While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  Sebastian's involvement with a married woman worried Rafael more than he would admit. That young man was old enough to take care of himself—but Sebastian was inclined to let his heart rule his head, and Rafael would have wagered an enormous sum that the woman who held Sebastian enthralled had little or no love for him. Women were such deceptive bitches, he thought viciously as he kicked his horse into a gallop. They had faces like angels and bodies to drive men wild, yet they lied, they cheated, and they would merrily rip a man's heart from his body for the sheer joy of watching him writhe.

  For just a moment his face softened and he recalled the sweet affection he shared with his little half-sister Arabela—pray God she did not change and grow into the kind of creature it seemed his fate to meet.

  His lips thinned as he thought of the other women in his own life, and for the first time since he had given in to the incessant longing to see her once more and had traveled to Natchez before realizing just how ridiculously he was behaving, Rafael thought of Elizabeth Ridgeway. Thought of her and cursed under his breath at the sweep of remembered pain.

  Chapter 9

  San Antonio at last, thought Beth. The journey had not been arduous, but she was grateful to see the squat adobe buildings of San Antonio come into sight near the end of the second week of March. The trek from Galveston to San Antonio had been a revelation to her, and she had discovered that she could do without many of the trappings she had taken for granted all her life. She particularly disliked not having her bath, but she had gratefully made do with a pan of warmed water and a hasty wash behind one of the wagons.

  Nathan kept his word and did not once open his mouth to complain. True, his lips had sometimes thinned in pained dislike and he could be forgiven for expressing himself somewhat forcibly the morning he discovered a rattlesnake curled near his blanket. And no one was particularly blithe the day a motley band of Kiowas followed them along the Camino Real for several hours. Stealing nervous, wary glances at the short, bronzed-skinned half-naked figures with their lances and bows and arrows, Beth was thankful that Sebastian and his party had joined theirs.

  Sebastian had been a welcome addition to their party. Beth was happy to have his company, and somewhat grudgingly Nathan decided to make use of Sebastian's handiness with the dueling pistols. To pass the time in the evenings, he had asked Sebastian show him how to fire the pistol. After that, most evenings were spent with Nathan firing at targets that he never seemed to hit. Beth demanded that she be taught, and to her delight she became proficient at hitting those same targets that eluded Nathan.

  She loved the nights. Cozy in her bed in the back of a wagon, she gazed at the diamond-bright stars in the black sky and marveled at how very different this was from the comfort of the silk-draped, luxurious beds she had known all her life. Lying in the darkness listening to the night sounds of the woods, the faraway hoot of a hunting owl, the occasional howl of a distant coyote, or the frightening scream of a cougar, she wondered about the wisdom of this journey to Santa Fe. They had been advised to wait and join a merchant caravan that would start out in late March or early April from Independence, Missouri, traveling from there to the great rendezvous point of Council Grove in Indian territory. There would be dragoons guarding those wagons, and they would have been far safer. But Beth had not wanted to wait and join the annual caravan to Santa Fe. Deaf to all of Nathan's arguments at Briarwood, she had been determined to take the southern route, to travel to San Antonio and from there to Durango, deep into Mexico, to skirt the Great Plains and follow the trail the Spanish had used for years to Santa Fe. Even she had no idea why she was so obstinate about this; she only knew that the trip had taken on a monumental importance, that for once in her life she was satisfying her own dreams.

  They were to stay in San Antonio three days, just long enough to replenish supplies and to give everyone a rest from the journey. It was here in San Antonio that Sebastian was to leave them, taking his servants and traveling on to his relative's home; he had been dreading it with every mile they traveled. At least I have tonight, he thought glumly as the three of them parted momentarily to seek the comfort of their hotel rooms.

  Nathan was looking forward to Sebastian's departure. He didn't fear that Beth was enamored of the young man, but... Suddenly in need of reassurance as he and Beth were walking toward their rooms, Nathan couldn't help murmuring, "You care a great deal for Sebastian, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, I do, Nathan. He has been such a good friend to us, and I have enjoyed his company. I will miss him when he leaves us tomorrow morning," Beth replied, a faint shadow in her eyes.

  Nathan patted her hand. "Come, now, my dear, it will not be the last you will see of him. Haven't we invited him to visit us at Natchez?"

  Beth smiled at him. "So we have. I am sorry for seeming so gloomy; I have grown very fond of him in such a short time. I suppose it is because he is so exactly the sort of brother every girl would like to have."

  Sebastian would have groaned out loud to hear those words, but they dispelled all Nathan's nebulous fears. Cheerfully he said, "Well, now, don't brood on his departure... we will see him again, I have no doubt. For the present, we have made it safely to San Antonio, and I must confess that after my initial reservations, I have, in a way, enjoyed the journey. If the trip from here to Santa Fe is as without incident as our travels have been so far, I will be most happy. I will be quite insufferable once we return to Natchez, with my tales of having survived in this unknown and savage country."

  Beth couldn't help the gurgle of laughter that escaped her at his words because they were so true. She could imagine him languidly drinking his mint julep at Mansion House in Natchez and lording it over his various acquaintances. While they had gone tamely to London or Paris to visit, he had been exploring the vast untamed lands of the Republic of Texas and the province of Nuevo Mejico. She was still smiling when she entered the rooms that Nathan had found for them, and the sight of a steaming tin tub of hot water made her smile even wider.

  Turning to Nathan, who stood just behind her, she exclaimed happily, "Oh, Nathan! How did you arrange it? And how did you know it was what I longed for most?"

  "Because it is exactly what I want most!"

  Beth laughed. "Well, I certainly hope they have one waiting for you in your rooms, because I have no intention of postponing my bath or of sharing."

  He grinned. "Fortunately, I did have the foresight to order two."

  The bath was heavenly, and having her hair washed almost equaled the pleasure of feeling the warm water caress her skin. Tingling and feeling clean for the first time in weeks, Beth celebrated the occasion by wearing one of the better gowns that had been packed to wear once they had reached Santa Fe. Since Galveston she had been wearing simple, striped gingham and calico gowns that had been ordered for traveling, and while the gowns were nice in their way, she was eager to slip into the sort of gown she normally wore. Charity had anticipated her desire and held up a charming gown of rose crepe with a white satin underskirt.

  The hotel was new and brash and very American, but Beth liked it. It was clean, it was reasonably comfortable, and the food was hot and plentiful. Beth thought it was sheer bliss, after weeks of campfire cooking to be served hot, spicy chile guisado and flat, warmed tortillas to take away the bite of the hot peppers used in the chile. There were also the usual staples of any Texan meal: thick beefsteaks, flaky biscuits, and steaming cups of rich, dark coffee.

  The thick adobe walls allowed hardly any sound to seep inside, and as San Antonio was little more than a sleepy village on the edge of the expanding Texas frontier, there were few noises to be heard in the plaza—only the occasional hoofbeat of a horse across the open square, or the jingle of a spur or the sound of a barking dog; once Beth thought she had heard a burst of laughter that came from one of the saloons.

  Sebastian had been unusually silent during the meal, knowing that this was his last night with Beth for many months and he was subdued in the face of the parting.
It was only when they were lingering over a final cup of coffee before retiring for the night that an idea occurred to him that would give him at least a few more days with Beth. His green eyes glittering with suppressed excitement, he leaned across the table and said eagerly, "I just realized that on your way to Durango you will pass not many miles from the Hacienda del Cielo. Cielo is located about sixty miles south of here, and it would make a pleasant place for you to stop for a night or two. I know that my cousin, Don Miguel, would be more than pleased to offer you his hospitality—visitors are very welcome to those who live far away from their nearest neighbors." Casually he added, "If you decide to do so, there is no reason why I should leave in the morning—I can delay my own departure a few days and travel with you. I know that you will enjoy visiting the hacienda—do say that you will."

  Beth glanced at Nathan, wondering how he felt about the invitation?

  Despite the reassuring conversation with Beth earlier, Nathan was taking no chances—Sebastian was simply too handsome to have dangling after one's wife. Declining the invitation, Nathan said, "We appreciate the offer, Sebastian, but I fear we must refuse. Perhaps on our return from Santa Fe?"

  Sebastian didn't like it, but there was nothing more he could do—at least Nathan had held out the promise of a visit when they returned home. It was the best he could achieve at the moment, and with a shrug of his broad shoulders, he said, "Very well. But I confess that I am vastly disappointed. You, Beth, especially with your interest in the early Spanish explorers, would have found it most enjoyable. It is a very old rancho, one of the first ever settled in this area. Den Miguel says that there are family stories that one of Cabeza de Vaca's men is an ancestor." Sebastian knew it was underhanded to bait the hook so temptingly, but he was desperate.

  Nathan knew exactly what Sebastian was up to, and not liking the way Beth listened with such interest to Sebastian's words, he demanded, "Who the devil was this de Vaca fellow? I've never heard of him."

  Her eyes round with astonishment, Beth looked at her husband. "Nathan! Don't tell you haven't ever heard of Cabeza de Vaca, Alvar Nunez? Why, he was one of the first men to ever cross Texas. He and his men were lost nearly eight years and they were some of the first to mention Cibola, the seven cities of gold." Turning her attention to Sebastian, she asked eagerly, "And which one of his companions was Don Miguel's ancestor?"

  Sebastian's mouth curved wryly. "There you have me, Beth. It's only a family tale, and I'm not even sure it's true. But if it is, I'm afraid the ancestor is only identified as 'Estevanico,' who some people claim was an Arab or a Moor."

  "But how thrilling!" Beth breathed, her romantic nature aroused by the possibilities of the story. Turning to Nathan, she asked impetuously, "Oh, Nathan, why don't we stop as Sebastian suggests? I would so like to meet Sebastian's cousin and see the hacienda. I'm certain that we would enjoy ourselves immensely."

  There was little that Nathan could deny Beth, especially when she looked at him as she was now, the violet eyes large and full of excitement. Deciding a few more days of Sebastian's company couldn't hurt anything, he reluctantly capitulated. "If you truly want to, my dear, I have no objections."

  Beth reached over and gave her husband a quick rare kiss on his cheek. "Oh, thank you, Nathan! I know you will enjoy yourself too."

  Sebastian had been elated at the turnabout, but the sight of Beth kissing her husband, no matter how innocuous, annoyed him. The green eyes decidedly unfriendly as they rested on Nathan, he said with false heartiness, "Well, then, we can take it as planned that we all leave here together Friday morning." Glancing at Beth, he added, "I'm certain that you will find my cousin and his family such charming hosts that you may decide to stay even longer than just a night or two."

  "What is your cousin like? He is older or younger than you?"

  Sebastian laughed. "Don Miguel? Much older. Why, even his son has a ten-year advantage over me."

  Beth looked puzzled. "But how is this? If he is your cousin..."

  "It's rather complicated, which is why in the family we have simply settled on 'cousin.' You see, my great-grandmother was Spanish, and she and Don Felipe, Don Miguel's father, were brother and sister."

  The conversation rambled on and leaving the men to their liquors, Beth excused herself a few minutes later and made her way to her room.

  The bed was everything she could have asked for, soft and welcoming, the linen sheets crisply clean and smelling of hot Texas sunlight. After nights of sleeping on the hard boards of the wagon bottom, snuggled down in the first comfortable bed since they had left Galveston, Beth should have fallen asleep instantly, but sleep was elusive. She tossed and turned for several hours, aware she was uneasy and yet unable to discover the source of her restlessness. Eventually, though, she did drift off to sleep, but it was not a peaceful sleep because, for the first time in years, she dreamed the old dream, her black-haired demon-lover coming to her again, his lips hard and urgent on hers and his hands frightening her with their demanding exploration of her body. The terror was back too, the stark fear of impending doom so strong that she woke up trembling, with tears on her cheeks. Lying in her bed, she calmed, telling herself over and over again it was only a dream, no ominous portent of the future. When she finally fell asleep again it was to sleep deeply, no dreams disturbing her slumber.

  When she awoke in the morning, the strange mood seemed to have passed, or at least she was determined to banish it from her mind. With a forced eagerness she threw aside her covers and walked across the wooden-planked floor to gaze out across the plaza.

  Their hotel was situated on the main plaza of San Antonio, and idly she watched as a cart filled with straw and drawn by a pair of oxen made its way toward one of the streets that radiated out from the plaza. A woman in a full scarlet skirt and a low-cut white blouse, a pottery jug on her dark head, caught her interest, and she smiled as she noticed a young Mexican boy running and laughing along the edge of the square, two nondescript mongrels at his heels.

  There was a sleepy air about the town despite the movement in the plaza. The buildings of thick adobe with their flat red-tiled roofs drowsed in the golden sunlight. There were few trees, but occasionally the branches of a giant cypress or the spreading shade of a cottonwood tree could be seen contrasting greenly against the pale sienna walls of the buildings. The shallow San Antonio River and the low-banked San Pedro Creek slowly wound along either side of the town and a vast grassland of gently rolling prairie, dotted with wooded springs, surrounded the area. It was a peaceful scene but Beth felt the night's uneasiness returning; she was conscious that she no longer had any taste for this journey, that she was filled with a premonition of danger. Inexplicably, she felt Rafael Santana's forceful presence.

  He had been banished from her mind for so long, she had denied within herself his existence, and now, now without warning, he had boldly invaded her thoughts. Beth was furious... and terrified, realizing that her dream devil-lover and Rafael were the same person.

  It was something, she suspected sickly, she had known all along but hadn't wanted to acknowledge, and she felt slightly hysterical at the idea that even before she had met him she had dreamed of his kisses and his lean body against hers. Beth drew in a shaken breath. She was being foolish, of course. The man in her dreams had been faceless and she was acting like a silly child, to even think that she could sense Rafael Santana's presence—he was nowhere within a hundred miles of San Antonio. It soothed her to follow that line of reasoning, and grimly she fought down the overpowering urge to leave this place—to return to Briarwood with all possible speed.

  If Nathan and Sebastian noticed that Beth's smile was strained or that there were deep circles under eyes, neither made mention of it. Instead, Nathan, displaying an irritating inclination to attach himself to his wife's side, drove Sebastian almost to the brink of violence. Beth didn't help his temper any by appearing to be touchingly grateful for Nathan's presence, clinging to him with such warmth that Sebastian had to exc
use himself to keep from showing his jealousy. He was discovering that capturing Beth's heart wasn't going to be as easy as he had first thought.

  While Sebastian nursed what he was certain was a broken heart, Nathan and Beth leisurely explored the old Spanish town. Naturally they were directed with pride to the old Mission of San Antonio de Valero located on the little San Antonio River just across from the town. The mission had through the years been called simply "The Alamo," for a grove of alamo, or Cottonwood, trees that grew nearby, and it was here less than five years ago that General Santa Anna had annihilated the brave Texan defenders who had been determined to wrest Texas from the oppressive Mexican rule. Staring at the ruined mission church that had collapsed long before the terrible battle, Beth was saddened. The last bloody fight had taken barely ninety minutes, but during that time one hundred and eighty-three heroic men with a dream had died, and such grand men, Beth thought with awe—Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, Colonel William Travis, and many more—all heroes forever in Texas.

  On Thursday, after a night of dreamless sleep, Beth was able to shake her queer mood and enjoy their brief visit to San Antonio. The inhabitants were friendly, and, though they knew no one in the town, Beth and Nathan were greeted eagerly as they walked about. Most of the people were Texans but there was still a large Mexican population, and both races seemed to welcome them unstintingly, the women smiling and the men doffing either their huge sombreros or the similar wide-brimmed hats worn by the Texans.

  That they were strangers was obvious from their fashionable dress. Beth's mauve silk gown with its slim-fitting bodice that ended in a point at her slender waist, the very full skirts and the long fitted sleeves gave evidence of this. Nathan was attired as stylishly as his wife, perhaps more so: his fair hair gleamed from under a gray chimney-pot hat; his double-breasted, tight-fitting tailcoat of dove-gray superfine was certainly more suitable for Natchez than the frontier town of San Antonio. His walking stick and his dazzling white gloves indicated he was not from the local environs, and he attracted a few stares. Oblivious of that fact, Nathan continued his stroll with Beth, occasionally raising the monocle he had lately affected to make a closer inspection of some peculiar object that caught his eye.