For Honor’s Sake

by Connie Mason

  “I will try not to impose myself upon your private life, Don Rodrigo,” Carl contended. “I will go about my business as unobtrusively as possible.”

  Elena chose that moment to burst into the study, her nose flaring with barely suppressed outrage. “Did you order Teresa to pack my clothes?” she accused hotly. “You have no right!”

  “Elena, we have a guest,” Rod warned through gritted teeth.

  Elena glanced disdainfully down her patrician nose at the man seated across from Rod and immediately dismissed him as no one of importance. “Well, did you, Rodrigo?”

  “Did I what, Elena?”

  “Order Teresa to pack my clothes?”

  “I thought we had settled everything last night,” Rod said tiredly. “Si, I asked Teresa to help you pack. One of the vaqueros will drive you to the mission. I’ve already dispatched a message to Padre Juan explaining everything.”

  “Rodrigo, if you would only—”

  “Not in front of our guest.” The tone of Rod’s voice was distinctively unpleasant and Elena retreated under his implied warning. “This is Señor Blair. He is to stay on the rancho as my guest.” Turning to Carl. “Señor Blair, this is Elena, my father’s … widow.”

  “Ah, yes, I heard Don Diego had married,” Carl acknowledged innocently. “You have my condolences, Señora Delgado.”

  Slanting Carl a look of pure loathing, Elena whirled abruptly and stormed out of the room. “You must forgive Elena, Señor Blair,” Rod apologized, flushing darkly. “She is high-strung and … not herself. I thought it best for her to spend time at the mission and she disagrees with me.”

  Carl had no idea what was going on but from what he observed it did not appear as if Rod and Elena were lovers. Could Julie have been mistaken, he wondered? Or was Don Rodrigo the type of man who tired of women quickly and just as swiftly got rid of them. That question was exactly what brought him to Rancho Delgado in search of an answer.

  Later that day, Carl watched from a distance as Rod calmly escorted a fuming Elena and a host of trunks and boxes to a wagon driven by one of the vaqueros. His goodbye to the fiery Spanish woman was brief and unemotional, once again giving Carl cause to wonder about his son-in-law’s cold heart. From his observation it was obvious Elena had no desire to leave Rancho Delgado. Even from where he stood her parting words came through loud and clear.

  “Bastardo! One day you will pay for this!”

  In the days that followed Carl learned his way about the sprawling rancho. Often he rode out with Rod and little by little he began to understand the complex Spaniard. Proud, arrogant, unfailingly kind and generous to his men and their families, universally respected by all, Carl could appreciate his daughter’s love for the man. What he failed to comprehend was Rod’s failure to love Julie in return.

  After the first week of living, riding and eating with Rod, day after day, Carl began to suspect that Julie was mistaken in her belief that Rod wished her out of his life. Somehow he could not associate Rod with the type of cruel deed that placed her in the hands of Pedro, Murieta’s henchman. So far Rod had spoken little about his missing wife. Carl decided it was the time to probe his son-in-law’s innermost feelings; time to learn the truth in his own subtle way.

  They were riding at a leisurely pace, the conversation trivial, when Carl abruptly asked, “Do you expect your wife back anytime soon? I would be honored to meet her. Is she Spanish?”

  The swift flash of pain that marched across Rod’s face made Carl almost sorry he had brought up the subject. “I feel I know you well enough, Señor Blair, to tell you that my wife has been abducted, and … and is probably dead.” Rod’s voice was strained, his words stilted as Julie’s lovely face came back to haunt him.

  “Who would do such a thing?” asked Carl, feigning shock.

  “Elena was with Julie, that was my wife’s name, when it happened. She said it was Joaquin Murieta.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I have no reason to doubt Elena … at least I didn’t at that time,” Rod added thoughtfully. “But now, I don’t know, although Elena will admit to nothing.”

  “If you will pardon my curiosity, Don Rodrigo,” Carl interrupted, “but what is Elena to you? Besides your father’s wife?”

  Rod stared at Carl a long time, wondering why he was talking so intimately with a man he hardly knew. But strangely, he felt no embarrassment speaking with this forthright, compassionate man he had come to respect in a short time.

  “Elena was my novia, my intended. I was to marry her when I met Julie. I married Julie under rather … er … strange circumstances and brought her home with me to the rancho.

  “I realize now it was a terrible blow to Elena’s pride but I fear I misjudged the extent of her jealousy and hatred for Julie. Then my father married Elena and things went from bad to worse.”

  Carl had heard almost the same story from Julie. What he wanted now was the truth behind Julie’s abduction, and if Rod actually put Elena up to it. “Didn’t your father and Elena get along?”

  “I don’t really know,” shrugged Rod pensively. “During that time I allowed Elena to … well, never mind. Suffice it to say I hurt Julie in a way I never intended. I would give anything for the chance to make up to her for treating her so vilely that last night when—” Abruptly Rod faltered, aware that he was about to divulge intimate details of his marriage that were better left unsaid.

  “You sound like a man who loves his wife, Don Rodrigo,” Carl hinted innocently.

  “I’m afraid that emotion was too late in coming, Señor Blair,” Rod admitted readily. “But for what it’s worth, I do love my wife. That’s why I refuse to believe she is dead. It is not like Murieta to kill an innocent woman. I would rather believe she went along with the bandit willingly than accept her death.”

  Carl had heard all he needed to know. Somehow these two young people were unaware of the love they held for one another, thus allowing Elena to separate the star-crossed lovers despite the fact that she had benefited little from her efforts. It was up to Carl, or so he supposed, to play Cupid and reunite husband and wife now that he was convinced that Julie’s fears concerning Rod were groundless. Obviously it was Elena’s plot from the beginning.

  Considering his daughter’s pride, Carl sagely decided silence was the better part of valor. He would be wise to keep his own counsel concerning Julie’s whereabouts and remain unidentified until he returned to San Francisco and informed Julie of his findings, particularly the fact that Rod loved her. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do, hurry back to Julie. If all went well they could be back at the rancho within two weeks. Of course, Carl had no way of knowing Rod was leaving on a cattle drive the following week, for the subject had never come up.

  Later that same day Carl informed Rod he would be leaving the next morning, assuring him that though the Delgado stock was among the finest he had seen hereabouts, it was not exactly what he was looking for. They parted that evening on excellent terms and Carl left Rancho Delgado exactly as planned.

  During his nearly two week stay at the rancho, Carl had made a concentrated effort to meet the child whom Julie had become so fond of. Carl and Felicia spent many happy hours discussing Julie and the love that existed between them. In his own subtle way he questioned the child about the relationship between Elena and Don Rodrigo. Felicia had been of tremendous help in weighing Carl’s decision in Rod’s favor.

  The morning Carl left the rancho he was completely unprepared to see a lone figure riding out after him as if chased by the devil. They were some distance from the hacienda and he reined in to await the child’s arrival.

  “What are you doing here, child?” Carl asked not unkindly when Felicia’s horse stood next to his, shoulder to shoulder.

  “You know where she is, don’t you?” accused Felicia, frowning. “She’s alive and you never told Don Rodrigo. Why?”

  Carl was amazed at the child’s perception despite her tender years. She was indeed an exceptional chi
ld just as Julie had described. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Felicia.”

  Felicia glared obstinately at Carl. “Who are you really? How do you know Dona Julie? Why didn’t you bring her back?”

  Carl sighed heavily. Felicia left him no choice but to tell the truth. It would be cruel to do otherwise. “Yes, little one, Julie is alive. I am her father.”

  “Oh, señor!” Felicia cried, ecstatic. “Take me to her! Por favor!”

  “I can’t do that, little one,” Carl smiled fondly. “Would you have your tia and tio worry?” Felicia’s downcast eyes and sad little face was more than Carl could bear. “I will tell you a secret if you promise to tell no one.”

  “A secret, señor?”

  “Yes, a very nice secret. Do you promise?”

  “If it is a good secret, then, si, I promise.”

  “I am on my way to Julie now. To bring her back to the rancho.”

  “Oh, señor, that is indeed a very good secret. Does Don Rodrigo know?”

  “Then it would not be a secret, would it?”

  Felicia looked confused. “But it isn’t right. Don Rodrigo should know.”

  “He will know, little one. In a short while. If all goes well I should return with Julie in a few short days.” Placated for the time being, Felicia beamed.

  They then parted, Felicia to go her own way hugging the secret to her heart, Carl toward a course that would drastically alter his well laid plans.

  Carl got no further than the mission at San Luis Obispo when his horse went lame. Though he had neither visited the mission before nor met Padre Juan, Rod had spoken often of the good father and Carl felt certain the padre could be counted upon for help. If the padre had no horse with which to trade for Carl’s lame mount, then at least he could be relied on to send word to Rod.

  But as luck would have it, Padre Juan was calling on the sick among the villagers and it was left to Elena to greet the visitor. At first Elena failed to recognize Carl but as he began to speak, explaining his predicament, comprehension dawned.

  “You’re Rodrigo’s guest, aren’t you?” she asked, eyeing him narrowly.

  “Yes, Dona Elena. If you remember, we met once in Don Rodrigo’s study the day I arrived.”

  “Si, I remember. Did Rodrigo tell you anything about me?”

  “Should he have?”

  Elena flushed angrily. “Don’t play games with me, señor. He must have told you something.”

  “If he did, I don’t recall.”

  “It’s lies, all lies!” spat Elena vehemently. “The truth is that he got me with child then abandoned me! Sent me off to the mission when I was of no further use to him!”

  Carl was flabbergasted. Could it be true, he wondered? Could he have misjudged Rod so badly? Had Rod and Elena actually conspired to get rid of Julie and when Elena became his mistress did her pregnancy interfere with his pleasure to the point where he would callously discard her? My God! blasphemed Carl silently, did he now have to rethink his position, reevaluate his opinion of the man he thought he had come to know? Or was Elena deliberately lying in order to discredit Rod? In a flash of insight Carl decided to keep to his original plan, to bring Julie back to Rancho Delgado and let Rod provide his own explanation. He had no right to condemn Rod out of hand.

  When Padre Juan returned Carl exchanged his lame horse for a fresh mount, albeit an inferior one admitted the good father, and continued on his journey north on El Camino Real to San Francisco, unaware of the pitfalls that lay ahead.

  That night, because of his delay at San Luis Obispo, Carl sought sanctuary at San Miguel Mission about eight miles from Paso Robles where Padre Luis made him welcome. After a simple but nourishing breakfast the next morning he started out early, the tortillas and boiled eggs sitting pleasantly on his stomach.

  Carl had just left the village of Paso Robles when out of the mountains swooped Three-fingered Jack Garcia and his band of desperados who preyed on unsuspecting travelers up and down El Camino Real. Before he knew what had hit him, Carl was shot twice, one bullet grazing his head, the other lodging in his side, robbed of all his valuables and left for dead. He lay all day and all night where he had fallen before he was discovered by Ramona Sanchez, the impoverished widow of a proud ranchero who had lost his lands and died shortly afterwards in poverty. Luckily Ramona was on her weekly round to salvage fire wood for her hearth.

  Good woman that she was, she immediately summoned help and had Carl taken to her crude hut where she unselfishly attempted to save his life. It mattered little to Ramona that Carl was an Anglo. What did matter was the fact that the man could die without her help. Employing her considerable knowledge of healing, liberally dosed with fervent prayers, her patient still lived the next morning, a good sign in itself.

  Ramona carefully removed the bullet from Carl’s side and waited for fever to set in. When it came she was ready with her infusions and medicines brewed especially to cool and soothe his heated flesh. Given his state of health, weakened from the previous injuries he had received from Paco and Jose, it was somewhat of a miracle that Carl survived at all. If he owed his life to any one thing, it was to Ramona’s stubbornness and her refusal to let him die.

  Carl remained in a coma for days. And when he recovered enough to speak, he was too weak to travel. He could only lay back on his sick bed and worry and fret over Julie and how fearful she must be over his failure to return as promised. At least he had left her well provided for under the guardianship of Mae Parker, Carl reflected gratefully in one of his more lucid moments.

  It was several more weeks before Carl recovered to the point where travel would no longer endanger his health. After much soul searching he decided to return to Rancho Delgado because it was closer and also because it was now imperative that Rod go to San Francisco after Julie, for Carl was in no condition at this time to attempt a lengthy trip. After convincing Ramona to accompany him should he become ill along the way, Carl set out at long last for Rancho Delgado.

  It seemed to Carl that his efforts to reunite Rod and Julie were doomed to failure when he reached Rancho Delgado only to learn that Rod had just recently returned from the cattle drive and left immediately for San Francisco. Disheartened, Carl realized he was too weak to follow. The best he could do was to remain where he was to recuperate and allow fate to reunite the lovers and trust in God’s judgment. As for himself, he was content to remain at the rancho with Ramona at his side, for he was becoming exceedingly fond of the slender widow who had literally snatched him from death’s door.

  16

  As the weeks passed, Felicia began to despair and wish she had never promised Julie’s father that she would not reveal the secret they shared. After one week passed, Felicia eagerly anticipated Julie’s return, but with the passage of the second week and still Carl did not appear, she grew frantic with worry, imagining all sorts of terrible things that could have happened to Carl before he reached San Francisco. When a month elapsed, Felicia genuinely despaired of ever seeing Julie again. She moped around the rancho with such a tragic face that Teresa threatened to dose her for fear she was sickening.

  Rod and the vaqueros returned to Rancho Delgado after another successful cattle drive. He had been gone nearly two months. After sleeping the clock around and stuffing himself with some of cook’s delicious food, he set out on an inspection tour of his rancho, particularly the stables where he expected to find many new foals. He was not surprised, in fact, rather pleased, to find Felicia currying one of her favorite mounts. It was amazing, Rod reflected thoughtfully, how much he had missed the enchanting child.

  Upon seeing Rod, Felicia flung herself joyfully into his arms, completely forgetting that he was el patron and she a lowly mestiza. “I’ve missed you, Don Rodrigo,” she said, managing a shy little smile.

  “And I’ve missed you, niña. But do I not deserve a bigger smile?”

  “Si, Don Rodrigo,” Felicia agreed, trying desperately to overcome her melancholy as she flashed an enchanting
grin in his direction.

  Intuitively, Rod sensed her unhappiness and sat down on a bale of hay, settling her on his knee. “Do you want to tell me what is wrong, niña?”

  Felicia thought for a long time, then asked. “Is it wrong to tell a secret, señor?”

  “Not if keeping it hurts someone, niña.” Felicia was quiet for so long that Rod was prompted to add, “Does it, niña?”

  Felicia shrugged her slim shoulders. “I think it might, señor.”

  “Then the secret is best revealed,” Rod advised. “If you tell me I promise to keep it to myself. Unless there is someone else you’d rather—”

  “Oh, no,” Felicia quickly assured him. “If I tell anyone it should be you.” Rod waited curiously, certain that he would never willingly betray the confidence of this trusting child.

  Felicia drew a deep breath, then plunged on. “Do you remember Señor Blair?” Rod nodded, wondering what an Anglo horse breeder had to do with all this. “He is Dona Julie’s father.”

  “What?” cried Rod, nearly upsetting Felicia when he jumped to his feet. Could it be true? “How do you know this, niña?” he asked, his emotions shattered into a million tiny fragments.

  “I spoke with him often while he was here and Dona Julie told me so many things about her father that put me in mind of Señor Blair, that I became suspicious.”

  Rod was amazed at how much more this child knew about Julie than he knew himself. “Why didn’t Julie’s father reveal his identity? I understand none of this. Did he tell you anything at all, niña?”

  “Not much, Don Rodrigo. But I think he was testing you, trying to decide if Dona Julie should return to the rancho.”

  “If she should return … Por Dios! You mean Julie is alive? And her father knows where she is?”

  “Si, señor. Dona Julie is in San Francisco and her father promised me he would bring her back to the rancho. But he did not return,” she wailed, her small face screwing up pathetically. “He promised, señor! A few days, he said. It was to be our secret. What if something terrible happened to him? What if he never reached San Francisco?”