San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "Pauline, how could you!" Sara appeared at the door, with Hank beside her. "How dare you speak this way to Ian's wife?"

  "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, ma'am, if you pester Mrs. McCain again," Hank said, walking to stand beside Emerada, as if his presence would protect her. "Get out of here," he said with more authority.

  Emerada placed her trembling hand in Hank's large, comforting one. "Please have them leave, Hank. I need to speak to you alone."

  "You heard Mrs. McCain. She wants both of you to leave."

  Pauline looked as if she might object, but the threatening glance Hank gave her made her reconsider. "I'll leave this room, but I won't leave town. I'll be here when Ian returns."

  In a move that surprised both Pauline and Sara, the older woman grasped Pauline's shoulder and hustled her out the door. When Pauline stormed down the hallway, Sara turned back to Emerada.

  "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You have to understand she's always had her eye on Ian as her husband."

  Emerada nodded. "I understand."

  Sara looked uncomfortable. "I can't apologize enough for my cousin's behavior. I am going to urge her to return to Virginia. Anyway, I don't think she'll bother you again."

  "No. She will not bother me again," Emerada said, liking Sara Harlandale's straightforward manner.

  Sara gave Emerada and Hank a sad smile and left, closing the door behind her.

  Hank realized he was still holding Emerada's hand and he let it go, patting it kindly. "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

  Emerada turned to the window, giving herself time to put her thoughts into words. She felt turmoil boiling inside after the unpleasant encounter with Pauline Harlandale.

  "I will be leaving this afternoon, Hank. I was wondering if you would store my trunks for me."

  He was obviously distressed. "Ma'am, you aren't going to let what that woman said drive you away, are you?"

  "No. It's not that, Hank. What you may not know is that I have a ranch nearby. I have been neglecting it lately."

  "Yes, I know," he said, wishing he could make her feel better. He realized that the shrewish woman had hurt her. "Your ranch is Talavera."

  "How did you know?"

  "I knew your father and your brothers. I also know that you are the San Antonio Rose. I saw you twice with General Houston. Some of us figured out you was helping him catch Santa Anna."

  Her mouth opened in horror. "Hank, have you told this to anyone?"

  "Now, ma'am, don't fret none. I've never told another soul, and I never will."

  She nodded, knowing he would keep his word to her. "Will you have the livery stable sell me a horse and saddle? And I'll need suppliessome to take with me, and the rest I will want delivered later. I will be leaving today."

  "But Talavera was burned to the ground, and all your family's dead. Surely you can't stay there alone?"

  She was touched by his concern. "I can manage quite well, Hank. Now, if you will send someone to the lively stable, I will make a list of the supplies I need. And there is something more I would like you to do for me. My friend, Domingo, might come looking for me. Tell him where I have gone."

  He looked troubled, but it wasn't his place to tell her what to do. No one would convince him that she wasn't leaving because of the vicious woman in room seven. And Mrs. McCain was going to have a baby. It wasn't safe for her to be out at Talavera alone.

  Colonel McCain was going to be damn mad when he came back.

  Ian didn't spare his horse when riding back to San Antonio. He'd spent four days listening to men bicker over every fine detail of drawing up a working document for governing the new republic. The horrible truth was that Texas was broke. There was very little money in the treasury. The men who'd met to find answers for the problems couldn't even agree on how to put on their boots!

  The one bright spot in it all was President Houston. He'd managed to calm everyone's temper, and in the end, most of them had rallied behind him.

  Houston's popularity was running high, and no one else came close to his stature in Texas.

  When Ian arrived back in San Antonio, it was after midnight, and the streets were deserted. He left his mount with a corporal and entered the boardinghouse, his footsteps hurried. He'd been a fool to leave Emerada without settling this thing between himself and Pauline. What worried him most of all was that Emerada had not defended herself when Pauline hurled insults at her head-but then, he hadn't defended her either. He didn't profess to know the workings of a woman's mind, but he was beginning to know Emerada. With her lightning-quick temper, she could strike back at the least provocation-but she hadn't.

  There was no one at the front desk. Hank must have gone to bed hours earlier. Ian took the steps two at a time, Pauline's last words ringing in his ears.

  You are mine, you always were, and you always will be.

  He knew that something was wrong. Why hadn't he put Pauline on the coach and sent her back to Virginia? Knowing her past behavior, and her fits of jealousy when any woman had shown him the slightest attention, he was certain she had tried to cause trouble between him and Emerada. And, God knew, they had enough trouble already.

  Perhaps he'd worried for nothing. After all, Emerada could certainly take care of herself.

  He tapped lightly on the door, hating to wake Emerada. Turning the knob, he discovered it wouldn't open. Good. She'd taken his advice and locked the door.

  "She's not there, Ian," a silken voice said behind him. "There's some man in the room now, and I don't think he'd want to be disturbed."

  Ian spun around to face Pauline. "What do you mean? Of course Emerada is in there. This is our room."

  "If you ask me, Ian, your wife's kind of flighty. Can you imagine? She just left." Her hand covered his, and she moved closer to him. "I would never leave you if you belonged to me, as I thought you did."

  He gripped her arm, his fingers biting into the tender flesh, and she squirmed to get away from him. "What are you talking about-tell me?"

  At last she extracted her arm from his grasp, and she rubbed it gingerly. "I don't keep up with lost wives."

  He took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, throwing open her door and pushing her none-too-gently inside. "Now, tell me where Emerada went, and what you had to do with her going."

  Pauline dropped her gaze, and her bottom lip quivered, a ploy that had gained sympathy from other gentlemen in the past. "Why do you think I would know where she went?"

  For the first time Ian noticed Sara sitting by the window, her glasses resting across the bridge of her nose and a book across her lap.

  "Forgive me for disturbing you, Sara," he said. "I'm worried about my wife."

  Sara laid her book aside. "You should be, Ian. She left the same day you did. That would be six days ago."

  Ian looked at Pauline, feeling guilty for being so rough with her. "I ask your pardon, Pauline. I should not have taken my concern for Emerada out on you. Of course you had nothing to do with her leaving."

  "Of course I didn't." She laid her hand on his arm. "Sara, why don't you leave us for a while. I need to speak to Ian alone."

  "No," the older woman said. "I think "I'll just stay right here until you tell Ian about your talk with Mrs. McCain."

  Pauline glared at her cousin. "You'd better not say any more. You'll have Ian thinking the worst of me."

  "He should," Sara said blundy. Her glance went to Ian. "Ask her what she said to Mrs. McCain, Ian. Ask her why your wife left."

  Ian shifted his gaze to Pauline's face. "What is Sara talking about? Tell me, Pauline," he insisted, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What did you say to make Emerada leave?"

  Pauline was always at her best when defending her own actions. She raised her head and glared at Ian. "If you ask me, the woman you married isn't quite right in the head. If she's run away, I had nothing to do with it."

  Ian stared at Pauline, realizing for the first time that he could never have married herhe'
d always known it deep down. Pauline had one big flaw: she couldn't see anything past her own image in the mirror. She was selfish and vindictive. Emerada was as different from Pauline as night was from day-Emerada, his fiery little wife, who would take on the world's problems and make them her own. Why, then, had she allowed Pauline to drive her away? It just wasn't like her.

  Ian's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to loom over Pauline. "Tell me about your conversation with Emerada."

  "Tell him, or I will," Sara said threateningly

  Pauline turned on her cousin. "You beast! How can you care about me when you side with that woman against me?"

  "The truth is," Sara said sadly, "you're not an easy person to love. The same traits that made you adorable as a child have turned you into a selfish, demanding woman now that you are grown. If you had intelligence to match your viciousness, you'd be dangerous. As it is, you are just pathetic."

  Ian stood, silently listening. If what Sara said was true, and he believed it was, Pauline had driven Emerada away.

  Pauline clutched at Ian's coatfront. "Are you going to let her say those hateful things to me?"

  Ian shrugged off her hand. "I am interested only in my wife. Your troubles are your own."

  Pauline was so near him she almost felt faint. It wasn't just Ian's wealth she wanted, although Ian had plenty of that; she wanted him. "You were supposed to marry me!"

  The muscle in Ian's jaw tightened. "I have a wife."

  At this point Sara saw the futility of the conversation. Ian wanted answers, and Pauline had no intention of giving them to him. "I don't know where she went, Ian, but Mr. Glover does. He and I tried to get your wife to stay until you returned, but she was determined to leave."

  "Yes, I'll talk to Hank," Ian said, moving to the door. "He'll know where she went. She must be at Talavera!"

  "Ian," Sara said, stepping between him and Pauline. "There was some man, a big Mexican gentleman who came looking for your wife. Hank told him where to find her."

  Ian held his breath. "Was the man's name Domingo?"

  Sara nodded. "Yes, that was his name."

  "Thank God he's with her," Ian said with relief.

  "What about me?" Pauline asked, her mouth turned down in a pout.

  "I suggest you get to Galveston and take the first ship for home. There is nothing for you here," Ian told her, rushing out the door with every intention of waking Hank.

  It was the first time Emerada had realized that silence had a sound a deep, empty sound like echoes from an endless void.

  She dipped her bucket into the well and let it fill with water while she stared at the charred remains of Talavera. The grizzly sight was always there to remind her how her family had died.

  She struggled with the water bucket as she carried it toward the stable. Her back seemed to ache constantly from the weight of the child she carried. She had to find a place to have her child, but not in New Orleans, because Ian would find her there.

  As Emerada passed the family grave site, she wished for the hundredth time that she knew where her father and brothers had been buried. She needed a place to go to make peace with them-to grieve for them-to say goodbye to them.

  When she reached the stable, she set the bucket down and rubbed her aching back. She looked with satisfaction at the scrubbed floors. She had brushed the cobwebs away and had pitched hay to the horse. She had made herself a comfortable bed in the stall next to her horse, needing to feel the presence of another living, breathing thing.

  Loneliness hung heavy over her, and she watched the road every day, waiting for Domingo to come. Emerada realized she couldn't stay at Talavera much longer or Ian would find her.

  She knew him so well, and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he would come after her. When Ian made a commitment, he would honor it in spite of any feelings he had for Pauline Harlandale.

  The sun was setting when she poured the bucket of water in the horse trough. She would spend another lonely night listening to the howl of the coyote and the crickets chirping their age-old song.

  She latched the barn door, knowing the flimsy lock wouldn't keep anyone out if they wanted to get in badly enough. But if trouble came, she would hear it and get her gun.

  Emerada was not usually afraid of anything, but she'd had the strangest feeling for the last two days that someone was watching her. She hadn't seen or heard anyone; it was just an intuition she had-a feeling that made her skin prickle.

  She fluffed up the hay and laid a thick blanket on top of it. Then she lay down fully clothed and listened to the lonely night sounds.

  "Where are you, Domingo?" she said aloud, causing her horse to whinny. "I need you here with me."

  Emerada awoke with a start. Someone was pushing against the stable door, making it creak and rattle. She glanced at the upper window-it was almost dawn.

  Inching forward, she slid her gun from the holster that hung over the railing and moved to a position where she could easily see whoever came through the door.

  Again the door rattled, and she spoke to the person on the other side. "Who is there?"

  "Emerada, let me in-it's Domingo."

  A wave of relief washed over her, and she pulled the latch and swung the door open. She rushed to the big man, and his arms enveloped her in a protective hug.

  "Oh, Domingo, I thought you would never come!"

  Domingo patted Emerada's shoulder comfortingly. "Everything has been taken care of in New Orleans. When I got to San Antonio, a man named Hank Glover told me where to find you."

  He looked at her questioningly. "Why did you come back here-and alone?"

  She walked along beside him as he led his horse inside the stable. Now that Domingo was there she felt safe, and she slid her gun back into the holster. "I'll explain everything to you while I make coffee. Are you hungry?"

  He nodded. "You make the coffee, and I'll do the rest," he answered, seeing that the shelves were stacked with an ample amount of sup plies. "It looks like you intended to stay here for a while."

  Emerada stacked wood and twigs on the embers of the cookfire while she explained to Domingo what had happened with Pauline Harlandale, and why she had left Ian.

  Domingo shook his head. "You should have waited to talk to Ian. I have never known you to run away from trouble. And if this woman is as bad as you say, Ian would not love her."

  "You do not understand. He does love her. By my foolish behavior I may have prevented Ian from marrying the woman he loves."

  "You have your life in a tangle, Emerada. It would have been better had you told Ian the truth about the baby. Why did you let him think Santa Anna is the father?"

  She didn't answer while she filled a pot with water and scooped coffee into it before placing it among the glowing embers. "I do not know."

  "Go back to San Antonio; tell him the truth. A man should know when he is to become a father."

  She added more wood to the fire, then looked at Domingo. "I will never do that. I did not want him to feel obligated to stay married to me. But I wanted desperately for the child to have its father's name." Her shoulders hunched, and there was misery in her eyes. "I compromised Ian's future happiness by my own selfishness."

  Domingo was placing fatback in an iron skil let. Then he sat back and looked at her carefully. "How do you know that you are not his future? I have seen how he looks at you, Emerada. He loves you. A man can tell these things about another man."

  She stood up, dusting off her skirt. "You see only what you want to see, Domingo. I do not want to talk about it anymore. I need your help in deciding where we should go from here."

  For the first time Domingo could remember, he lost his temper with Emerada. "Where you should go is back to the baby's father. Think of the baby. You will need a doctor when the time comes. I do not believe you have thought this through."

  "I still have at least a month before the baby will be born, Domingo. But I am so confused. What do you think I should do?"

  "There is only one
thing for you to do. Go back to Ian. He is a good man and deserves better than silence from you."

  She didn't want to talk about Ian, so she decided to tell Domingo her fears. "There is something that has been troubling me. For the last two days I have had the strongest feeling that I'm being watched. I think we should leave as soon as-"

  Without any warning the stable door suddenly slammed open, and three men entered, their guns pointed at Domingo and Emerada.

  Domingo jumped up and pushed Emerada behind him, glancing at his gun leaning against the wall, just out of reach.

  "Who are you?" Domingo asked in a threatening voice. "And what are you doing here?"

  "You should recognize us," one of the men said with amused laughter. "I have seen you before, and the beautiful senorita." He aimed his rifle at Domingo's head. "Let me introduce myself and my friends to you. I am Ortega, this is Chavira, and there stands Martinez."

  Domingo squinted in the growing light. "Si, I know you. You were with Santa Anna."

  "And you are the servant who followed like a burro behind the San Antonio Rose." Ortega grinned and bowed to Emerada. "Twice I have had the honor of seeing you dance."

  Domingo glanced once more at his rifle, knowing that if he dove for it, he would leave Emerada unprotected. "You have not told me what you want here," he said, reaching for Emerada's arm to keep her behind him.

  Emerada recognized the men, although they weren't in uniform now. The leader, Ortega, had never been far away from Santa Anna's side and had always been rushing about to do the dictator's slightest bidding. He was a lean man, with a long, narrow face and deep-set eyes. His two companions she had never seen before. They were both heavyset, and one had a long scar from forehead to chin, making him look sinister. All three wore leather trousers and vests and wide-brimmed sombreros.

  She stepped from behind Domingo, knowing the men were up to nothing good. She didn't want Domingo to be hurt. "Have you come for me?" she asked, pretending a bravery she was far from feeling. If she could only distract them, Domingo might be able to get to his rifle.