Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1)

by Paula Scott

  “Steven?” Rachel asked hopefully.

  “Is gone,” Roman said gently. “He gave his life for mine. It was Steven’s sacrifice that opened my eyes to see our Lord.”

  “You know Jesus.” It wasn’t a question. Rachel put her hand on his cheek, crying and smiling at the same time.

  Roman smiled too, tears rolling out of his soft green eyes. “Yes, I’ve come to know our Lord Jesus, Rachel.”

  She launched herself back into his arms, and together they wept.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Bleeding from her womb, Sarita managed to make her way to her room after her brutal encounter with Lopez. When Isabella found her several hours later, Sarita was weak from blood loss, the bed soaked red.

  “He has forsaken me,” Sarita said when Isabella leaned over her.

  “Who has forsaken you?” Isabella was horrified.

  “Tohic,” Sarita whispered, her eyes blazing. “Tohic wants you instead of . . . me.”

  “I’ll get Lupe and Mama to help you.” Terror filled Isabella’s face as she backed out of the bloody room.

  “Tohic wants . . . you,” Sarita insisted.

  Isabella ran for help. She returned to Sarita’s room with her mother and Lupe.

  “What has happened?” Tia Josefa leaned over Sarita, smoothing the raven hair back from Sarita’s deathly pale face.

  “He . . . has . . . forsaken . . . me,” Sarita whispered.

  “Who has forsaken you?” Tia Josefa asked.

  “Tohic.”

  Lupe made the sign of the cross upon hearing that name.

  “Who is Tohic?”

  “Tohic is the evil one,” Lupe said. The old Indian woman surveyed the bloody room, her solemn eyes resting on the carved images, speckled woodpecker feathers, and tiny woven baskets set up as a shrine in one corner. Then Lupe left the room without another word.

  Tia Josefa pulled the rosary from her skirt pocket.

  “Get . . . that . . . away . . . from . . . me,” Sarita said weakly.

  “You must pray for God to have mercy on your soul.”

  “Tohic is my god. Tohic will heal me.” Sarita tried to bat Tia Josefa’s rosary away from her, but she was too weak.

  “Ask God to forgive you so you do not go to hell,” Tia Josefa insisted, her hands shaking that held the rosary.

  Sarita looked around the room until she spotted Isabella, appearing scared to death, standing near the door. “Come to me, Izzy,” Sarita whispered.

  When Isabella stepped forward, Tia Josefa shooed her away by waving the rosary at her. “Go! Get to your room and say your rosary until I come for you.”

  “Tohic . . . has . . . chosen . . . her.” Sarita used the last of her strength to point to Isabella. Then she closed her eyes, her life ebbing away.

  “Get out of here,” Tia Josefa ordered Isabella when she remained rooted to the floor beside the door.

  Wide-eyed, Isabella finally ran from the room.

  With fierce determination, Tia Josefa recited the rosary until Sarita died that afternoon.

  # # #

  The following morning, they buried Sarita in Rancho de los Robles cemetery on the hill behind the creek. As the funeral procession returned to the hacienda in their black mourning attire, a handful of Californio soldiers rode into the yard.

  “We are recruiting men for Castro’s army,” the leader of the troop spoke to everyone. “Word has come that Mexico is now at war with the United States.”

  “Our son has joined with Castro,” Don Pedro assured them. “I am an old man. Too old to ride with soldiers now.”

  “You do not look too old,” one of the mounted Californios challenged.

  “I have just returned from riding with Castro’s lieutenants, Padilla and Carrillo, in the north. I was injured on the journey with those men. I am no longer fit to ride.”

  “Give us your horses, then,” said the man in charge.

  Don Pedro waved two of his vaqueros over to where he spoke with the soldiers in the yard. “Help these men gather the horses they need.”

  “Your Indians,” said the Californio leading the group. “They look fit and strong. They will take your place fighting for California. Tell them they must come with us.”

  Several Indian women in the mourning party, wives of the vaqueros, began to weep. Tia Josefa wept too. Maria grabbed Isabella’s hand and pulled her close to her side.

  Tears filled Don Pedro’s eyes as well as they all watched the herd of palominos driven away by Rancho de los Robles’s loyal vaqueros in the wake of the Californio soldiers.

  When the dogs began to bark again that evening, Don Pedro was too drunk to venture out of the hacienda to greet the arrivals.

  Isabella’s squeal of joy from the porch alerted the family that these riders were welcome.

  Tia Josefa and Maria rushed out onto the porch with Isabella as Roman, Rachel, and Dominic rode into the yard with the sun setting behind the mountains, the sky awash in golden splendor.

  “Roman is home,” Isabella cried. “With Rachel!”

  When Roman swung down from the saddle, Isabella threw herself into his arms. He held her with his good arm, walking over to Rachel’s horse with Isabella clinging to him. Isabella stepped back and waited until Roman helped Rachel to the ground so Isabella could eagerly embrace her as well.

  “What is that?” Isabella pointed to the roll of blankets tied over the saddle of one of the horses. Having buried Sarita that very morning, her body wrapped in a colorful serape, this form draped across the saddle looked all too familiar.

  “We will bury Steven tomorrow.” Roman’s voice was hoarse with emotion.

  Isabella was horrified. “Everyone is dying!” she wailed.

  Tia Josefa rushed off the porch and wrapped her arms around Isabella. “We laid Sarita to rest today,” Tia Josefa whispered to Roman. “She bled to death miscarrying the babe.”

  Roman was shocked. He couldn’t speak. Rachel came over and put her hand on his arm. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sarita has died,” Tia Josefa said, wiping the tears that came to her eyes.

  Rachel put her hand over her mouth. Tia Josefa embraced her.

  Dominic had begun to remove Steven’s body from the horse. Roman walked over and helped Dominic without saying a word. Together, they carried Steven into the hacienda.

  The two of them took Steven to a downstairs bedroom and placed his wrapped body on the bed. The painting in the room was a depiction of heaven with angels surrounding a flaming throne.

  The following morning, Steven was buried in the cemetery on the hill overlooking the creek near the other fresh grave there. Rachel sang several hymns. Dominic joined in, the only one who knew the words to the Protestant songs. After it was over, Roman stayed behind at the graves. He asked everyone to leave him alone for a while.

  It was a beautiful summer day, the sky very blue, the creek sparkling with sun diamonds in the distance at the bottom of the hill. Roman walked over to Sarita’s grave and stood there for a while filled with regret. When they were young, he thought he might have loved her. She was beautiful and vivacious with her flashing black eyes and aside from Maria, she’d been his main dance partner at the fandangos. Had she carried his child? He would never know. “I’m sorry, Sarita,” he said, before returning to Steven’s grave. He stood there a while longer at Steven’s mound with tears streaking his cheeks.

  Upon returning to the hacienda, he joined the feast arranged in honor of the dead that afternoon. All of Rancho de los Robles’s Indian servants attended the gathering along with the familia as was the tradition of a Californian wake. Tio Pedro ordered the musicians to play all afternoon, and by nightfall, the patio was filled with the mournful songs of the servants. None of the Indians knew Steven, nor did they grieve Sarita’s parting, but the vaqueros taken into the army left every family grieving.

  Finally, at nightfall, the Indians gathered their children to return to the small adobe outbuildings they called home.
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  Roman escorted Rachel to her room.

  “Dominic tells me Yerba Buena is growing by the day. That the harbor is full of ships, and the Californios and Americanos are mixing amiably there. After talking with Dom, I believe this would be the best place for us to marry. San Juan Bautista is Castro’s town. Monterey is a cradle for rebellion. Dom says we can spend as much time as we like on his ship in the harbor.” He squeezed her hands. “God will go before us, Rachel. This war will pass. I have given this much thought, and I think it best for us to quietly marry in Yerba Buena. I have an aunt and uncle there at the mission of San Francisco Dolores three miles from Yerba Buena. My relatives are humble, god-fearing people. They will help us.”

  “When will we leave for Yerba Buena?”

  “As soon as you are ready.” Roman smiled down at her, but sadness still filled his eyes.

  She returned his tender smile. “Tomorrow?”

  “Will you marry me so soon, pequeña?”

  “Yes,” she answered, pressing against him. “I know Steven would want that.”

  Instead of kissing her, he leaned his forehead against hers for a long moment before pushing her gently away from him. “Go,” he said. “Pick out your favorite dress. Pack enough to see you through several weeks in Yerba Buena.”

  “So we will leave in the morning?”

  “Si. I hope to find a padre willing to marry us there.”

  “You have never said that you love me.” Her words were soft, uncertain. “Are you marrying me because Steven is gone? Did you make a promise to him to care for me before he died?”

  He pulled her back into his arms. “I am marrying you because I love you. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you at your father’s hacienda wading in the fountain.”

  “You should not remind me of that.” But a smile lit her face, her eyes sparkling.

  “It is my favorite memory of you.” His smile slipped away, and he grew serious. “You have not professed your love for me, pequeña.”

  She raised her hand to touch his cheek. “I love you, Roman.” Slipping both hands around his neck, she tugged his head down to press her lips to his.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  That night, Maria could not sleep. Thoughts of Captain Mason kept her awake. Lighting a candle, she wrapped a rebozo around her nightgown and, slipping past her softly snoring dueña, left her room. She padded down the hall and used the servants’ stairs to escape out into the night.

  A full moon lit the vineyard. Maria decided to go for a walk there. It was close enough to the house to keep the wild animals at bay but far enough from the hacienda to spend time alone on a soft, summer night.

  In the vineyard, she strolled between the vines, where emerald clusters of grapes now dangled from the branches. After walking a short while, she sensed she wasn’t alone. Turning around, she saw a tall figure one row over beyond the vines.

  “Who is following me?” she called out, her heart pounding faster.

  “You are out here alone? It is well past midnight. A girl like you should be safe in her bed.”

  “I am not a girl.”

  He lowered himself under the row of vines to step over into her path. Captain Mason smiled, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “You are not so old,” he countered. “And not so big that a wolf or a bear could not drag you off in the blink of an eye.”

  She did not return his smile. “Rarely do bears or wolves come into the vineyard. The scent of man is here. The wild beasts do not like man’s scent.”

  “It appears you do not like man’s scent either.”

  “The scent of one particular man displeases me.”

  “Roman holds no ill will toward me. We are like brothers now. Why do you persist in hating me?”

  “I do not hate you.” She wrapped her rebozo more snugly around her nightdress. “I would have to care to hate you.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “You are like Cape Horn. Sailing around you is dangerous, my lady.”

  “You think because you are a tall, blue-eyed Yankee with your own ship the señoritas will fawn all over you. Well, think again, Captain Mason.”

  “I will take that as a compliment. Please call me Dominic.” He lifted a cluster of grapes, inspecting the ripening fruit in the moonlight. “When will these rubies be ripe?”

  “Long after you are gone from here.”

  “Your tongue is as sharp as your claws.” He dropped the grapes back to the vine and began walking toward the hacienda.

  “You insulted me that night you fought with my brother.” Maria hurried after him.

  He halted. “Why are you pursuing me if I insulted you?”

  “I am not pursuing you,” she said in outrage.

  “Yes, you are.” He grinned, distracting her for a moment. “Here you are at my heels.”

  “I am not at your heels!”

  “Do you want to wake the hacienda so we are found out here alone together in the middle of the night? Speak softly, my dear.”

  She laughed, her mirth twinkling like a bell. “Dominic. . . your ship? Are the sails very large on her?”

  “Like snow-covered mountains.” The grin returned to his face.

  “Have you sailed all over the world?” She hurried to match his stride as he walked once more amongst the vines.

  “Yes. The world beyond California’s shore is as wide as the heavens.”

  “Really?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Not really,” he answered. “The heavens stretch far beyond what we see with our earthly eyes. This earth man can explore. The heavens belong to God.”

  “You are a Protestant. I can tell.”

  “And you are Catholic. Let’s not talk about religion. God is a much finer subject.”

  Maria tossed her head, sending a wave of red hair cascading over her shoulder. “Aren’t they the same thing? God and religion?”

  Dominic stopped walking. “I hope not. Religion is full of man’s plans. God’s plans are much better.” He looked up at the stars. “I could not sleep. I have never known a man like Steven. He was so full of God. People would say Steven was religious, being a minister and all, but he was not religious. Steven loved God. He died for your brother. Did you know that?”

  “No. I didn’t know. But something has changed Roman. He’s so different now.” Truthfully, it unnerved her. Just as Steven had unnerved her with his Protestant prayers.

  “Your brother accepted Christ as his Savior after Steven died.” Dominic searched her eyes, discomforting her a great deal.

  Her face beginning to burn, she looked away, remaining silent for a long moment while staring at the shadowy vineyard. When she finally turned back to him, she said, “Tell me of your travels. I want to hear all about the great cities you have seen.”

  “The cities I have seen?”

  “Yes. I am made for more than this wilderness. I want to travel the world. See all the great cities of the earth. Meet all kinds of people. Dance in all kinds of places.” She swept her arm out in front of her, pointing across the land, and her robozo fell from her shoulders. She didn’t bother to pick up the shawl, just stood there in her sheer white nightdress before him like a queen. Perhaps he would find her so lovely he would take her on his ship with him and sail her to all the fair cities.

  “California is the future.” Dominic turned away from her, looking out across the vineyard. “By far the richest shore I have ever visited. I would not call this place a wilderness. This land is a paradise.”

  She laughed, mostly because she knew he found her attractive. “California is but one place. I want to visit many places.”

  He scooped up her shawl and presented it to her. She took her time returning the wrap to her shoulders. He kept his eyes carefully on her face. “Months on the ocean are needed to visit other shores. I doubt a girl like you would enjoy living at sea for so long.”

  “A girl like me?” She quirked one of her brows at him. “What is a girl like me?”

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bsp; “A girl like you longs for the city.” He walked some more with her at his side. “She wears fashionable clothes and meets fashionable people. Sailors are not fashionable. They are wet, salty dogs, and so is their captain.”

  Maria laughed, her amusement rippling through the night like quicksilver. “You are not a salty dog.” She captured his hand, pulling him deeper into the vineyard. “You are the most interesting man I have ever met.” She spoke in a low, throaty voice. “Take me with you when you leave California. I will cause you no trouble. I am a capable woman. I have ridden with the vaqueros capturing bears, branding cattle, helping bring in the hides. I am good with a knife and a riata. I could help on your ship. You must use ropes out at sea. I am good with ropes.”

  Dominic pulled his hand free from hers. “I’m sorry. I cannot take you with me.”

  She moved closer until she stood toe to toe with him. She tilted her head back to look up into his face, her hair rippling down her back. “Why not?”

  “You have no idea what it is like to live at sea. A grand hacienda is the place for you my lady. The wild ocean belongs to men who may live or die in every storm.”

  “Men such as yourself?” She raised up on tiptoes to get even closer to him. “Why should I stay here? You won’t be here.” She draped her arms around his neck.

  He took her by the waist, held her for a moment, and then gently but firmly set her away from him. “Because you are safe here with your family.”

  “I don’t want to be safe.” She moved right back against him, dropping the shawl as she reached up and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, molding her body to his in a marvelous way. Though she had never kissed a man before, Maria boldly pulled his face down to hers. When she pressed her lips to his, he kissed her back, holding her tightly against his body, groaning in pleasure when she opened her mouth under his.

  Maria had seen the servants kiss. She’d been planning her first kiss most of her life. This was nothing like she’d planned. It was far more thrilling than anything she’d ever dared imagine a kiss could be. She was drowning in delight.

  Dominic finally tore his mouth from hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathing deeply. “I should not be out here with you. I have a fiancée in Boston.”