by Vella Munn
"I would like nothing better." He hadn't taken his eyes off Lucita. "But first I want to hear how you've been. When your father told me of his determination to bring in more troops, I cursed myself for leaving."
"It couldn't be helped," Lucita said softly. "Please don't burden your mind with that."
"But I do. You're important to me, you must know that." Pablo extended his bent arm toward her in invitation. She slid hers through the crook and allowed him to guide her toward the dining area, where neophytes were rushing about setting up an impromptu meal, but despite the distraction of the man's presence, she sensed something else. Something...
It was vital she not look at the horizon or do anything that might make her father suspicious, but in ways she couldn't explain, she knew Black Wolf was up there, watching.
* * *
Over steaming bowls of hastily prepared stew, Lucita's father gave an exacting account of what he'd accomplished during his time at the presidio. Lucita hated his boasting and anger at the commander's inability to make a timely decision almost as much as she hated the way the soldiers deferred to his every word.
To her mind, he hadn't been as successful as he claimed, since he'd only managed to have three more men assigned to him, but to hear him tell it, the commander had ordered fully half of his available force to help quell the "uprising." Unfortunately, her father explained, a large number of the presidio's soldiers had been sent to Santa Cruz to oversee the establishment of a convict colony.
"I am surprised you were able to return so soon, Senor Portola," Margarita finally broke in. "You are responsible for overseeing your ships, and if there are convicts... I understand there are pirates as well."
"Unfortunately, yes. However..." Turning toward Lucita, he winked. "There is more to life than work and responsibility. Ah!" He patted his belly. "I do not believe I have ever eaten so much. Lucita, I hope you will join me in a stroll."
"I, ah, the infirmary—"
"That can wait," Margarita insisted while Sebastian glared. "Senor Portola, I fear my daughter will exhaust herself doing the Lord's work. She needs to relax and to hear of the world beyond here."
"I'm sorry," Lucita said to Pablo. "I didn't mean to refuse your offer. It's just that I've done little except work lately."
"Then it's time for that to change."
She rose and again took Pablo's offered arm. As the door closed between them and the others, she felt herself begin to relax, in part because she no longer had to bear her father's stony scrutiny, in part because she'd missed Pablo's concern for her welfare, his understanding.
Chapter 23
Although Black Wolf spent two days and nights as close as he dared get to the mission, he was unable to learn anything about Sebastian's plans beyond the fact that the leatherjackets ceaselessly patrolled every inch of the valley.
It seemed a strange and useless thing for them to do, since there were still few men and so much land to cover and, if he wanted, he could slip past them despite the increased risk. However, as long as the leatherjackets remained here, his people had nothing to fear and there was no need for him to risk his safety by entering the enemy's place.
Lucita was often about. Usually he saw her entering or leaving the infirmary, but occasionally she was in the company of the merchant. They seemed comfortable in each other's company, talking and sometimes laughing—something she never did when she was around her parents or him.
Late on the afternoon of the third day, he spotted her walking toward the cemetery, head bowed, her shoulders slumped forward. Behind her walked one of the neophytes, who carried a small, inert bundle in his arms. Someone had died, most likely someone Lucita had been treating in the infirmary. To the padres, the death of a neophyte meant they had to briefly pray over the body before ordering it lowered into a shallow grave. Those who loved the neophyte had to wait until the padres were finished before being allowed to mourn, not by singing and dancing as the Chumash had done since the beginning of time, but with short and silent prayers.
Whoever had died today had been a child; the size of the neophyte's burden made that clear. Lucita loved children and would take such a death hard. Although he hadn't dared risk letting her know he was nearby, he longed to comfort her. Instead, he was forced to remain hidden like a hunted animal until the day had spent itself.
At last evening mass was over and, except for the sentries, the mission had quieted down. Not sure of anything except that he needed to speak to her even though it made no sense and might mean the end to him, he slipped through the shadows until he reached her living quarters. Although he strained to hear, it was several minutes before he'd convinced himself that she wasn't in there. She might have returned to the infirmary without his noticing; there was also the possibility that she had unfinished business at the cemetery. Or she might be with the merchant.
A deep male voice caught his ear, and he pressed himself against the nearest adobe wall, asking Wolf to protect him. The voice became louder and clearer, the sound that of a man confident with both his surroundings and himself. It was only when the man was close enough so he could make out his outline that Black Wolf realized it was the newcomer, and that Lucita was with him.
"No. No. You don't have to do this," she was saying. "You've already been so kind."
"It isn't just kindness, Lucita," the man responded. "You know that. Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"
Lucita didn't immediately respond. Then: "When... when he died, I was in shock, but now..."
"Shock can be a wonderful thing. While we're wrapped in it, we're saved from having to face certain painful realities. Wait here, please, while I change boots. Much as I hate to admit it, this was not the wisest purchase I have ever made. No matter what precautions I take, they rub my heels raw."
Black Wolf watched, telling himself he felt nothing, as the man patted Lucita's shoulder before strolling away. She stood alone in the dark looking less substantial than she had a few minutes before, her body still, her head turning first one way and then another.
Wondering if she sensed his presence, he half-expected her to call out to him. Instead, she reached for the door to her quarters, but instead of going inside, she remained where she was and pressed her hand over her mouth. Despite her attempt at silence, a small whimper escaped her.
He started moving as soon as she did, trailing her like a wolf trails its prey, not surprised when she headed toward the cemetery. What did surprise him was when she stopped in front of an olive tree, broke off a branch, and carried it, dangling from her fingers. Reaching the cemetery, she stopped at the entrance.
Do not be afraid of this place, Lucita. There is only peace here.
Another sigh made its way to him on the night air, and then, as he'd already known she would, she walked over to the small, freshly dug grave.
"I'm sorry, Midnight," she whispered. "So sorry your life was short and that you never knew freedom. I tried. Please believe I tried to keep you alive. I just... I just..."
Leaning forward, she dropped the branch on the mound. "Mother saw my tears. So did the padres, but they don't understand.... I'm not sure Pablo does either."
"I do," Black Wolf said.
Jerking upright, she spun around. Another whisper of sound—not a cry this time—escaped her lips, and then she was quiet, staring at him, her body alert but not ready for flight.
"Who was it?" he asked, pointing at the ground.
She stared at him so long that he wondered if she'd lost herself in him. "A boy," she finally said. "I don't know how old, still a child. I called him Midnight because his eyes were so dark. He'd... he'd hurt himself and the wound got infected and there was nothing..."
"You loved him."
"Yes, I did. What are you doing here?" she suddenly demanded. "Haven't you seen the additional troops? My father... my father said there wouldn't be any more attacks because of them."
"I did not come to attack, Lucita. At least not tonight."
She suc
ked in her breath. "I... I told myself I'd never see you again."
"Is it what you want?"
"Want?" Although she laughed, the sound was bitter. "No. Oh, no."
They didn't have much time. Hadn't that man said he would return? Still, the threat of danger seemed a little thing now that she'd said what she had. "I have been on your mind?"
"Yes. Yes. Black Wolf... My father—don't you care what happens to you? If they find you, they'll capture you or... or kill you."
"I know."
"Don't talk like that! You have a wife and a son. They need—"
"My wife is no more."
"Dead?" The way she said the word made him think she never wanted to hear or speak it again.
"Yes," he said, the explanation simple because that was all he was capable of.
"I'm so sorry. How... Maybe you don't want to talk about it."
No, he didn't, but at the same time he needed to tell her about his wife's sickness and death, the way he'd held his son, and his promises to him, the sense of loss. However, before he could think how to begin, he heard a door open and close.
"The merchant," he said. "When he comes his arms are empty, but when he leaves his horses and mules are burdened. This time he was not gone long. Perhaps it is because he wanted to see you."
"Please go. It isn't safe."
"Maybe I will silence him."
"No, you won't." To his surprise, she reached out and touched her fingers to his cheek. "Please go, Black Wolf. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you."
Nor would I want to face tomorrow if death claimed you, he thought as he stepped into the night.
* * *
Crickets sent a chorus of song into the air, making it nearly impossible for Lucita to think beyond their racket. Although she needed some indication of whether Pablo suspected she'd been with someone, she hadn't spoken since Pablo arrived a couple of minutes ago, and he did nothing to end the silence himself, Seeking both distance from him and time to make sense of the fact that she had seen Black Wolf tonight, she knelt beside the fresh grave. Death came so often here, particularly inside the infirmary, that she'd told herself she was getting used to it, but she hadn't expected Midnight to die. Or maybe the truth was she'd refused to accept the reality behind his ever-increasing fever.
Midnight, dead. Black Wolf's wife, dead.
No matter how much Lucita fought it, the pounding in her head became harder. She tried to tell herself that the noise from the crickets was responsible but knew it wasn't that at all. Her eyes burned, her throat felt as if it might close, and a scream fought for release. Instead, the sound she made belonged to an infant deprived of loving arms.
"Lucita, don't," Pablo said as he pulled her to her feet. Somehow he managed to hold onto the candle he'd brought with him. "You can't keep everything locked up inside this way. It will make you sick."
"I can't help—when is the dying going to be over?" She buried her head against his chest. "When?"
"Never, Lucita. You know that."
Of course she did! Unexpectedly angry, she came within a breath of ordering him not to treat her like a fool, but he'd done nothing to warrant her outburst.
"It's this horrid place," she managed, "life is held in such disregard here. The padres—I know it grieves them to see so many neophytes die, but they say it's God's will and then go about their work. I can't go on caring for people who are going to die. I can't!"
"You don't have to."
Black Wolf had slipped away, but he might still be able to hear her. Just the same, she was too weak and wounded to temper what she said.
"Midnight trusted me. He... he put his life in my hands, and I failed him." Swallowing, she forced down the lump in her throat. "I'm so sick of it. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing when I asked to come here, but..."
"You don't have to stay."
Didn't she? Tonight she wasn't sure she was capable of grasping anything except that a child she'd come to love had died under her care. And that Black Wolf's son would have to grow up without a mother.
"You're overwrought," Pablo said. "It is nothing for you to be ashamed of. In fact, I feel honored that you've let down your guard around me. My sweet Lucita, you've worked so hard to prove that you're strong, but you don't have to try around me."
She didn't?
"I need a woman to care for and protect," he continued. "I have wanted that for many years. Lucita, listen to me, I don't want for anything of a material nature. If you and I were to marry, you'd never wonder if you'd have a roof over your head, never again have to be surrounded by the world's unfortunates."
"I'm grateful for your offer," she muttered, all too aware that Black Wolf, who embraced the night as if it was a dear friend, might have heard. "You know I am."
"It isn't your gratitude I want, Lucita."
"I..."
"What is it?" He continued to hold her as if he feared she might break. "Perhaps you don't believe you would be happy with me?"
"That... that isn't it."
"Then what? You can't make a lasting difference here; surely you know that. No matter how much you might sacrifice yourself, you cannot keep the Indians from succumbing to disease."
"No, I can't," she said as she asked herself if that was what had happened to Black Wolfs wife.
"I hate seeing what this place is doing to you." He indicated Midnight's grave. "Your heart is so big; that's one of the things I love about you."
Wondering if it was possible for a person to fall in love with another so soon, she took a steadying breath and looked up at him. Black Wolf belonged to the shadows; they might be all that kept him alive. In contrast, Pablo had an abundance of confidence about his surroundings.
"You're attracted to a woman who can't stop crying?" she asked in what she hoped was a teasing tone.
"That and more things than I can list tonight. I hated every minute we were apart. You were all I could think about."
"I thought about you, too. A great deal," she added.
"Positive thoughts, I trust?"
When she nodded, his smile lit up his features. "Then I couldn't be happier. There is so much of the world I want you to see. Places where you would be greeted as a princess."
"A princess?"
He chuckled. "I do business with men who would do anything they could to court my favor. They'd take one look at you and know how highly I regard you. There's nothing they wouldn't do for you. Me either."
With Pablo, she would no longer have to stand in a crowded cemetery in the middle of the night and remember that the child in the newest grave had been alive a few hours ago. Straightening, she tried to study Pablo's expression, but it was too dark for that, and if it hadn't been for his size and clothing and the way he spoke and a thousand other things, she might have believed he was Black Wolf.
Black Wolf who had killed once and might kill again and would never know material comfort or peace and maybe was destined to die a violent death.
* * *
Lucita was going to leave. Although she hadn't pledged herself to the man, Black Wolf knew it was just a matter of time before she put the mission behind her. He didn't blame her, he told himself as he squatted at the side of the new grave and pressed his palm into the fresh earth, leaving his warrior's mark to help guide the child's journey to the spirit world.
He didn't want her to ever again cry the way she had a few minutes ago.
After picking up a handful of dirt and rocks, he stood. He'd left Fox Running with his wife's sister, not because he hadn't wanted his son with him, but because a three-year-old didn't yet understand the need for silence. He could turn the boy's rearing over to Fox Running's aunt; she had already offered to raise him as one of her own. But Fox Running's smile gave Black Wolf a reason to live, and he would not allow his son to grow up with only vague memories of his father as he'd been forced to do.
When he opened his fingers, what he'd been holding rained down on the grave, and his heart ached
.
It was right that Lucita put this behind her with the man she called Pablo. Black Wolf would tell her that so she would have his wisdom to add to Pablo's entreaties. That, he tried to convince himself, was why, instead of returning to the foothills, he'd made a careful circle around the mission until he was within stone-throwing distance of where she lived. Pablo had walked her to the door but hadn't gone inside, and she had been in there long enough to have gone to bed and fallen asleep.
But if she was still awake—
The night guards were behind the church and far enough away that they couldn't have seen him even if the moon had been full, and even if they could, he would lose himself in the distance before their weapons brought him down. Still, he risked drawing attention to himself as he lifted his cupped hands to his mouth and released a long, low howl. No matter how many times he had made the sound over the years, he always gave up a little of himself and became part wolf. It was no different now.
From where he crouched he couldn't see her quarters, but his ears told him what he needed to know. In his mind he saw her step outside, look around, then head toward the sound. Maybe she wasn't the only one to hear, but it was a risk he had to take.
When she stopped, he repeated his earlier cry, so softly this time that the sound barely carried. He imagined how she would respond, maybe wanting to see him again and yet wanting this thing between them to be over. It would be, soon.
"Black Wolf," she whispered. "I can't see—where are you?"
"Here," he whispered back. "You came alone?"
"Yes." She bit off the word, threw it at him really, as she stepped around the corner. "Do you have any idea of the risk you're taking?" she asked in the soft whisper he would never forget.
"Wolf walks with me. I stand in his shadow."
"It isn't enough!" Gasping, she clamped her hand over her mouth. "How can you dismiss armed soldiers?"
"Maybe you will call them to you," he challenged.
"Never. What are you doing here? You almost—if Pablo had seen you..."
