I had to set her free, really open my heart to set her free this time.
Quickly, before he mentioned something of our love, I bent toward him. “So tell me, Patricio. Any word of our friend?”
His smile faded a bit, and he looked again to Zara as if he’d much rather tease us, but I put a gloved hand on his forearm. He sighed. “Nothing more,” he said under his breath. “But all is in place for tomorrow. You shall have your quarry then. Tonight, we celebrate, no?”
Rafael joined us as the music began, a group of musicians playing tunes from the mother country that made us all smile. Some moved into groups and then divided into lines when the next song was announced. Zara shook her head when I asked if she wanted to dance, whispering that her feet were sore. She demurely declined invitations from others who boldly approached us, several braving my scowl. Perhaps they thought me a cad, not inviting her to dance, and thought they might press their luck. Little did they know that if her feet had permitted it, I would have already had her in my arms.
We picnicked on blankets spread out across the lawn, under the trees, and beside the vineyard. The musicians played statelier music as the sun set in the distance. Captain John Worthington joined us then, along with a number of Anglo sailors, and Zara flew into his arms in the most inappropriate way. He laughed and turned her about, casting me a grin that told me he didn’t intend to challenge my suit. Perhaps it was the way of her own time, to be so informal and familiar with others. Perhaps it was the relief of seeing the man who had discovered her after she stole my horse and was desperately trying to find her own way that first day she arrived on the beach….
After I clasped arms with Captain Worthington, he turned back to her. “So I hear tales that you survived both pirate and shipwreck, Señorita Zara,” he said, shaking his blond head in wonder. “Do you intend to build an entire life of making tongues wag?”
She smiled and shook her head ruefully. “Trust me, that is not what I intend. And had it not been for Javier and his men…I am uncertain I would have lived another day.”
He sobered, seeming to understand that he’d raised a tender memory in a rather cavalier way. “Forgive me, friends. I did not mean to make light of something so terribly serious.” His blue eyes softened as he glanced between us. “I am relieved to know you both have survived and fare well enough to engage in a party such as this.”
“Not that Patricio would have allowed us to decline the invitation,” I said.
“True. He’s insisted upon every captain in the harbor attending this ball, along with their officers and any lady of repute they can find.”
I laughed under my breath. In a town like Monterey, the men outnumbered the women three to one, if one didn’t count the prostitutes. The idea of someone bringing a lady of the night onto Señora Casales’s estate… That would not end well. But I also knew that Patricio meant to aid me in finding Mendoza, even if it meant he’d suffer his mother’s wrath.
There were whispers of poker being played in Señor Casales’s drawing room, and I felt the tug of interest, but I refused to leave Zara’s side, even as she spent half an hour hearing of Captain Worthington’s trade in the six weeks they’d been apart. “I’ve been to Seattle,” he said, “and am fully loaded with pelts. We’ll embark for Panama as soon as I trade pelts for other supplies here. Do you wish to return home by way of sailing with us to Bonita Harbor?” He looked over at me. “Your men could bring their horses—”
But Zara was already slowly shaking her head. “I love the sea, and I would love to sail with you, but…” She cast me a look of apology, knowing accepting John’s offer would be the quicker way to get us home.
“Ahh,” John said, taking her hand with both of his in brotherly understanding, “’tis too soon. I should have thought of that. Some sailors who survive shipwreck never take to the sea again, once they kiss the beach and draw a blessed free breath of air.”
“That won’t be my way,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I simply need…a bit more time.”
“And when you and Javier are ready, permit me to be your captain. It would be my honor to show you how sailing can be more a joy than a sorrow.”
“We’ll be certain to do so,” I said. Briefly I thought
of him taking us south to Mexico, on our honeymoon, where I could introduce her to my extended family.
But there would be no wedding, no honeymoon. She would learn to love sailing in her own time, when ships and sailors were likely far safer.
She leaned toward me as I frowned. “I’ve saddened you, saying no to John?” she whispered, brows in an arc above her beautiful brown eyes. They always reminded me of the earth, of soil just turned, ready for seed.
“No, no, it isn’t that,” I said.
“Then you are frustrated that we’ll have to ride home.”
“No. Woman, permit me to keep my own counsel for once, would you?”
She sighed. “Very well. But I must find the…uh…” She shifted uncomfortably.
“The privy?” I guessed in a whisper, judging her discomfort. After all, I’d grown up with sisters. “This way.”
Gratefully, she took my arm, and we went around the house to the back, passing several of my men, who seemed to be relaxing more than keeping watch. Seeing my scowl, more than one straightened and hastened about his task.
“I really can do this by myself. It’s not necessary to stay here and wait, Javier. Look at all the people about.”
“I will wait,” I said calmly. “Right here.”
She rolled her eyes and moved away from me, gingerly opening a wooden door into a temporary shack that I knew formed the communal outhouse. In there would be servants to help the women with their skirts, keeping them from getting dirty. The men…well, the men just wandered into the cornfields to relieve themselves. In many ways, it was far simpler to be a man, I thought, feeling sorry for Zara and my sisters as I paced and waited for her to emerge.
But when she did, she appeared shaken.
“Zara, what is it?” I whispered, taking her arm firmly in hand. “Are you unwell? What happened?” I shoved back my frustration of wanting to attend her, even in there, knowing there was no way I would’ve been welcomed. Besides, had there not been twenty women entering and exiting? I had seen them as I milled about outside, with a few other men, waiting.
Four Winds (River of Time California, Book 2) Page 12