by Connie Mason
What happened next was something Julie would never forget if she lived to be one-hundred. “Did he hurt you, Julie?” the man asked in a voice completely devoid of any accent.
That voice! How many times had Julie heard that same voice speaking to her with love and tenderness? How many times had she hung onto every word, clinging to that gentle tone in her times of sorrow and need? Yet, it couldn’t be, not here! Not riding with Joaquin Murieta and his bandoleros!
“Papa?” Julie asked, her own voice quivering with emotion. “Is … is it really you?”
Carl Darcy moved swiftly to his daughter’s side, freed her hands with a quick slash of his knife and drew a blanket over her partially nude body. “Oh, Julie, my dear, dear, daughter,” he said, flinging his arms about the terrified girl. “Did … did that brute hurt you? This is the last place I would expect to find you.”
“No, Papa, you arrived before he … he … was able to … to … harm me,” Julie stuttered bravely. “But what are you doing here? With Murieta? Why didn’t you reveal yourself to me when I first saw you? I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long, sordid tale, my dear,” Carl said. “One that will have to wait. My main concern now is your safety and removing you from here before someone comes looking for Pedro.”
Julie glanced down at the bleeding body, suppressing a shudder of revulsion. “Is … is he dead?” Carl nodded after prodding a booted toe in Pedro’s midsection and getting no response.
“If he isn’t he soon will be,” he replied wryly.
“Oh, God, Papa, what will we do?”
“No one saw me come in here,” Carl explained in a low voice. “I made certain of that. But we have little time to dawdle. Put your shoes on, Julie, and fix your clothes as best you can. It’s imperative we leave this place as soon as possible.”
Julie did as she was told, arranging the tatters of her dress about her as best she could. “You weren’t with Pedro and his men when they took me,” Julie said as she fussed with her clothing.
“I remained in camp,” Carl informed her, “to keep watch. I’m older than most of Murieta’s henchmen and they often leave me behind to serve as guard. I wouldn’t have known you were with Pedro if I hadn’t chanced to overhear the men grumbling about the beautiful woman he had in his cabin and speculating on how long it would be before they had a turn with her. When someone mentioned Don Rodrigo, I knew it had to be you.”
“I’m ready, Papa,” Julie said, glancing at him expectantly. “What do we do now?” There were so many things she wanted to ask her father but they would all have to wait until they were safe.
Unerringly Carl moved to the only window in the drab cabin, pulling Julie along with him. “See that line of trees above the cabin? I make it out about one-hundred yards,” Carl pointed out. Julie nodded. “At this time of day most of the men who aren’t on guard are taking a siesta. It shouldn’t be difficult to slip out the window and reach those trees without being seen.”
“What then, Papa?” You said there are guards posted around the camp. How will we get out of this valley?”
“Trust me, daughter,” Carl smiled mysteriously. “I’ve done a lot of scouting around these hills. If we can reach those trees without being seen, the rest will be easy. Are you ready?” He gave her hand a squeeze for courage.
“Yes, Papa,” Julie said, breathing deeply to still her fears.
Carl climbed through the window first, thankful that his naturally spare frame had never turned to fat. Because of the way the cabin tended to cling to the side of the hill, the drop to the ground was virtually nonexistent. As Carl had hoped, no one was about and he motioned Julie through the narrow opening with a wave of his hand. She slipped out much easier than her father and within seconds was standing beside him.
“It’s a long climb; Julie,” Carl whispered, “do you think you are up to it?”
“I can do anything as long as you are with me, Papa,” Julie assured him, starting forward.
“Wait,” Carl cautioned, staying her with an outflung hand. “If we are discovered, keep going. Don’t stop for anything. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”
“No, Papa!” Julie gasped. “I won’t leave you!”
“Daughter,” Carl schooled sternly, “you’ll do as I say. You know what those lust crazed men will do to you if you are caught. I’ve ridden with them long enough to know that you’ll wish for death long before they are finished with you.”
Julie studied her father’s beloved features, seeing in her mind’s eye not the bearded bandit who stood before her begging her to abandon him, but the gentle man who loved and nurtured her for sixteen years, and she knew she would obey him. “I’ll do as you say, Papa.” The words caught painfully in her throat, threatening to choke her.
Satisfied, Carl took Julie’s hand and tugged her after him up the grassy incline. The going was rough but not extremely so. At any moment Julie expected to hear a warning cry, or worse yet, feel a bullet slam into her body. Halfway to their goal she was gasping for breath, more of a hindrance to her father than a help. But thankfully, there was no shot and no warning shout as they darted into the welcome cover of trees.
When at length Julie sank to the ground, her chest heaving with the effort, Carl, allowed her but a heaving with the effort, Carl allowed her but a moment’s respite. “We can’t rest yet, Julie,” he warned, urging her to her feet. “There are guards about.”
“Where can we go, Papa?” Julie asked worriedly, glancing down at the camp just beginning to stir after a long siesta.
“Follow me,” Carl ordered brusquely. “Try to make as little noise as possible. I know of a place where you’ll be safe.”
Julie needed no further urging as she staggered to her feet and struggled upward after her father toward the crest of the hill. Though she trusted him implicitly she could not help but think what a good target they made outlined as they were against the horizon.
Abruptly Carl stopped, causing Julie to stumble against him as he pointed toward a tangle of dense brush. “You’ll be safe inside,” he assured her. Though he spoke with knowledge, Julie thought he had lost his mind until he began attacking the mesquite with a vengeance, and then Julie was certain he had gone mad. But against all odds a small opening, heretofore completely obscured by brush and mesquite, yawned before her.
“Oh, Papa!” she breathed, excited. “A cave! How did you find it?”
“I’ve done a lot of exploring in these hills, darling. I know them like I know the back of my hand. When I found this cave I decided to tell no one, thinking there might come a time I would need such a hiding place. Hurry inside. You’ll have to crawl through.”
Obeying instantly, Julie dropped to her hands and knees and within seconds found herself inside a dark, damp area roughly the size of a small room but with much lower ceiling. Carl was close at her heels.
“We’ll rest here awhile and then I’ll sneak back into camp. I don’t want to be linked with Pedro’s death. Later, when it’s safe, I’ll come back for you,” Carl informed Julie when he noticed her blank look.
“Why can’t we leave now? Why must you go back to camp? It’s too dangerous.”
“We need horses, dear,” Carl explained patiently. “We are miles from nowhere. I’m certain the men will search for you once they learn of your escape. I’ll arrange to remain behind again. Once they leave I’ll steal two horses, ride out of the valley and come back through the tunnel for you.”
“Tunnel? What tunnel?” Julie peered about but failed to notice in the darkness the tunnel of which her father spoke. “Where does it lead to?”
“The tunnel is located at the far end of the cave,” Carl revealed. “It leads to the other side of the valley not far from where you entered with Pedro.”
“How long must I remain here alone?” Julie asked, shuddering.
“Not long, daughter,” Carl assured her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. “A night, perhaps. I’ll enter through the other side an
d come for you. Under no circumstances are you to leave your concealment. And whatever you do, don’t attempt to find your own way through the tunnel. There is more than one passage off the main tunnel, you’ll never be able to find the right passage on your own. You must obey me in this, Julie.”
Reluctantly Julie nodded. Now that she had found her father she regretted parting from him even for an instant. “Can … can we talk for awhile before you leave?” she asked in a small voice.
Carl’s gaze softened as he gazed upon his lovely daughter whom he hadn’t seen in nearly three years. She had emerged from childhood and developed into a great beauty, and married, besides. She was no longer the little girl he used to dawdle on his knee. So much had happened since then that he, too, felt the need for talk.
“I can stay fifteen minutes, darling, no longer.”
“Just tell me how you came to be riding with Joaquin Murieta. What happened to bring you to such a pass?”
Carl flushed, undecided where to begin. It was a tale of foolish hopes, broken dreams and disillusionment. A saga of man’s greed and his cruelty to his fellow man.
At length, he said, “I should have never left New York. I wasn’t cut out for the life of a miner. I had my tobacco shop … I had you. But I chose to abandon all I held dear for the promise of riches.”
“I don’t care if you never struck it rich, Papa, I found you and that’s all that matters.”
“But that’s just it, darling. I did strike it rich. I found a vein that was rich beyond my wildest dreams.”
“What happened?” Julie asked, puzzled.
“The man who was working the claim next to mine found out about my strike. He told some of his friends. The day I was going to San Francisco to file my claim, they were waiting for me along the road.”
“How terrible!” gasped Julie.
“Before I realized what was happening they shot me, stole my papers and left me for dead. Later they filed the claim in their own names.”
“Didn’t you go to the authorities?” Julie asked, aghast.
“Not until much later. Joaquin Murieta found me on the trail more dead than alive. Some of the good things they credit to the man must be true for he brought me to his camp and nursed me back to health. When I was able, I went to San Francisco to report my loss, but it was hopeless. There is no law to speak of in California. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and I had nothing to prove my claim.”
“Why didn’t you write to me? Or return to New York?”
“I was too ashamed,” admitted the older man. “I had nothing. My pockets were empty, my claim stolen, my supplies gone.”
“What did you do?”
“The only thing I could. I found Murieta and asked to join his band of outlaws. I think he took a liking to me for he allowed me to ride with him despite the objection of Pedro and some of the younger men.”
“That explains why you were riding with Murieta that day when Rod and I were on our way to Rancho Delgado.”
“Ah, yes, your husband,” acknowledged Carl quietly. “Do you want to tell me how you came to be in California, and married to a Spaniard?”
Julie sighed, painfully aware that it was now her turn to lay bare her soul. She began with Aunt Lavinia’s sudden death and Hugo’s salacious pursuit, progressing to the point where she met Polly.
Carl was sorry to learn of his sister’s death but voiced his contempt for the despicable Hugo. “I never did like that man,” he said angrily. “If I ever return to New York I’ll make him rue the day he laid a hand on you.”
Julie hid a smile behind her hand, finding it difficult to imagine her slender father trading punches with the brawny Hugo, several years younger than himself and pounds heavier.
“So you joined Polly and came to California to find me and found a husband instead,” mused Carl thoughtfully. “It truly surprises me that Don Rodrigo would even consider taking an Anglo wife.”
Immediately Julie launched into the tale that explained fully Rod’s motives for wedding her. “He doesn’t love me, Papa,” she divulged at the end of her story. “His damn Spanish honor forced our marriage. He already had a fiancee. And … and his father hated me. Until just before he died and he made his peace with me. I … I’m convinced Rod hates me, too.”
“No one could hate you, darling,” Carl assured her kindly. “Least of all your husband. I’m sure you are exaggerating. When I saw the two of you together I was certain it was a love match.”
“Why didn’t you reveal yourself then, Papa? If only I had known who you were then all this could have been avoided.” Julie couldn’t help but feel a certain resentment toward her father for being allowed to ride away with Rod into the hostile atmosphere of Rancho Delgado.
“At first I was so shocked to see you in California when I thought you safe in New York that I could neither think nor act. Then I saw how protective Don Rodrigo was of you. He seemed so loving, so caring, that I felt it best to leave you to your new life. You certainly had no need of a failure like me dragging at your heels.”
“Papa, I love you! Besides, you are mistaken. Rod doesn’t care for me in the least. It’s Elena he loves. He proved it by making her his mistress. Our marriage should never have taken place. But for Rod, I wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Julie explained, her face darkening with pain. “He … he wanted to be rid of me. When he joined the cattle drive, he told Elena to make certain I was gone before he returned. He paid Pedro to take me away.”
“Oh, daughter, if I had only known,” said Carl regretfully. “Can you forgive me for allowing my pride to overcome my love for you? I didn’t want you to see me as a bandit, a man wanted by the law.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Papa,” Julie exclaimed. “We’re together again. Rod will think I am dead and he and Elena can marry.”
“I find it hard to believe Don Rodrigo would go so far as to order your death,” Carl said dubiously. “Are you certain of this?”
“I … I don’t know,” admitted Julie thoughtfully. “Elena said as much, but I’m not convinced. She is not above lying to achieve her own way. I thought I knew Rod. He is a proud man, arrogant at times, but murder? Not that I think he would have any difficulty in killing. It’s the method that puzzles me. He is not one to let someone else, particularly a woman, do is dirty work.”
“Do you love him, daughter?” Carl asked, quick to note the underlying hint of affection in her voice whenever she spoke of her husband.
“Oh, Papa,” Julie wailed, “I can’t help it. I do. I love him still. I died a little inside when … when he bedded Elena. I thought … Oh, well, it doesn’t matter what I thought,” she shrugged, resigned to a life without Rod’s drugging kisses and caresses that sent her blood surging through her veins.
Though Carl wished to talk further with Julie, he could no longer delay his departure. “I must leave, darling,” he said sadly, rising. “But I’ll be back as soon as I am able. There are some bottles of water and jerky strips wrapped in oiled cloth behind you. I put them there when I first discovered this cave. Now I’m glad I had the foresight to do so. Remember, don’t leave for anything. I’ll return for you the moment the men leave the valley.”
“I trust you, Papa,” Julie smiled through a veil of tears. She longed for him to remain, to console her, to talk more of their lives since their separation. “I’ll do as you say.”
Julie watched with trepidation as her father carefully pulled the brush and shrubs back into place before the mouth of the cave until it looked as if it had never been disturbed. It was so dark inside now that Julie felt shut off from the world. But her exhaustion was such that she soon fell into a deep sleep. And then the dreams began.
Rod. Always Rod. Loving her. Hating her. Tender, kind, arrogant, hateful, insufferable. Proud. A man of so many contradictions that she never knew where she stood with him, until he made Elena his mistress and wished to be rid of his wife. And then she became nothing but a hindrance, an unwanted burden. He proved as muc
h when he cruelly forced a response from her on the night before he left for San Antonio.
But, oh, how she remembered the way he made her flesh sing with desire; how his lips and hands brought her more pleasure than she had ever known in all of her eighteen years. From the very first she knew his love and passion belonged to Elena, not to her, his Anglo wife, unworthy of the Delgado name. But she had her dreams.
12
Carl picked his way cautiously down the hillside, glancing nervously at the lengthening shadows which provided welcome cover for his stealthy passage. He realized from the position of the setting sun that the men were probably up and about after their siesta and no doubt looking for Pedro. Carl willed himself to think of anything but what would happen to Julie if she was discovered. Whatever happened he must not allow her to fall into the clutches of the desperados whom he knew would not hesitate to rape her. Not even if it meant he had to … to … but no, he must not dwell on the alternative to capture. He was determined to bring Julie to safety no matter what the cost to him.
Carl knew that if Murieta were here things would be vastly different. In his own way, Murieta was a gentleman, despite the fact he was dedicated to a life of crime. Somehow, Carl did not believe that Murieta would be persuaded into a nefarious scheme to harm Julie as easily as Pedro had been.
Carl eased himself around the corner of a cabin, his hands busy at the opening of his trousers, as if he were just returning from relieving himself. So far, so good, he breathed gratefully. But his optimism was short lived.
“Hola, Carlos! Where have you been?” The speaker was a scruffy young man with deceptively mild looks who called himself Paco.
“Answering nature,” grinned Carl foolishly as he gestured rudely to his trousers front.
“Have you seen Pedro?” queried Paco, eyeing Carl suspiciously.
