Four Winds (River of Time California, Book 2)

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “I shall take care of that,” I said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Get your ship seaworthy and ready to sail for Monterey, my friend, and I shall fill your hold with all the cargo you can manage from Rancho de la Ventura.”

  CHAPTER 7

  ZARA

  Captain Mendoza brought Mateo in. The boy was groggy, squinting in the relative dark of the cabin after the bright sun on deck. I winced as I saw his swollen eye and bruising cheek, even as he frowned at me. “Zara?” he said, dumbfounded. “What have they done to you?”

  He turned furiously toward the captain, but the much larger man just forced him into a chair. “Settle down, boy. You’re my captive, as is Señorita Zara, and there is no fight here that you can win.” One of his men shut the door behind him, but one stayed inside, folding his work-hardened arms and keeping an eye on Mateo and me in case we thought about trying some crazy escape plan.

  “I’m all right, Mateo,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Despite what it looks like.” I knew from my limited vision that my left eye was really puffy. My cheek ached, where the man had punched me and knocked me out on the beach. “We’re on our way to Monterey.”

  “As I’ve heard,” Mateo said, glaring at the captain as he sat down across the table from him and casually sipped from a mug. “Where this thief intends to rob my brother.”

  “Thief?” the captain repeated drily. “I prefer to think of it as seeing through an agreement between two gentlemen.”

  “You, Captain, are a pirate. You are not a gentleman.”

  “And you are an insolent boy,” he sneered, rising to come after him.

  Mateo bravely stared at Captain Mendoza with nothing but belligerence as the pirate took hold of his tattered shirt at the neck. I definitely could see he was Javier’s brother. The resemblance, along with his defiance, strengthened me too.

  Mendoza tightened his grip on the shirt, making it look like he was choking him. “Javier offered to pay you double what you asked for our return,” I said hurriedly, “if you did not harm us.”

  The captain slowly dropped Mateo’s shirt and then turned to approach me, leaning close to speak in my right ear, and then my left. “Make no mistake, my dear. I have already won in this deal, regardless of what gold I fetch from Don de la Ventura in the end. Your fate, and the whelp’s, is entirely in my hands.”

  I frowned. The cargo was undoubtedly worth a great deal, but so much that he could turn down four chests full of gold? I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly dry. Was it a game? An idle threat to keep things interesting for him? Or was that a note of truth behind his words? I shifted in my seat but then abruptly stilled as his eyes lazily moved from Mateo back to me.

  He rose and walked around the table, reaching out to place his finger beneath my chin, gently forcing me to look him in the eye. “You shall answer a few questions for me, Zara, if you do not want us to lash young Mateo to the mast again and fulfill our threat of last night.”

  I pulled my chin away, not agreeing to anything.

  He sighed heavily. “Let us begin with Javier de la Ventura. I wish to know where his loyalties lie.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Does he remain loyal to Mexico, or does he side with the Americans? More and more of them sail these waters. Did the good Captain Craig fill his mind with the Unionist claptrap?”

  I frowned. “I…I don’t know.”

  “I believe you do,” he said, pinching my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze.

  “She will tell you nothing,” Mateo spat out. “You wish to know something about my brother? Ask him yourself when you see him in Monterey.”

  One look at Mateo and I knew what Captain Mendoza would discern—the boy would not be forthcoming, and he didn’t want me to be, either. But at what cost? Clearly, this man wanted what he wanted and wouldn’t hesitate to use either of us against the other. As mature as Mateo was, maybe he hadn’t lived long enough to know people like I did. How wonderful…and horrible they could be.

  “Oh, I believe she will,” the captain said, continuing to round the table. He pulled a long knife from his belt and put it under the boy’s chin as he looked over at me. Mateo’s eyes widened as he leaned back, and the captain pressed the blade into his neck.

  “He will not kill me,” Mateo said bravely. “If he does, he receives no ransom.”

  “Ahh, true,” the captain said. He took hold of the boy’s ear and moved the knife to it. “But a simple maiming would still get me half of your brother’s gold.”

  Mateo swallowed hard.

  “Captain—” I began.

  “Does Don Javier de la Ventura remain a loyal son to Mexico?” the captain asked, ominously caressing Mateo’s earlobe. He focused his steely gaze on me. “Or does he fancy the Americans’ advance into this territory? He does a fair trade, after all, with Americans like Captain Craig.” He spit out the captain’s name as if it tasted rank.

  “He…he is loyal to Mexico,” I said, deciding on Javier’s own last, known public proclamation. “Did he not just pay his taxes?”

  “Reluctantly, it was said,” the captain said. He moved behind Mateo, grabbed his forehead and pulled it back. His dagger hovered near Mateo’s open eye, the tip terribly close. He stared down at the boy even as he continued speaking to me. “Was he reluctant because he listens too often to the rhetoric of those such as Captain Craig, with their idle notions of the Union expanding?”

  “I-I have no idea.”

  His dagger got even closer to Mateo’s eye. I could see beads of sweat forming on the boy’s lip.

  “Think, Zara,” the captain said. “You must tell me something. I know you know something that would be of interest.”

  I wondered why he cared. Why it mattered. Was he not a pirate? Did pirates around here have an alliance with Mexico or something?

  He edged the knife closer, and Mateo sucked in his breath.

  “He has wondered!” I blurted. “Considered what would be wise!”

  “Wise?” the captain asked, pulling away the knife a tiny bit. “In what way?”

  “Whether it would be best to remain true to Mexico or consider the Unionists’ cause.”

  Mateo’s eyes widened again, but this time he looked at me. He frowned. “Zara! That is not true!”

  He was like his mother, Doña Elena. He wanted to believe that Javier would never betray the mother country. And yet if the mother country did nothing for them but bleed them of necessary resources without giving anything in return…

  “Why do you care?” I asked the captain. “What business is it of yours? You’ll take your gold and run, will you not?”

  He shrugged and sheathed his dagger, bringing me some measure of relief. The tension in Mateo’s shoulders eased a little, but his face was still white. “That remains to be seen,” Mendoza said. “And in my line of work, knowledge is power. Now”—he paused to lift his hands, once again assuming the role of cordial host—“do either of you play chess? I have hungered for a good game for some time and have already beaten every man aboard ship.”

  “Sail ho!” came a shout, distant, as if from the crow’s nest. “Sail ho!”

  The captain’s smile vanished, and he strode toward the door. The guard posted there opened it for him and both exited, leaving Mateo and me alone for a sec. Outside, we heard the captain shout, “Hoist the red and green!” A flag, I assumed. Mexican?

  “Do you think it’s Javier?” I asked Mateo. “Someone in pursuit?”

  He shook his head, his face rueful. “There’s not been enough time. Most likely just another merchant ship en route north to Monterey or south to San Diego. But whoever it is, Mendoza won’t want them to know what he’s done or the cargo he carries.”

  “What if we went out on the deck?” I asked him in a whisper. “Signaled them for help?”

  “To what end?” he returned. “Even if they could somehow discern that we were in need of aid, if they attacked the ship, we wou
ld as likely be hurt in the skirmish as rescued.” He winced. “Do you think you might be able to get my bindings loose? My shoulders ache terribly.”

  I hurriedly rose and went around to him, chagrined that I hadn’t thought of it myself. As I worked on the knot, I asked, “Did they hurt you, out on deck last night?”

  He shook his head. “They ripped my shirt, as you can see, and bound me to the mast, as if they had every intention of flogging me. But then the captain simply waved the rest off and left me to stand there through the night.”

  I frowned, trying to figure that out. Why go through the motions but then not follow through? The knot came loose at last, and Mateo slowly rolled one shoulder and then the other, touching each one in turn. He turned partway in his chair and took my hand. “And you, Zara?” he asked, gazing at me intently. “Did the captain do you any harm?”

  “No,” I said, feeling my face warm at what he obviously feared. His eyes were so much like Javier’s, chocolate-brown and laced with thick lashes. “In fact, he didn’t return to the cabin last night after he’d escorted me here. Not until this morning.”

  It was Mateo’s turn to frown as he rose and paced to the porthole to look out, obviously thinking as he rubbed his raw wrists. “So he suggests he might do us harm, but then doesn’t.”

  “Because he wants the extra gold that Javier promised?”

  “Perhaps. I think it’s as he said; his mind is not yet settled.” He turned to me, and I realized that he was just taller than I was. Had he always been so, or had he grown in the last weeks I’d been here? Or was it that I was simply looking to him as more of an equal rather than as Javier’s little brother? “I think we’d best do all we can not to taunt him, Zara. If these men were willing to murder our own and kidnap us, then they may well follow through on their threats.”

  I nodded, and he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, quietly encouraging me. “If we can get to Monterey,” he whispered, “there might be a chance for us to escape the ship, and save the rancho the cost of freeing us.”

  “Do you know the city?”

  He squinted. “Have you not been there?”

  I shook my head, electing to say nothing more. Mateo did not yet know what Javier and Doña Elena did—that I hadn’t seen much of Alta California…at least, in 1840. What I’d seen in my own time was much, much different. “Tell me of it.”

  “There will be a great number of ships,” he said, pacing back and forth. “We may be able to swim to the nearest and enlist their aid,” he added in an undertone. “Or if we can get to town, there are as many saloons as ships. Surely we could find aid in one of those.”

  “I can’t imagine that we’ll be left unguarded,” I said.

  “No. But if we behave as docile prisoners, resigned to our fate and merely waiting for the exchange between the captain and Javier, they may very well relax and not be as vigilant.”

  I nodded and paced a bit myself. “We can hope,” I said. “How soon until we reach Monterey?”

  “Depending on the weather, another day, maybe two. There’s another storm on the wind, and rounding Point Concepción is always a risky pass.”

  “And how long until Javier reaches us?”

  “He’ll come as quickly as he can, Zara. Trust me. Even if he has to come overland, my brother will come for us in time.”

  CHAPTER 8

  ZARA

  It was a good plan. But that night, we dined at the captain’s table along with the first mate, the second, and the steward. The brush with the other ship had seemed to cool the captain’s attitude toward us; perhaps he now was just eager to get us off his ship and into Javier’s hands, before he was caught with a hold full of Rancho Ventura’s inventory and two kidnapped victims. But the second mate, Gonzalo, leered at me so much that I had a hard time eating. Not to mention the fact that just watching the short, wide man shovel food into his mouth was disgusting in its own right. He chewed with his mouth open, ignoring the bits of food that got caught in his beard and mustache. And when he found the bits, he plucked them out and popped them in his mouth, half-grinning at me all the while.

  The first mate, Emilio, was a more educated man who seemed to disdain Gonzalo but refrained from chastising him with words, even though his eyes did a fair job of it. He asked a couple questions of Mateo, which were grudgingly answered, and then turned his sharp-eyed gaze on me. “And you, Señorita Ruiz? How did you manage to capture the heart of one of Alta California’s most eligible bachelors?”

  “Do you not have two eyes to see, man?” slurred the second mate. His eyes slid down to my cleavage and back again for the hundredth time that night. The captain merely sat back in his chair, lifted his glass in silent toast to me, and sipped.

  “It must be more than mere beauty to draw a man like Javier de la Ventura,” said the first mate, his eyes still on mine. “We’ve waited a long time to find a way to corner the man’s attention. What a joy to finally hear of you,” he said, lifting his own glass in silent toast to me.

  I puzzled over his words. They’d had their eyes set on Javier for a long time? Didn’t pirates just swoop in on the next conquest and swoop back out?

  Emilio took a sip and considered me further. “So tell us, Señorita. From where did you come? Some fine family in Mexico? Or are the rumors true that you washed up on shore with no recollection of whence you came at all?”

  “She’s a siren,” slurred the second mate. “Stole the man’s heart and then traded her tail for legs!” He glanced under the table as if he wanted to make sure they remained legs, which made the captain laugh.

  But the first mate’s light brown eyes remained on mine.

  “It is true,” I said, setting down my fork. “I have no recollection of where I came from, only that it wasn’t too far from Rancho de la Ventura.”

  “Such a mystery,” the captain said. “Not far, and yet no one knows you or your family. Judging by your grace and countenance, you are no orphan. And yet your Spanish is…far from genteel. You have no family in search of you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “She suffered a terrible head injury,” Mateo said. “My mother and brother believe it caused her to lose her memory.”

  “Convenient, that,” said the captain. “There are parts of my own past that I’d rather forget.”

  “Perhaps she was a whore in Mexico City,” said the second mate.

  Clearly horrified by such an accusation, Mateo shoved back his chair and rose. “You dare to say such a thing to my brother’s intended?”

  “Sit down, boy,” the captain said coldly. Slowly, jaw and fists clenched, Mateo did as he was told.

  The second mate raised his hands as if sorry, but his expression was anything but apologetic. The corners of his mouth still quirked upward.

  The first mate leaned back in his own chair, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It is not such a preposterous notion,” he said. “We meet prostitutes in every port, with dreams in their heads of a new start in Alta California. A rich ranchero would only sweeten the pot. Perhaps you were a stowaway and the captain found you, knocked you over the head, and tossed you overboard.”

  “I was not a prostitute,” I said flatly.

  “Oh?” said the captain, leaning forward. “So you remember that much. Curious.”

  “Give me a chance with her this eve, and I’ll give you a full report, Captain,” said Gonzalo. “I’ll tell you if she’s untried or well versed in the ways of men.”

  I shifted in my seat.

  “I think not,” said the captain drily.

  “Zara is an accomplished cook,” Mateo said, obviously trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

  “Truly?” the captain said.

  “Truly,” I returned.

  “So the girl draws Ventura’s appetite in more ways than one,” said Emilio, pouring himself a second glass of wine for himself and then topping off mine, though I had barely touched it.

  “But his mother is not one who
is rumored to fancy a common cook as the future bride of Don Javier,” Gonzalo said.

  Mateo and I shared a glance. Obviously, these men had been gathering information about Javier and his family for some time—beyond the taxes, beyond the likely stores in Bonita Harbor…

  “Look at her,” the captain said, gesturing toward me with his goblet. “There is nothing common about her. It is almost as if she is from another country. Her Spanish is not like others’ in this region. And yet neither is it like any I’ve heard in Mexico.”

  I pretended to toss him a conspiratorial grin and raised my own goblet. “Algo misterioso acerca de una mujer es siempre buena cosa para un hombre, ¿no es así?” Some mystery in a woman is always a good thing for a man, is it not?

  The captain grinned and lifted his goblet higher, then took a swig while I ventured a tiny sip. I wanted them to think I was relaxing, maybe even partly enjoying their company. But there was no way I could allow myself to get tipsy. That would be stupid.

  “Perhaps she’s a witch and has entranced Don Ventura,” the second mate said, squinting at me as if he could see an aura about me.

  The candelabrum at the center of the table slid a little as a big wave washed past us. The first mate reached out and caught it, then looked to the captain. “Las olas están creciendo más pesado.” The seas are growing heavier.

  “Indeed,” Mendoza said, turning to the second mate. “Go to the deck and report back.”

  “Aye,” Gonzalo said, lumbering to his feet. He held on to the table a moment, as if gaining his balance, then set off, opening and closing the door loudly.

  The captain was just asking Mateo about the year’s citrus crop when the second mate knocked and ducked his head back in. “Best you come straight away, Capitán. A storm is soon upon us.”

  The captain swore under his breath, tossed back the last of his wine, and rose. I was surprised he could stand at all, but then maybe he routinely drank a lot. The candelabrum was again sliding. The silent steward rose and blew out the five candles, then strapped it on a shelf in the corner of the room, where it could safely be stashed in any seas.