by Vella Munn
"You have the weakness all women do." Sebastian's voice held no more emotion than if he'd been discussing the weather. "That's why, no matter what I said, you would never succeed as a soldier. The value you put on life will always stand between you and what must be done."
"What must be done?" she forced herself to ask.
"I swallowed my pride when I requested more troops. All around me mission commanders with no more soldiers under their command provide the padres with safety. I know what they were thinking, the way they judge. But they don't have to deal with someone like Black Wolf."
"He's just one man. He—"
"Ha! If Indians throughout California hear he killed a soldier and received no punishment, they'll lose their fear of us. There are so many of them. If they go to war—I will not be responsible for any bloodshed. I will not."
"No one would blame you."
"Wouldn't they! Listen to me, Lucita. I am a soldier; that is the only thing I am. It is my duty to vanquish my enemy, by whatever means necessary."
"I... know."
"I hope you do. And today the means..."He pointed at the cowering child. "Perhaps you know where Black Wolf is; perhaps you don't. But I have no doubt that you can, once again, contact him—if the need is great enough."
The boy stared at her, his eyes speaking of fear and defeat, but no matter how much she wanted to protect him, she didn't dare, not now.
"You're a woman, Lucita," Sebastian continued. "Weak in the ways that make a man strong. Tell me, what value do you put on this child's life?"
I would die to protect him. But if she told her father that, he'd use it to his advantage. "He is only one," she said against the lump in her throat. "He means no more and no less than the others."
An appraising look settled over Sebastian's features, and although she knew he must resent having to do so, he gave her a begrudging smile.
"A thinking answer," he said. "I would be wise never to underestimate you. However..."
His arms had been hanging at his side, but now he folded them over his chest and walked over to where Father Patricio and the boy stood. The child shrank back as far as his tether would allow.
"What are you doing?" The question escaped before she could stop it.
"You say this boy's life means no more or less than the others'. You've seen neophytes die. Didn't you bury one yesterday?"
She didn't answer.
"I understood you shed tears at that child's death. You don't want to cry again, do you?"
I hate you.
"No answer, Lucita? No matter." Taking the rope from Father Patricio, he yanked. Off balance, the child had no choice but to lean against Sebastian's side.
"Stop it! You're hurting him."
"Hurt? You don't know the meaning of the word."
She'd felt both on fire and as if she might freeze since this insane conversation with her father began. Now both sensations attacked at the same time, and it was all she could do to remain in control of her senses.
"He is an innocent! He has nothing to do with this."
"But he does, Lucita. He does."
As if to lend weight to his words, Sebastian grabbed a handful of the boy's hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. Although her father's knife remained at his side, she had no doubt of what he was capable of.
"What do you want of me?" she asked, the words the most difficult she had ever spoken.
Chapter 27
A wolf could never be taken prisoner. He'd seen it attempted once, leatherjackets wounding a juvenile and running it until the creature could no longer move. One of the men had thrown a rope over the wolf's head and then approached on foot, other ropes held ready to tie its legs. Any other wild animal would have given up, but not this one. With the last of its strength it had charged the leatherjacket, desperate teeth reaching for the man's throat, when no Chumash had ever had reason to fear a wolf attack.
The animal had died under a rain of blows as the other leatherjackets came to their fellow's defense, and Black Wolf would always believe it had sought its own death.
Today Black Wolf felt more animal than human. Trapped, not by a rope but by his inability to get any closer to the mission, he had no way of answering the questions pounding through him.
Something was wrong. Danger danced in the wind.
And his heart knew the danger was aimed at Lucita.
Three times he had attempted to approach the mission from different directions, but every one of the leatherjackets patrolled on horseback, more alert than he'd ever seen them. The neophytes continued to go about their chores although they often stopped to talk among themselves. Father Joseph was spending the-day with those preparing hides for shipment, but although Black Wolf spotted Father Patricio several times, it seemed that' the padre wasn't concerning himself with the mission's work.
Corporal Rodriguez didn't show himself until late afternoon. Then, striding with the weight and purpose of a man with much on his mind, he called one after another of his followers to him before going into his quarters.
Black Wolf saw no sign of Lucita. Once, her mother appeared at the sanctuary door and looked around, then went back inside, and although her actions puzzled him, he had no way of learning what she was doing.
As the sun began to set, he made up his mind. With the God of Night on his shoulder and Wolf in his heart, he would learn more even if uneasy teeth caused by Wolf's warnings nipped at him.
* * *
Even though her father had closed the shutters to the one window in the storeroom, enough light filtered in through the small crack that Lucita was able to take some small comfort from it. If she'd been able to see more, maybe she could distract herself by finding safe places for her mind to go.
"What do you want of me?" she had asked her father when fear for the boy Father Patricio called Yucca all but overwhelmed her. By way of answer, he'd tightened the rope around Yucca's neck, and she'd reacted like any mother animal protecting her young, but before she could attack her father, Father Patricio had grabbed her and then Pablo had burst in, ordering her released and demanding to be told what was happening.
Her father's explanation had been brief; he was determined to put an end to the danger from the Chumash, and his daughter was the key to getting his hands on Black Wolf. He was the mission's military commander and within his rights, and nothing Pablo said or did would change his course, eventually.
Maybe there was a spark of humanity in her father after all, she'd thought when he said the last; maybe he didn't hate her as much as she believed. And maybe he was willing to hold off on his plans while he worked at appeasing Pablo, whose wealth and ability to move among a great many people, some of them influential, carried weight.
Whichever it was, her father had locked her in here after informing her that he was giving her until nightfall to rethink her position. If she wasn't ready to reveal Black Wolf's location by then, he'd carry out his threat to kill Yucca.
Where was Yucca? Even with his hands tied, the boy had tried to slip away while the men were arguing, but her father had turned him back over to Father Patricio, and because she hadn't seen or spoken to anyone in the hours since then, she'd fought wave after wave of fear for the child.
And for Black Wolf.
When the bells announcing evening mass rang, she tried to distract herself by mentally placing herself inside the church, but the last time she'd been there it had been at her father's insistence. If God condoned her father's cruel treatment of Yucca, she didn't want to know, but how could it be otherwise? And how could she ever again pray to a God who allowed something like that to happen to a child?
God's will?
No!
By pressing her face against the slit between the two shutters, she was able to follow the lengthening shadows, but finally she could see nothing, not even her hand in front of her face. Her father hadn't said when he would come for her—not that that surprised her, because he wanted the waiting to tear at her. He was wi
nning that battle, might have already won if it hadn't been for Black Wolf.
Was Black Wolf no more than a man, a brave, a warrior? Yes, he had grown larger in her mind because of his spiritual belief, but even when she told herself that his belief was no different from hers and couldn't possibly make him more than he was, some small but insistent part of her refused to believe that.
Because she had seen Wolf.
That was why she hadn't yet caved into her father even though he held Yucca's life in his hands. Every emotion and nerve in her screamed to put an end to Yucca's fear and suffering, but if she did that, she would be responsible for Black Wolfs death.
Not dead! He couldn't die!
She'd just pressed her hand to her throbbing forehead when she caught the whisper of a sound beyond the shutters. After a moment, the sound came again, perhaps closer this time. Black Wolf!
No, please—please don't take the chance!
"Lucita? Lucita, can you hear me?"
Unnerved by her mother's voice, Lucita had to swallow twice before she could make herself respond. "What are you doing here?" she asked as an image of Margarita, fluttering hand at her throat, eyes wide, with too much white showing, formed in her mind.
"You are all right," Margarita whispered. "Thank God."
"God had nothing to do with this," she hissed. "Where is he?"
"He? Your father?"
"Yes, my father." She nearly choked on the word. "Is he with you?"
"No."
"Where is he?"
"Drinking. Drinking and cursing. Lucita, there is so little time. You have to hurry."
She could hear her mother's ragged breathing, knew the older woman was fighting tears and fear, wondered not if but when Margarita's courage would desert her.
"You have to leave. Otherwise..."
Otherwise my father will kill me, or force me to forfeit Black Wolf's life.
"How did you know where to look for me?"
"Pablo."
Frowning, she realized she'd given the man who'd wanted to marry her only fleeting thought during her hours of imprisonment. He wasn't part of her life, not really. Free to come and go as he pleased, she had told herself, he'd waste no time putting distance between himself and what was happening at La Purisima.
True, he had intervened today, but in his place, she would want nothing more than to turn her back on the entire experience.
"Did you hear me?" her mother asked. "I have been with Pablo."
"He told you what happened?"
"I did not want to hear. My prayers—I told him I had to pray for your soul, and for your father's soul, but he would not be silent."
Only half-understanding what her mother was saying, Lucita mentally stretched her hand through the darkness until she found the older cheek.
"Lucita?" Margarita's voice caught. "It is better I never see you again than for your father to treat you this way."
"What are you saying?"
"Pablo will take you with him. He promised that the two of you will leave tonight. You will be safe."
Leave? Free? "What about you?"
Silence, hot and alive, stretched between them. Then her mother sighed. "Your father will not harm me with his men and the padres around. He knows they will talk and his commanders might consider him incompetent; he—he would do anything to prevent that from happening. It... Pablo told me he will take all blame, that everyone will believe it was him who stole you away"
"And Sebastian can save face. Yes, that would mean a great deal to him."
"Not just a great deal," Margarita whispered. "Maybe your father will leave me here and go somewhere else. I... I think I would like that."
"You really want..."
"I... there isn't time. He knows when to stop drinking. Soon he'll—can you run?"
"Yes." In a heartbeat.
Her mother's explanation was brief. Lucita was to count to thirty. By that time Margarita would have reached the door and lifted the lumber that held it in place. All Lucita had to do was slip through the opening. If God was on their side, the noise would be minimal and they could make their way to the corral where Pablo waited with two saddled horses. But if what they were doing alerted Sebastian or any of the other soldiers—Margarita didn't finish the sentence.
After waiting through the count, which seemed to take forever, as she reached the final numbers Lucita heard wood scraping against wood and then the leather hinges protesting. Placing her shoulder against the door, she pushed and stepped forward, joining her mother. Too close to hysteria, Lucita reached for her but managed only a half-embrace before Margarita began hurrying her through the dark.
Margarita stumbled twice, nearly pulling Lucita off balance as well, but somehow they reached the corral without falling or, Lucita prayed, drawing attention to themselves. Even as she half-walked, half-ran, she struggled to comprehend what she was doing, and the reality that she had no choice.
Not if she was going to live.
Or Yucca.
Or Black Wolf.
As her mother had told her, Pablo was at the corral, rocking back and forth in what she took to be agitation. Remembering what he'd witnessed earlier today, she struggled to face him; it didn't matter that they could barely see each other.
"Do you know what you are doing?" she forced herself to ask. "If my father learns you helped free me—"
"He will, because I have no intention of keeping the truth from him," Pablo said, his voice expressionless. She sensed movement and then felt his hand brushing against the side of her neck. "In fact, if I had not been concerned that he might take his wrath out on you or others who are dear to you, I would not have offered him a quantity of liquor. Instead, I would be confronting him as we speak."
"No! You don't know his wrath."
"His wrath." Pablo laughed but kept his voice low. "He has no jurisdiction over me, and he knows about my military and business connections. Lucita, the world is far more complex than what you have experienced here. There are forces, pressures on the military—never mind. We will have ample opportunity to discuss that once we are away from here."
Away from here. "I—"
"Lucita, please. Go now."
Margarita's voice, weighted with fear, gave her something to concentrate on. "I don't want to leave you, Mother. Pablo, can't she come with us?"
"No!" Margarita gasped. "It is all right. This is where the Lord wants me to be. He will look over me."
"But if Father divorces you—"
"Divorce?" Margarita spoke the word not as if it was something vile and incomprehensible, but almost as if it had become a friend. "As long as I can serve the Lord and you are safe, nothing else matters."
"But—"
"Lucita, go."
There was no changing her mother's mind. Still, the thought of never seeing her again stripped Lucita's muscles of strength. Ignoring the restless horses and Pablo's obvious impatience, she clasped her mother to her.
Tears seeking escape pounded at her temples, but she refused to let her mother's last memory of her be that of her sobbing. Perhaps Margarita felt the same way, because although her voice was husky, she sounded in control.
"I love you," she whispered. "I will always love you. From the moment of your birth, I prayed you would share my depth of faith, but you do not."
"No, I don't," she answered truthfully.
"Open your heart and soul. That is all I ask."
She had, she nearly said, but didn't because her mother would never understand what she'd found during her search. Still embracing the woman who had given her life, she focused on Pablo. "You don't have to do this," she said.
"I want to show you the world, dear lady."
The world? She couldn't think beyond this moment, this place. "Yucca, where is he?"
"With Father Patricio, I'm sorry to say."
"No!" Afraid her outburst had carried, she clapped her hand over her mouth. "I can't leave him. I can't!"
* * *
Rocks scr
aped Black Wolf's knees and dug into the palms of his hands, but he ignored the discomfort and continued forward, careful to keep his body low to the ground. He had always wished he'd never been to this place and knew nothing about it, but tonight he was glad the mission was nearly as familiar to him as Humqaq.
His first stop had been at the infirmary, but although he'd risked detection by slipping inside, he'd seen no sign of Lucita and the woman he'd spoken to had said she hadn't seen her today. That wasn't right.
The sound of loud male voices had come from the barracks, and although he didn't take a chance on getting close to it, the shouts and laughter told him that the men, Sebastian included, were drinking.
Neither Lucita nor her mother were in their quarters; the silence told him that. He'd been about to make his way to the church when his straining ears picked up the sound of her voice but not what she was saying. Despite the night, the stars told him she wasn't alone; with her were her mother and the merchant. Slipping closer, Black Wolf saw that Pablo Portola held two saddled horses.
Two?
As he watched, Pablo grabbed Lucita's shoulders, but she silently fought him.
Without giving himself time to think, Black Wolf launched himself at the man, and they landed on the ground together. Taking advantage of the fact that the back of the man's head had struck the earth, Black Wolf yanked his knife free and pressed it against the exposed throat.
"Black Wolf, no!" Lucita stood over him.
"I will kill—"
"No!" Taut as a bowstring, she hovered over him. "Please, no."
"He would have hurt—"
"No, he wouldn't. Please, Black Wolf, Pablo is my... my friend."
"A friend does not inflict harm on another," he wanted to tell her, but her fear spoke to him.
"Let him up, please."
Two heartbeats became three and then four, but finally he did as she'd asked, not because rage didn't still hum through him, but because Lucita had asked and he couldn't refuse her. The man she'd called Pablo sat up and rubbed the back of his head. Although he was no longer touching Pablo, Black Wolf knew Lucita's "friend" had begun to tremble. Good. Fear made a man unwise in battle.
Standing so close that she could have grabbed the knife in a quick lunge, Lucita didn't acknowledge her mother, whose ragged breathing overrode every other sound.
