Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1)

by Paula Scott

  Lupe trailed her down the hall, speaking Spanish with a smile on her face. Rachel went to the crucified saint’s room but found Roman’s belongings scattered there. At least he wasn’t present in the room. She looked at Lupe. The old servant waved her on, directing her farther down to the end of the hall. Near a second set of stairs, two rooms opened across from each other. Rachel looked in one room, and a string of Spanish spilled from Lupe’s mouth.

  The old servant motioned Rachel into the other room, where a painting of the Madonna graced the lovely quarters. The room was sparsely furnished, but the bed was lovely, covered with a bright brocade spread that matched the vibrant painting of the Virgin Mary on the wall. Smiling, Rachel nodded to Lupe, who grinned in return, revealing several missing teeth. Both women were pleased this would be Rachel’s quarters. It was on the opposite end of the sprawling residence from Roman’s master bedroom.

  Downstairs, Rachel could hear the servants astir. This was clearly the functional part of the hacienda where everyone went about their daily work, which pleased her. She’d grown so lonely in such a short time. She wanted to be around people again.

  An hour later, she made her way down the narrow flight of servants’ stairs. The stormy weather had finally passed, leaving the land fresh and sparkling with sunshine. At the bottom of the stairs, which led to an outside courtyard, two long, covered patios stretched in opposite directions. One ran north, the other south. The northern patio was lively, filled with small brown children. Several Indian women watched the little ones at play with sticks in the yard.

  The other patio stretched out in silence with no one in sight. Delighted, Rachel watched the children for a while and then walked on to the empty patio, feeling her muscles tremble from lack of exercise. She’d not been up and about since arriving at the hacienda with Roman nearly two weeks prior.

  After the bout with the strange, sudden illness, she felt more grateful than usual for the air she breathed and the beauty of the Lord’s handiwork this day. A large fountain in the courtyard entertained a flock of sparrows. Climbing roses covered the adobe walls, blooming red with spring back underway. At a wooden bench under the porch eves, Rachel sat for a long time watching the birds bathe in the fountain. She prayed for the Lord’s guidance. What was she to do? Was she really supposed to marry Roman? Or did the Lord plan to deliver her from all this? Was it possible God would reunite her with Steven somehow?

  And if so, how could she tell Steven all that had transpired here? Everything that had happened with Roman? His embraces? His intimate knowledge of her body? Her heart? The time she’d spent in his bed? In his arms?

  She was most troubled by her own response to that man. Seeing him set her heart racing every time. When he touched her, she felt like swooning. The rare, tender moments they’d shared came to her mind again and again. Him sleeping beside her with her Bible on his bare chest. The times he really smiled, when those delightful dimples of his appeared in his cheeks, and his green eyes shone with pleasure. He was such an attractive man. Why did she have to find him so appealing?

  These memories tangled her thoughts. Jangled her emotions. The times he seemed vulnerable and boyish, so eager for her kind words. Truth be told, she found him utterly irresistible like that, and even when he made her angry, he took her breath away, though she was just now admitting this to herself.

  After sitting there on the bench for over an hour thinking about Roman, she rose and followed the patio all the way around the hacienda and up the other set of stairs on the opposite end of the house. She passed only one servant on her way, a smiling Indian girl sweeping wet leaves off the front patio.

  When she reached the upper-story balcony and began making her way to her room, she noticed a large group of horses and riders in the distance. As they rode closer, she realized it was Roman’s family, along with several male riders she didn’t recognize. The strange men wore hats, not sombreros; clearly, they weren’t Californios.

  She gripped the balcony tightly when one rider in particular captured her attention. He sat tall in the saddle, exuding grace and peace even from a distance. His brown felt hat looked so familiar. Every instinct inside her came alive with dread and longing. Though she couldn’t see his face, she’d ridden with him about the countryside on horseback on numerous occasions while he wore that hat.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Steven stepped down from his horse in front of the hacienda and came to her on the lower porch where she waited beside Roman. She was afraid to leave Roman’s side, afraid of what he might do. Steven’s face shone with love and excitement. “Rachel,” he breathed, grasping both her hands as he reached the veranda. “I’ve missed you so much, my dearest.”

  “Steven . . . what . . . are you doing here?” She stumbled over the greeting, allowing him to draw her into his arms.

  “I have found you, my darling.” He wrapped her in a chaste embrace.

  She tried to smile but could not. “This is such a surprise.” Would Roman draw his knife from his belt and kill Steven right there on the porch? She really didn’t know what would happen, and her knees trembled as she held on to Steven.

  “We met these gentlemen in the midst of our ride home,” Don Pedro boomed. “They were headed to Rancho El Rio Lobo. Senõr Gains explained to us he was searching for his fiancée.” Don Pedro’s smile disappeared, and he gave Rachel a troubled stare. “Señorita Tyler, you must settle this confusion for us once and for all. Are you and Senõr Gains really engaged?”

  A blush seared Rachel’s cheeks. She wished the ground beneath her feet would swallow her up. Heat engulfed her face and traveled down her neck, mortification making her dizzy as Steven still held her hands expectantly in his. Her legs would not stop shaking.

  “The Lord helped us find you,” Steven said, unaware of how his arrival affected everyone. “This is my friend, Dominic Mason.” He nodded to the other American, his brown hair bouncing boyishly across his forehead. “His ship, The White Swallow, has brought us here from Boston. The voyage was grand. Just grand, Rachel. How was your voyage? I’d hoped for a letter to hear about it.” He squeezed her hands. “But I have seen how wild California is. It must be hard to get letters back to the east.”

  She managed to return Dominic Mason’s smile before responding to Steven’s question. “My voyage was challenging. I sent you a letter. I’m sorry it didn’t reach you.” She wished it had, for she’d explained her father’s demand that she marry Roman and how much this distressed her. Squeezing his hands as much to encourage herself as to encourage him, she continued, “Steven, I’m so sorry to tell you my father has arranged a marriage for me here in California.” She paused to let her words sink in.

  Steven’s gaze did not waver from hers, but his face turned ashen, and he released her hands.

  “Roman Vasquez is my betrothed.” She nodded to him, standing stonily on the porch. “His family has brought you here.” She motioned at the Vasquezes, standing there staring at them. Her eyes connected with Isabella’s. Rachel sent a small smile meant to ease the child’s obvious distress.

  Isabella leaped forward when their gazes met, running up the porch steps to Rachel. “She is going to be my sister!” she said sharply to Steven.

  Rachel stroked Isabella’s black hair as the little girl grabbed her around the waist. “Steven, this is Isabella,” Rachel introduced them, unsure of what else to do.

  “Hello, Isabella,” Steven said kindly. Though he appeared crestfallen, he smiled at the girl. She wrinkled her nose at him, her blue eyes narrowing with hostility.

  Maria stepped forward. The redhead’s boldness surprised Rachel. “This is Maria, Roman’s other sister.” Apparently, there hadn’t been any introductions made on the road.

  “Pleased to meet you, Senõr Steven.” Maria turned coquettishly to Dominic Mason. “And pleased to meet you, Senõr Mason.” She bowed prettily for the ship captain.

  Rachel was taken aback by the redhead’s flirtation. This Maria was a completely diff
erent girl than the defiant one she’d witnessed at Rancho El Rio Lobo. Maria displayed a lovely smile for the handsome, young ship captain.

  Josefa came forward. “This is Doña Josefa. She is the lady of the hacienda,” Rachel said.

  Steven nodded to Doña Josefa, his gentleness radiating to all around him, even though Rachel could see how hurt he was. “Thank you for allowing us to visit your home.” Steven’s politeness never wavered, but the pain and confusion in his eyes wounded Rachel.

  Don Pedro, now smiling, stepped up beside his plump, little wife. “It is our honor, Senõr Gains. You and Captain Mason are our guests for as long as you like. My home is your home.” Don Pedro made a sweeping gesture with his arms. “All we own is at your disposal, mis amigos.”

  “Please call me Steven.” Steven shook Don Pedro’s hand.

  Don Pedro gestured to Roman. “Senõr Steven, my nephew, Roman.”

  Roman stepped forward but did not offer his hand to Steven. “Senõr Gains,” he acknowledged coolly.

  “Please call me Steven,” Steven said graciously.

  “Roman and Señorita Rachel will soon marry,” Don Pedro announced loud enough to startle the chickens scratching in the yard.

  Steven closed his eyes for a brief moment. Rachel knew he closed them in prayer. When he opened his eyes, the smile did not falter on his lips. He turned to Roman, laying a hand on Roman’s shoulder in a gesture of friendship. “Dominic,” Steven said, “meet the man Rachel’s father has chosen for her to marry.”

  Dominic Mason stepped forward. “Señor Vasquez.” The captain politely offered his hand for a handshake. His blue-eyed gaze was as chilly as Roman’s.

  With one hand on Roman’s shoulder, Steven placed his other hand on Dominic’s shoulder. The two men shook hands stiffly. Neither appeared pleased. “The Good Lord has brought us all together. Let us be grateful for this new friendship God has given us.”

  Isabella made a snorting sound. Maria shushed her.

  “Don’t shush me,” Isabella said indignantly.

  “Pequeñas,” Doña Josefa interrupted. “Go into the house and tell the servants to prepare a feast for our guests. We will have a fiesta tonight.” Doña Josefa clapped her hands. Rachel wasn’t sure if it was a command to the girls to do her bidding or a gesture of delight.

  “Sí,” agreed Don Pedro, all good-natured gusto now that it had been made clear Rachel would still marry Roman. “After we eat, we shall dance.”

  “Dance?” Steven stared for a distracted moment at Rachel.

  “Si,” Don Pedro insisted. “In California, we dance in celebration. Tonight’s fandango will be held in your honor, Senõr Steven.”

  Roman moved away from Steven’s affable grip, turning without a word to walk off the porch, motioning for some nearby vaqueros to help him gather the horses in the yard.

  “My nephew will see that your mounts are situated in our stables. Come, let me show you to your rooms, gentlemen, so you may refresh yourselves before the evening meal.” Don Pedro indicated the visitors should follow him.

  Once the men departed, Maria, the smile gone from her face, stepped up to Rachel. “You look striking in my mother’s dress.” The redhead no longer smiled.

  “Would you rather she wore your dresses?” Isabella made a face at Maria.

  “Since my clothes just arrived with you, I will return your mother’s garments to the chest in your brother’s room right now.” Rachel’s legs still trembled as she walked into the house with Maria and Isabella in her wake. She couldn’t believe Steven was really here.

  “You’ve been in my brother’s room?” Maria looked surprised.

  “I’m sure she’s been in my room and your room too, Maria,” Isabella said. “Roman showed you all our paintings, didn’t he?” It was more a statement than a question.

  “Yes, he did. They are wonderful,” Rachel answered.

  “Did he show you where Señora Poppycock lives?”

  “No, he did not. I would love to see where Señora Poppycock lives.”

  Isabella eagerly grabbed Rachel’s hand to lead her to her beloved pet.

  “If that stupid chicken poops on my mother’s gown, I will crucify you, little goat,” Maria threatened.

  Isabella stuck out her tongue at her sister.

  “I’ve been careful with your mother’s clothes. I will continue to watch out for the gowns until they are safely returned to the trunk,” Rachel assured Maria.

  Maria’s face softened before she turned and walked toward the stairs to the upper bedrooms.

  “You should not treat your sister that way.” Rachel told Isabella once Maria was gone.

  “Did you hear what she said? She called Señora Poppycock stupid. Señora Poppycock is not stupid. She is the smartest chicken ever. You’ll see.”

  “May I see her now?”

  “She is probably out in the kitchen behind the house. Lupe takes care of Señora Poppycock when I’m away.” Isabella skipped out of the house with Rachel trailing after her.

  “Lupe is a wonderful cook,” Rachel told Isabella as they walked around the house to the kitchen.

  “Lupe likes Señora Poppycock because Señora Poppycock keeps the flies out of the kitchen.”

  “How wonderful,” Rachel said.

  Isabella gave Rachel a serious look. “Were you in love with the gringo from the east?”

  “Steven?”

  “Senõr Gains,” Isabella corrected her.

  “I have always loved Steven.”

  “But now you love Roman.”

  “You are too young to concern yourself with love, Isabella.”

  “The maids do not think I am too young. They talk about love all the time with me around. I listen all day long and have learned much about love.”

  “Do the maids know you are listening when they talk?”

  “No,” Isabella admitted. “I like to read books under my bed. I cannot help it if the maids do not know I am there while they clean my room.”

  “Isabella,” Rachel said gently, “you should tell the maids you are under the bed so they do not talk in front of you.”

  Isabella would not be distracted. “Roman loves you. He loves you more than that gringo with his funny felt hat.”

  “Steven is a wonderful man. You will come to love him like everyone else. Just wait and see.”

  “He is not nearly as handsome as my brother.”

  Rachel tried not to smile.

  “This is true and you know it,” Isabella said.

  They walked through the backyard, headed for the compact building constructed well behind the hacienda so a fire in the cookhouse would not destroy the home as well.

  “Roman is so handsome he steals your breath away, doesn’t he?” Isabella persisted.

  “He is the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” Rachel admitted to appease the determined girl.

  When Roman stepped out from behind a large magnolia tree in the backyard, crushing out his cigarillo as he did so, Isabella erupted in laughter.

  “Rachel has come to meet Señora Poppycock,” she informed Roman once she stopped giggling.

  “Lupe has cooked your chicken.” Roman ruffled Isabella’s hair as she passed by.

  “That isn’t funny.” Isabella walked faster toward the kitchen.

  “Fried chicken, my favorite.” Roman smacked his lips together.

  “She will hear you and be frightened,” Isabella said.

  “Lupe will not be frightened. She knows I love fried chicken.”

  “Señora Poppycock will be frightened,” Isabella said in exasperation. She grabbed Rachel’s hand to drag her past Roman, leaning against the magnolia tree as if he had nothing better to do that afternoon.

  When the girls stepped within reach, Roman captured Rachel’s other hand. “I need to speak with my betrothed, Isabella. Go to the kitchen by yourself.”

  Isabella tugged Rachel away from him. “Rachel is spending the afternoon with me.”

  Roman gently tugged
Rachel back. “Let her go, Izzy.”

  “You have been with her for two weeks while we were away,” Isabella complained. “I want her to meet Señora Poppycock.”

  “Later, she will meet your chicken.” Roman refused to release Rachel’s hand.

  “I promise, Isabella, I will meet Señora Poppycock as soon as your brother is finished speaking with me. I will see you in the kitchen.”

  “After a while,” said Roman. “Go on. Señora Poppycock hasn’t touched a fly since you’ve been gone. She’s missed you so much.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Roman assured her.

  After Isabella bounced away toward the kitchen, Roman turned to Rachel. “The storm washed away all the flies. It’s too cold for them right now. That chicken won’t be happy till warm weather returns the flies.” Roman didn’t release her hand. “Are you feeling strong enough for tonight?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by strong enough.” She tugged her hand from his. He seemed regretful to let her go.

  “You’ve been sick. My familia will dance all night with the Yankees here.”

  “They’ve traveled all day on horseback; certainly, they won’t dance that long.”

  “It is the Californio way. With guests, the dancing will go on and on. I will tell Tio and Tia you’ve been sick. That you cannot entertain the guests tonight.”

  “Please, Roman, just let your family keep their customs. I will be fine.”

  “So you want to dance with him?”

  “No. I want you and your family to enjoy your guests.”

  “He loves you.” Roman recaptured her hand in his, holding it tightly.

  Rachel held his gaze. “Yes, Steven loves me.”

  He pulled her close. “Do you still love him?”

  “You do not understand this kind of love.” She leaned away.

  He pulled her back, and his lips crashed down on hers without warning. He kissed her passionately. Possessively. Yearningly. Until she yielded to his desire. Until she forgot about everything but Roman’s lips on hers. Until she melted against him with a soft moan and a wildly spinning head.