by Connie Mason
2
San Francisco—September 1851
Julie stood on the deck of the Westwind as it pulled slowly into San Francisco Bay, maneuvering carefully around the deserted ships that littered the bay. She had been told by Captain Langford that during the year more than eight-hundred of the vessels that had been anchored in the cove were abandoned by their crews who had jumped ship to join the gold rush. It was an eerie sight to see the empty hulks bobbing up and down, waves slapping against their hulls.
From her vantage point on deck, Julie could see a filthy clutter of small, crude buildings sprawled haphazardly along deeply rutted roads. It was not exactly what she had expected. Even Polly, standing next to Julie, appeared dismayed. They had assumed that San Francisco was a thriving city, but from what they could make out it was little more than a sprawling, overgrown slum.
It was several hours later before the thirty young ladies, led by a beaming Julius Goddard and his pleasant wife, disembarked. The group walked sedately through crowded streets to a hostel type hotel where they would be housed until the next day when they met their husbands for the first time. Their trunks were to follow in a horse-drawn wagon.
People of every nationality crowded about the area: Englishmen, Irishmen, Spaniards, Frenchmen, and even Chinese and Negroes. Raised voices proclaimed loudly in every language imaginable. Never had Julie seen so many Chinese gathered in one place. Their shiny black hair was nearly as long as long as hers, hanging in neat queues down their backs. Their colorful robes nearly hid their yellowish skins and their dark eyes slanted upwards. She almost burst out laughing at the odd little hats perched atop their heads. Many of the Chinese carried passengers in two-wheeled vehicles Mr. Goddard called “rickshaws.”
Julie was dismayed by the hordes of grimy, unshaven men filling the streets. It seemed like thousands of would-be miners had come to San Francisco too late to get rich and now roamed about listlessly, their dreams of riches shattered, their money depleted. Julie could not help but wonder if her father was among those broken men camped in tents where no buildings had been erected.
As they passed by, Julie could hear many of these men hawking their supplies along the roadside. Tin pans went for the amazing sum of five dollars or more, shovels for ten or twelve. The entire scene was like something out of a bad dream.
Soon Julie was forced to focus her full attention on keeping her feet on the wooden sidewalk skirting both sides of the street lest she slip and find herself devoured by a sea of mud. Julie and Polly stayed close and managed to get beds next to each other. The rest of the day was spent making themselves presentable for their presentation the next day and selecting their wardrobes for the all important meeting with their bridegrooms.
Julie chose her best dress that really wasn’t very new but one she knew flattered her slim-waisted figure and golden coloring. The blue of the full-skirted dress nearly matched her eyes. The tight-fitting bodice with insets of beige lace buttoned demurely to her throat, the cut accentuating the high, upthrust tilt of perfectly proportioned breasts. Long sleeves hugged well-shaped, slender arms ending with a froth of lace at Julie’s delicate wrists. Aunt Lavinia’s velvet-lined cape added an elegant touch that pleased Julie.
To set off her cloud of black hair Polly chose a pale yellow confection sprigged with green embroidered flowers to match her eyes. A square neckline and high waist outlined and defined her trim figure. Neither girl owned a decent bonnet so they opted to go hatless, letting their hair serve as their crowning glory.
The next day when they nervously approached the large building hastily constructed of raw, untreated wood where they were to meet their future husbands, neither Julie nor Polly were prepared for the huge mass of cheering, shoving men of all types and description that awaited them. Not only was the street outside the building teeming with humanity but inside Julie thought she would suffocate as the jostling crowd made way for the nearly terrified women.
The thirty hapless girls were led to a low platform while Mr. Goddard tried unsuccessfully to quiet the whooping men aroused by the sight of so many attractive women. That only thirty of them were destined to become husbands mattered little. What did matter was that these particular women chose to journey thousands of miles, braving all sorts of dangers, to become wives in a land populated mostly by men. Where these brave women ventured, others were bound to follow. Finally, Mr. Goddard managed to subdue the noisy crowd and the serious business of matching husbands and wives began.
What first attracted Rod to the building was the mob scene being enacted in the immediate vicinity. He had just returned from an exhausting trip to Monterey and wanted nothing more than to relax in a hot bath and sleep the clock around. Luckily, this was his last trip to San Francisco for awhile and then he could return home to Rancho Delgado where Elena awaited him. Their wedding could no longer be put off. His marriage to Elena Montoya, arranged by their respective fathers when they were children, must finally come to pass despite the fact that Rod had managed to postpone the long awaited event for several years. But finally Elena had grown impatient. And when his father, Don Diego, invited Elena to live at his rancho while her father and mother visited Spain, Rod knew the time for procrastination had ended. On his return to San Luis Obispo he and Elena would become man and wife in accordance with his father’s wishes.
It was almost with a feeling of destiny fulfilled that Rod approached the building and fought his way inside. The moment he spied the young ladies standing on the platform he knew exactly what was taking place. Stealthily he slid his hand inside the pocket of his leather vest and touched the folded sheet of paper he had completely forgotten about during his trying week of confronting bureaucratic courts, shyster lawyers and judges inclined to overlook the claims of proud Castilian landowners whose land lay mostly along the El Camino Real.
Since the Land Act of 1851 in which Rancheros must prove ownership of family lands and where sizes were reduced in most of the original holdings, Rod and his father had been working tirelessly to obtain the proper documents to define boundries of lands alloted to them long years past. It had taken months to gather accurate documentation of their vast holdings, nearly 70,000 acres surrounding San Louis Obispo, but finally Rod had taken everything to Monterey this past week to present before the courts. Anti-Mexican sentiment ran high, legal fees exorbitant, venal judges on the side of the would-be land grabbers. But Don Diego, with the help of his son, had emerged victorious after great personal cost of both time and money. The Delgado holdings once again belonged exclusively to the Delgado family and they were free to rid themselves of the squatters who had settled like leeches upon their land. It is no wonder that Rod had forgotten about the poker game and the ultimate prize he had won.
Making his way to a relatively deserted corner, Rod leaned his long frame into the wall and coolly surveyed his surroundings. Time and again his penetrating dark eyes were inexplicably drawn to the platform displaying the blushing brides-to-be. The proceedings had already begun and nearly ten young ladies had been matched to their mates and were in an adjoining room waiting their turn before the preacher. Scrupulously honest and concerned for his young charges’ welfare, one of Mr. Goddard’s stipulations was that the couples would be married immediately, before they even left the premises. Only then would he consider his duty discharged.
One by one the ranks of the young brides were diminished until only five remained. Of the women being triumphantly claimed only two held any interest for Rod. One was a dark-haired girl dressed in yellow and the other a vision of loveliness in blue with a mass of honey-colored hair tumbling down her back in a riot of artless curls. The next number was called and the dark-haired girl gave a squeal, hugged the blond beauty beside her and stepped forward. Rod could not help but note the fear visible in the startling blue eyes of the blond and felt a twinge of pity for her. In his estimation she was far too fine to waste herself on one of the crude miners flocking into San Francisco seeking riches that for most would never
materialize.
To Julie the waiting was worse than anything she had ever experienced. Watching the disreputable-looking men surrounding the platform made her wonder what she had gotten herself into and she wished she had not listened to Polly those six long months ago. The one redeeming feature of this whole fiasco was the hope that one day she would find her father. Could he be somewhere in the crowd? she wondered, glancing about the room with renewed interest.
The tall, dark man was so different from the rest of the men in the crowded room that Julie’s eyes were drawn to him immediately. He seemed totally out of place, almost bored with the proceedings, which made Julie curious as to his presence here in the first place.
The man was tall and strongly muscled, his lean, sinuous body as lithe as a whipcord. His skin was swarthy; his hair dark as midnight. His eyes were black beneath jet brows, and his full, sensuous mouth set below a long, aquiline nose smiled lazily at no one in particular, white teeth flashing. His cheekbones were high, the planes of his cheeks spare, the set of his jaw arrogant, as though the world was his for the asking. His dark eyes held a deeply cynical, almost insolent look and the full, sensuous mouth had a reckless, faintly derisive twist that only added to his attractiveness.
His powerful shoulders and broad chest tapered to a narrow waist and a firm, flat stomach. His tight leather clothing emphasized the bold thrust of his pelvis and thick, corded thighs. A slightly rumpled white shirt open at the neck with long full sleeves, a leather belt with large silver buckle and a flat-brimmed sombrero completed his impressive appearance. Try as she might Julie could not take her eyes from the handsome man. Although there was a savage quality about him that frightened her even while it attracted her, Julie could not help but wish the man she was to marry would look like him.
Suddenly Julie heard Polly squeal and abruptly came out of her reverie to find her friend embracing her. A wild whoop rent the air as a young man burst through the crowd intent on claiming his bride. The man couldn’t have been more than twenty-one and was good-looking in a rough sort of way. He was big and brawny with a shock of blond hair that grew shaggy about the nape of his neck. He was dressed in typical miner’s garb which was surprisingly clean. His name was Conner Furley and it was obvious that he was immediately smitten with the young woman about to become his wife. Before Polly departed with her young man she shot an exultant look at Julie as if to say, “I told you so.”
Finally Julie found herself standing alone on the platform and she shifted nervously from foot to foot. She started violently when number thirty was called, holding her breath as she scanned the room, inexplicably meeting the fathomless gaze of the man dressed in leather. She stood very still, her eyes held by his, and suddenly a feeling of warmth suffused her body. It was as if something from deep inside him reached out and touched her. Something from the depths of her burst into life as their eyes met and held.
“Who holds number thirty?” repeated Mr. Goddard for the third time. Julie grew uncomfortable as a deathly silence fell in the room.
Rod stared at Julie, unable to believe that in his large hand rested the right to claim the lovely girl standing alone on the platform. Obligation was all that kept him from bounding up and claiming his woman as each of his predecessors had done. Rod could well imagine the scene should he show up at Rancho Delgado with an Anglo bride. Not to mention Elena’s rage, which he had no wish to experience.
“What are you waiting for, Delgado?” asked a voice at his elbow. “The woman is yours. Don’t you want her?”
Rod whirled, his hand poised above his gun in a purely reflexive action. “Next time you sneak up on a man, Kelly, make damn sure you are prepared to defend yourself,” he warned ominously.
“I want that woman, Delgado,” said Kelly, licking his thick lips wetly. “If you ain’t got no use for her let me have her. Damn, she’s a tasty piece. Name your price. I’m willing to pay almost anything to have her in my bed.”
Rod snorted with disgust, turning his back on the huge ruffian as he focused his attention on Mr. Goddard and the girl standing beside him on the platform.
“If no one claims number thirty I wll be obliged to hold a drawing right here and now in order to fulfill my duty to the young lady placed in my charge,” Mr. Goddard proclaimed loudly. Immediately a tremendous roar of approval rent the air.
“This is your last chance, Delgado,” Kelly persisted. “Do I get the girl or not? Surely it can’t matter to you who weds and beds the woman.”
Kelly has a point, Rod thought, gazing longingly at Julie’s lithe form. It should make little difference to him who eventually won the enticing blond. But strangely it did. It mattered a great deal. He just couldn’t allow the girl to go up for grabs. It went against his principle to throw a young innocent girl to the wolves, so to speak. As if in a trance Rod found himself pushing through the crowd, the paper Kelly desperately wanted waving high in the air.
“Well step forward, young man,” Mr. Goddard beamed when he saw Rod fighting his way through the hosts of men. “You are tardy but welcome.” By the time Rod realized his folly it was too late. He had already been introduced to Juliet Darcy and was instantly lost in the twin pools of azure blue.
Cheering loudly the crowd pushed and shoved the reluctant couple forward until they stood before the preacher. Within minutes Rod found himself married to Juliet Darcy, thereby becoming the first Delgado in generations to break a tradition by marrying someone not of his race.
With the last marriage ceremony performed, the room cleared out rapidly. Julie moved as if in a trance. From the moment she learned the man she had been attracted to was to be her husband she had been beyond speech, merely mumbling the words during the blessedly brief ceremony. Somehow, Julie sensed that everything was not as it should be. This dark, brooding man was not the happy bridegroom she had expected. From the moment they were introduced a permanent scowl darkened his handsome features and his lips were drawn tightly together in a taut line. Except for their brief introduction he had not spoken one word to her.
Julie breathed a sigh of relief when Polly came bounding over with her new husband. “Isn’t it exciting?” she said, her green eyes shimmering with happiness. “We’re going to spend the night at the best hotel in town and leave tomorrow for Conner’s claim. He built a cabin for us while he was waiting for the Westwind to arrive.”
Introductions were made all around and when Rod and Conner were engaged in conversation Polly sidled close to Julie and whispered, “Your husband is so handsome, Julie, but I think I’d rather have my Conner. He’s much more uncomplicated than your Rodrigo. I’m not sure I could survive the passion of your tall caballero.”
Julie gasped, shocked by Polly’s bold words, although by now she should be accustomed to her friend’s habit of openly speaking her mind. But before she could reply, Conner flashed his bride a look of intense longing and made their excuses.
Turning to his own bride, Rod said, “Come along, Juliet.”
“Where are we going, Rodrigo?” Julie asked timidly, wondering if they would be staying at the same hotel with Conner and Polly.
“Call me. Rod, Juliet, it’s less formal,” Rod said, still frowning. “I’m taking you to my room.”
“Oh,” was all Julie said. “My … my friends call me Julie.”
“Do you consider me a friend, Julie?” Rod asked, his lip curling in amusement. If she knew what he had planned for her, Rod decided, she would be far from friendly.
Julie bristled at his words. “I had hoped we could be friends. It would make our marriage much more pleasant.”
“It is not to be, querida,” Rod said softly, almost regretfully.
“What … what did you say?” Julie asked, not certain she had heard right.
“Never mind, I’ll explain later,” Rod muttered, shrugging. Somehow he must explain to Julie the circumstances that made their union impossible.
They proceeded to the end of the street where Rod crossed the road, expecting Julie
to follow. He was nearly to the middle, mud sucking at his boots, when he became aware that Julie was no longer at his side. Perplexed, he glanced over his shoulder to see her poised on the far edge of a deep puddle holding up her blue skirt, one slim foot and well-turned ankle lifted daintily.
Cursing under his breath, Rod turned back intending to carry Julie to the other side of the road, but he was too late. Scowling fiercely, Rod stood helplessly by while another man scooped Julie into his brawny arms and carried her effortlessly across the street, setting her on her feet with a flourish. Rod quickly caught up with them, recognizing his wife’s rescuer immediately.
Brett Casey owned Casey’s Pleasure Palace and was a renowned womanizer. He changed mistresses as easily as he changed his shirts. He was the type of man Rod did not wish his wife to associate with. Abruptly Rod faltered, realizing that his thoughts were taking a dangerous direction. Never could he consider Juliet Darcy his wife. The title belonged to Elena, one of his own kind. By the time he reached Julie, Casey had already taken his leave.
“You should not have been so friendly with that man, Julie,” Rod warned darkly. “He’s not the sort for you to consort with.”
“He certainly was polite enough, Rod,” Julie insisted, blushing under his reproof. “It was very gallant of him to come to my aid.”
“Is that a slur upon my character, querida?” Rod sneered lazily.
“Take it any way you want,” sniffed Julie, wondering why she and her husband barely had a civil word for each other when they hardly knew one another. It was eerie the way a strange tenseness invaded her body whenever Rod looked at her with those hooded dark eyes. A tingle of anticipation raced through her blood, making her aware of their wedding night and what would no doubt take place when they were alone. Would he be a gentle, considerate lover? Julie wondered, blushing at the direction of her wayward thoughts. Or was he the kind to take his own pleasure, caring nothing for her tender feelings.
