Isabella tilted her head, her lips slightly raised at the corners. “You no longer need a chaperone, my dear. I would be . . . in the way.”
Sorina laughed as heat stained her cheeks. Recovering, she said, “I suppose you’re right. Lance has business to conclude before we go back to the ranch. Then we’ll be sailing to Monterey, where Lance will get a new civil assignment until the courts are set up here.” She paused. “Uncle Gabriel will be escorting Tía Consuelo and Grandfather back home the day after tomorrow, and you can travel as far as their ranch with them. Pablo can go with you the rest of the way.”
“An excellent idea. I believe I’ll do that. Now go to your husband. I can see him in the crowd, craning his neck. I’m sure he’s searching for you.”
“Uncle Gabriel will be thrilled to know you’ll be joining him. I’ll tell him the good news at dinner tonight. Or perhaps you can tell him yourself.” Sorina laughed and ran off.
Isabella watched her until she was swallowed by the crowd. Her friend seemed so happy these days, like a child frolicking in a field of flowers. Isabella wondered if she would ever be as carefree.
The crowd was breaking up and headed for their conveyances. The events of the day had worn her out. All she could think of was a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. She helped Tía Consuelo to her feet, and arm in arm, they strolled toward the waiting carriage.
Isabella retired to her room as soon as they arrived at the hotel. She stayed there all the next day, venturing out only for meals, enduring the discomfort of several bruises on her body. She’d seen Gabriel only to make arrangements for her to accompany Tía Consuelo in their carriage as far as Rancho de Los Lagos. When night came, she fell right to sleep, knowing there would be an early departure.
~ ~ ~
Someone pounded on her door. Isabella sat up and rubbed her eyes. The curtains weren’t fully closed, but no light shone from outside. She’d been told they were to depart at first light, but it was still dark. What could be so urgent?
“Señora, you must come quickly.” Catalina stood by the bed, holding Isabella’s robe.
Isabella reluctantly climbed out of the bed. “Who is it?”
“It is Juan. He has ridden all night.”
Dread clawed at her stomach. Juan was her majordomo, the man she’d left in charge at her ranch. “Go to the kitchens, Catalina, and bring coffee and pan dulce. I can dress myself.”
Isabella thrust her arms into the robe, cinched the waist, and rinsed her face with cool water in the ewer. Yesterday had been so calm and peaceful after the rodeo and other events of the day before. She was actually looking forward to today’s journey. What could have brought Juan here?
Isabella hurried into the sitting room, anxious to talk to the tired man standing near the door. His hair was awry, and his hat was crumpled in his hands. Stooped shoulders and bloodshot eyes told her he’d had a sleepless night.
“Señora, I am so sorry to bother you, but I thought it necessary to come immediately.”
“Sit down, Juan. Please.” The man sat and Isabella sat opposite. Nails bit into her palms, and she unclasped her hands, gripping the folds of her heavy robe instead. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been a fire in the storeroom.”
Her breath caught, and she forced herself to remain calm. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Only slight injuries from trying to put out the fire.”
“Thank God.” She let out her breath as her shoulders melted into the back of the settee. Juan hung his head. He gripped his tattered hat like it was a lifeline.
Isabella frowned. Was there more? “What else?”
The man hung his head, as if not wanting to see her expression. “The hides ready for the market? Lost. The grain harvested for winter? Gone.”
“No!” She stood and paced, trying to think, her chest tight with an unnamable emotion. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. The hides were like money, used for trade, and the grain was to be an additional source of income. She had already found a buyer in the pueblo who would take whatever she didn’t need.
A knock at the door made her straighten. Perhaps it was her maid with a tray. She thrust the door wide, and Gabriel strode into the room. “Are you packing? I was passing by and saw the light under your door.” He glanced at Juan, then back at Isabella. “What’s going on?”
Tears drifted down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them. It was all gone, a year’s worth of tanned hides and the harvest that was going to sustain her ranch and its workers for the next year.
The money that would guarantee her self-sufficiency.
Isabella stumbled to Gabriel, and he opened his arms.
“Pull yourself together, querida.” Gabriel’s words were whispered in her ear. “You’re no cactus flower. You’re the spines on the paddles. You’re strong and resolute . . . and can draw blood with a thrust.”
Remembering his injuries, she pulled back, accepting the handkerchief he held out to her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry harder.
“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” he said.
Isabella nodded, and sat. The fact that she was in the presence of two men in her nightclothes registered briefly but was dismissed. Her maid came in the still-open door, carrying a tray. Her eyes widened in dismay, but she said nothing, busying herself with the coffee.
Gabriel stood with arms folded and nodded toward Juan. “Begin again.”
Juan repeated what he’d told Isabella.
“How did the fire start?”
Juan did not shirk the question. “It was deliberate, señor. Two men were seen riding away. One held a torch.”
Isabella gasped.
Juan hesitated but seemed eager to talk to Gabriel. “They were heading for the hacienda but ran off when the fire bell was rung, calling everyone to the well.”
“Who sounded the alarm?”
“One of the vaqueros on duty. We have posted night watchmen ever since the war. Mostly they sleep. This one heard a noise and awakened.”
Gabriel turned to Isabella. “Get dressed. Put on your riding habit. You and I will go on horseback directly back to your ranch.”
“No need to change your plans, Gabriel. I can handle this myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but I want to see the damage. If it were my father’s ranch, I would welcome a second pair of eyes to help me discover the perpetrators.”
All she could do was nod. This was a nightmare, and it wasn’t over. If it was Drake Logan’s doing, then he’d won. She’d have no choice but to sell. Without money from the sale of her hides and tallow, she couldn’t survive, let alone face the legal challenges that might come with American occupation.
No! I will not give in. There must be a way out of this.
Gabriel left to find Pablo and to arrange additional escort for his father and aunt. Isabella was grateful for his calm demeanor and his willingness to take charge. Right now her brain refused to function. If Gabriel was with her, she could face whatever she had to do. He was right. She had to shake off this shock and be strong.
Telling Juan to get a few hours of sleep before coming back, she stumbled to her room in a daze. Her arms were heavy, and her feet didn’t want to move. But she needed to get dressed. Gabriel expected her to be ready when he returned.
Catalina pulled off the robe, and Isabella hurried behind the dressing screen. A hand thrust a shift, a corset, and pantalettes over the screen. Isabella went through the motions of getting dressed. She had to make plans, but she couldn’t think. Her mind was like pozole, the thick mush that was a staple for the Juaneno Indians. The morning air, heavy with dew, would clear it.
She was ready when Gabriel returned. Juan and Catalina would catch up to them later, he said. They would set off now, as it was nearly dawn
. They should reach the ranch before nightfall.
Nodding, she allowed herself to be escorted to the front of the building. Two horses waited, including a strange mare Isabella had not seen before.
“I’m afraid there were no English saddles. You’ll have to hike up your skirt and ride astride.”
Yes, she could do that. Her skirt was full. Modesty would still be preserved.
Why am I even thinking such things now?
The first rays of sunlight streamed from behind a cloud. It was an omen. Her life was about to change. Would it be for the worse? It seemed so.
If she gave in to her despair, Drake Logan would win. Evil had been done, and evil must not triumph. She lifted her chin and rode, straight-backed and proud, beside Gabriel. There must be a way to recoup her losses and continue. If she couldn’t think of a way, the man beside her would.
She studied his tall form, straight in the saddle, competent hands on the reins. No sign of the spoiled fop now. Her injured hero looked like the ruthless outlaw he was once rumored to be. Gabriel was a man like no other.
And he was with her.
Chapter 13
The trip grew arduous, and toward the end, Isabella was gritting her teeth against the pain of so many hours in the saddle. They stopped only three times to rest and water the horses. Gabriel had packed food for them both, but Isabella could only nibble. Her stomach was in a knot, which tightened with every mile that brought them closer to her home.
They crested the edge of the Santa Ana Mountains and onto her land as the sun dipped below the horizon. Cattle grazed peacefully in the fading light, but the grass in the meadow was sparse and brown. In a few weeks she would have to move the herd to higher ground where grass was still plentiful, or they would starve.
Her conversations with Gabriel had been brief and succinct, mostly related to the journey. Fortunately, they had encountered only one person, a vaquero taking a cart laden with hides to the ships anchored in San Pedro.
Where I was to take mine next week.
Despair threatened to choke her, but she swallowed back tears and concentrated on keeping up with her companion.
The witty, fastidious ranchero was gone. The dangerous man she had fallen in love with many years before, the handsome, devil-may-care vaquero who left women sighing after him was also gone. In his place was an intelligent man tested by time and adversity. This was who she needed now, someone who could help her figure out what was happening. She had faith in Gabriel de la Vega. Given their history, she wasn’t sure why.
She studied him as he rode ahead of her. His shoulders were taut and his back straight. Determination was carved into his posture. He hadn’t tried to comfort her during the trip, knowing her well enough to let her work through her emotions. Instead he had urged her onward, somehow aware that his presence beside her would be enough to get her through this major setback. She didn’t need to be coddled.
They reached the ranch in early evening, a time enjoyed by most rancheros with outdoor dining and entertainments in an enclosed patio. As they approached the smoldering remains of her storehouse, Isabella’s breath caught. Only walls remained of the mud brick building. Its timbered roof cut from sturdy oaks next to the river was gone. The storehouse had stood for years before she wed Tomas—a remnant of the old land grant properties given by the Spanish crown to a few loyal subjects and to a string of Franciscan missions. The building had been constructed long before Mexico gained its independence, secularized the missions, and then proceeded to dole out property titles like they were stacks of tortillas.
Gabriel rode in silence beside her but pulled her horse to a stop as they arrived at the stables. “Do not venture farther tonight. We can assess the damage more closely in the morning.”
She nodded, unable to speak. He turned her horse, his hand on the bridle, and they rode to the house. It was grand by most standards, a two-story structure built in the Monterey style with a balcony running the length of the upper porch on two sides. Low one-story adobe buildings closed the square, forming the traditional courtyard. Candlelight already flickered from within.
Having ridden all day, Isabella had little feeling in her lower limbs. They’d become almost numb during the last few miles.
When I dismount, I shall probably fall off the damn horse.
As if sensing her discomfort, Gabriel raised his arms and lifted her from the saddle. Grateful, she slid down his body, knowing he had a firm hold on her if her legs folded when her feet touched the ground.
“Careful, querida. I could get used to this.” He winced despite his words, reminding her he must still be sore from the injuries sustained protecting her.
She smiled into his dirt-stained face and freed his hands now she knew she could stand. Her body tingled where it had rubbed against the muscles of his chest, but she concentrated on taking a step or two without falling.
A young girl, the sister of Isabella’s maid, Catalina, rushed out of the house. “Señora Fuentes. Come with me. You must be exhausted.” Gentle fingers grasped her arm and led her into the house. Gabriel said he would stay behind and give instructions to a stable hand for the care of the horses.
“Is everyone well? You must have all been frightened.” Many were old retainers who had been with the Fuentes family for decades. They were her family.
“Most everyone, señora. Carlos and Marco burned their hands in the fire, but old Tía Lucia put grease on the burns and wrapped them in cloth. She said they would heal.”
“I will look at them myself tomorrow.” Like all Mexican wives, Isabella was schooled in taking care of ailments. Since she was able to read and write in English, she had traded tallow candles for books on medicine from a British ship and knew the healing properties of most common herbs. She once thought if she’d been a man, she might have pursued medicine. But women in Mexican society did not do such things.
And of course, there was the blood.
The fear of blood had begun in her childhood, although she couldn’t recall a single incident that might have caused it. Certainly nothing had happened to her. No scars marred her body. She suspected her stepmother knew the source of this fear, because Vicenta would glance away whenever asked and quickly change the subject. After a while, Isabella stopped quizzing relatives about it. If it was important, they would tell her when she needed to know.
For now, her immediate concerns were food and rest.
After giving instructions about dinner and quarters for Gabriel, she climbed the stairs to her sleeping chamber, a large room with a door opening onto the balcony. She threw open the balcony door now, savoring the fresh air and watching the twilight disappear from the distant horizon.
This was home, thousands of acres of hills and plains, a vigorous river, and tree-covered mountains. Could she sell it, and if she did, what would become of her workers? In addition to food and shelter, Tomas—like most of the rancheros—had paid a small wage. Most had remained on the ranch even though they were free to go if they found employment elsewhere.
Weary beyond belief, she trudged back inside and curled into a ball on her bed. She would close her eyes, just for a moment. Maybe when she woke up, she’d discover the loss of her hides was all a nightmare.
~ ~ ~
The smell of smoke was strong in the stable. Nervous horses whinnied and shuffled in their stalls, and workers stopped often to look over their shoulders. In addition, four armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the living quarters, alert to any unusual sounds.
Gabriel spoke to the stable hands while they rubbed down the mare he’d procured for Isabella, preferring to personally take care of his own horse. The lads were as spooked as the horses. Never had they seen such a deliberate act of destruction, not even during the war.
“Where were you when the fire started?” Gabriel leaned against the stall, a ba
g of oats in his hands.
A young vaquero in his twenties with long hair, held back with a piece of leather, answered. “We were asleep in the bunkhouse, señor. The horses alerted us.”
Gabriel nodded. Horses had a keen sense of smell. Even a wisp of smoke would have caused them alarm. “What happened then?”
“We ran outside and saw the flames.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“Señor Juan was there, organizing the buckets. He told us to go back to the stables and put the horses in the corral.”
“The fire spread?”
“Many came and tried to put it out, but we could not haul the water up from the well fast enough, and the river is too far away.” Sorrow tinged the young man’s voice, and Gabriel reached out to press his shoulder.
“What’s done is done. You all did your duty. None of this is your fault.”
But someone was at fault, and Gabriel was sure he knew who it was. Juan said a man with a torch was seen riding toward the house. When Gabriel had a chance, he would quiz the majordomo. It had been dark, but maybe the majordomo, or another stable hand, or one of the vaqueros, would remember something that would give a clue to prove the arsonist’s identity.
Assured that everything was under control in the stable, Gabriel strode to the house. He’d have time to wash up before dinner, and he wanted to make sure Isabella was all right. The journey had tired her more than he expected. Tragedy did that to a person. The old Isabella, the one with the sharp tongue and discerning mind, needed to resurface if they were to collaborate on how to thwart men like Logan.
A boy, no more than fourteen or fifteen, wearing a loose cotton shirt and pants, led the way up a wooden staircase to a room on one end of the balcony. The young man told him Señora Fuentes’s was on the other end, with several guest chambers in between. Señor Tomas had preferred a suite on the lower floor, he said, but when he died, the señora moved out of her adjoining room on the lower floor to a chamber with a view.
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