Renegade Love (Rancheros)

by Fletcher, Donna

  Chapter Two

  Rosa was frightened. Usually, she kept fear at bay. The last time she could recall the bone-chilling feeling was when she had been twelve and had watched her parents’ plain wooden coffins being lowered slowly into the ground to rest atop each other. She hadn’t known what would become of her then. Her small hand had clung tenaciously to Teresa, her mother’s best friend. Her eyes had been swollen from crying. Fear had caused her to shiver uncontrollably. There was no one left to take care of her... no one left to love her.

  That same helpless emotion now attacked her full force. It started as a small tingle of alarm as soon as she had spied Don Alejandro’s elegant carriage in front of the adobe ranch house where she lived with Roberto and Lola Curro.

  Rosa managed to convince herself that Don Alejandro was merely here to do business with Roberto, perhaps arranging the purchase of a horse. But when she attempted to enter the three room house Lola had quickly ushered her away with a strong shove, informing her that Roberto was discussing an extremely important matter with Don Alejandro and she was to wait outside until summoned.

  Every minute that crawled by escalated Rosa’s concerns. She stood braced against the cool adobe wall in the back of the house, hoping to catch at least snatches of conversation. She heard only whispers, and the hushed, secretive voices sounded even more foreboding to her ears.

  “What are you doing lolling about,” Lola barked, moving her heavy bulk slowly through the open doorway.

  Rosa moved away in haste from the woman. Too often she had felt the sting of her large hand as well as her harsh words of criticism.

  Lola shook her head, her eyes narrowed with disgust. “Lazy that’s what you are. You never work hard enough. You—” She stopped abruptly and smiled while wiping at an egg stain, left from the morning meal, on her white blouse.

  It was a strange almost dismissive gesture as though in brushing off the offending stain, she was brushing away Rosa.

  Rosa shivered to the tips of her small toes.

  In a more gentle tone than Rosa thought possible, Lola ordered her to prepare green beans for supper, then wash up and change into her church clothes and wait in the cookhouse until summoned.

  “Be quick about it,” Lola snapped in her usual waspish tongue. “I’ll make sure you work hard, as you should, until the very end.”

  Lola turned in haste bumping her ample shoulder against the door frame, and cursed it and Rosa, as she entered the house.

  Rosa had had a mind to ask until the end of what. But she would have only received a slap to the head for being inquisitive. So she had reluctantly, though wisely, held her tongue. Besides, she had a sinking feeling that she truly wouldn’t want to know.

  It was an hour later that Rosa was summoned by a smug Lola to the front room that was kept strictly for business visitors.

  Don Alejandro’s generous smile did little to alleviate her apprehension. And Roberto’s gruff voice and manner only added to her nervousness.

  “Come over here, nina. Now!” Roberto ordered sternly.

  Rosa obeyed without question, fearful of the leather strap he often used on her without compunction. Several fading bruises on her arms and hips attested to the fact. She approached him slowly and stopped a safe distance from his reach.

  “She may be small, but she’s strong,” Roberto boasted.

  “And lazy,” Lola added, “it’s a heavy hand you’ll need with her.”

  Rosa, for an instant felt a fleeting sense of relief, thinking that Don Alejandro was purchasing her services for his hacienda, but Roberto’s next words quickly squashed that hope.

  “Her husband will decide how heavier a hand he will use on her. And she will obey him as she does me. She is trained well, Don Alejandro.”

  Don Alejandro nodded, well aware that Roberto intended for this arrangement to succeed. Alejandro had no intentions of losing Rosa as a bride-to-be for his son. He would have paid any price Roberto had asked. He had actually thought Roberto had settled for far too little for the sweet-natured, young girl.

  Don Alejandro turned his attention to Rosa and smiled, hoping to ease her obvious apprehension. “I’m certain that Rosa will do fine, though I would like to discuss the arrangement with her.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Roberto argued and shifted his weight uneasily in the wooden chair. “She will do as she is told. She has no say in the matter.”

  Don Alejandro’s posture grew rigid. He was an imposing figure with his silver hair and intense dark eyes. “I wish for Rosa to understand the circumstances and the arrangement.”

  Roberto was no fool and was already spending, in his head, the large sum of money he was getting for the puny, useless girl. “As you wish, Don Alejandro.”

  Alejandro crossed his arms and relaxed back in the chair, then nodded for Roberto to proceed.

  “Rosa,” Roberto said his tone stern. “I have arranged a most generous marriage for you. In two weeks, you will wed Don Alejandro’s son Esteban.”

  Rosa stood in shocked silence. She had remained quiet, as proper, listening to their exchange and assuming the worse, and she had been right. Marinda’s words drifted back to haunt her.

  You have looked upon evil and now you will pay.

  She recalled Esteban’s dark, brooding eyes that had felt as if they reached down deep into her soul and tainted it. How could she marry such a man? The villagers whispered his name, they feared him so. The women blessed themselves and hid their daughters when he was near. She could not marry this man—this heartless soul—she couldn’t.

  Her words stuck in her dry throat and when she finally managed to speak, her voice sounded odd to her own ears. “Two weeks? But there will not be enough time for the banns to be read in the church.”

  Don Alejandro stood and slipped his arm around her, so worried was he that she would faint. All color had drained from her lovely face and her hands trembled even though she held them folded together. He directed her to a chair beside his and sat her down before sitting himself. “I have arranged everything with the church, and my wife is already busy planning the wedding festivities.”

  Rosa looked with desperation into the older man’s eyes. She wanted to scream out her refusal to wed Esteban Cesare. But it would do little good. Roberto held the power to sign her over into marriage to whomever he wished, and there was no one who would pay near as handsomely for her as Don Alejandro.

  Alejandro patted Rosa’s folded hands. “You will be happy at the hacienda. Life will be easy there for you.”

  Rosa nodded slowly, knowing with each reluctant nod her fate was sealed. Don Alejandro had not said she’d be happy with his son, only that she’d be happy at the hacienda and that thought sent a shiver of fear through her.

  “Roberto,” Don Alejandro said, turning to the large man. “You and your wife will bring Rosa to the hacienda this evening for supper.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Roberto said with a huge grin and a puffed out chest.

  Rosa shuddered and Alejandro once again patted her hands, but offered no words of comfort. What words could he offer her? He had no idea how Esteban would treat her, and he prayed most fervently that his decision to arrange this marriage had been the right one.

  ~~~

  “You what?” Esteban yelled at his father.

  “I’ve arranged a marriage between you and Rosalita Mendez,” Alejandro repeated calmly, although his heart raced at an alarming rate.

  Esteban paced in front of his father’s wide desk, glad that it separated them from each other, for he had an uncontrollable urge to reach out and strangle him. “I have told you repeatedly that I would not marry—and yet—you arrange a marriage against my wishes?”

  “I do not need your permission,” Alejandro reminded him.

  Esteban stopped pacing. “I take orders from no man, Father.”

  Alejandro lowered his head a fraction in defeat, though he had no intentions to surrender. He rubbed at his forehead, hoping to ease the thr
obbing pain, and his voice muffled as he spoke, “You have a duty, my son. You must marry and produce an heir so the Cesare name and land will continue to prosper.”

  It was partially the truth, though what Alejandro prayed for most was that Rosa would help restore Esteban to his old self, erase his hurtful past and that they would share a happy life together. His son deserved it after all the suffering he had been made to endure.

  Esteban braced his hands flat upon the desk and leaned forward toward his father. “Believe me, Father, when I tell you that no good would come of this marriage. You do the innocent girl an injustice by forcing her upon me.”

  “Rosa seems pleased with the arrangement,” Alejandro lied and silently offered a quick prayer of contrition.

  Esteban stood straight. “Why?”

  Alejandro scrunched his brow confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Why should she agree to marry me in only two weeks? Does she need a husband?”

  Alejandro caught his son’s insinuation immediately. “Rosa is a good girl as I have told you. There is no need for her to marry quickly. Why I doubt she has ever been kissed.”

  Esteban found his blood racing at the idea of one so innocent. To taste such purity would be a mistake. It would only leave an insatiable appetite for more and once started he would not stop, and then—she would be innocent no more—and by the time he was done... she would be full of sin.

  “Find another woman, Father, she will not do.”

  Esteban’s calm response puzzled Alejandro. “I cannot do that. The papers have been signed and the money paid. She will be shamed if you back out of the arrangement.”

  “Better shamed than to spend the rest of her life in hell,” Esteban spat.

  Alejandro’s expression betrayed the sadness he felt for his son. Why did he insist on torturing himself over the past? It was over and finished. Nothing could be done about it.

  Esteban casually lowered himself to the wooden chair a few feet in front of his father’s desk. “How many fathers in the valley have turned down your offer of marriage before you were forced to turn to the peasants?”

  Alejandro cleared his throat. “Let me think on that.”

  “There’s no need to think, Father. You know the answer, but allow me to remind you. Every hacienda that has a daughter of marriageable age turned you down.”

  “Rosa is the best choice anyway,” Alejandro defended.

  Esteban loosened the restricting tie at his throat. He hated wearing it and the memories of confinement it brought him. “She is the only choice... is she not?”

  Alejandro stared at his son, watching as his long fingers spread the stark white material of his shirt away from his neck. He recalled Esteban’s words when he first returned to the hacienda. They were meant to shock, but they hurt Alejandro much more than his son would ever know.

  A rope was kept around my neck for Pacquito to lead me around like a captured animal.

  “Are you listening, Father?”

  Alejandro shook away the heartbreaking image of his young son’s suffering. “I’m listening and yes, she is the only one, but the best one and that is no lie.”

  Esteban stood and stared at his father, his dark eyes disquieting in their blank stare and his sharp angled features boldly handsome as he spoke in defiance. “I will not marry her.”

  “Perhaps if you meet her you will change your mind,” the soft voice suggested from behind.

  Esteban turned to find his mother, Valerianna entering the room. Her beauty never failed to touch his heart. She looked almost as she did fourteen years ago. Only a few lines and wrinkles touched her face, though didn’t distract from her attractiveness and her dark hair bore not a trace of gray. Her figure was still trim and fit, her stance regal, making her appear taller than her six inches over five feet. He loved her dearly and that was why he found it so difficult being around her. She was a lady and he was no longer a gentleman.

  “It matters not, Mother, I will not marry her,” Esteban said and walked away from her to stand behind the desk near the window.

  Dona Valerianna’s smile turned sad and Alejandro’s heart went out to her. She had tried so hard since their son’s return to recapture the closeness they had once shared. But Esteban had rebuffed all attempts. And his obvious rejection had cut deeply.

  “I think this marriage would be good for the both of you,” Dona Valerianna said, bringing a smile to her husband’s lips. He loved her stubborn nature and was glad the years hadn’t diminished it.

  Esteban looked from one to the other. “I will not marry. And tell me have you arranged for a marriage for my sister as well.” His sister, Crista, had been only two years old when he had been captured. He hadn’t been surprised to learn that she had been sent to Spain when she was ten to be educated, though what she would be taught in a Spanish convent would do her little good here.

  “Crista has been schooled well and will do her duty when the time comes,” Alejandro said. “And I will do my duty as a father and see her wed to a good man as I see you wed to a good woman. Now, I have signed the papers. You are committed to this marriage.” Alejandro looked to his wife for support.

  “He’s right, Esteban. It is done. The arrangements have been made. You will wed Rosa Mendez here on Saturday, out in the garden, the ceremony to be performed by Padre Marten.”

  Alejandro took a deep breathe to deliver the final blow. “You will be introduced to her and her guardians this evening. They are joining us for supper.”

  Esteban’s portentous glare pinned first his father and then his mother to where they sat and sent shivers through them. He walked from the room without uttering a word, his silence being far more potent than words.

  Dona Valerianna dropped her head until her chin almost touched her chest. She brought her slim fingers up to her mouth to help hold back the choked sobs caught in her throat.

  Alejandro hurried to his wife’s side. He took her hands in his and lifted her chin. The unshed tears pooling in her eyes tore at his heart. “Do not worry, my dear. This marriage is right for him. I know it. I can feel it in my heart. Rosa will be good for him.

  Dona Valerianna’s smile was weak and her words barely a whisper, “But will he be good for her?”

  ~~~

  The swinging strap caught Rosa’s arm and she winced as she braced herself not to fall.

  “I told you to wear your hair up like a proper engaged woman should,” Roberto screamed, his face red with fury. “You look the whore with your hair loose and free. Now pin it up and back and behave as you should. I will not be shamed by your thoughtless actions tonight.”

  Lola added her own rebuke. “And that dress looks shabby, though I suppose it must do. You can’t wear your church clothes, the blue skirt and white blouse are too plain for such a grand occasion.”

  Rosa rubbed her arm and felt the welt already beginning to rise beneath the lace of the pale blue dress she wore. I’ll see to my hair.”

  “And make it quick,” Lola snapped. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Rosa went to her room, a small shack behind the house. She was close to tears, uncertain if it was from the Curro’s cruelty or the ordeal she was about to face. The dress had belonged to her mother, and although the lace had faded to the palest of blues, Rosa always thought of it as lovely. It hugged her small frame perfectly, accenting her large breasts and trim waist. The lace ran high up over her chest to cup her throat and ran down her arms to fall gracefully along the back of her hand in a series of graduated ruffles.

  Her mother had worn it for special occasions and her appearance would always bring a broad smile to her father’s face. She brushed at the few tears that spilled from her eyes. Now was not the time to lose control. She needed her wits about her tonight.

  She combed her hair back, twisting it up, and secured it tightly in the back with two dark combs. The severe effect of the style brought out her innocence and natural beauty, highlighting her flushed cheeks, damp eyes, and generous lips
tainted a soft pink from the berries she loved to eat as she picked them.

  She was ready. She could delay no longer the night’s event rushing to meet her. She glanced at the wooden cross hanging on the wall above the chest that held her few meager possessions and blessed herself, bringing her folded fingers to her lips as she prayed, “Please, Madre, please help me.”

  Chapter Three

  “Perhaps you should finish dressing,” Dona Valerianna suggested to her son. “The Curros and Rosalita will be here shortly.”

  Esteban swirled the dark red wine in the crystal glass he held firmly in his right hand. He kept his eyes on the swirling liquid as he answered his mother. “I am dressed.”

  Dona Valerianna sent her husband, impeccably outfitted in dusty gray, a pleading look. He shook his head and frowned, a signal that advised her not to pursue the matter.

  “If my appearance shames you, I can beg to be excused for the evening,” Esteban said well aware of the silent exchange that had passed between his parents.

  Dona Valerianna was conciliatory. “No, not at all. Your attire is adequate.”

  Esteban raised his glass in a salute. “Thank you, Mother.”

  Dona Valerianna attempted a smile, though not successfully. It barely reached her lips before disappearing.

  Alejandro swallowed the remainder of his wine and poured another. This was going to be a difficult evening. Even though Esteban looked splendid in his black, tight-fitting pants and bolero jacket, his white linen shirt remained open at the throat, an obvious impropriety and one Esteban had no intentions of correcting. And if either Alejandro or Valerianna pursued the matter, Esteban would take his leave.

  Alejandro hoped that his son’s improper behavior would not be the center of village gossip the next day, though knowing the Curros, he held little doubt that their tongues would remain silent.

  “Excuse me, Don Alejandro, the guests have arrived,” Dolores, the Cesare’s longtime housekeeper announced from the doorway.

  Esteban remembered Dolores well, and though she had aged and grown a bit plumper, she still wore her usual vibrant smile and delicious scents still clung to her. He had visited her often in the kitchen when he was young and she would always have his favorite sweet treat ready for him. He had not visited her there since his return, but she had not forgotten his penchant for sweet cakes and cookies. Every night when he returned to his quarters a plate of his favorite sweet treats waited on the table beside his bed. And he was more appreciative of her thoughtful gesture than she would ever know.