The Star in the Meadow (The Spanish Brand Book 4)

by Carla Kelly

  Leaving couldn’t have come at a better time for her, but it wasn’t easy, not with two little Mondragóns wearing long faces and wondering why Mama wouldn’t take them along this time.

  “We know that Tia Luisa likes us, Mama,” had been Soledad’s firm argument. “We promise to behave.”

  Scrupulous child that she was, Soli amended her statement. “At least I promise to behave. I cannot speak for my brother.”

  Catalina turned away so the determined little girl wouldn’t see her smile. Impressed, she had to give Paloma credit for maintaining a serious expression.

  “Dear child, Papa wants me to have a real rest, and he fears I cannot do that here on the Double Cross, because we are all so busy,” Paloma explained, and probably not for the first time that morning.

  “Juan Luis gets to go with you,” the little girl reminded her mother.

  “He must, or he would not eat,” Paloma said. She put her hand on Soledad’s head and gave it a gentle shake. “Papa will take excellent care of you and Claudito. When he comes to get me in two weeks, you two may come along. Is that fair?”

  Catalina could tell that Soledad didn’t think it fair at all, but she gave a sigh, then looked at the auditor’s daughter. “Señorita Ygnacio, do you have a story that covers such a sad situation for a little girl?”

  “I will think of one and tell you when I see you next, which will be the day after tomorrow at the latest,” Catalina promised.

  One kiss, two kisses, then one more for Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, from Paloma on her children’s cheeks and forehead. Claudito’s lips quivered, but he didn’t cry. He had learned well the lesson of silence from Eckapeta, as near to a grandmama as he would ever know.

  One kiss and then two more for Marco, who held her close for a moment then helped her into the carriage, with its seat as comfortable as Sancha could make it. He kissed his sleeping son and handed the little one to his wife, who settled the baby in his cradle.

  Marco helped Catalina into the carriage and then closed the door. He walked to the front, where Chato sat hunched over, talking to himself. Catalina had already assured Marco that the half-wit understood basic directions, and if he should veer from the proper trail, Paloma could set him straight.

  Paloma leaned forward and lowered the carriage’s one window. She held out her hand to her husband, who came close, kissed it, and told them, “Vayan con dios.” He stepped back and lifted Claudito to his shoulders. Soledad stood in front of him, her hands clasped in front of her stomach in the ladylike posture that made Paloma chuckle.

  Paloma watched them standing there in the open gate of the Double Cross until they were mere specks, then leaned back against the cushions. “I’m going to remind myself that Luisa Maria will spoil me and coo over Juanito and I will see Marco in two weeks.” She paused. “Won’t I?”

  “Think of this as a pleasant adventure,” Catalina said.

  “It’s hard for me to even imagine a peaceful room with no one barging in, demanding this and that.”

  “I think you can imagine it quite well!” Catalina teased. “Start now by taking a nap.”

  Paloma yawned and closed her eyes. “I’ll never get to sleep this way,” she murmured, just moments before she did precisely that.

  Catalina closed her eyes, too, thinking of years of smarts and slights and rudeness. For some reason she had turned to them for nourishment, letting the sourness of unfair treatment fill her belly. Maybe she lashed out first to keep meanness at bay. She took the idea one logical step forward; it might be time to stop. With a sigh of her own, she relaxed and rested her head against the side of the carriage.

  She had no sense of time passing until she felt the spring sun high overhead. But that wasn’t what woke her.

  The carriage had come to an abrupt halt. Catalina opened her eyes to see Chato the coachman through the small opening, but only dimly, because the overhang of the carriage roof was in shadow.

  The shadow moved and she saw a knife sticking out of Chato’s neck. The shadow moved again and she saw a horseman, the cause of the shadow, beside the carriage now. She put her hand just above Paloma’s mouth and patted her arm.

  “Something is happening,” she whispered.

  Paloma opened her eyes and her own hand went immediately to her sleeping son in his cradle at her feet. She sat up carefully and sucked in her breath when she saw how the coachman leaned.

  Both women clung together when the carriage door slammed open and a bearded man with dead eyes leaned inside. To their astonishment, he opened his mouth wide and his eyes wider and slammed the door shut. They listened to shouts of “Idiot! Fool! A mistake!”

  Juanito began to stir and whimper. Paloma picked him up and hastily unbuttoned her camisa, nursing him to keep him silent.

  “Eckapeta and I … we train the little ones not to cry,” she whispered, her blue eyes huge in her pale face. “Juanito is too young for such a lesson.” She bowed her head over her child, trying to feed him and protect him at the same time.

  The pitiful gesture went straight to Catalina’s heart and shoved back her own fears. She reached for Paloma, as vulnerable now as a woman could ever be, and patted her shoulder.

  “I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Catalina whispered, as she wondered at her sudden wellspring of bravery.

  With amazing clarity, she knew someone had to protect Paloma and her baby, and there wasn’t anyone else around except her. For years her father had depended on her—perhaps too much—but that was nothing compared to this need, growing stronger by the second, to help someone even more vulnerable.

  “I do this for you, Marco,” Catalina whispered under her breath.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In which Paloma makes a fearsome decision

  Catalina took several deep breaths and opened the carriage door. It nearly fell off in her hand, testifying to the strength with which the bearded man had yanked it open, then slammed it shut again.

  She saw two miscreants, one the bearded man as he jerked poor Chato from the carriage seat and threw him to the ground. The other, a thin man with a prominent Adam’s apple, sat astride his horse, his own eyes wide with amazement. Catalina knew she had seen him before.

  To her astonishment, Chato still lived. His hands shook as he clawed at the knife in his throat. She could tell he had not long to live, this half-wit who had sung his five notes and talked to himself all the way from Santa Fe.

  I would not want to die alone, Catalina thought as she edged closer and went to her knees. “Be at peace, friend,” she said, and traced a small sign of the cross in the blood on his forehead.

  Chato opened his eyes, narrowing them as he looked at her. Catalina leaned back, startled at the disappointment in them. “I was just trying to ease your passage,” she said. “That’s all.”

  Blood bubbled in his wounded throat and spilled out of his mouth as he tried to speak. Catalina started to wipe his mouth with the corner of her dress when he grabbed her arm.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said, enunciating each syllable as best he could, all traces of his addled speech gone. “I was sent to protect you both.”

  “You?” She gently pulled him closer. “Tell me more. Please try, please.”

  His despairing look told her he had a great deal to say and no way to do it. He died in her arms. She lowered Chato to the ground, where his blood seeped into the dry ground. She turned to the source of their troubles, which seemed to multiply like rabbits.

  “What on earth are you doing to us?” she raged. If what Chato said was true—and who lies when he is at the point of death?—he might have protected them, given the chance.

  The thin man gulped, the sound comically audible, although no one laughed, and said, “You are not the auditor!” He turned to Bearded Man. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Of course I am not the auditor,” Catalina snapped, thoroughly outraged by idiots bent on abducting the wrong people. “When Señora Mondragón
returns to the Double Cross, I cannot fathom the trouble you will be—”

  Bearded Man grabbed her hands. “Who did you say?”

  O dios, I have made a mistake, Catalina thought, as fear wrapped her in its clammy embrace. “I misspoke.”

  Bearded Man pinched the flesh of her upper arm until she felt her knees start to buckle.

  “Señora Mondragón is inside the carriage,” Catalina whispered. “God forgive me.”

  Thin Man leaped off his horse. “Pedro, let go of her.” He looked toward the carriage, where the door hung half off its hinges. “Señora Mondragón is a sweet lady,” he said. “We must release them.”

  Bearded Man/Pedro shook his finger at Thin Man. “Are you daft?” He uttered a pungent curse. “Of course you are. Why am I asking such a question of an idiot?”

  “You are, too,” Thin Man said, hands on his hips like an angry housewife. “Don’t they tell us that every day?”

  “She might be sweet, but her husband will kill us. If he doesn’t, that Comanche will. We’ll be tortured for days. Ay de mi! Why do I hang around with idiots?”

  Because you’re an idiot, too, Catalina thought grimly.

  Thin Man started to count on his fingers. “We can’t let them go. We can’t leave them here. What is left?”

  Catalina held her breath and edged toward the carriage. She looked inside to see Paloma, her eyes like coals in her head, staring at her son, who nursed as though this were any ordinary day.

  She was shoved aside by Pedro, the bearded man. He reached inside for Paloma, who drew back instinctively, her baby still nursing.

  “I will come out when my son is through,” she said, speaking distinctly and with more serenity than Catalina knew she possessed in her whole body. How could Señora Mondragón comport herself so majestically, sitting there with her bodice open and her breast exposed?

  “That sounds perfectly reasonable,” Pedro said.

  Shaken, Catalina stood in front of the open door, unwilling to let either of the men gape at Paloma. She wondered what approach to take, since they both appeared simple-minded. “Leave us alone here, and no one will follow you.”

  “You don’t know Marco Mondragón very well, do you?” Pedro said. “And you don’t know our masters.” He pulled Thin Man away, walking some distance so they could talk without being overheard.

  Catalina helped Paloma from the carriage. She had buttoned her bodice and returned a full and sleeping baby to his cradle. Catalina watched her carefully tuck the blanket around him and make the sign of the cross over him, the last resort of a desperate woman.

  Catalina asked, “Is this a well-traveled road?”

  “Well enough,” Paloma said, “except that everyone is busy in the fields today, as is Marco.”

  At the mention of her husband’s name, Paloma began to weep. She cried quietly, then forced herself to stop as Catalina tightened her grip. She took several gulping breaths, then nodded to Catalina, who released her hold.

  “Eckapeta would be embarrassed with me for showing such weakness,” she whispered. “I have to keep my baby safe, no matter what happens.”

  “We will keep him safe,” Catalina said, wondering how either of them could do anything of the sort.

  The men came back, walking directly up to them until they stood close enough to smell. There was no place to back up. Catalina glanced sideways to see Paloma clasping her hands at her stomach. As tight as she clasped them, they still shook. Catalina knew how much the woman beside her stood to lose.

  “You’re coming with us,” Pedro said. “If you object, we will ….” His face a mask of confusion, he looked at Thin Man and whispered so loud that Catalina almost wanted to laugh. “What were we going to do?”

  “I can’t remember,” Thin Man said. “Something awful, probably.”

  Paloma nodded. “I will get my son.”

  She cried out when Pedro grabbed her arm.

  “Leave him there,” the man said, pulling her into the road.

  “But …” Paloma tried to jerk herself from his grasp.

  Pedro grabbed her and shook her. “No! He will cry and give us away.”

  “You can’t …” Paloma began. “He’ll die without me.” She brushed off Catalina when she tried to assist her. Her eyes were focused only on her sleeping son.

  “Let’s kill him,” Pedro said. “I will do it.”

  Paloma was on the man in a flash before Catalina could stop her. She climbed onto his back and began tearing at his hair, breathing out curses.

  “Get her off me!” Pedro screamed, as Paloma started plucking at his whiskers. Catalina watched in horror as Paloma moved closer, her teeth bared. “She’s going to tear my throat!”

  Thin Man grabbed the back of Paloma’s dress and yanked her off Pedro. He tossed her like a rag doll and she lay in a heap at Catalina’s feet, but only until she shook her head and scrambled up again, ready to resume the struggle. Catalina grabbed her this time.

  “She is a mother defending her child!” Catalina hissed. “Have you never seen a … a … mother bear or … or even a cat? Before God, you have done enough!”

  Pedro put the knife down on the ground and backed away from it, as though caught being bad. They stared at each other.

  I will die before I look away. You cannot stare me down, Catalina thought, fixing her gaze on him, even as she wondered what had gone so wrong with their harmless visit to La Viuda Gutierrez.

  To Catalina’s relief, Pedro dropped his gaze and mumbled something that could even have been an apology. He touched his head and came away with a bloody handful of hair.

  “She is a witch and must be burned,” he said, but his words sounded feeble and confused.

  “She is a mother protecting her baby,” Catalina said. “Take us if you must—although I do not know why—but let her bring along her son. If no one comes along on this road, he will die.”

  The two men looked at each other. Oh please, please, Catalina wanted to beg, but she knew better. Years of dealing with bullies had taught her not to expect much, but these men were strange in ways she was not familiar with.

  “I don’t know what to plead for,” she whispered to Paloma.

  “It could be that where we are going is worse for my son than to leave him right here and hope for rescue,” Paloma said, the words coming out slowly, as though she hated to think them, much less say them.

  “We don’t know that, Paloma!” Catalina whispered back.

  “We don’t know anything,” Paloma reminded her.

  Paloma held out her hands. “Señores, if you must take us somewhere, please leave my baby in the carriage,” she said in her kindest voice. “That would be the best thing, don’t you agree?”

  To Catalina’s astonishment, both simpletons nodded their heads. Thin Man stared at her, then looked back at his comrade in stupidity. “She called us señores!”

  “That is because you will do the gentlemanly thing and leave my son right here,” Paloma said in her most soothing voice.

  She put her hands behind her back and Catalina saw how they shook.

  “Leave him, but be good lads and cut the mules from the traces, so the carriage does not stray,” Paloma added.

  Without a word, Pedro picked up his knife from the ground and did as Paloma said. Catalina’s heart lifted when one of the mules struck out at Thin Man. After kicking out a few times, he ran away while both men cowered in fright. Shaking off what harness remained, the mule bolted down the road toward the Double Cross.

  Catalina bowed her head and did something she hadn’t done in years, considering her irritation with the Lord Almighty and all his useless saints. She breathed a prayer of desperate petition. Hurry along, she prayed. Let Marco know something is very wrong.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In which two fools fool everyone

  “There now,” Paloma said, holding her hands in front of her. “We are your prisoners.”

  The dull-witted companions gaped at each other. For C
atalina, they called to mind a mutt she’d observed that scrounged for food on their street in Santa Fe. He liked to chase carts until one day when a cart actually stopped and the driver got out. The dog looked at the man then slunk away, as if astounded he had actually caught one. They don’t know what to do, she thought, and felt the smallest hope.

  Paloma’s shoulders began to shake as Pedro bound her hands. She tried to gulp down her tears as the fool stammered an apology, but to no avail. She bowed her head and wept.

  Catalina let Pedro tie her hands and heave her onto the back of the remaining mule. She leaned down, willing to try anything.

  “Leave Señora Mondragón behind with her baby,” she pleaded. “Do what you want with me, but let her stay here with Juanito. You wanted an auditor. I am an auditor. I have helped my father for years.”

  Both men laughed. “Silly! Women can’t be auditors,” Thin Man said finally. “We are not stupid.”

  “Yes, you are,” Catalina muttered under her breath.

  Paloma tried to sniff back her tears when Pedro threw her onto the mule along with Paloma. “Stop crying,” he said, “now.”

  Catalina lifted her bound arms, encircled the smaller woman, and spoke low into her ear. “I fear what they will do if you keep crying.”

  “But my baby …” Paloma began, then made a masterful effort to stop her tears. “What will Marco think when he learns I have lost our child,” she managed to say, “and when he cannot find me?”

  “I think—I know—he will find Juanito. Someone will find us, too,” Catalina said, unsure of how much of her own words she believed.

  Paloma shook her head in sorrow. “You do not understand what might happen to my husband when he does not know where I am.”