Three Wishes

by Lisa T. Bergren

  I swallowed hard and forced myself to look at Adalia, when she continued to speak. “The children need someone …gentler, in their lives. Doña Elena…since her husband’s and Dante’s passing …the children need love. Laughter. Joy. I see that in you,” she said tenderly, making my eyes prick with tears. “And I will see it again,” she pledged. “I look forward to our paths crossing soon. Take close care of our family in my absence.”

  I nodded, too strangled with words that longed to pour out—not so fast…I’m not so sure about that…I, uh…don’t think so…

  And her words, our family, rang in my ears.

  But I remained silent because what Adalia needed most right now was permission to leave. And somehow, some way, my arrival had given her that space. Something told me it was right. The knowledge of it was almost…holy.

  Into that circle came Javier, taking my hand briefly and then Adalia’s. He wrapped his sister-in-law into his arms. “We shall miss you, with every heartbeat,” he murmured, making me weep more. Who said such things? Especially a guy? “Know that you forever have a home with us, sister. You and Álvaro. Send word, and we’ll come for you. Arrive on our doorstep, and your rooms will be ready. We are forever your kin, as much as when Dante walked this earth alongside us.” When I saw that he was crying too, I really lost it.

  “I miss him,” he said, cradling her even closer and kissing her temple. “But I know you are doing what you must. Go, with my blessing. But sister, come back to us. Often, if you cannot come to us forever.”

  Then, seeing me crying over his sister-in-law’s shoulder, he wrapped us both into his big, warm hug. Holding on to Adalia’s hand, he turned to walk sedately over to his mother, took little Álvaro from her—a tiny replica of his uncle—kissed him on both cheeks—softly, so as not as to alarm the child—and then gently handed him to Adalia. He kept a firm arm around his mother’s shoulders and looked at his sister-in-law. “Until we see you again,” he said. “Vaya con Dios.” Go with God.

  Then he turned his mother around and led her toward our tents, with me following behind, holding Estrella and Jacinto’s hands. Mateo hovered nearby. Where was Frani? I hadn’t seen her since she was talking with that captain.

  I looked over my shoulder at Adalia, with her brother and parents gathering around her. Then, cradling her sleepy toddler, she turned and moved through groups of curious onlookers, into the dark, away from us.

  And the curious thing for me, as a girl who’d only met this family a week before…was that I felt her parting as a tearing. As surely as she and Álvaro were my own blood kin. I shook my head.

  I was just empathizing with the Venturas, wishing they didn’t have to go through this fresh pain.

  Wasn’t I?

  We were nearing our tents, Doña Elena now surrounded by friends crooning to her and offering her fresh handkerchiefs as she wept, Francesca finally arriving and leading her younger siblings away, when Mateo growled a warning to his older brother. Two black-coated soldiers joined me and Javier from either side, walking amiably beside us.

  “It’s a shame, watching your family divide,” the one I thought was named Gutierrez said. Leon’s aide? “I hope the Venturas don’t suffer any further calamities this year.”

  “Such as?” Javier asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Ranchero,” he said, his tone falsely caring. “All sorts of maladies can befall a rancho. Cattle rustlers. Kidnappers. Fires in the storehouses.”

  Javier abruptly turned to face him. “Are you threatening me, Captain?”

  The other blackcoat stood beside Gutierrez, and Mateo silently stepped up beside his brother, his hands clenching into fists. He was young but scrappy.

  “Threatening you, a Mexican loyalist?” Gutierrez said, casting him a wry smile. But his eyes held no merriment. “Why would I do that? With you running the most successful rancho in Alta California and paying your taxes…” His words fell away, as if he’d just remembered. “Oh, it slipped my mind. You haven’t paid your taxes. Let us settle up right now, shall we? It’d be terrible if we had to come to you in order to collect. No, that might require further taxation for our trouble.” His eyes swept over first Mateo and then me.

  Javier stepped between me and the captain. “I am a loyal son of Mexico. But you and your contingent do nothing but damage our nation’s reputation. You skim from shipments bound toward the ranchos and call it further ‘taxes.’ You do nothing to chase down pirates that prowl the waters of your citizens. You allow the presidio to fall into disrepair. You build neither piers nor storehouses of your own, taking cattle and goats and fruit from us as if you are holy men in need, not soldiers, paid agents of our country. You are leeches,” he finished, leaning toward the captain. “So that is why I am tardy with my taxes, because I am reluctant to hand a leech a bowl of blood.”

  Gutierrez didn’t flinch, but I saw his hand tighten around the hilt of his sword, as did the other man’s. Javier and Mateo were unarmed. “I’d be careful, Don Javier, if I were you. Your girl attacked one of our soldiers. We have just cause to take her into custody. And if we do not have your gold this very night, we shall do that and pay your rancho that visit.” He seemed to remember himself and straightened, smoothing down his coat. “It is our duty to take an equal share of their profits from every citizen. It would not be fair to your neighbors if I collected their taxes and not yours, would it?”

  “No,” Javier said. “It would not be equitable. But how do I know that my gold will actually go to the capital, rather than line each of your pockets?” He crossed his arms and eyed the others.

  Gutierrez gave him a small smile. “You must trust us, as fellow loyalists,” he said, lifting his hands. “Unless you are no longer truly a loyalist.” His eyes narrowed and turned toward me. “Perhaps your reluctance to pay is due to this mysterious girl’s presence, and why she behaved so inappropriately with the lieutenant? Is she truly a spy, Don Ventura, bent on sowing seeds of division among our peace-loving people?” He reached for me, and I shied away, clenching my fists. He smirked at me and turned back to Javier. “Perhaps we do need to take her into custody and question her thoroughly. Patricio Casales, too, as well as others in this gathering. It seems a shame to put a damper on the festivities, but…”

  Javier’s jaw muscles tensed, and he swallowed hard. “Come with me,” he spat out and strode away. The two blackcoats followed behind him, sharing a triumphant glance, and Mateo took my arm as we trailed after them. I glanced at the younger teen, grateful. It was clear to me that being taken into custody by the soldiers would be very bad indeed. A shiver ran down my back, thinking of being locked in a cell with jackals like these holding the keys…

  We followed them straight to a Ventura wagon, still loaded with barrels and crates of food, a guard sitting on either end holding a musket. Javier threw back a blanket, pushed aside a crate, and lifted out a small, heavy chest about the size of a football.

  He set it on the open end of the wagon’s gate and lifted the lid. “I assume that our taxes, now paid in full, will make your lieutenant more mindful of his actions in the future, and I trust that none of you shall further press me, Señorita Ruiz, Señor Casales—nor any of my family.”

  Gutierrez and the other soldier crowded in, glee in their eyes. The captain reached in and took a handful of heavy, golden coins and let them fall back to the pile beneath with a satisfying metallic sound. He grinned. “I believe that will be true,” he said, snapping the lid shut and sliding the lock into place. He lifted the chest and handed it to the other man. “Good evening, Don Javier, Mateo—Señorita,” he said with a cordial bow. “We wish you a safe journey home.”

  They left us then, and I went to Javier and wrapped my hand around the crook of his elbow, wanting to give him some comfort. It had clearly burned him to hand over that money. “Is it not simply part of living here, Javier? A necessary evil?”

  He shook his head and then rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “A necessary evil. That i
s a good way to put it.” He gave me a rueful smile. “And at least I do not need to deal with that particular evil for another year.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I’d thought that after all that had happened, Doña Elena would forget that she ever wanted to take me to the beach and see where I’d found the lamp. I prayed about it all the way home, over the two days it took us to make the trek back to Rancho Ventura, and every time I felt her inquisitive gaze upon me. I thought that, with all that had transpired…with the grief over Adalia and little Álvaro, with the heady joy of the rodeo…there’d be plenty to occupy her mind, other than me.

  But it was as if glimpsing her own stretch of coastline had reminded the older woman of the task. I happened to be riding near her, and she edged her mare closer to me. “Soon, my girl. Soon you must take me to where Javier discovered you and tell me what you can remember.”

  “Oh, certainly,” I said, as if I had no qualms about it at all. But inwardly, I cringed. Clearly she just wanted to make sure I wasn’t a spy. Having that British captain show up at the charreada, plus Gutierrez tossing out the suggestion, seemed to stir up anti-American sentiment all over again for the loyalists. But really…what exactly did she or anyone else think I could accomplish here at the ranch? What would a spy even do in this day and age? Report on the number of cattle? Trade rates? Would that really be worthwhile? But even Javier had worried about it…

  Javier.

  I sighed, admitting it to myself. She saw what everyone else did…Javier and me getting closer, day by day. And as much as this Mexican mama had declared I might be the perfect bride for him, she obviously wanted to make sure I was as perfect as she had hoped.

  That night, I was so road-weary, I fell into bed, sure I’d be asleep before my head hit the pillow. But thoughts of Doña Elena, Javier, our kiss, the gold coins he’d had to pay in taxes…all of it swirled in my mind until I finally sat up again.

  Javier had been gone since we arrived home, apparently seeing to rancho business, the storehouse by the harbor—I wasn’t sure what all he was up to. But I hadn’t seen him for hours. He had helped me to dismount, asked me if my legs were numb with a teasing smile, and then he was off. And throughout those hours I’d missed him.

  Missed him.

  I frowned at that thought. I shouldn’t have ever let him kiss me. He was in my head, weaving his way into my heart, far too quickly. And it would just make it all the harder when it was time for me to leave this place. I didn’t need some crazy-hot, tall, Mexican man in my head as The One when I got back. Who was ever going to live up to him, back in the twenty-first century? I rubbed my face.

  It didn’t matter. I was going back for me, to accomplish my dreams. I would find my way to school and through it. Become somebody. Establish a career with my own income, my own house, a wardrobe—yeah, a news station would probably give me a stipend for clothes so I’d look decent on camera. I’d have adventure, and eventually fall in love—I swallowed hard, shoving Javier out of my mind again—and family.

  It would all come together. I was not even eighteen yet. I had time to find love again. Lots of time. It didn’t all have to happen here, back in 1840, where there weren’t equal rights for girls, or modern medicine that could save a man after a rodeo accident, or even a decent road, for that matter. I winced and rubbed my lower back, still so sore after our long ride.

  The house seemed deadly still, and I thought I might go fetch a mug of too-thick milk and play a little guitar to get my mind off everything. I threw on my brown dress and padded down the hall and stairs, but a light in the library drew me.

  It was Mateo, looking startlingly like his older brother for a moment, in the solitary, low light of a single candle.

  “You couldn’t sleep either?” I said, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

  He looked up at me, startled. He’d been playing solitaire at the big desk. “No,” he said. “I wanted to go with Javier to the harbor, but he refused.” I walked closer, and observed the frustration in every play of his cards.

  “You can put your red eight on the nine,” I said, pointing.

  He nodded and made the move, then two others.

  “Why wouldn’t Javier take you?”

  “He said I was too young. That he was to play cards, and I wasn’t yet of age.”

  “To play cards?” I asked, gesturing toward his game of solitaire.

  He paused as I sat down across from him. “To play poker. The trouble is that when he was my age, he played. He and Dante learned about the same time. But my brother…He treats me as if I am still but a boy. Too young to learn. As if I am Jacinto’s age!”

  I swallowed hard, determined not to smile. He was a boy, but I could see why he’d be frustrated, because while he was only as old as a freshman, he behaved more like a senior, in my day. They just grew up faster, back in the 1800s, I decided. “Javier was away for a time,” I said. “He hasn’t yet had much of a chance to see you as a man.”

  “He hasn’t given me the chance,” Mateo said, slapping down his hand in frustration when he got stuck for good, and he rubbed his head in irritation. The guy was such a gentle sort, I knew that he was really worked up.

  “So…what if I taught you how to play?” I asked, gathering the cards together.

  It was his turn to gape at me in surprise. “You play?”

  “A little,” I said, cutting the deck, shuffling, and then using a bridge to neatly fold them back together like some sort of Vegas cardsharp—a trick my abuela had taught me. I shuffled again.

  “Yes. I’d be most grateful,” he said, eyes wide with hope and surprise.

  And so we began. I taught him about pairs, and three-of-a-kind, full houses and straights. About how to watch what others picked up and discarded, making calculations about the odds of having this or that. “You’ll be good about keeping a poker face,” I said, as we started our fifth round. “You’re a quiet sort, so use that, not betraying if your hand is good or bad. And watch for it in others—but be aware that they may be bluffing, making you think what they have is good or bad. Watch them, learn their ‘tells’—things about the way they move their fingers, their lips, their eyes, before you’re even playing cards with them.”

  By the seventh hand, he’d won, fair and square. By the tenth, he had won two more. I smiled at him and shook my head, yawning. “There it is…the fruits of your poker face and a keen mind. You didn’t need a teacher. You only needed the opportunity to play.”

  “Thank you,” he said, with a pleased little smile, “for giving me one.”

  “Of course,” I said, rising. “Now, I think I can sleep. And you?”

  “Yes.” He gathered the worn cards together and placed them in a wooden box, beside another deck. “Will you teach me how do that thing while shuffling, sometime?”

  “The bridge?” I asked. “Of course. By the time Javier finally gives you a chance to play, he won’t recognize his baby brother.”

  He grinned at that, and we turned to go—just as Javier was coming through the front door. He looked up at us in surprise, took off his hat, hung it on a peg, and his cape beneath it. “You two are up rather late,” he said, obviously waiting for an explanation.

  “Yes,” Mateo said, turning to follow me up the stairs. “I’m not as young as I used to be, brother.”

  “We’ll see if you say that tomorrow when it’s time to rise and see to your studies,” Javier said. But his eyes were on me, clearly wishing I’d stay behind.

  Instead, I hurried up several more stairs, widening our distance. I didn’t need time with him. I needed to steer clear of him, because the more time we spent together, the harder our separation would be. And if we found ourselves alone…and he kissed me again…No, I’d let things go too far.

  And soon, I’d have to set it all straight.

  The next day, as soon as breakfast was done and Javier and the latest guests headed toward Bonita Harbor, Doña Elena requested a stable boy bring around two saddled horses and c
alled for two armed men to accompany us on our ride. “Request that Hector and Ignacio attend us.” Her eyes moved to me. “My dear, are you ready?”

  I nodded. Perhaps if I had this conversation with her at last, she could help me convince Javier to let me have my lamp back. To try and get back to my own time. Panic was building in my chest, as day by day these people were weaving me more deeply into their lives, making me forget where—and when—I truly belonged. Even last night, with Matteo, had made me feel more at home!

  “May we go with you, Mamá?” Estrella asked eagerly, the first note of hope in her tone I’d heard since seeing her baby cousin depart.

  “No, my dear. You and Francesca must stay here and see to your correspondence; there is much that requires your attention after our absence.”

  “But Mamá,” the girl said, “that will only take—”

  “This is a ride that Señorita Ruiz and I must take on our own,” the grand lady replied firmly.

  Estrella clamped her lips shut, saying nothing more, although her big brown eyes radiated disappointment. Francesca, standing behind her, had a measure of resentment in her eyes. But Doña Elena, ignoring them, turned toward the doorway and looked to me. “Come, my dear. Let us change into our riding habits. We shall meet momentarily in the front hall, yes? It’s a pretty day for a ride.”

  “Yes, yes,” I mumbled, barely glancing to the window. My breakfast roiled in my stomach. How was I supposed to deal with this formidable woman? Tell her enough truth to satisfy whatever curiosity was driving her, and yet not too much?

  Upstairs, Maria was waiting on me, with items of clothing splayed across the bed behind her: the freshly washed, ruby colored, long-sleeved fitted coat; long skirt; and tiny top hat with veil. She had the cursed corset back in her hands. “Forgive me, Señorita,” she said, glancing aside in embarrassment.

  Yeah, yeah. I sighed and reached for the top button on my brown day dress. I’d made it all the way to Santa Barbara and back in the cursed riding habit and corset—what would one more day be? Maria swiftly saw to the other buttons, I slipped it off, and she wrapped the corset around my chest and belly. In seconds, it seemed, she had it laced up the back again, like an old…friend.