by Lyn Cote
Ash nodded. “Now that Mexico broke with the Spanish crown, the Creoles and light-colored ricos run everything. But the Mexican Creoles feel just like Anglos about anybody who has mixed blood. If you’re not white, you’re not worth anything. If the dark skin doesn’t show, as it doesn’t in Alandra, it can be ignored. But if a man looks dark, he’s beneath them.”
Scully made a sound of distaste.
Alandra too hated every horrible but accurate word Ash spoke. She had not liked it when they had called her mestiza, an insult. She had never thought much about her mother’s mixed blood. It had not mattered in her life. Still, she knew she must concentrate on the fact that this was about her land, her inheritance, not her blood. “If the document is real, what am I to do?”
Suddenly she felt as helpless as the day they had buried her brother. “I cannot lose my land.” My life. “I cannot let my parent’s rancho go to the very people who drove my father and mother out of Mexico City. Never.” Her breathing came faster.
Scully muttered in agreement.
“We won’t let that happen,” Ash said, reaching to touch her shoulder with his dark gnarled hand. “Quinn won’t let that happen. He promised your brother he’d take care of you and keep the land till you were ready to run it yourself. You’re not alone in this.”
“Right,” Scully agreed.
“But what can I do?” she murmured. She shook her head, warning away tears.
Scully moved closer to her, his palm settling onto her shoulder. The large hand spoke of strength and staying power. And she did not draw away.
Ash patted her hand. “We’ve got to take action before they do. You heard how they are in a hurry to tie you to them even tighter with marriage to—”
“They can’t make her marry someone she doesn’t want to,” Scully interrupted.
Ash gave an ugly laugh. And so did Ramirez. “Two men who want to gain over six thousand acres with all the gold, silver, horses, and cattle that go with them? Will they refuse to use force?” Ramirez asked, his son Emilio beside him.
Ash joined in, “And two men who will be able to get support from the Mexican Army and who have enough money to bribe a priest to perform a marriage against the wishes—”
“That isn’t right,” Scully objected, sounding personally insulted.
His outrage on her behalf helped calm Alandra. “I have heard rumors,” she said, “about dishonest priests. And forced marriages in Mexico City and Spain.” She put both hands to her eyes as if she could block out these troubles. “What am I going to do?”
“Well, I think that we need to beat them at their own game.” Ash lowered his voice even more. “They say you’re going to leave for Bexar tomorrow. I say we leave tonight and get there first.”
“How will that help?” Alandra lowered her hands, looking into Ash’s grave, lined face.
“If you marry someone else, you can’t be forced to marry that fine gentleman.” Ash nodded soberly toward the main house.
“Marry? Me? Who would I marry?” she asked, tingling with shock.
Ash looked at the man standing beside her. “Scully will marry you.”
Alandra gasped.
“What?” Scully straightened.
Ash held up both hands. “Hear me out. It can be a marriage in name only. But it will stop these three from bribing the priest to perform a marriage against the señorita’s wishes. This is a very real danger.”
“No.” Alandra shook her head.
“Señorita Alandra,” Ash said, lowering only one hand. “We need to take this step by step or bad is going to happen. First, we must protect you from a forced marriage. And if you’re already married, they can’t marry you to someone else, especially if your marriage takes place in the church in San Antonio where they might try it. It will spike that gun.”
Alandra glanced at Scully, who stood frowning down at her and Ash. She tried to come up with a counterargument and found she could not.
Ash leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s another reason. You’re going to need time to find out if these people are who they say they are and if this document is genuine. If you have a husband, he can to go into court to make your claim that this document is illegal. Fortunately, legal matters can get stalled for years. And it will buy you time to find what you need to prove your case.”
“But I don’t need a husband. In Spanish law, women can own property and can sue in court,” Alandra insisted, tangling her fingers together.
Ash tilted his head. “Unfortunately, a man—and a man with such light skin like Scully—will be listened to in court, in either a Mexican or an Anglo one, more than a woman. It’s men who run the courts, not women. And whites, not those of us with mixed blood.”
Alandra wanted to argue. Her brain worked frantically, trying to come up with anything that could stand against Ash’s logic. She could not. This was the way of the world—white men had the advantage always.
Ash sat back, stretching out his long legs. “Also, Scully is the kind of man who will not be taken lightly by anybody around here. They all know him and his reputation. They also know that Quinn would back you and Scully. And that Quinn’s friends with the Comanches. Quinn would never use that power against them, but they don’t know that.”
Alandra could not remain seated. She popped to her feet and began pacing. Her heart throbbed as these ideas flocked into her mind. “I wish I had never seen these people. Why is this happening?”
Carson shrugged. “Ma says this is just the way life is.”
Ash’s son Antonio spoke for the first time. “What I want to know is—did these Mexicans have the señorita kidnapped?”
Ash groaned and stretched. “They might have. They might not. It doesn’t seem to make any sense at all. I mean why kidnap the señorita if they have legal grounds to take her land?”
“Maybe they don’t have legal grounds,” Scully said. “Maybe the will is a forgery.”
Alandra rubbed her arms, chafing while these men discussed her future.
“And there is always the unpleasant possibility that the document might be real,” Ash said. “But we can’t be bothered with that now. We have to stop them from marrying the señorita off to Fernando, and the best way to do that is to get to the priest first.”
Alandra stared at Ash, not daring to glance at Scully. “There must be another way.”
“Well, you’ll have to think of it then, señorita.” Ash slanted a look up at her. “I can’t.”
“I can’t marry. I’m too young,” she pleaded. “I wanted to run my rancho and be my own woman first. Not marry.” Her refusal came out too strong to be polite. But that is how I feel. Marry? No!
“Well, I’m not champing at the bit to get married,” Scully declared. “I heard everything you said, Ash, but there’s got to be someone else that can be the groom. I’m not the marrying kind. Who would put the two of us together in harness?”
She threw up a hand. “And haven’t I just said that myself!”
Ash raised both hands. “I thought we were going to keep our voices down.” He grinned.
Alandra turned her back on him and folded her arms. No.
Scully cleared his throat. “Carson, what do you think your parents would say to this?”
“They and Ash usually agree,” Carson said.
Alandra tapped her toe on the hard earth. She wanted to refuse to consider this, but she could think of no better plan. The danger was real, and her ranch was a considerable motive for these men to break the laws of God and man. The silence stretched between them.
Finally, she glanced toward Scully, but found it impossible to meet his gaze. “Are you agreeable to this marriage in name only?”
The Anglo remained silent, though she felt his intent gaze like a ray of heat. “If that’s what it takes to protect you.” He sounded reluctant.
And she felt herself oddly insulted. But that was ridiculous. It did not matter one way or the other how he felt about marrying her.
Because they were going to be married in name only. “I hate to do something deceitful. We will be going into a church and taking vows. How can I take vows that I do not mean?”
Ash nodded. “It does you honor that you consider this point. But we must take action. If there had been a way to prevent you from being kidnapped, we would have taken it. This is a way to prevent you from being forced into a marriage you do not want. Which is worse? Taking vows that you may revoke? Or being forced to marry someone, forced to take the same vows against your will? And if Fernando forces you to take those vows, you can be sure that he will consummate the marriage. Then there is no possibility of annulment. You will be trapped for life. And all your land will be his—whether the will is valid or not.”
Under the sky glowering with gray clouds, Alandra heard her late brother’s voice: You will inherit the land, little sister. And with it you inherit the responsibility to our people. You must put their welfare first. They came out of Mexico City with our father and mother and into the wilderness. You cannot let them down.
Feeling a light mist on her face, she gazed around at the jacales and adobe huts and thought about the families who lived in each one. I know what I must choose. “I will wait by my bedroom window tonight in my riding habit. I will leave everything else to you.”
With that, she turned and walked back toward her house. Each step she took vibrated through her. The decision had been made. Never before had her responsibilities weighed so heavily upon her. She dragged in breath. Father, if there is another way or a better way, please let me or Ash think of it before tonight.
Scully forced down a yawn. The sky glowed with the gray of near-dawn, the sun just below the horizon. The night before, right after dark in the near full moonlight, the five of them—Scully along with Alandra, Ash, Antonio, and Carson—had walked their horses a mile from the barn before mounting and heading north toward Bexar and its church and Mexican fort.
Now they entered the silent town, just waking. The señorita in her dark riding habit had rarely spoken during the nearly twenty mile ride.
He found himself glancing at her, and made himself look ahead. I’m marrying this woman today. No matter how many times he repeated these words, he could not catch hold of them, make them feel real.
“Whoa,” Ash murmured.
Scully and the others all pulled up on their reins.
“I think we better go to the inn and stay there till the town wakes up. Then we’ll go and get the wedding done.”
“Why wait?” the señorita asked.
Was it because she was afraid her relatives might appear before the wedding and prevent it? Or was the thought of marrying him, even though it was a sham marriage, irritating, shaming her? And she wanted to get it over before the town awoke? Scully stared ahead, away from all the faces, his neck hot under his bandanna.
Ash went on, “We don’t want to arouse any suspicion that this is something out of the way—”
“Ash, that would be possible if this were not me, the doña of Rancho Sandoval,” the señorita said. “If this were to be the wedding expected from me, it would have taken months of preparation and it would be a huge fiesta. Whether I go now or later to the church to be wed, it will be deemed extremely odd, my marrying in such a hasty clandestine way. Better that we accomplish this before the town wakes up for the day. Let us go now and have done with this.”
Have done with this. Scully didn’t know why those words pricked him.
Ash yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m getting too old for this kind of running around. But you’re right. We’ll go directly to the San Fernando church.”
“No, I have spent this night thinking. First we will go to the Veramendi palace.”
“Why there?” Ash asked.
“I attended the wedding of Ursula Veramendi to Jim Bowie in 1831. She has passed away but her family will help me, I think. Lieutenant Governor Veramendi let his daughter marry an Anglo. I think I can convince him to persuade the priest to perform this hasty wedding to Scully. I need someone to persuade the priest since there isn’t time to post the banns.”
“Banns?” Scully asked. “What are they?”
Ash hit his forehead. “I forgot about them.”
“In church on each of the three weeks before a wedding ceremony, the upcoming nuptials are announced during mass. It gives time for anyone who has an objection to the marriage to come forward.”
“Really?” Scully asked.
“Sí.” Alandra started down Commerce Street in the sparse light. And that’s all she said. Scully shook his head as they all fell in behind her. Never had he imagined something like this happening to a plain man like him.
When they reached the gates of the imposing house, Alandra called out in a commanding voice, “Atencion, por favor! Atencion, el guardia!”
A small window opened in the heavy wooden door. “Quién?”
“It is I, Señorita Alandra Sandoval. Open. I am here to see Veramendi.”
The man stared at them and then called for help. The barred gate was opened and her party rode into the courtyard. The señorita thanked the gatekeeper and they all slid from their horses. Soon, the housekeeper was opening the door to the casa and grooms came running to take their horses to the stable.
Scully kept his face straight. This marriage wouldn’t be real. It was just a way to protect the señorita, and that was the job Quinn had given him. He tightened his resolve to do this thing regardless of the twisting in his gut.
The morning air was cool and damp. The hours in the saddle made Alandra, his bride, move a little stiffly, slower than usual. The housekeeper led them through the wide double doors.
Soon Veramendi came out in a richly embroidered dressing gown. “What is wrong? Is someone dying?”
“No, señor,” the señorita said, “I am here to get married and I need your help.”
The man halted and gawked, open-mouthed, at her. “Married? Why?”
Ash cleared his throat. “Earlier this week Señorita Sandoval was kidnapped by renegade Comanches.” He cleared his throat again. “Under the circumstances, Quinn and I thought it best she marry immediately. And privately.”
Veramendi’s mouth opened and closed twice. “How dreadful, señorita.” He hurried forward. “How dreadful.”
The señorita looked upset, her face was flushed. She probably didn’t like the explanation Ash had given for the rushed private ceremony. He was implying that she’d been “compromised” and needed to be married in case there was a child. Scully could understand her embarrassment. But he also saw why Ash had used it, since it should satisfy anyone as reason enough for a quick marriage.
“Who is the groom?” Veramendi asked.
“I am.” Scully watched for and got the shocked reaction he’d expected. Why did the Tejanos think they were better than the Anglos? His mind brought up the reverse. Why did the Anglos always think they were better than the Mexicans or Tejanos? No wonder they were all in the midst of a revolution.
The señor came out of his shock and took Alandra’s hand in both of his chubby ones. “Señorita, I’m certain many men of honor in this district would be happy to marry—”
Scully fumed at the slur on his honor.
“Señor Scully is a man of honor,” Alandra interrupted him.
Veramendi looked embarrassed. “I did not mean to cast doubt on Scully’s honor. He is well known as an honest man of valor. I merely meant that…” The señor looked as if he didn’t know how to untangle the unintended offense.
“I am to marry Scully, Señor Veramendi,” the señorita said, sounding pained. “It has been decided between me and the Quinns.”
“Where are they?” the señor asked, looking around the dim room for them.
Ash spoke up. “Señora Quinn is enceinte and unable to travel at this time. I will act as the padrino for Alandra. And our wish is that you will register Alandra and Scully as married today in the legal records.”
Alandra nodded. “I…we wish to
marry and then I will return to be with Tía Dorritt.” She looked around. “Please, señor, we have ridden all night. I want to marry and then we can go to the inn and rest. We will leave as soon as we are able. Tía Dorritt needs me. But I also want to go to the church and ask God’s blessing on our union.”
“This is a very unsettled time, señorita,” Veramendi said, patting her arm. “Our son-in-law James Bowie is at the Alamo and I think that war must come here soon again. In light of this and…your situation, I will do just as you and the Quinns have asked. I will register the marriage and then we will go to the priest for his blessing. In normal times, this would not happen, but in the midst of war…” The man shrugged.
Scully thought that Veramendi had mentioned Bowie to remind him that he had given his daughter permission to marry an angloamericano. This man must not think all angloamericanos were beneath him. Scully let his brief irritation dissolve in the cool morning air. And Scully realized that the blessing at the Church was necessary to stop Fernando from trying to force a marriage on Alandra—in these days of war.
In a very short time Veramendi had dressed and registered the marriage, with Ash and his secretary as witnesses. And then they were hurrying through the waking town of San Antonio de Bexar to the Church of San Fernando. Bringing up the rear, Ash led the horses with Antonio and Carson. The two teens, who would wait outside with the horses, went forward to push open the church door, which groaned and creaked, sounding loud in the early stillness. Scully hesitated. Crossing this threshold was committing once and for all to this marriage. He stepped inside, took off his hat and gazed around, willing his empty stomach to stop jigging.
A cross with Christ upon it hung on the wall behind the altar. A few candles flickered at the feet of a statue near the front. The church smelled a bit damp. He followed the señorita to the statue and stood watching as she lit another candle and knelt to pray.
He had rarely been in a church. There weren’t many on the frontier where he’d lived his life. He gazed around and up toward the high ceiling, wishing there were more light so he could see better. Gold glinted in the shadows.
