The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  A grizzly.

  A slow smile touched his lips, and he lifted his head to the heavens to thank Chupu and Great Eagle, but mostly his prayers were to Wolf, who, he believed, had sent him the truth.

  Scrambling to his knees but keeping his head low so he wouldn't be seen, he reached deep into his throat for the necessary sounds. Then, cupping his hands over his mouth, he chuffed and growled. A couple of the horses arched their necks and looked about, but the others gave no indication they'd heard. He crawled closer, the journey slow and laborious, but he continued making the sounds of a grizzly and the horses became more and more agitated, no longer eating, some of them straining against the reins, blowing out excited breaths. So did the mules, but because they'd been securely tied he doubted they could break free.

  Only once he was close enough so he could see that the men had been eating dried meat did they take notice of the horses' actions. The corporal barked an order, and two of the leatherjackets jumped to their feet and started toward the horses. At that moment, Black Wolf, too, stood. Although the effort tore at his throat, he bellowed. No one looked his way. Instead all eyes were on the horses as first one and then the others snapped their reins and began galloping away. Laughing silently, he watched as the leatherjackets sprinted after them.

  * * *

  Two days after her father left, Father Joseph took Lucita's arm and guided her toward the merchant Pablo Portola. Considering his long trip here, she expected the newcomer's stench to make her stomach rebel, but it didn't. Remarkedly clean in contrast to the two scruffy men in charge of the pack mules, he put her in mind of a caballero, with his fitted calzonera that flared out at the bottom, allowing him freedom of movement. His broad-brimmed sombrero shielded his face and saved it from being sunburned. Because of the shade the sombrero provided, it was difficult to judge his age, but he carried himself as if he was fit and healthy. He'd unbuttoned his vest to reveal a ruffled white shirt.

  "Lucita." Father Joseph gave her a gentle nudge while her mother hovered nearby. "Do you have nothing to say to the senor?"

  "Of course I do." She extended her hand, hopefully hiding her embarrassment at momentarily being at a loss for words. "Welcome. It has been so long since we have heard any news of the world. I hope you will be able to stay long enough to tell us a great deal."

  Senor Portola closed her fingers within his own and lightly kissed the back of her hand. "I wish it could be longer, senorita. However, I have a ship waiting to sail and must leave for the presidio tomorrow. Given recent events, I wish it could be different. I do not like seeing La Purisima unprotected."

  Obviously Senor Pablo was a man of wealth, as witnessed by his dress and horse, the only one with enough energy to still hold up its head. She wanted to believe he had a kindly demeanor after what she'd experienced lately, but maybe she was only trying to convince herself of that.

  "I had the opportunity to speak briefly with your father," he said. It seemed he was about to say more, but he didn't, leaving her to wonder what he and her father had discussed.

  Although the merchant had released her hand, he continued to gaze down at her; then he gave her a quick grin. "I confess Corporal Sebastian told me enough about you that I was most eager to reach La Purisima, which I did as soon as possible, considering.... There are not many single young women in this country, and to discover you are as beautiful as he stated—well, I am pleased. Most pleased."

  "He said I was beautiful?"

  "Yes indeed. Unfortunately, there was an incident before we had spent more than an hour together. Otherwise, I doubt there'd be a single thing I don't know about you."

  Although she was certain he'd left something important unsaid, she didn't know enough about the man to press him for details. Besides, the only way she could keep from going crazy wondering what her father was doing was by refusing to think about either him or Black Wolf.

  "You must be exhausted from your long travels," she said. "Hopefully there will be food to your liking."

  . "Yes, yes," her mother agreed. "We want to do all we can to make you comfortable. Your business sounds fascinating. I'd love to hear about your travels."

  * * *

  To Lucita's surprise, being with Pablo, as he asked her to call him, turned out to be easier than she'd expected. As they ate, he explained that he'd grown up in the shipping business at his father's side and, after taking over, had devoted all his energy to expansion, but because the padres needed to be brought up-to-date about Church matters, neither she nor her mother pressed for more personal information.

  Both Lucita and Father Joseph were delighted to hear that the merchant had brought along a measure of tea leaves, and when Father Joseph told him about her work in the infirmary, he asked her to show it to him.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked as they stood outside the infirmary door.

  "I know what I'll find in there, Lucita," he told her. "What interests me is your reaction."

  Off balance because of his intense scrutiny, she nevertheless wasted little time in checking on her patients' status. She waited until she was done with the others before going to Midnight's bed. As had happened twice before, the older boy was with him.

  "Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Look at his leg."

  Pablo leaned close. "I see what was a nasty wound well on its way to healing."

  "I was so worried infection would kill him, but he's going to live." Remembering what Father Joseph had said about Midnight, she impulsively hugged the boy and then sighed.

  "What is it?"

  "He'll have to return to work. I argued to give him a little more time for the wound to close over, but..."

  "But the mission must continue to function."

  "Yes." She didn't care if she sounded angry. "Nothing is more important."

  "To the padres, true, but it's different with you, isn't it?"

  He might be challenging her, but she couldn't pretend not to have an opinion. She explained that Midnight's work was both dangerous and dirty and she was afraid he wouldn't be given the opportunity to adequately cover his injury, thus undermining the strides they'd made.

  "Do you want me to speak in his behalf?" Pablo asked.

  "What? No, no, this isn't your concern."

  Surprised by his offer, she turned her attention to the older child. "I think they must be brothers," she explained. "One day he watched me clean Midnight's wound, and the next day I found him doing it himself. It does my heart good to see so much love between them."

  "Remarkable, remarkable," Pablo said. Then he held out his arm, indicating he wanted her to loop hers through his. Both hesitant and warmed by the gesture, she did so.

  "You are a gem," he said with a grin as they stepped outside. "A rare gem."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You have opinions and aren't afraid to show your emotions."

  Confused, she frowned up at him.

  "It's just that I don't think I've ever met a woman who expresses herself as openly as you do."

  "You disapprove?"

  "Not at all." He patted her hand. "Please let me explain. Over the years I have discovered that most ladies are willing to listen and agree to anything a man—a well-situated man particularly—says, which flatters a man's ego but tells that man little about the lady."

  "My social skills are rather primitive," she admitted, even though she'd never imagined she'd say that to someone she'd just met. "I've lived a sheltered life."

  "So have I. Oh, not in the way you have, but I must admit I have not been in the company of women as much as I would have liked. It is an unfortunate consequence of the way I earn my living."

  "Do you enjoy what you do?" she asked, not just to be polite but because she honestly wanted to know.

  "I have never experienced any other way of life, so I'm not sure how studied my answer is, but yes. Sailing is in my blood. I love the seas, the challenge, even the danger."

  "Danger?"

  "Mostly from the weather. Na
ture is an unkind master. The risks are never-ending and may someday take my life or the lives of the men under my employ. But nature simply is. It does not hate, does not scheme, has no ulterior motives."

  She'd never heard a man say something like that, making her wonder if he sometimes questioned life's deeper meanings. Now she asked him that.

  "Often." He chuckled. "Much more often than my parents, particularly my father, wished I had. Do not misunderstand me—my father was a dedicated businessman, and I learned a great deal from him, but I could never be satisfied thinking only of ships and cargo. I want to know why the winds blow the way they do, whether it is possible to anticipate a storm, why people act the way they do. There were times when my father and I believed we had nothing in common."

  "Do you still?"

  "He is dead, Lucita. Lost in a storm." Although his words were matter-of-fact, his tone gave away his regret.

  "You miss him, don't you?" she asked.

  "Every day. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring you out here so I could talk about that."

  "It's all right."

  "Yes," he said softly. "I imagine it is. Senorita, let me be frank. I am accustomed to people deferring to me; position comes with wealth. But I don't want it to be like that between you and me."

  "You don't?"

  Stopping, he waited until she was facing him. "I want to be frank with you because you were frank with me in there. Business concerns have taken my youth. I do not regret that I passed my twenties and thirties alone, but I just turned forty."

  She hadn't thought he was that old.

  "I don't want to be alone anymore."

  "You don't," she almost said but realized in time how stupid it would sound. "Being here"—she indicated the valley and what lay beyond it—"can make a person lonely"

  "Especially a young, vibrant woman. Surely you want more than this, Lucita."

  Surely.

  "If you want, I will court you. In truth, I would like nothing better, but this is not the setting for a lengthy courtship worthy of a woman of your sensibilities, grace, and attractiveness. I intend to be honest with you and hope you will be the same in return."

  Courtship? "I... would like that."

  "Good..Your father says you are headstrong and that any man who takes you for a wife will need to manage you with a firm hand."

  "And you decided to accept the challenge because you are used to wielding that firm hand?" He wanted honesty; she would give it to him.

  To her surprise, he chuckled. "In business, yes. But in my personal life, never. My mother came from farming stock, the only girl in a family with six children, and although she knew nothing about making a living from the sea when she and my father were married, she never shirked work. My parents sacrificed and eventually succeeded together. Even my sister had her own role within the company until she married a spice merchant and convinced him to take his business into both England and France. As a result, his wealth has more than doubled."

  "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, although maybe she already understood.

  "Because I believe you are a great deal like my mother and sister, a woman with a mind and a will. A woman who needs more from life than what she has found thus far."

  * * *

  Pablo walked Lucita back to her quarters in silence, not because he had nothing to say to her, but because his thoughts were too complex to allow for conversation. Realizing they only had a couple of minutes left together and knowing how busy he'd be in the morning, he stopped and waited until she was facing him.

  "How do you feel about living here?" he asked.

  "Feel? I told you, there's a great deal for me to do. I've never felt more needed."

  "What about concerns for your personal safety? I'm certain you've guessed that your father and I talked about the problems he's been having with the savages. Don't you feel at risk here?"

  "No," she said so quickly that it left him puzzled. "No, I don't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because..." She drew away a little and looked around at the dark. "I... I am doing necessary work. The wild Indians know that if they harm me, those who are ill or injured will have to rely on Father Joseph, and he has so many other duties."

  "Then you believe savages are capable of complex thought?"

  "You don't?"

  He liked being challenged by her. "A reasonable question, Lucita. However, instead of answering, I believe I must tell you what happened while your father and I were together."

  She cocked her head to one side but gave no indication of being surprised by his words, and he guessed he hadn't been as adept at keeping things to himself as he'd hoped. He told her everything about the stampede, that he'd offered the loan of his big gelding and mules to assist in rounding up the horses and of the hours it had taken to retrieve three of the beasts.

  "I didn't want to leave before your father had recovered the rest of his mounts," he finished, "but he understood the time constraints I'm under and insisted he could make do with what he had."

  "And after he has all his horses back? What is he going to do then?"

  "I'm not certain. It depends on how long it takes before none of his men are on foot, but the last we spoke, he remained determined to find the savages' village."

  "I see."

  "How can you be so calm?" he pressed. "I don't see how you can feel safe here. If there is a rogue grizzly, one that has gone mad—grizzlies have no fear of man, and it takes nothing to provoke them to attack. If the horses hadn't broken free, it might have slaughtered—"

  "Did you see it?" she interrupted.

  "No," he admitted. "And that puzzles me. I've observed a number of bears during my years in this country, and I've never seen one act the way this one did. It was almost as if it was deliberately trying to frighten the horses. It succeeded."

  "Yes," she said. "It did."

  Chapter 16

  Pablo left before noon the next day, his pack animals all but lost under their burdens. He'd saved his final and most lengthy goodbye for Lucita, promising he'd return as soon as possible and asking her to constantly be on the lookout. She did the same to him, surprising herself by how deeply she meant it. No man—at least not one of her race—had ever made her feel so special or confided so much to her.

  Her father and the others were gone for a week, during which Lucita lived in fear that they would find Black Wolf's village. By contrast, every prayer session run by the padres began and ended with a plea to God to guide the soldiers in a successful mission.

  Sickened by the images conjured up inside her—particularly if the soldiers attacked women and children as well as warriors—she tried to fill her own prayers with a plea for understanding of what was happening both in her world and inside her heart, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't completely silence the neophytes' chanting.

  Although she tried to keep busy both mentally and physically, the days dragged. If it hadn't been for the pleasure she'd gained from seeing Midnight able to work again, she wasn't sure how she would have coped. She was still concerned that his wound shouldn't be exposed to filth, but he was obviously happy to be able to walk, and there was no missing the pleasure he gained from being in his brother's company.

  One afternoon she was sitting with a small group of children too young to work when loud, sudden shouts brought her to her feet. Her first thought was that the soldiers had returned with proof of their success, and she vowed that no matter what the consequences, she wouldn't force herself to be part of whatever celebration took place.

  The youngest girl began crying as the shouting continued. Muttering calming words, Lucita lifted the child in her arms and gave her a reassuring hug. When she had quieted, Lucita transferred the slight weight to her hip and slowly followed the others toward the main trail leading to the mission.

  A quick appraisal assured her that none of the soldiers had suffered any injury. Another, hesitant appraisal gave her the answer she needed. There were no prisoners. />
  But if there'd been no survivors—

  "It's all right," she crooned to the child whose grip on her throat belied her slight build. She looked around for the girl's mother, belatedly remembering that the woman had been sent to the olive mill for the day.

  "What are you afraid of?" she gently asked, although the girl spoke little Spanish. "I won't let anything happen to you. No matter what it takes, I'll keep you safe."

  Maybe language didn't matter, Lucita thought as the girl snuggled against her. Maybe love didn't need words. At the thought, her eyes burned and she took in her world through a blur she understood as completely as she understood what she felt for this child.

  The soldiers and their mounts looked exhausted. She felt sorry for the horses, but even when her father's face contorted as he dismounted, she couldn't conjure up a breath of sympathy for him.

  Sebastian waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal, then glared at the small troop as the men turned their horses over to the neophytes and started toward the kitchen. Both padres joined him, and although she was certain her presence wasn't wanted, she stepped closer. Because of the noise, she couldn't hear what her father was saying, but his grim expression said a great deal.

  When he looked at her, for several heartbeats she didn't think he'd seen her; either that or he considered her unimportant. Then: "Put that creature down."

  She retreated a little but continued to hold onto the child who now stared openmouthed at Lucita's father.

  "Did you hear me?" he demanded. "I will not have you lugging that filthy creature around."

  How could caring for a child be wrong? However, she was wise enough to know her father was in no mood for an argument, especially from her. She wasn't ready to deprive herself of those trusting arms around her neck, but Corporal Sebastian had gone off to murder those he considered savages, and this bright-eyed child might be in danger.

  "You saw nothing?" Father Joseph asked as the little girl ran off.

  "Nothing," Sebastian admitted, his features stony. "I have no doubt that Senor Portola told you about the horses being frightened off."