Chapter Eighty-six
THE sudden and violent storm blew them away from the coast. Twice they passed uncomfortably close to another large ship in the same waters. Louisa stayed below, appearing only for meals. For three days they were reduced to the simplest fare of cheeses, beef jerky, stale biscuits and honey, fresh oranges and apples, and strong black coffee. Once, when she sat in the mess, Aaron came and sat directly across from her. She endured his stares in silence, successfully managing her plate of food and hot drink in spite of the unpredictable pitching and rolling of the ship. He studied her with his dark eyes, waiting for her to speak, but she had nothing to say.
They spent three nights off the coast trying to outrun the fury of the storm, at times taking terrifyingly enormous waves over the bow, in dire fear of being swamped. Louisa wondered if she would ever get to San Diego, if there was not some evil force trying to keep her from returning to her home, and to her child. Why did it seem the simplest pleasures were so hard for her to come by? Why did it seem a simple existence was always just out of reach? She was not many miles from shore, so very close to embracing her child again; but in the storm, in the danger of the open ocean, she might have been on the other side of the world.
Before Louisa could sleep on those nights, she would endure other torment. She felt longings she could easily satisfy, if she chose. But Louisa's pride overrode her desire, the voices raised in her heart and head doing shrill battle, until her body gave up in exhaustion and she slept, but without peace. Now, unbelievably, it seemed the next morning would bring her home to San Diego, and she tried to trust Captain Hansen's cheerful announcement. The night was favorable; the winds perfect. She would be in her house tomorrow! "Please, dear God!" she whispered.
Louisa's spirits were buoyed. She smiled at almost everyone during the evening meal; her only harsh glances were for her husband, the captain noted. The young husband didn't seem to notice, though his eyes were fixed on her intently.
When she retired, Aaron stared after her, exceptionally silent as the lamps were lit and the captain smoked his after-dinner pipe. There was no drawing him out in conversation, and, with only a courtesy nod in Hansen's direction, Aaron went topside and paced the deck for over an hour, taking the helm after a long discussion with the first mate, finding momentary pleasure in the task. The clear sky pleased the sailor in him, but the unfaltering course toward San Diego countered any joy he felt at the wheel. After another hour, Aaron went below, and after only a few brief words with Captain Hansen, he went straight for Louisa's cabin.
Her door was not bolted as it usually was, and he slipped inside the room undetected. Her lamp was low but not yet extinguished. Aaron watched her, smiling at the softness of her face, the innocent, almost beatific look about her. She lay on her stomach, one arm reaching above her head with fingers tangled in the flowing mass of her satin curls tossed away from her face. She slept on the far side of the bunk, her other arm seeming to reach toward him, her hand outstretched, palm open as if inviting him to join her.
Why did he torture himself this way, he asked himself. What drove him to feast his eyes on her when there was no hope of touching her again the way he wanted? But after tomorrow he might never see her again, and at least for these few minutes he could stare at her without interruption, without her hostile eyes demanding he look away. This was the reason he stood in the near-dark and watched her, or so he told himself.
Then before he realized what he was doing, he had disrobed except for his soft cotton sailor's shirt, and was gently pulling back the quilts that covered Louisa's nakedness, slowly easing his body next to hers. Still sleeping, though less soundly, she moved toward him, sighing as she felt him and his warmth.
Oh God, how he ached for her while he caressed and renewed his memories of her sweet body. He moaned in pain-tinged but joyful appreciation of the softness of her skin; her aroma; the firmness of her flesh. Her eyes were closed but she was awake, and she pressed her body into his, her voice beginning to sing its own wordless song, seeming to want just as much from him as he desired from her. He called her name and she touched him knowingly. When his mouth sought hers, she yielded passionately, opening her legs to seek and embrace him with at least as much ardor as he possessed. She welcomed his wonderfully hard body with joyfully fierce cries, seeking the same joy he did, taking wild abandoned pleasure from his body, joining him in splendid and transcendent ecstasy.
When his heartbeat had slowed, Aaron gazed at Louisa to find she was already asleep in his arms. He did not want to leave her even briefly, but quietly got out of her bed and left the cabin. He would approach her about the future in the clear, more rational morning, if the light of day did not color the shades of night too differently.
Chapter Eighty-seven
SHE woke just as the cabin door closed behind him. Louisa sat up in astonishment and swiftly rising fury, outraged and furious to think Aaron would make love to her the way he just had, and leave without a word as quickly as he could get his pants on! But it was just like the damned pirate he was, she raged to herself. He was obviously an expert at dead-of-night operations on open water. Louisa flew out of her bunk and bolted the door, pounding her fists, but no one was there to hear her. Then she threw herself into the bunk again, covering her head with pillows, screaming out her anger over Aaron's behavior, and, more especially, her own. Finally she'd had enough of him. "At last!" she screamed bitterly, and cried herself to sleep.
In the morning there was no one to bring her cool, scented cloths to soothe her eyes, no one to arrange her hair to perfection. Yet she managed to be alluring by her own hand, even though she scowled at the results. Aaron was not at the mess when she arrived, and she ate little, returning quickly to her cabin, hoping to avoid him.
She packed the last of her bags, and slipped into her heavy charcoal-gray coat, fastening the pearl buttons securely, tying her lynx hat over her curls. She took the matching fur muff and left the cabin for the last time, expecting to see the rest of the journey in the crisp November air from the windy deck of the Crystal Mae.
As she stood at the railing watching the barely familiar land very slowly come closer, Louisa stared at the landscape intently, hoping to see the Hudson compound at any moment. But she didn't concentrate so deeply that she didn't feel Aaron approach her. At first he said nothing, reaching for a stray blond curl that whipped behind her head in the wind, tucking it gently beneath her fur hat. Louisa turned her ice-cold eyes on him and looked into his, believing she found his face full of smug satisfaction. Aaron stroked her cheek softly, then held her head in his hands, reaching for her mouth with his lips, expecting her to kiss him with the same warmth and tenderness that made him not notice the very cold morning. But he found her, lips and body stiff and unyielding. "What's this reception?" he asked as if he were due better.
"The only kind you're entitled to."
Aaron frowned. "And last night?"
"Is not open for discussion," she said firmly, and turned away to look out over the ship's railing again, apparently absorbed in the rust- brown-, and greensplashed tops of seashore cliffs,
"Louisa Boyd Hudson, you're the damnedest woman on the face of the earth. What is it you want from me?" He was both puzzled and furious, having reached the end of his rope with her.
She turned flashing, spark-filled eyes on him. "I want precisely nothing more of you. I want you to leave me in San Diego, and get out of my sight, and my life, once and for all. If there is some minor thing I can do to assist your escapade from a distance, you may call on me, but otherwise, keep away. Just keep away from me!"
Aaron stared at her. "I'm of the opinion only daily beatings will make you easy to deal with. But, it occurs to me, if I were to pitch you into the ocean right now, you might behave sensibly for a few more hours. It's something that's worked well in the past."
Louisa stepped back instinctively, and Aaron reached for her, grabbing her roughly. He shook her as one might shake an unruly child, drawing her
very close when he finished. "I tell you it's a very tempting thought. But one of us has to keep his head." She felt the tremendous strength of his arms and the anger in his body, even before she heard the same emotion in his voice. "I'll keep away from you, Louisa, if that's what you want. But you and I both know it's not what you want. And all I'd have to do is lift your skirts to prove you've no more strength of character than I do. You howl at me for taking Marguerite. You refuse to listen to reason. You look down your nose at me, at my past, at my origins, but you, pretty, well-bred Louisa, have better instincts than any whore who ever spread her legs for money!"
Louisa had turned exceptionally pale, but he seemed not to notice. "You told me once, I'd never be finished with wanting you. Well, I've much the same news for you. You, my fine gentlewoman, with your perfect skin, and perfectly educated tastes and manners, you'll never be happy till you take me back into your bed. But, believe me, when that day comes―and it will, my hot-blooded gypsy bitch―it will be on my terms, I promise."
Louisa held her breath and choked back outraged tears as best she could, but the biting wind spilled them down her cheeks. "That day will never come, I swear it," she hissed when she recovered her voice.
He gave her a bitter cold smile, then released her from his grip and walked away.
Louisa stood helpless with furious tears running freely. She tried desperately to calm herself, finding herself unable to think clearly, concentrating on one object then another to find and keep her composure, until the Crystal Mae was finally anchored in the bay. Louisa didn't see Aaron again until the shore boat was lowered over the side, and Captain Hansen came for her to go ashore. Then Aaron, still dressed as a common seaman as he had been throughout the voyage, suddenly stood next to her as if nothing had happened between them, and when they landed, Luther Dobson greeted them enthusiastically. "At long last, Mrs. Hudson!"
"At long last," she cried just as emphatically, offering him her hand.
"There's a great deal of news." he whispered to Aaron. "How long will you be in port?"
"Only long enough to see Mrs. Hudson settled." Luther Dobson couldn't help but notice the way Aaron's eyes wandered over Louisa as if he were admiring her beauty for the first time. "Not long at all."
"Just be sure to see me before you pull up anchor." Aaron nodded. "Take the wagon, Mr. Hudson. I see no need for you to wait for your carriage," he added more loudly.
It was an offer Louisa hoped he'd make. ''We'll send someone for the trunks," Aaron said, helping Louisa onto the wagon seat, quickly sitting next to her, turning the horses almost before he was settled. The trip was made in silence, the horses driven with haste, and at the compound Louisa was on the ground flying into Carmen's arms even before the wagon came to rest.
Louisa was home at last.
But it wasn't quite the homecoming she had hoped for.
Carmen was just as ebullient as she'd expected, and Emma just as welcoming. But in the excitement and confusion of greetings, Rachel cried tormentedly in Louisa's arms, seeking Carmen frantically with her hands and eyes. Reluctantly and sadly, Louisa returned the screaming baby she'd longed for in the worst of her hours to Carmen. Obviously, Rachel thought Carmen was her mother.
Defeat not jealousy surged in Louisa's heart as she watched Carmen soothe Rachel's distressed cries. It seemed to Louisa that Rachel cast her especially reproachful looks as she responded to the older woman's voice and hugs. Louisa tried not to feel crushed, yet, after all that had happened since she'd left San Diego, none of the motherly words of reassurance from Emma and Carmen helped her. Rachel's natural responses only rekindled Louisa's fear that she somehow ruined everything she touched.
Aaron knew better than to interfere, watching Louisa's transparent emotions. Her desperate torment seemed to echo inside him, and he knew she cursed the day she'd left her home.
Emma had immediately greeted Aaron warmly, but he watched Emma's eyes cloud over briefly when she first saw him. He wondered if she would ever get used to the idea that a man who was her son's double was not in fact her son.
When they at last went inside the house and sat in the parlor, Louisa tried again to hold Rachel, this time with great success, and the tears that flowed this time were hers. She laughed and cried and hugged the bouncing, vigorous baby, not able to believe Rachel was really her very own. The child's black newborn hair had given way to bountiful and very blond curls, and there was a rosy glow about the very fair child to reassure her mother. Those brown, brown eyes were Aaron's without a doubt, she thought. What did she mean? Louisa was horrified by her mistake. Rachel was not Aaron's child! How could she make such an error, even at this emotional moment! She gave Aaron a slashing glance, and he wondered what thought of him had entered her mind to produce such a hateful look.
Rachel was taken by the deep pleasing sound of Aaron's voice, often glancing in his direction, staring intently at his smiling face, giving him more than a few of her happiest smiles. "Señora, you must let baby get to know her papa a little," Carmen said cheerfully, reaching for Rachel to hand her to Aaron.
Louisa forced herself to keep from offering a hot denial of Aaron's responsibility for Rachel's paternity, keeping the charade going even in this circle. Before she could refuse Carmen, Rachel was in Aaron's arms, flashing as much charm on him as her mother flashed sparks. Rachel seemed quite at ease with Aaron, and it was too much for Louisa, who quickly left the room, causing everyone to look after her. Obviously she wouldn't be missed for a quick inspection of the house, she raged, poking into every closed room, finding her old room now arranged for Rachel's convenience, and what had been Aaron's and her room waiting with a turned-down bed. "Carmen, you're more than a little wicked," Louisa said aloud in disgust, hearing the door close behind her.
"She's just assuming that all is well," Aaron said, pulling her against him. "Shall I lift your skirts and prove the point I made earlier, señora?" he said, grabbing Louisa forcefully, kissing her without giving her a chance to respond. She struggled as best she could in his grip, but it was fast and sure, and she had nowhere to go but closer to him as he crushed her against his hard body.
"You're safe for now, Mrs. Hudson," he said when he released her from his kiss, still holding her securely in his arms. "I don't have time to bed you properly, or even improperly. But I promise you, it won't be long before you're missing me. God knows I'll miss you."
"You conceited bastard! Let me go!"
"Reluctantly, Mrs. Hudson. Reluctantly!" and she found his mouth on hers again, one hand moving familiarly down her back, the other fast caressing her breasts. Her will was beginning to slip away, and she found that she had to force herself to struggle. Yet finding it was a very great effort to resist him made her anger more real, though it was fury directed more at herself than at him. When he released her she slapped his face with all of her strength, which was only sufficient to make him smile. "Hasta luego, Mrs. Hudson," he said, and left her in tears, standing in the middle of their room, her last memory of him with an amused and too knowing smile on his lips, his eyes full of mocking laughter.
Chapter Eighty-eight
AARON found it difficult to concentrate that evening. The meal had been long and heavy, the wines plentiful. The German host was a fine example of what dining at his table too often could do to one's physique. He was a short man with a barrel shape, and a booming authoritative voice. He had a painful, sometimes debilitating affliction in his spine, and always carried a heavily carved solid silver cane to assist him, if need be. He swore by the Los Angeles sunshine―"saved me from being a damned invalid," he reminded his guests from time to time, as if he were in awe of this part of his good fortune.
If he were in awe of his luck in the matter of his health, it was one of the few things in life that truly impressed him. He seemed to take all else in stride, as if it were his due. He was, in fact, a German peasant who had arrived in America like the multitude of his fellow countrymen―very poor and very eager, and willing to do whate
ver was necessary. He had long ago forgotten his origins, long ago amassed a fortune. He'd even come to California long before it was fashionable, and was quick to make more money when California exploded in the world's imagination. He invested in banking, mining, freight hauling, whole shiploads of mining and other supplies, lumbering ventures, farming, cattle and other stock. If an enterprise made money in California, Herman Brockheim seemed to have a share of it.
Very early in his adventures in California, he saw his future in the territory, then held by Mexico. He' had a sixth sense about it, he said later when his prospects turned to pure and assayable gold. He'd been shrewd enough to marry into a prominent Mexican family, securing a sizable rancho as a dowry, as well as a sizable maiden for a wife. And he considered himself lucky. The offspring he and Carlotta produced pleased his father-in-law immensely, and at this man's death the bulk of the estate fell under his German son-in-law's administration. The peasant was now a king.
And Brockheim readily saw merit in the conspirators' plans. Peter Melville appeared to take him into his full confidence, though Melville never trusted anyone to that extent. Brockheim was like his newfound comrades, a man with allegiance to himself alone, his citizenship and oaths of loyalty subject to the opportunities of circumstance. He had been a German national, then a citizen of Mexico, and was now an American citizen in very good standing, but he had no prejudice toward permanent affiliation with one country or another. He was in a way a man without a country,
It was for this reason, and others, that Melville, Carson, Aaron, and Easton were enjoying Herman Brockheim's hospitality. The private discussions after dinner were lively, the proposals expansive. The German gave them his full support, and further influenced Senator Edwin Taylor to lend an ear to the flourishing schemes.
Ford, Jessie Page 44
