When her tirade was over, Sloan saw that Cruz was trying very hard not to smile.
“This isn’t a laughing matter!” she spat.
At that, Cruz did smile. “No, it is not. When a wife protects her husband from his own stupidity, it is very serious business. All right, Cebellina, I will give my orders through you. But I want to talk with Miguel about what has been done while I have been ill.”
“I guess that wouldn’t hurt,” Sloan said grudgingly. “But not for long. If you have any questions after that, you can ask me.”
“Sí, Cebellina. We will work together, you and I, as a husband and wife should.”
Sloan stared at him. “I’m only helping until you get well,” she said. “This isn’t going to be a permanent thing.”
“Of course, Cebellina,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
Chapter 18
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN CRUZ MET with Miguel and heard what Sloan had accomplished on Dolorosa while he was in a coma, he realized how badly he had misunderstood and underestimated the woman he had made his wife.
Cruz had always known that Sloan was overseer for Three Oaks, but he had never seen her acting in a position of authority. When he had first regained consciousness, he had been willing to indulge his wife and allow his orders to be funneled through her to Miguel. He had never expected Miguel to treat her as though she were actually in charge. Seeing them deep in conversation at his bedside, he realized that was exactly what had happened.
“So you see, Miguel,” Sloan was explaining, “if the crops growing in each vaquero’s garden are thinned and then layered with manure, the plants will grow taller and bear larger vegetables.”
“Sí, Doña Sloan,” Miguel replied. “I understand. I will tell my vaqueros what you have suggested.”
Sloan turned to Cruz and asked, “Is there anything more you wanted to know from Miguel regarding what was done in your absence?”
“No. I have heard enough.”
Miguel rose from the rawhide chair beside Cruz’s bed and said, “May your good health return quickly, Patrón.”
“Gracias, Miguel. I expect to be rejoining you soon. Until then, you will continue as before, taking orders from Doña Sloan.”
A flicker of surprise flashed in Miguel’s dark eyes at Cruz’s command. When he had learned that Don Cruz had recovered, he had thought he had seen the last of Doña Sloan among the vaqueros.
But it would be a foolish man who did not take advantage of such a talented wife. And Don Cruz was no fool. Miguel nodded his obeisance to Cruz, then shifted his stance and did the same to Sloan before he turned and left the room.
“I see you have made a conquest,” Cruz said as Sloan closed the door behind Miguel.
She turned and walked back to stand beside the bed. “What do you mean?”
“The man who just left this room would gladly lay down his life for you.”
“Only because I am your wife.”
“No, it is more than that. How did you garner his approval so quickly? It took weeks after my father died before I had earned his acceptance and respect. You have done it in eight days.”
“I didn’t do anything special that I know of,” Sloan said. “Just dug in and went to work like I would have at Three Oaks.”
Cruz heard in her description of her actions what she hadn’t known how to explain. What other woman would have worked side by side with his vaqueros? None that Cruz knew.
He had never before comprehended how much this woman needed a position beside him-in more places than at the dining table and in bed. No wonder she had dreaded leaving Three Oaks and coming to live at Dolorosa. No wonder she had not been as truly happy living with him as he had hoped.
For the past four months, he had-no matter that it had been by necessity-kept her separate from the work on Dolorosa that was so much of his life. He saw now the mistake he had made. He only hoped it was not too late to make amends, and to offer her a life she would willingly share with him.
“You have done very well, Cebellina. There are some things I will need your help to get accomplished in time for the spring roundup.”
Sloan relaxed, realizing she had been braced for criticism and received praise. Not only that, but Cruz seemed both eager and willing to have her help. “I’ll do anything I can,” she offered. “Before we get started, there is someone else who has been waiting to see you.”
Sloan went to the door and called for Josefa, who arrived moments later with Cisco in tow. As soon as he saw Sloan, the little boy came running and leaped into her arms. Sloan picked him up, and chattering happily together, they walked across the room to Cruz’s bedside.
Cruz was astounded-and pleased-at this sudden change in Sloan’s behavior toward her son. It was another miracle for which he saw no clear explanation. “You two look happy.”
“Cisco and I have something we have to tell you.”
“Good news, I hope.”
“Good for Betsy,” Sloan replied.
“Betsy’s Uncle Louis came to get her,” Cisco explained as Sloan set him down on the bed next to Cruz. “She is going to live on his farm.”
“It must have been sad to say good-bye to her.”
“Sí,” Cisco said. “Mamá cried.”
Sloan sat down on the bed beside Cisco. “But Cisco said he would play with me and keep me from being so lonely. And you know… I’m not.” She smiled at Cisco and gave him a big hug.
Cruz felt a queer tug in his chest. They would be a family now, he and Sloan and Cisco. Somehow she had put the past behind her and offered them all a chance at a future together.
Then he remembered the reason she had fled into the storm. He had brought the past once more into the present, apparently consorting with the Mexicans-just like his brother, Tonio-against the interests of the Republic. Did Sloan think she had married a dishonorable man, a traitor to Texas?
She had said nothing this morning about his activities as the Hawk, had asked no questions about why the Englishman had visited Dolorosa. It appeared that she did not intend to do so. Why? he wondered. Had she forgiven him?
He did not think so, not when his crime had been such a clear echo of Tonio’s. But if she had not forgiven him, why was she being so helpful? Why hadn’t she run home to Three Oaks when he had been unable to stop her?
He had learned long ago to let sleeping dogs lie. There would be time in the weeks ahead to find out how Sloan felt, to explain what he could, and to excuse what he couldn’t. For now he had to learn to share with her, to include her in the parts of his life that he had hitherto kept separate.
After Cisco had visited with Cruz for a while, Josefa came to get him. Sloan once more closed the door, shutting out everyone else, but this time, instead of coming to sit beside Cruz, she leaned back against the door, her eyes on the polished toes of her boots.
“There is one more thing we need to discuss.” She looked up and met his inquiring gaze.
Cruz sat up slowly. “What is that?”
“Tomasita has changed her mind about marrying Don Ambrosio.”
He frowned. Did she think to make this decision for him also? However much he realized the necessity of sharing responsibility with her, he still bridled at the newness of it. Here was something that need not be her concern. “Tomasita will do as she is told,” he said. “I have already signed the contracts with Don Ambrosio. It is done.”
Sloan didn’t miss the irritation in his voice. His face was pale and dotted with perspiration. She crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder to force him back flat on the bed. “Rest now. We can speak again later.”
“I have nothing more to say on the subject.”
“Very well. Then say nothing more,” she said with asperity.
Sloan brushed the sweat-damp hair from his brow as though it were the most natural gesture in the world. “Go to sleep now. Rest and get well.”
The feelings of love that welled inside her made her uncomfortable. How could she love him and
distrust him at the same time? Could she ever forgive him for masquerading as the Hawk?
She had promised him six months. She had six weeks left until the end of April. She need not think about leaving him now. That could come later.
Sloan stayed with Cruz until she was sure he was asleep and then went hunting for Tomasita. She found her kneeling at the prie-dieu in her room. Sloan entered the room silently and stood inside the door, listening to the quiet, comforting murmur of the young woman’s voice.
“Tomasita?”
Tomasita stood immediately and crossed to Sloan. “Is something wrong? Has something happened to Don Cruz?”
“No, he’s fine. I wanted to talk with you. Shall we go for a walk?”
Tomasita followed Sloan out to the courtyard among the blooming jonquils. She took a seat on one of the stone benches and patted the place beside her. Once Sloan had joined her, she said, “Something is wrong. What is it?”
“Cruz is determined that you will marry Don Ambrosio. Which means if you plan to tell Luke about the baby before you make your decision whether to return to Madrid, it must be soon.”
“Holy Mary.” Tomasita put a hand to her pounding heart. “I cannot speak to Luke. I cannot.”
“You must. You owe it to your child. You owe it to yourself.”
“I will think about it.”
“Think hard. And think fast. You haven’t much time. Once Cruz recovers, he is sure to press for your marriage to Don Ambrosio. You’ll find Luke at Three Oaks,” Sloan said. “He’s gone there to oversee the spring planting of cotton.”
Sloan felt a tightening in her belly at the recognition that this year, for the first time in her life, she hadn’t been on hand to set the cotton seeds in the fertile soil to sprout and grow. She had been busy with an entirely different kind of birth-thousands and thousands of longhorn cattle dropping their spring calves. She had found the experience equally miraculous and equally demanding.
Over the next few days, as Cruz regained his strength, the March weather remained fractious, and Sloan was kept busy with the calving that went on despite the wind and the rain. However, each day she found time to ask Tomasita whether she had done anything about approaching Luke.
For her part, Tomasita found herself unable either to seek out Luke or approach Don Cruz, terrified of the responses she would get.
What if Luke would not marry her?
Her heart would break.
What if Don Cruz refused to allow her to return to Spain?
She would be forced to marry Don Ambrosio and live her life with one man when she loved another.
What if he did send her back to the convent?
After living in the world, such a lonely, quiet life would be too terrible to endure.
And so she did not do anything.
With Tomasita’s wedding day rapidly approaching, Sloan took matters into her own hands. She sent a message to Luke telling him that she needed to speak with him and to please come to Dolorosa as soon as he could, and left the rest up to fate.
To Sloan’s surprise, she received a prompt message back from Luke.
Dear Sloan,
Beaufort LeFevre and his daughter, Angelique, have arrived at Three Oaks, where they’re staying while Beaufort waits for his audience with President Jones. Beaufort is part of the contingent of American politicians sent to convince the Texas government that annexation is the best way to go. Personally, I have to agree.
Anyway, the gist of the situation is that I wish I could get away, but I can’t. Whatever time I don’t spend out in the fields is taken up by Angelique.
She is even more beautiful now than she was four years ago, when she and Beaufort came to visit at Three Oaks. The scars she got from the time Cricket’s pet wolf attacked her hardly show at all.
Why don’t you come to Three Oaks and bring Cruz and Cisco? Oh, and bring Tomasita, too.
Too busy to spit,
Luke
If she had been the only one involved, Sloan might have refused the offer to come visit Three Oaks. It was bound to be a painful venture for her. Besides, she didn’t want Cruz anywhere near Beaufort LeFevre.
But for Tomasita’s sake, she knew she had to accept. Because as far as Tomasita’s situation was concerned, Luke’s letter was alarming. If Sloan remembered correctly, Angelique LeFevre had set her claws in Luke four years ago, if only briefly. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Angelique and Luke became lovers again.
On the other hand, maybe seeing Luke with Angelique was just the kick in the pants Tomasita needed to make her stake her claim on the Ranger.
That evening, Sloan planned how best to approach Cruz to be sure he would agree to what she asked. When he excused himself after dinner, saying he wanted to check on his bayo, she nodded, planning to give him a few minutes alone before she joined him.
When she reached the stable, she heard voices. In moments she recognized them and froze in the darkness. Cruz! And the Englishman!
“I warned you not to come here again,” Cruz snarled.
“I had no choice. Time is running short. The American Congress has passed a resolution offering statehood to Texas under very favorable terms. Your President Jones has agreed to wait at least ninety days before acting on the American proposal. Jones is, at this very moment, preparing an ultimatum to present to the Mexican government. He is demanding an immediate acknowledgment of independence from Mexico in exchange for his pledge that the Republic of Texas will never allow itself to be annexed by the United States.
“I want you to detain Beaufort LeFevre at Three Oaks until Jones has had time to finish his ultimatum and dispatch it to the Mexican authorities.”
“How long do you think that might take?”
“Bloody hell! How should I know?”
“And if I refuse?”
“You wouldn’t like the consequences of failing me, Hawk.”
“I am not afraid of Alejandro Sanchez, Englishman.”
“I thought not. That’s why I made sure I have a little extra insurance?”
“What insurance?”
“Some letters your brother left with the Mexican government. They implicate your wife in a pretty nasty little plot to overthrow the government of Texas.”
“Those letters must be over four years old.”
“A traitor is still a traitor, no matter how much time passes. I will leave you now, Hawk. Don’t disappoint me.”
Sloan waited in the shadows until the Englishman had settled his rotund body in his carriage and driven away. She remained there while Cruz lit and smoked a cheroot, the sweet tobacco smell floating to her on the slight breeze.
She closed her eyes and held her breath when he finally left the stable and headed back toward the house. Then she slid down along the side of the adobe structure until she was sitting on the ground, her forehead resting on her knees.
Cruz had actually tried to quit his work for the British government. But it was clear the Englishman had no intention of allowing that to happen. She could hardly believe the incredible source of the whip wielded by the Englishman to keep Cruz in line.
The question now was what she should do with the information she had acquired.
Her first thought was to confront Cruz with what she had heard. However, it was unlikely he would agree to change his plans, and if he knew she was privy to them, he might take steps to make sure she wasn’t around to interfere with them.
Or she could tell Luke what she had heard. But he might feel compelled to report Cruz to some higher authority. Texas and Mexico were still at war-although all the battles were being fought on paper.
Cruz’s actions could easily be construed as treachery by those Texans who had lobbied so hard for annexation. She didn’t presume to understand why President Jones was presenting such an ultimatum to Mexico. No matter what the Mexican government did now, most Texans would vote for annexation when the issue was presented.
She would simply have to do something herself to thwart the Engli
shman’s plans. It seemed they would be playing right into the Englishman’s hands if they accepted Luke’s invitation to Three Oaks, but it was important for Tomasita’s sake that they go.
Perhaps she could delay their departure a few days, or maybe even a week. With luck, Beaufort LeFevre would have already made contact with President Jones by the time they arrived.
Now, she just needed to find some reason to keep Cruz involved at Dolorosa.
Sloan pushed herself up onto her feet, brushed herself off, and headed back to the house. For the first time in months, her step was light. Things weren’t settled by a long shot, but she had never felt so much in control of her life.
That night in bed, Cruz said casually, “We have not been able to get much work done in this weather, and it has been a long time since you have seen your father. It has been even longer since he has seen his grandson. How would you like to visit Three Oaks?”
“I guess that would be all right,” Sloan said. “But there are a few things I have to get done here before we can leave.”
“What sort of things?”
“I promised Miguel I would-”
“Anything that Miguel must do, he can do without your help.”
Sloan played idly with the dark hair on Cruz’s chest. “But these are projects I suggested. I would like to see them through to the finish. You don’t mind, do you?”
She smiled secretly as she felt Cruz fidgeting. Of course he minded, she thought, but what could he say?
Cruz was thinking about the promise he had made to himself to include Sloan more in his life. He only wished he didn’t have this intrigue with Sir Giles hanging over his head. “Very well, Cebellina. But I will come and help, that you may be done the sooner.”
“Of course,” she agreed with a pleased grin. “I would like that very much.”
Each morning for the next week, Sloan kept Cruz occupied with one project after another. The weather helped by being absolutely awful. It rained, the wind blew, and the storms left more damage that had to be taken care of before they could think about leaving.
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