Rescuing the Runaway Bride

by Bonnie Navarro

  “Well, Vicente is very handsome and I’m glad you have him,” Vicky admitted, “because I’ll be keeping my Americano.” She couldn’t quite crush the urge to run downstairs and out into the barnyard to chase away all those girls who were admiring her soon-to-be husband. But before she could do more than set her sewing aside, someone knocked on the door.

  “I wonder who that could be.” Rosa batted her eyes at Vicky and clasped her hands at her chest and sighed exaggeratedly.

  Throwing a pillow at her friend, Vicky scrambled up to see who was at the door. “Quien?”

  * * *

  Standing in the corral, watching the horse stomp and snort, Chris concentrated on keeping his voice low and his movements slow. He was aware of the men and women standing around watching him work. The colt didn’t like his presence in his corral any more than Chris liked the idea of someone still on the hacienda who had taken a shot at José Luis the night before. Two men had ambushed José Luis, Alfredo and two other vaqueros as they escorted Joaquín off the premises. The first of Joaquín’s men had been killed in the gunfight, but a second one had escaped. Joaquín was tied up and guarded in one of the vaquero’s cabins.

  Finally the colt stopped prancing and Chris held out his hand for the animal to sniff his scent. It was the first step. Before he could move to touch its muzzle, someone shouted from the back of the gathered group.

  The colt bucked and started to rear. Knowing there would be no more progress today, Chris backed away, climbed over the fence and saw what the commotion had been about. A man with a bloody cloth wrapped around his midthigh, hands bound behind his back, was being dragged toward the cabin that served as the lockup. As the man was hauled away, he looked behind him, and his gaze landed on Chris. Fear and then pure hatred, the kind he’d seen only a few times in his life, glinted like steel in the man’s dark brown eyes. Then he spat at Chris and said the same words he had heard twice before. “Go away, you American dog.”

  It was the man from the attack. One of the three who had tried to kill him and had shot Jeb in the back with no warning.

  Fury straightened his spine, and he was halfway to the man before he almost ran over a child. The red in his vision cleared slowly as he stooped to help the small girl. Her eyes were as big and dark as Vicky’s, filled with fear of him. It halted him in his tracks. He could not let the anger he felt toward Joaquín and his men turn him into an animal who mistreated others.

  Crouching down to her level, he made eye contact. “I’m sorry, small one.” He uttered the phrase he’d heard Vicky use the day before while talking to her brother. He picked up her rag doll from the ground and wiped the dirt off. He handed it back to her, but she paused a moment before reaching out and taking his offering.

  The little girl stepped back, giggling. As she raced off, he heard her call to her friends, “The Americano talks funny.”

  At least she wasn’t running off in terror.

  He went as far as the steps of the small cabin where they were keeping the prisoners. Don Ruiz stood just inside listening to an animated account from the vaqueros who had apprehended the injured man. The man in question hung from the arms of the two who had brought him in. The length of his pant leg was soaked in blood. If they didn’t get the bleeding stopped and the wound cleaned, they’d only need a pine box for him.

  “Don Ruiz, man need doctor,” Chris called out from the doorway. All heads turned to look at him. Joaquín twisted on the cot where he was bound and began shouting in a menacing voice.

  Don Ruiz shouted over him. “This man shot José Luis last night! He not man...” The rest of his words were unfamiliar, but Chris understood the gist of them. By attacking men on the hacienda, these men relinquished any rights to be treated humanely.

  He stepped back, away from the cabin. He needed to pray. Was it right to let a man bleed to death? While he waited, Berto hobbled over and entered the place. Soon most of the other men exited except for the guards and Don Ruiz. Chris wandered back, still debating and silently praying for wisdom.

  The door had been left open, and from it he could see Berto slit the bloodied pants of the wounded man who now lay on the cot. Joaquín had been tied to a chair in the far corner of the cramped cabin, and a vaquero stood at the ready with a pistol in hand. Berto prepared a cloth to treat the injured man’s wounds. With the first splash of some sort of alcohol, the wounded man screamed and bucked almost completely off the bed. Chris entered the room and hunkered down at the foot of the bed, holding the man’s legs still so Berto could continue his ministrations. Before they were done, the man passed out.

  “Thank you for your help, Señor Samuels.” Don Ruiz slapped him on the back of his shoulder as they finished washing up at the pump by the barn.

  “You’re welcome, sir. And I’d like you to call me Chris.” He finished toweling off his hands and looked about the yard. Men and women hustled here and there, and he glanced up at the second-story window. What was Vicky doing now? He’d been up to bother her a dozen times earlier, and all he wanted was to run back up there again.

  “Fine, Chris.” Don Ruiz paused for a moment, but Chris knew that he had something on his mind. “My English no good to tell you what I think. My Vicky have good man. Man who take care of her and protect.”

  Chris met Don Ruiz’s gaze and nodded, confirming what was said without words. “I love your daughter, sir. I will do everything I can to protect and cherish her.”

  “You know that man who we fix?”

  “Do I know who that man is?” Chris clarified.

  “Sí. You know?”

  “Yes. He and two other men attacked my ranchito last year. They shot Jeb, the man who worked for me, in the back while we were working in the field.”

  “Joaquín say he kill him for not doing job of killing you. We need him to live to tell El General what Joaquín pay him to do. But that not why you want doctor?”

  Chris heard the question in the man’s voice and knew he needed to be honest. “A part of me wanted to kill him when I recognized him. He killed a defenseless old man and shot José Luis, as well. He needs to be punished. But to let him bleed to death is not the Christian way. He needs to go to court and have a judge listen to his case. He needs to be tried for his crimes. And if he can testify against Don Joaquín, all the better.”

  “Chris, we live in middle of trees and mountains. No many court or judge here. We make justice. But Joaquín es don with big hacienda. He need to go to army so can take land from him. He need to go to presidio—how you say? Fort? I take him day after you marry Vicky. He no send more men to attack Americanos. You and you rancho and you villa be safe.”

  “Thank you, Don Ruiz.”

  The older man settled his hand on Chris’s shoulder even though he had to reach up a good three inches to do so. “You now part of Familia Ruiz. Take care of mi princesa.”

  “I will, Don Ruiz. I’ll take very good care of our princesa.” Vicky’s father nodded his approval and pushed him toward the house.

  “Go talk with Vicky. She think you forget her.” A glance at the sun riding so low on the horizon gave credence to Don Ruiz’s words. Hurrying to the house, Chris took a deep breath and exhaled, thanking God for the way all things had worked out.

  * * *

  “I.” His accent hadn’t gotten any better in the last day, but it was music to her ears.

  Swinging the door open, she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door quickly behind her before he could catch a glimpse of her dress or his new suit.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he slid his hand down her arm, linking their fingers together.

  “Yes. And you?”

  “I’m great! I’ve got the prettiest bride who will become my wife tomorrow, and I’ve just spent two hours playing with horses. The only thing that could have been better is if you had been playing with the
horses with me.”

  “It more fun than sewing all day.” She tried to keep the pout out of her voice, but his look of compassion said he knew she would have rather been outdoors.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I know today isn’t much fun for you.” He leaned closer and kissed her forehead.

  “It no important. You will look so guapo in your suit tomorrow.” She promised and hoped he would like the charro suit that they were making for him. Most of the time the ladies from the hacienda would take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months to put together the special-occasion suit because the embroidering that was required and all the fancy stitches took hours and hours of patience. But they didn’t have that kind of time.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Chris asked as he began to lead her down the hallway toward the stairs.

  “Hmm.” She grinned. “How good you sew?”

  “As in needle and thread?” The look on his face was priceless. “You saw those tattered clothes I was wearing when you first came to the cabin. That should give you a clue.”

  “Clue?” A new word. Would she ever get to a point where she understood everything he said?

  “Clue. Hint.”

  “Hint?”

  He nodded and then explained as he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “Listen, Vicky. I wanted to talk with you about our time here.” Chris led her to a bench with a view overlooking the patio. He paused as he waited for her to settle her skirts, and then he took a seat next to her. He lifted her hand and, after kissing the back of it, kept it clasped loosely in his own.

  “I know you have been gone for a while from here, and I’m sure all your friends want to see you and have a chance to talk, but I’m worried about Nana Ruth. I don’t know the hermanos very well who are staying with her. They don’t speak English, and she doesn’t speak Spanish. I can’t leave her alone for too long. I also have to start to get the fields ready for the spring planting and the...”

  “Chris,” Vicky interrupted, knowing his worry would be resolved quickly. “We leave the day after we marry. We leave day after tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” It stopped him short, and he turned to gaze fully at her. “Did you already talk with your father?”

  “Yes. He say no stay too long. He want to take Don Joaquín to the presidio. Papá want take Joaquín before he try escape again. The other dons here, they go with Papá and then go home to their haciendas. Papá say sooner I go, sooner he come to visit.” She grinned at the look of relief that washed over Chris’s features.

  “But what about packing? I’m sure you will want more clothing than the last time you stayed with us. Not that there is much room for all your pretty dresses in our little cabin just yet, but we will build you a house this summer. It won’t be nearly as big as this one, but it will have at least five bedrooms, a living room, dining room, study and kitchen.”

  Disappointment caught her unaware. She had hoped to go back and settle into housekeeping for the two of them with Nana Ruth in the cabin, as well. Something about the cabin made her feel safe and secure. Would she feel the same in the new home Chris planned to build for her? He squeezed her hand in his, bending to see her face better.

  “What are you thinking? Do you want the house to be bigger than that?” His forehead creased in wrinkles of concern.

  “No, I not want big house. I like cabin. It where I met you and Nana Ruth and learned to love...” His smile came back in full bloom.

  “I like my cabin, too, but we need a bedroom for ourselves, honey. And when your parents come to visit? Where would we have them all sleep? Your brothers would end up in the barn.”

  She had to concede his point, but she didn’t want to give up his cozy cabin either. “But I like cabin. It like home for bird or rabbit.”

  “It has birds?” Chris looked out at the patio. “I can imagine this one might have bird nests, but mine doesn’t.”

  “No, you house like nest.” He had inadvertently given her the word she looked for. “It warm and nice and perfecto.”

  He grinned and hugged her into his side. “It’s too small for us and Nana Ruth.”

  “No, we all stay in cabin like before.”

  “Vicky, someday, I hope, you and I will have children. They’ll need a place to sleep.”

  The idea of having children with this man she loved filled her with more happiness than she could express. “Oh, yes. Need bigger house!”

  Chris laughed and then leaned toward her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

  * * *

  The day had arrived. Chris stood at the front of the chapel and nearly had to pinch himself to make sure it was all real. Things had happened so fast. Not that he had any doubts.

  God had blessed him above and beyond anything he could ever have imagined, sending Vicky to him when he had determined never to open himself up to anyone. And she herself had surprised him over and over with her hidden abilities, intelligence and wisdom. She had taught him a valuable lesson about his responsibility to take care of those around him. He’d do his job to the best of his ability and rely on God to be God.

  When Vicky had presented him with the new suit that morning after breakfast, he had been astounded, humbled and amazed. When had she and the other ladies had time to finish such elaborate stitching? The suit looked very much like one of the outfits Don Ruiz wore but tailored to fit Chris exactly. He’d never seen the colorful charro outfits until he’d come to Alta California.

  Before he could contemplate any more, movement from the doorway caught his attention. The rustling of fabric and the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor announced the arrival of the bride. Finally, Don Ruiz led Vicky into the chapel on his arm. She looked like a princess. White gauzy skirts flowed like a cloud over colorful underskirts and accented her trim waist, and her bodice had lace and who knew whatever else. His eyes caught Vicky’s gaze and stayed there.

  She took his breath away. She was radiant. Her shy smile as she waited at the entrance of the chapel touched something deep inside his heart. For all her beauty and courage, she was still young in so many ways. He’d find ways to cherish her every day for the rest of his life. He touched his heart with his right hand and hoped his admiration for her was as easily read in his eyes as the love shining in her own. He’d remember this day for the rest of his life. The room, the other people, the day—everything else disappeared and they were alone.

  Time stopped as Vicky came closer. With one last kiss on the forehead, her father slipped her hand into Chris’s. He reached out with his free hand, unable to stop himself, and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “You’re beautiful.” He choked out the words because the emotions of the day had settled like a lump in his throat. “Bella.”

  “You are so beautiful, Chris.” She smiled even as a tear formed in the corner of her eye. He’d have to teach her another day that men were handsome, not beautiful.

  “Hey.” He swiped a finger under each eye, collecting her tears and then kissing her cheek. “There will be no tears on your wedding day. This is a happy occasion.”

  “They happy tear. You no have happy tear in South Carolina?”

  “Well, I was raised not to cry, so I wouldn’t really know. But I can tell you my heart is ready to beat out of my chest, and my throat feels like I have a lump of tortilla dough stuck in there.” She giggled at his silly words as they turned to face Padre Pedro, who began the ceremony.

  As Padre Pedro went back and forth from Latin to Spanish, Chris wasn’t able to understand much, but he knew, by the love that shone out of Vicky’s eyes as she studied him, that they were both making a vow of a lifetime.

  “I came to Alta California to be by myself, but God had other plans for me,” he began when it was time for him to speak. “His plans are always best. My love, I promise from this day forward to be faithful
to you and you alone. To protect, provide and support you in every up and down life brings our way and rely always on God for His protection, providence and sustenance. I will love you always and forever. Even when God calls us home, I will always love you.”

  A tear escaped and slid down her smooth cheek. He let her hand go long enough to gently wipe it away, and then she smiled her most brilliant smile, and he wondered again at the grace that had led her to his land and had saved his life that day. Now she had saved his life in a very different way. He no longer wanted nor needed to be a hermit, paying a penance for the failures in his life. Now he could enjoy his new life, new community and new family. His greatest success as a man would come from building a community that worked together.

  “And I love you, Chris. My bello Cristofer Samuels. I be your wife, love you every day, make your food, clothes, house clean and give you many sons.” She blushed slightly with those last words but continued to look directly into his eyes. “I have no other husband and never leave you, in sick or salud. I obey you and pray with you every day.”

  Not the traditional vows but in so many ways, better. Heartfelt with a slight nod to Nana Ruth’s influence on Vicky’s English. If only Nana Ruth could have been with them on this day.

  At Vicky’s pause, Padre Pedro slipped a white ribbon in the shape of a figure eight over Vicky’s shoulders and then Chris’s. As the priest prayed over them, Vicky whispered, “This show we tie together like rope. Not take tie out.”

  Nodding in understanding, Chris concentrated on praying for their bond. That God would bless it and protect them through the years to come. Neither one had grown up in homes overabounding in loving relationships for them to use as role models, and they would need to figure out how to be the husband or wife the other needed.

  Then he considered Berto and Magda, sitting off to the side of the chapel. The older man had his arm wrapped affectionately around his wife’s shoulders, and she sat leaning into him as if he were her pillar and support. Jeb and Nana Ruth had a similar relationship. Nana might have fussed at Jeb often, and he had enjoyed getting her riled up, but Jeb had once confessed that he loved seeing the spark in her eye when he teased her. After almost fifty years, there had still been a spark. He could only pray that God would grant them the same blessing.