Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1)

by Paula Scott

  “You’re welcome. Personally, I can’t wait to see the look on Roman’s face when he sets his eyes on you. And meets your Irish family when they arrive.”

  Rachel returned Dominic’s wide smile. “It’s a miracle, really, meeting Molly on the road.”

  “God is good at miracles,” Dominic said as they stepped into the church.

  It was darker inside the building, but candles glowed throughout the sanctuary. A little old padre came down the center aisle to greet them.

  “I am Father Santiago,” the diminutive priest said with a heavy Spanish accent. He nodded to Dominic and Jamie behind her and then focused on Rachel. “You are Roman’s betrothed.” It wasn’t a question.

  She liked the padre’s kind brown eyes that shone with intelligence. To her relief, she sensed the Holy Spirit in him.

  “It is time for your confession,” Father Santiago announced. “Come, we will kneel before the altar as your novio and I did earlier.”

  Dominic and Jamie turned and would have fled the church had Father Santiago not halted them. “Please, senõrs,” he said with gentle firmness. “Have a seat. I will come for you shortly so you too may confess your sins before the ceremony.”

  Jamie looked at his captain with fear-filled eyes. “I ain’t confessin’ my sins to no man. The wrong I done is between me and God.”

  “You heard the padre, Jamie. Take a seat over there. I’ll join you shortly.” Dominic pointed to a bench at the back of the church.

  Clearing his throat, he continued, “Padre, I’m a Protestant. We believe in confessing our sins directly to God.” Though Dominic stood two heads taller than the little priest, it was apparent he was a bit unnerved by the padre in his flowing robes.

  “The Bible says we are to confess our sins to one another so that we may be healed,” Father Santiago said. “We read the same Bible, do we not, Captain?”

  Dominic nodded in agreement.

  “There will be confession today by all who are here to celebrate one of God’s greatest sacraments, marriage.”

  “So be it, Father.” Dominic gave Rachel an aren’t-you-lucky-to-go-first look.

  She raised her eyebrows at him before following Father Santiago up the aisle.

  # # #

  Rachel remained waiting at the altar as Father Santiago held confessions with Dominic and Jamie. As she stood there, Molly and her family slipped into the church, Anne wearing one of the dresses Rachel had given her on the ship. Anne’s head was covered by a shawl of lace. Molly looked so winsome in the little gown Rachel made for dining with the captain on the Rainbow. She’d cut the gown out of one of her own best gowns on the ship, and seeing it now, a smaller version on the child, filled Rachel’s heart with a longing to make tiny dresses for her own daughters. She prayed God would bless them with many children. She imagined dark-haired little ones with their father’s green eyes.

  A tall, friendly looking man and two small boys with freshly scrubbed faces trailed Molly down the aisle, slipping onto a bench in the middle of the sanctuary. Rachel smiled and waved to Molly.

  Full of exuberance, Molly waved back.

  A short while later, Dominic and Father Santiago joined Rachel at the altar. Jamie was nowhere in sight.

  “It is time. I will return with your groom,” Father Santiago said happily. “Captain Mason, you may kneel here.” The padre pointed out a place on the floor to Dominic. “The couple will kneel here.” He indicated where Rachel was to kneel with Roman in front of the altar before he walked away.

  Rachel wore a white lace shawl over her head that Father Santiago had given her. Women kept their hair covered in the Catholic church no matter the occasion. Rachel hadn’t known this until Father Santiago explained it to her and loaned her the shawl. She wondered if Anne was of Catholic descent since the Irish woman had entered the church with her head already covered. Perhaps the padre wouldn’t even notice Molly’s little family sitting quietly in the shadows of the church.

  Rachel hid her face under the lace shawl when Roman finally approached with Father Santiago, but she peeked up enough to see Dominic, kneeling nearby, giving Roman a huge smile. Roman smiled back like the happiest man in the world. He wore the ensemble of a Californio don—a velvet jacket over a white silk shirt with a bright red sash tied around his waist and black velvet britches, along with embroidered deerskin boots that reached nearly to his knees.

  Reverently, he knelt down beside her. The ceremony proceeded in Spanish, but when speaking directly to Rachel, Father Santiago used his broken English.

  At the end of the lengthy event, Father Santiago looped a sash over Roman’s and Rachel’s shoulders, signifying the two had become one flesh.

  They all rose to their feet rather stiffly, having kneeled the whole time on the tile, and then the pleased padre insisted on a feast in the mission dining room in honor of the occasion. Molly’s family joined them there.

  By the time they returned to the beach hours later, having said good-bye to Molly’s family and the gregarious Father Santiago, the moon was rising over the water. They found Jamie asleep in the bottom of the rowboat.

  Roman carried Rachel through the surf to place her on one of the benches in the dinghy. After that, he helped Dominic push the rowboat into deeper water until they both hopped in. Roman sat beside Rachel, careful not to dampen her dress with his wet boots.

  Back on board the ship, Roman surprised Dominic with a hug. “Thank you, Dom. I’m grateful it was you who stood by me for my wedding.” Roman could not stop smiling.

  It made Rachel so happy to see him happy.

  “Who was standing? My knees will never be the same.” Dominic grinned with pain and pleasure.

  Roman and Rachel laughed, admitting their knees were sore as well.

  Dominic made a bow. “Allow me to escort you newlyweds to your quarters.” With the full moon lighting the deck and shining off the tranquil waters of the bay, Dominic led Roman and Rachel down to his cabin.

  When he opened the door for them, Rachel was taken aback by the smell of flowers. “I had my men hunt down a bit of flora. It appears they stripped every garden in the town.”

  Awestruck, Rachel walked into the flower-filled room. Brass whale lanterns lit the quarters, warming the polished wood walls even more. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

  “A cabin fit for a bride. Have a wonderful evening, my friends.” Dominic winked before shutting the door behind him.

  They were finally alone. Both of them took a shaky breath.

  “Shall we say a prayer of thanks?” Roman gazed at her.

  “Yes. I would like that.” He took her hand and walked her over to the large bed draped in fine fabric. Waves lapped the side of the ship, creating a soothing sound. After looking into her eyes for a long, heartfelt moment, he bowed his head. “Lord Jesus, we thank you for your tender care for us. Let this time tonight glorify you. Amen.”

  “That was short.” Rachel couldn’t hide how nervous she felt.

  A smile settled on Roman’s face. “Our Lord understands.” He reached out and plucked a pin from her hair. And then, slowly, removed them all until her hair tumbled around her in glorious splendor.

  He was different now that he was a believer. Still, there was so much Rachel didn’t know about pleasing a man. So much she had to learn as a wife. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breathing quickened. Fear and excitement left her light-headed.

  He moved in closer, and she stepped back until her legs bumped the bed. “Maybe we should read the Bible for a while together,” she suggested.

  “Really?” His gaze swept her face, settling on her mouth. Placing his hands on her waist, he gently turned her around and deftly loosened the stays on her dress and then pushed her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck.

  “Please, I want to share this with you,” she said, shivering.

  She spun around to face him and flattened her palms against his chest, looking shyly up at him. “It won’t take
long.” She ducked under his arm and crawled across the soft mattress to the table on the other side. Her Bible lay open there where she’d left it before the ceremony. “My lover is mine, and I am his; he browses among the lilies until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.” Her voice caught with emotion as she read the scripture.

  Roman removed his wet deerskin boots and stripped down to just his pants before joining her on the bed, where she sat amid the pillows in her wedding gown that matched the color of the blush heating her cheeks.

  She continued to read, “All night long on my bed, I looked for the one my heart loves.” She glanced up to find him intently watching her. His chest was bare and all muscle. One forearm remained bandaged. Lupe had stitched him up, and he was healing. Her husband was so strong and handsome it stole her breath away.

  Roman took the Bible from her trembling hands. “God is no longer between us, pequeña. He has made us one flesh now.” He raised the Good Book to his lips and kissed the leather and then placed the Bible back on the bedside table before sweeping her into his embrace.

  THE END

  Excerpt from Far Side of the Sea

  California Rising Book II

  CHAPTER ONE

  Monterey, California, 1846

  Maria rode into town alongside Joshua Tyler. An army of vaqueros followed in their wake, the sound of hooves like thunder on the street. The moon shone so brightly she could see every ship silhouetted in the harbor. Joshua led them directly to the church. By now, American soldiers had noted their arrival. With guns drawn, the soldiers surrounded them in the churchyard.

  “Why are you here?” demanded the leader of the U.S. Army detachment, a large man with long, bushy sideburns.

  Joshua stepped down from his horse with an easy smile. “I’ve come to marry my fiancée.” He motioned to Maria, perched in a sidesaddle on her mare. “We’ve ridden a long way today.”

  “The padre’s asleep. You’ll have to wait till morning.”

  Joshua reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a sack of coins.

  The soldiers looked at one another speculatively. “The padre isn’t going to like this. He’s a pious old guy,” said the soldier in charge.

  Joshua retrieved a handful of silver coins from the pouch, showing them to the soldiers. “My bride is a gently bred Californiana. Certainly, the good padre will understand the need for vows before we take a room for the night.”

  The soldiers stared unabashedly at Maria. She glared back. Her fiery auburn hair tumbled down her back, tangled with dirt and leaves from a fall from her horse while trying to escape after leaving the hacienda.

  “Does she understand English?” asked the soldier, thoughtfully stroking his sideburns. “Do you speak English, señorita?” He walked toward Maria, tucking the silver Joshua handed him into the pocket of his uniform.

  “She speaks only Spanish.” Joshua gave Maria a warning glare. She reined her horse away from the approaching soldier about the same time one of Joshua’s vaqueros cut him off. The other vaqueros circled Maria with their horses.

  “Gavilan, go rouse the good padre,” Joshua told one of his men.

  The vaquero with a tall, muscular build stepped down from his mount. He looked more Spanish than Indian, with European features. He’d picked Maria off the ground after her tumble. His big hands had been gentle but unbending as steel. Maria had seen a flash of compassion in his dark eyes as he helped her back onto her horse. She had hoped he would feel sorry enough for her to help her escape. He walked past the soldiers without any fear.

  All of Joshua’s men exhibited an absolute disregard for any authority beyond Tyler’s. Several of the soldiers moved to intercept the vaquero, but the soldier in charge waved them off. “Let him go. This is a civilian matter. Return to your posts.”

  The soldiers lowered their guns and slowly left the square. Soon it was only Maria, Joshua, and his cowboys waiting for the padre. He never came out of the church. Gavilan returned, shaking his head.

  “He refuses to do the ceremony?” Irritation edged Joshua’s words.

  “I could not find him.” Gavilan spoke in English without much of an accent, which surprised Maria. “Nobody is in the church or the living quarters in the back.”

  Joshua looked at her. She met his eyes, and a triumphant little smile tilted her lips. She would not marry him. Ever. He stepped down from his horse and walked to hers. Gripping her arm, he yanked her down from the saddle. “Find a place to see to your horses and get some sleep,” he told his men. “Gavilan, come with us.”

  Leading Maria by the arm, he marched her into the sandstone chapel. Candles burned before an altar of a saint; aside from that, the sanctuary was dark. “Wait for us here,” he told Gavilan, motioning for the vaquero to sit on one of the long benches that seated the congregation. “I’ll find the priest myself.” He handed the vaquero the bag of coins he’d saved for the priest.

  Maria attempted to pull away, but Joshua drew her closer to his side. “I realize you are young and unaware of what this war means for your family, but believe me, you will thank me for this marriage one day.”

  “I will never thank you.” Maria spit in his face.

  Joshua’s mouth tightened into a grim line as he wiped the spittle from his cheek. He pulled her over to the candles in front of the saint and picked one up, then propelled her past the altar and through a door that led to the padre’s private quarters in the back.

  The modest chamber was empty. Joshua pushed Maria inside the room and shut the door behind them. He forced her onto the padre’s narrow bunk, and then sat the flickering candle on the little table in the center of the room. “I have wanted you for a long time,” he said while removing his hat and gun belt, then his vest and shirt. He kept his pants on, with his long knife tucked into his waistband.

  Maria couldn’t believe this was happening. The last time she’d been in this church, her cousin, Donatella, had been getting married. It had been a lavish affair with laughter and happiness and over a hundred family and friends. Her mother’s and father’s funerals had also been held here. She was too young to really remember her mother’s passing, but her father’s burial she recalled quite well. It was his death that had stolen her freedom. He’d allowed her to accompany him all over the rancho as he worked the cattle and oversaw their vast sheep herds after her mother had died from a fever. Maria’s childhood had been spent in a saddle, a sombrero pulled low on her brow to protect her fair, golden skin from the California sun, a riata in her hand just like the cowboys. Under her skirts, she’d worn pantaloons and boots like her father’s, with spurs strapped on, along with every other man in California. She could rope as well as anyone, and during the Matanzas, skinned cattle better than most of her father’s men. That had ended when her padre died during an Indian raid, lanced to the ground when a handful of their golden horses were taken from the field.

  “I will not marry you. I have no desire for this union.” She looked around for a way to escape, but only the door he stood in front of offered any kind of exit. What was he thinking? Why was he undressing? Did he have marriage attire he wanted to put on? She didn’t see how this was possible considering they’d carried nothing into the church with them but the bag of coins he’d left with his vaquero.

  “Your uncle owes me a lot of money, more than he can ever hope to repay. If you do not marry me, I will take Rancho de los Robles, and your family will be destitute. The United States has run up her flag in every town along the coast. Soon more soldiers will arrive here. Men who have no regard for your welfare. Marrying me is the best thing to do, Maria.”

  She did not like the way he said her name. Like an endearment as he removed his spurs and boots. “What are you doing? Will you wear the padre’s robes for our wedding? There are no other clothes here.”

  “So you will marry me?” His smile returned.

  She had no plans to marry him; she was only trying to d
iscover why he undressed in her presence. Fear had begun to claw in her stomach, rising like a wild thing trying to dig its way out of a very deep hole. She knew little about men, but instinct warned she would need a weapon. She rose from where Joshua had made her sit on the hard, narrow bunk the padre slept on. Perhaps with all these rough American soldiers in town, the padre had headed south. She saw nothing to defend herself with in the sparse, little room and turned her gaze back to him, measuring his size and strength against her own.

  In his forties, Joshua was still a handsome man with a lean, hard frame and a thick head of blond hair that waved off his high, tanned forehead. Maria had never liked him, even though he was Rachel’s father.

  Joshua had asked for her hand in marriage several years ago, but Tio Pedro had proposed her older cousin Sarita instead. Now Sarita was dead after miscarrying her babe. Even though she was older now, Maria had no desire to marry anyone yet, least of all this high-handed Yankee who’d always made her skin crawl when he looked at her.

  “We should find the padre. He will want a confession from both of us before performing the marriage rites.”

  Joshua’s lips spread into a smile. “I am planning my confession even now,” he said, stepping toward her.

  She realized his intent, and it sickened her. Her suspicion had been growing as he undressed, but she wouldn’t accept it. He was a landowner. She was a daughter of the gente de razόn. Things like this did not happen in her world. She could see there would be no vows spoken tonight, but he intended to have her anyway. “I will not marry you, no matter what you do to me.”

  “You will change your mind after tonight, my dear.”