by Connie Mason
Julie sidled from the shadows until the bed and its occupants came into her full line of view. So caught up was she in the scene unfolding before her that she was unaware of the strangled gasp that escaped her throat. But not so Elena who had been anxiously awaiting some sign of Julie’s expected arrival. The moment it came in the form of a choked cry, Elena reacted instantly.
Julie could not turn her eyes from the smoldering scene erupting before her eyes like an act in an erotic play. Though she could not make out the man’s face clearly, only the broad, muscled back and shoulders, Julie instinctively knew the man was her husband. Elena’s passion-drugged voice soon removed any doubt she might have had.
“Rodrigo mi amor, I burn for you. Take me now.”
Julie could not understand Rod’s low, hoarse reply but his actions spoke eloquently of his desire as he kissed Elena passionately. Their nude bodies were beautiful, as graceful as dancers caught in a pagan ceremony dedicated to the God of love.
Rod’s lips and hands played a trail of fire along Elena’s flushed body while she moaned loudly and called out his name over and over again. Before Julie’s shocked eyes, Elena’s breasts grew tumescent with her pleasure, the coral nipples taut pleasure points that thrust out like ripe cherries. Julie commanded herself to move but the message from her brain willed otherwise.
When the man’s dark curly head—Rod’s head—was lost between Elena’s outstretched thighs, a black, suffocating pain pierced her heart. Then Elena’s cries released her from limbo.
“Oh, si, Rodrigo, mi amor, si! Come to me now! Come to me!”
Raising himself above Elena’s slight form, the man Julie assumed to be Rod, his face still carefully averted, plunged deeply into the warm, moist recess opening greedily beneath him.
Julie did not wait for the climax as abruptly she turned, moving as swiftly as her heavy body and protruding stomach would allow, her hasty retreat hindered by the storm of tears blinding her eyes. Her whole world had erupted beneath her, her entire life lay shattered at her feet, not to mention her broken heart. Nothing meant anything to her anymore. All she had left of her all-consuming love for Rod was his child resting beneath her heart.
As much as she hated to admit it, it was increasingly obvious that all Rod wanted from her was his heir. If memory served her, Rod began treating her like a true wife only after he learned she carried his child. She knew now he was only humoring her for his child’s sake. Knowing what she did she could no longer remain at Rancho Delgado, Julie decided recklessly. She wanted to hurt Rod, to wound him as he had hurt her, twisting her heart in shreds. And then it struck her that the one way caluculated to hurt him most was to take his child from him. Pride riding her mercilessly, Julie decided to do exactly that.
The carriage moved slowly through the darkness, but with any luck Julie hoped her disappearance would not be discovered until late morning. By the time Rod was sent for and a search of the rancho conducted, she could hope for a day or two grace with which to make good her escape. But escape to where? she wondered, heedless of the harm her rash actions might cause.
Julie had no intention of involving her father in her difficulties. He had his Ramona and a life of his own. That left only Brett Casey to turn to. Did he still care for her enough to give her shelter? Or would he insist she return to her husband? No matter, Brett was her only refuge. Determined to return to the hacienda for nothing, Julie turned her carriage onto El Camino Real, her state of mind such that she gave no thought whatever to the dangers involved. She was penniless, without food and water, and likely to give birth at any time.
The sun was high in the sky when Julie gave her first thought of food. All through the long night as torturous images assailed her mind, Julie dozed fitfully while her horse, pulling the small carriage unfit for such hazardous travel, made its own way over the trail. From past experience she knew that any one of the string of missions along El Camino Real would be more than happy to offer her food and lodging. All she had to do was ask. Unfortunately, the good padres from most of the missions would remember her as the wife of Don Rodrigo Delgado.
Troubled by the dilemma facing her, Julie did not hear the wagons approaching from the rear until they were nearly upon her. Exhausted, her body cramped from sitting all night, Julie was never happier to see another human being in her life. Just knowing she was not alone on the trail was a vast relief.
There were six wagons in all. Prospectors, Julie supposed, taking the southern route to the gold fields. She pulled over when she reached a broad spot in the road and waited until they came abreast. The lead wagon stopped when Julie signaled she wished to speak with them.
A middleaged man, his features lined and weathered beyond his years, drove the rig, his thin, bird-like wife perched tall and straight beside him. Both were confused and startled to find a lone woman, well advanced in pregnancy, traveling a trail where banditry and murder were regular occurences.
“My God, girl, what are you doing out here by yourself?” greeted the man reprovingly. “My name is Micah Davis and this is my wife, Martha. Where is your husband? Is he crazy to let you wander on your own in your condition?”
“My husband is dead,” Julie lied, quickly making up a story to satisfy the Davis couple. “I was left on my own in a small village when my husband died of snakebite. I must get to San Francisco. I have friends there who will take care of me.”
“You won’t get far in that buggy,” hooted Micah derisively.
“It’s all I have.” Julie’s woebegone expression and sad story touched a responsive chord somewhere in Martha’s heart. She had left a daughter about Julie’s age back in Illinois.
“What’s your name, child?” Martha asked kindly.
“Juliet. My friends call me Julie.” The Davises waited politely until Julie added, “Julie Darcy.”
“Would you like to travel with us, Julie?” Martha asked hesitantly. “We are going right through San Francisco.”
“Now, Martha,” interrupted Micah sternly, “don’t speak hastily. I don’t rightly know if we should take on the added responsibility of a woman so far gone with child. We’d have to consult the others first to see how they feel about it.”
“Micah,” scolded Martha reproachfully, “it is our Christian duty to take in this poor child. I’m sure the others will agree. At least the women will.”
“Perhaps, wife, but I still think—”
“Please,” Julie interjected, “I don’t wish to be the cause of dissension between you. Besides, I can travel much faster in my horse and buggy and I am quite familiar with the trail.”
“Then what do you want from us?” asked Micah bluntly.
“I need supplies. Food, water, and … and a blanket or two. Enough to see me through to San Francisco. I have no money but this ring should more than compensate for what you give me.” Julie slipped the heavy gold band that Rod had given her after they were married by Padre Juan from her finger and placed it almost regretfully in Micah’s outstretched palm.
Shrewdly Micah weighted the object in his hand, glanced at his wife, then back at Julie. “Do we have enough supplies to share?” he asked.
Martha nodded with a sad tilt of her head. She hated the thought of leaving a young woman without protection on so dangerous a journey. She told Julie as much.
“I insist, Mrs. Davis,” Julie smiled gratefully. “All I ask is that you sell me what I need. I’ll be fine. My baby isn’t due for weeks and I’ll be safely in San Francisco with my friends long before then.”
Reluctantly Martha was persuaded and soon Julie’s buggy was loaded with enough supplies to last several days. After sharing a meal with the Davises and their group, Julie thanked her newfound friends profusely and went on her way.
Thankfully, Julie was miles away when the wagon train was attacked by Three-Fingered Jack and his guerrilleros. Three-Fingered Jack was of a different sort than Joaquin Murieta and another romantic hero of the times called Pico. Whereas Murieta and Pico were much bel
oved by the people, Three-Fingered Jack was hated and feared. And with good reason. He attacked and pillaged indiscriminately, taking human life without thought or conscience.
When the bandits had stolen all the valuables from the hapless travelers on the wagon train and cruelly and methodically raped all the women regardless of age, they calmly killed everyone who had not already been slain in their initial attack. Then they set fire to the wagons. Had Julie chosen to join the group, her fate would have been the same.
Ignorant of the fate of her friends on the wagon train, Julie continued her journey northward. She camped the night curled up in a blanket in the buggy, her child violently protesting being cramped and abused by kicking unmercifully until Julie was forced to abandon the buggy and stretch out on the damp ground.
The following day Julie was nearing the town of Carmel when disaster struck. She lost a wheel on the buggy and received such a jolt that many long minutes passed before she could bestir herself to inspect the damage, which she discovered to her sorrow was beyond her realm of knowledge or ability. From her last trip with Rod a few months earlier, Julie knew that the Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Carmelo de Monterey lay just a short distance away. Thank God Padre Serra saw fit to place all twenty-one missions along El Camino Real within a day’s journey of one another, she sighed wearily.
Unhitching the horse in order to lead him, Julie started forward. Before she had taken half a dozen steps the first pains struck and something she dreaded from the moment she left the rancho occurred. Julie was going into premature labor! Fear seized her. A fear so great she was overwhelmed by the thought of what might happen to her and her child alone in the wilderness. She could not lose Rod’s child. Not now. Not ever, she vowed stubbornly. It was all she had left of him.
Breathing deeply, which seemed to ease the pain, Julie fought to conquer her terror. Spying a large rock nearby she led the horse to it and carefully positioned him so that she could mount him if she used the rock as a mounting block. Timing the contractions, Julie waited for the last one to subside, then began slowly pulling herself onto the horse’s back. Once, twice, three times she failed, and tears of frustration and pain blurred her vision. But she refused to panic for she knew failure was tantamount to a death sentence for her baby.
On the fourth attempt she managed to drag her burdensome body atop her patient mount and head him in the direction of the mission and help. To Julie’s befuddled and pain-wracked mind, it seemed like hours before she reached the gate. With the last of her dwindling strength, she managed to pull the bell cord before she passed out.
23
The morning after Julie crept undetected out into the night, Rod, tired, saddle-sore and dirty entered the hacienda in a jovial mood. The roundup was nearly completed and the branding could be accomplished without his supervision. The vaqueros were perfectly able to carry out that chore without him, which was just fine with Rod. He hadn’t seen Julie to really talk to her in days, and guilt over his unintentional neglect was bothering him mercilessly.
Most women appeared ungainly and awkward during late pregnancy but not Julie, Rod thought fondly, picturing her dainty form swollen with child yet no less graceful and lovely in his eyes. He deeply regretted the fact that he had little spare time of late to pamper and cosset his wife as she so richly deserved, but he fully intended to make up for his lack of attention during the next weeks. Julie would have his undivided attention, Rod vowed, for he had already informed his vaqueros that he would not accompany the trail drive this time but would remain with his wife to see her through the birth of their child.
All was quiet when Rod entered the hacienda. He found Teresa in the kitchen and she informed him that Felicia was at her lessons and Julie had not made an appearance yet this morning.
“Is she ill?” Rod asked worriedly. It was not like Julie to lay abed.
“No, Don Rodrigo,” Teresa assured him. “Dona Julie is not ill, although she seemed rather tired and distraught yesterday. That’s why I let her sleep later than usual this morning.”
“Then I’ll not disturb her, Teresa. I need to clean up anyway before I’ll be fit company. See that a bath is prepared for me.”
Much later, after Rod had bathed, shaved and rested, he entered Julie’s room through the connecting door intending to have lunch with her, but found her already gone. At first he thought it strange that he had heard no movement or any sign of activity from within his wife’s room but soon forgot his anxiety as he went in search of Julie.
He found Felicia had returned from her lessons but no sign of Julie. At the sight of Rod, Felicia flew into his outstretched arms. “I have missed you greatly, Rodrigo,” she said shyly. Some time ago Rod had asked her to call him by his first name.
“I have missed you also, niña, but now I am home to look after you and Julie. Where is she?” Rod asked, his dark eyes searching for and not finding his wife’s rotund figure.
“She is still sleeping. Tia Teresa told me not to disturb her.”
A tremor of premonition twisted Rod’s guts and stone-like lumps blocking his throat made swallowing difficult. “She is not in her room, niña.”
“You must be mistaken. She has to be in her room.” Threads of panic were spun about Felicia’s heart as she looked at Rod with stricken eyes.
Abruptly, Rod spun on his heel and raced to Julie’s room, Felicia close behind. As he knew it would be, the room was deserted, the bed neatly made as if it had not been slept in. Slowly and methodically Rod and Felicia made a thorough search of the hacienda, with no success.
“Perhaps she is with her father?” suggested Felicia hopefully.
“Of course,” Rod agreed with alacrity. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Though his sense of relief was enormous he could not quell the prickle of fear snaking along his spine.
Julie was not with Carl and Ramona. Nor was she anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the hacienda. When his search took him to the stables, Rod was shocked to find the horse and buggy Julie sometimes used missing. Upon questioning the servants, he learned that no one had seen Julie after she had retired for the night the previous evening. Only Teresa was able to shed a single clue as to Julie’s sudden disappearance.
“Dona Julie was upset yesterday, señor,” she told Rod. “She was not herself at all.”
“How so, Teresa. Please tell me everything you know.”
“When I found her in the garden at lunch time yesterday, she seemed distraught and began asking strange questions.”
A strangled look settled on Rod’s handsome features. “What kind of questions?”
“About Dona Elena and … and … her child.”
“Por Dios! Not Elena again! If she had a hand in this I will kill her. Go on, Teresa, what else did Julie say.”
“Not much, señor. She wanted to know if Dona Elena was expecting a child when she left the rancho.”
“What did you tell her?” Rod asked, comprehension dawning.
“The truth,” shrugged Teresa uneasily. “Dona Elena was with child when she left here, what else could I say?”
“Did you explain that Manuel was the child’s father?”
“She gave me no opportunity. Dona Julie told me she wished to hear nothing more of Dona Elena. Did … did I do wrong, señor?”
Rod sighed heavily. “You are not to blame, Teresa. I fear my wife has been lied to again by Elena. After I speak with Señor Darcy, I will leave immediately for San Luis Obispo, If either Elena or Manuel has been here, I will find out one way or another.”
Felicia began to sob softly and Rod went immediately to his little sister. “Don’t cry, niña. I will find her. She can’t have gotten too far, not in her condition.”
“But why would she leave, Rodrigo? Didn’t she love us?”
“I don’t have the answers, Felicia, but I soon will. Julie would never leave us without provocation. You must remember, a woman with child is very vulnerable, oftentimes fanciful. I have been too busy of late to pay the kind of
attention to her she deserves. I’m afraid Elena has once again plotted vengeance against me in a way guaranteed to hurt me the most.”
Carl Darcy begged to accompany Rod but Rod insisted his father-in-law remain behind to protect the women and see to the running of the rancho in the event he should meet with difficulty and be unable to return immediately. Reluctantly, Carl agreed, but only after Rod promised to let him know the moment Julie was found or he had any idea of what happened to her. By the time Rod gave orders to the vaqueros concerning the branding and packed a saddlebag for any emergency, it was sundown before he rode out for the village. Julie already had several hours headstart.
Rod’s first stop was the mission where he questioned Padre Juan and satisfied himself that Julie hadn’t sought sanctuary with the good padre. Padre Juan told Rod exactly where to find the Roja’s casa and he set off immediately to confront Elena. If Elena had been to see Julie … but no, he didn’t even want to think about that.
The small casa Rod stood before was a far cry from either the Delgado or the Montoya hacienda. He could hear a child crying from within. Rod hardened his heart against the pitiful sound and began pounding on the door. When no one answered after several minutes of knocking, Rod took matters into his own hands and flung the door open, surprised to find it unlatched. No one was in the main room and Rod resolutely followed the sound of a baby’s frantic cries into the bedroom.
Rod was ready to do battle but was completely unprepared to find Manuel Rojas sitting numbly on the bed holding a wailing child in his arms. When Rod unexpectedly burst in, Manuel’s features failed to register the least surprise.
“Where is she, Manuel?” Rod questioned angrily. “I’ll find her no matter where she is hiding.”
