^ of bloodshed and fire along the entire frontier. Too many people will perish, he thought bleakly, Comanche and Texan alike.
With a sort of angry helplessness he remembered the massacre at Parker's Fort less than five years ago and the countless other encounters between Texans and Comanches that were only a foretaste of what could come to pass if the Comanches were mistreated or insulted at the peace talks in San Antonio. Rafael stirred restlessly in the saddle, recalling too vividly the treatment meted out to the captives of the Comanches and knowing that if the frontier blazed into war the wailing of captives would be heard unceasingly on the prairies.
Unable to find any solution, he let the thought of the Comanches fade from his mind and instead turned to speculation about Sebastian's latest folly.
Sebastian's involvement with a married woman annoyed and worried Rafael more than he would admit. That young man was definitely old enough to take care of himself—but Sebastian was also inclined to let his heart rule his head, and Rafael would have wagered an enormous sum of money that the woman who held Sebastian enthralled had little or no love for him. Women were such deceptive little bitches, he thought viciously as he kicked his horse into a gallop. They had faces like angels and bodies to drive men wild, and 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.
But 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 deliberately thought of Elizabeth Ridgeway. Thought of her and cursed under his breath at the sudden sweep of remembered pain.
CHAPTER NINE
San Antonio at last, thought Beth. The journey had not been arduous, and 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 young life. Some of them she had missed intensely. Most of all she 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 inordinately 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 and had, to pass the time in the evenings, asked that Sebastian show him how to fire the pistol. After that, most evenings were spent with Nathan assiduously firing at targets that he never seemed to hit. Beth, surprising herself and the gentlemen too, demanded that she be taught, and
to her delight she became astonishingly proficient at hitting those same targets that eluded Nathan.
Traveling through the timbered wilderness that lay between Galveston and San Antonio had been a novel interlude for Beth. She found herself with literally nothing to do but to sit in the coach and stare dreamily at the towering pines, their pungent scent sharp in her nostrils. Day after day her thoughts drifted aimlessly, idle thoughts that were soon forgotten as their cavalcade moved steadily toward their destination.
At night, 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 almost smothering comfort of the sift-draped, softly 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 frequently 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, driven by some inner compulsion, 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 only 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 really 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 so enjoyed his company. I will miss him when he leaves us tomorrow morning," Beth replied honestly, a faint shadow in her eyes.
Nathan, distressed as always when she was even slightly unhappy, 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, it is just that 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. And truly 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 just 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?"
Somewhat dryly, her husband answered, "Because it is exactly what / 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!"
Shaking his head in mock despair, Nathan left her. "Y
ou are suddenly a selfish Ifltle devil, Beth. But 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 really clean for the first time in weeks, a short while later 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 especially for travelings 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 pleasant. It was new and brash and very American, but Beth liked it even if it had none of the amenities to which she was accustomed. 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 with which to take away the bite of the hot peppers used in the chile. There were also the usual staples of any Texan meal: succulent, 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 fron-
tier, there were few noises to be heard in the plaza— only the occasional hoofbeats of a horse across the open square, or the jingle of a spur or the sound of a barking dog—and briefly Beth thought she had heard a burst of laughter that must have come 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^ maybe longer, and he was rather subdued in the face of the parting. And 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, '1 just realized that on your way to Durango you will pass not too 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." Very 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 found the idea extremely appealing, but she was not willing to impose upon strangers, and there was Nathan to consider. How did he feel about the invitation?
Despite the reassuring conversation with Beth earlier, Nathan was taking no chances—Sebastian was simply too devastatingly handsome to have dangling after one's wife! Suspecting that Beth's innate politeness would prompt her to refuse automatically, Nathan felt perfectly confident in declining the invitation. "We appreciate the offer, Sebastian, but I fear we must refuse. Perhaps on our return fi:'om 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 so, with a resigned shrug of his broad shoulders, he said, ''Very well. But I must 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. Don 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 had listened with such interest to Sebastian's words, he retorted testily, "Well, who the devil was this de Vaca fellow? V^e never heard of him."
Ker eyes round with astonishment, Beth exclaimed, "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. How could you not have heard of him?"
"Oh, that de Vaca!" Nathan returned loftily, pretending very convincingly that he had known all along.
"Yes, that de Vaca!" Sebastian repeated with a mocking glint in the green eyes. "He and three others were shipwrecked on the Texas coast, some think at Galveston Island, in 1528, and after escaping slavery from the Indians, they made their way to Culiacan in Mexico."
Beth 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 very little that Nathan could ever deny 150
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. "Well, 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."
Smiling at him, Beth asked interestedly, "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."
"Quite a bit of difference in their ages, wasn't there?" Nathan asked in a bored tone.
"Oh, yes, that there was! My great-grandmother was already married and had borne my grandmother by the time Don Felipe was born. My great-grandmother was the eldest child and Don Felipe the youngest, with several brothers and sisters bom in between. As I am the youngest in my family, it creates an even greater distance in ages,"
For no apparent reason Beth felt a chill, wondering why this simple conversation should disturb her, why it seemed to strike some chord of memory. Slightly on edge, she 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 oddly 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 hand
s frightening her with their intifiiate, demanding exploration of her body. And the terror was back too, the stark fear of impending doom so strong that she woke up trembling, with tears on her cheeks. Lying there in her bed, she gradually calmed herself, telling herself over and over again it was only a drearriy 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 slowly 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 seemed to drowse 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, and she was painfully conscious that she no longer had any taste for this journey, that she was filled with a queer premonition of danger. And it was then, inexplicably, that she felt Rafael Santana's forceful presence, could almost see him walking across the plaza with his long-legged stride.
Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps Page 15
