With one final glare of outrage, Damian snapped, “Come on, Katherine. Make sure you don’t fall behind. We won’t wait for you.”
“My cousin is incredibly lucky.” Katherine tightened the bandages holding the splint on Joaquin’s leg.
Damian’s eyes met hers as the vaqueros lifted Joaquin onto the hastily made litter. “Incredibly lucky,” he echoed.
“I’m sorry, patron,” Joaquin whispered. “I’ve ruined your chance to catch the redhaired man.”
Damian patted the man’s shoulder. “Nonsense, Joaquin. We were riding too quickly for such terrain. I should have known better, riding through the chaparral so close to the mountains. Your horse stumbled and you fell. It’s just bad luck.”
“Just the curse of the treasure,” someone muttered.
Damian swung on the group behind him. “What did you say?”
Silence answered him.
“How did you know what we seek?”
Sullen gazes slipped away from his, and Joaquin spoke up. “We all knew what Don Tobias pursued, for he asked us to tell him the tale. We knew it would kill him, but in obedience with his wishes, we directed him to the mission. Now you go there, too.” A wistfulness touched his voice. “With a mark of the knife on Doña Katherina’s throat, you have no choice.”
Soberly, Damian looked at Katherine, standing beneath the bright green of a valley oak. The grass rippled around her knees, the land sloped away behind her. Her hair had been torn from its braid by branches and it hung wild about her shoulders and down her back. Shining through the leaves, the sun caught the gold in bits and pieces, exposing her as the siren she really was.
The mark of the knife was covered by a scarf, but it seemed that every one of the vaqueros knew it was there.
She’d ridden so hard that at first he’d thought his threat to leave her had taken effect. As the hours had worn on, though, it had occurred to him she fled something instead, something that frightened her. Something that even now shadowed her face. He could see the anxiety in her, although no other could recognize it, and he wondered what she’d seen at the mission, what she’d heard at the mission. He wondered, too, why he feared to ask her.
Was his bright and shining bride slipping away before he’d had a chance to prove his love to her?
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He realized he’d been staring. Shaking his head, he asked Joaquin, “Do you believe we’re going to our deaths?”
“Not you, patron.” The vaquero spoke with assurance. “Not you, nor Doña Katherina. Your love is strong. As long as you’re together, you’ll protect each other.” He glanced around at the other vaqueros and received some signal, for he admitted, “But we dare go no farther.”
Damian stroked his mustache. “You, Joaquin, have no choice. You’ll go to the de Casillas rancho and stay. The rancho is close, and Doña Maria Ygnacia will welcome us.” He instructed the other vaqueros, “Put him on a litter and carry him. This fracture will heal only with the greatest care.”
As they mounted, Damian told Katherine, “We’ll know when we reach de Casillas land by the roses. Nacia loves roses.”
As he promised, the scent of roses introduced the hacienda to Katherine. Roses climbed on a trellis, rose bushes bloomed along the drive. Roses climbed to the porch roof and blossomed in clusters of yellow, red and pink in the yard.
“How pretty,” Katherine exclaimed.
“The roses remind me of Nacia,” Damian said. “Sweet and pretty.”
Katherine frowned as he rode ahead. She remembered meeting Señora de Casillas at the fiesta. The woman had been eager to speak, looking her over with inquisitive friendliness. Now Katherine wondered if there had been a reason for it.
Her gaze burned a hole in Damian’s back. This man who called himself her husband had distanced himself from her, reproached her, confused her with his anger. Yet this Nacia elicited affection from him. Who was this paragon? Why did he compare her to a rose? Was there something Katherine should know? The intimacy implied by the tender nickname brought her hackles up. “Nacia,” she muttered. “It sounds like a puppy.”
Swinging out of the saddle, Damian climbed the porch steps. “Is anybody home?”
An Indian servant stuck her head out, observed him without a word, then disappeared back into the house. Silence reigned over the area, and for the first time Katherine wondered where the stableboys were, what had happened to the vaqueros and the gardeners who should be stirring in the yard. Damian frowned at her as if their unenthusiastic welcome were her fault.
She wanted to scold him. In their wild ride today, the tension of their quarrel had eased; now it tightened a clamp around her heart once more.
Damian jumped off the porch. When he heard a breathless voice behind him, he whirled around.
“Damian, forgive me. I didn’t know you were here.” Nacia stood in the doorway, dressed in a black skirt. She hung back, keeping her face in the shadows. “And Doña Katherina. You’re traveling with Damian.” A question and faint censure crept into her voice. “How good to see you.”
Damian responded to Nacia’s curiosity with humor. “What? Hasn’t Julio returned and told you? Hasn’t the news traveled Alta California like wildfire in an autumn field? Doña Katherina and I are married.”
Katherine didn’t see Nacia say the word, only heard the murmur, “Married?” Katherine wondered what their welcome would be now, but Nacia rushed to the edge of the porch and teetered at the top of the stairs. Her voice returned. “Married? Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She clung to the post for balance and gestured to them. “Come in at once. Doña Katherina, you must be exhausted from your travel.” Her sharp handclap brought the hacienda to life. Servants stuck their heads out the door; Indians peered around the edge of the hacienda.
Dismounting, Katherine smiled politely, unwilling to respond to such delight until she discovered the strategy behind it. “Thank you, Doña Maria Ygnacia. I look forward to my stay in your home.”
“You must call me Nacia, as Damian does.” The tiny aristocrat’s words tumbled out, and her pleasure warmed Katherine in spite of herself. As Katherine mounted the steps, Nacia put her arms around her guest. “You must tell me all about it. How did this ruffian manage to convince you to marry him?”
Katherine stiffened at the fondness in Nacia’s voice, but Nacia misunderstood and hastened to assure her, “I meant no disparagement of your husband. He’s a wonderful man. I just never thought he’d have the good sense to do as I told him and seize you at first chance.”
The distance Katherine sought to put between them lessened with Nacia’s words, and the pressure of Nacia’s embrace brought them face to face. The sunlight struck the white streak in her black hair, and it looked wider than it had at the fiesta. The puffy redness of her face and the pain around her eyes dealt Katherine’s reservations a blow. Nacia might be the perfect Spanish señora, but the lady was unhappy. Katherine melted, responding with a squeeze of her own. “First we must make Joaquin comfortable.” She waved towards the man in the litter. “He broke his leg, and he’s in dreadful pain.”
“You’re so good to think of your servants first.” Nacia rang the bell hung on the porch. “I knew Damian would marry a wonderful woman, and he did.”
Unable to believe anyone could be so sincere, Katherine looked at her sharply. No derision, no mockery, no ridicule marred her face or voice. This woman, Katherine realized, was a rare creature who meant her compliments. As the wife of one of her friends, Katherine became a comrade.
Damian supervised as the vaqueros walked Joaquin’s stretcher toward the hut of the Indian doctor. “Is your curandero a good one?” he asked Nacia. “Joaquin is one of my most trusted vaqueros. I’ve already lost one good man and had another disabled.”
Nacia assured him, “He’ll treat the break with a poultice of ground dog bones and Joaquin will be good as new. Now sit down and have a little wine, a little food—a merienda. How many days will you stay?”
“Ground dog bones?” Katherine said faintly.
Laughing, Nacia waved them towards the seats on the porch. “It sounds odd, I know, but I’d trust my curandero over any doctor in California.”
“Ground dog bones.” Katherine shook her head. “Doña Maria—”
Nacia held up an imperious hand.
Katherine began again. “Nacia, pardon me, but I need to refresh myself.”
“Of course, how foolish of me.” Nacia patted Katherine’s hand. “Let me show you to your room, and you can join us when you’re ready.”
The trip through the hacienda left Katherine with a confused impression of neatness and dust. Dust on the floor, dust on the tables. Each knickknack was in its place, but they needed a thorough cleaning. The hacienda suffered from neglect, and Katherine never would have suspected it of Maria Ygnacia.
The guest room, a chamber of crisp ruffles and shiny woods, held three maids cleaning with rags and brooms. They hurriedly exited, and Nacia seemed at a loss to know what to say, apologizing, “We weren’t expecting guests, but we’re happy to have you.”
A wave of compassion caught Katherine unaware. Nacia was embarrassed. Whatever it was that brought trouble to her face also brought indifference to her surroundings, and she had let the dirt accumulate. Katherine understood why Damian compared this woman to a rose. She was dainty and too easily bruised. She made Katherine worry for her. “The room is charming. We’ll be comfortable here.”
Nacia gave her a timid smile as she shut the door behind her, and Katherine collapsed in a chair with a sigh. This treasure hunt wasn’t going as she’d envisioned. This marriage wasn’t going as she’d envisioned. She was confused.
She had committed herself to a course of action without due forethought. Now she paid the price. She was married to a man she didn’t understand, a man she didn’t even know if she wanted.
But if she didn’t want him, her body certainly did.
More and more, she was losing sight of the Katherine she had been. Indeed, she wasn’t even Katherine anymore. To Don Lucian, she was Katherina; to Damian, she was Catriona. She was losing her identity. She groped through an ever-thickening maze of manners and emotions, hoping she took the correct turns, praying she found the sunshine in the end.
Yet, one thing she did know about Katherine Anne . She knew that brooding would never assuage her desire, nor solve her problems. Standing with renewed determination, she set about making herself prim and tidy.
When she stepped onto the porch, Damian sat on a bench with Nacia, holding her hand and speaking in an urgent voice. Nacia had her head down, shaking it. There was intimacy here, but not the kind Katherine had suspected. Too clearly, Damian had seen Nacia’s red eyes and sought to alleviate her grief.
Katherine cleared her throat. Nacia’s stricken gaze met hers, and Damian stood and gestured to his place beside her. “I was keeping it warm.” Frustration wove an almost visible web around him, and his eyes no longer sparkled with conviviality.
Nacia waved at the food and drink spread on a low table before them. “I’m embarrassed to offer you this, Katherina, after the excellent food you served at the fiesta, but if you’d like to sample these poor morsels, I’ve ordered a festive dinner.”
“It looks delicious,” Katherine assured her.
“You flatter me untruthfully.”
Damian said, “Nacia, we never had breakfast. This looks like a feast.”
Katherine’s stomach spoke up with an echoing growl, and Nacia chuckled, her anxiety fading. “Then I’ll let you eat.” As they filled their plates, she asked, “Why didn’t you have breakfast?”
Damian swallowed his first bite. “Fray Pedro de Jesus wouldn’t let us. Katherine had her first communion this morning.”
“This morning?” Nacia cried. “Congratulations!”
“We were supposed to be married afterwards, but Katherine’s scoundrel cousin was spotted nearby. We gave chase to him, so we didn’t get to eat.”
Nacia looked confused. “You said you already were married.”
“The alcalde in Monterey married us.”
“You haven’t been married by a priest?”
Holding an empanada, Damian’s hand halted halfway to his mouth. He closed his eyes as if he anticipated the worst.
Nacia rose, heading for the door. “This is dreadful. I put you both in the same bedroom. I’ll just tell the servants to change your bags.”
Understanding dawned, and Katherine grabbed the chance to throw Damian’s words in his face. “S o much for breaking the Seventh Commandment.”
From behind Katherine, a tired male voice asked, “The Seventh Commandment? Isn’t that the one about adultery?”
“Julio?” Damian turned and stared. “Madre de Dios, Julio, I thought you were away.”
Julio stepped out towards the light, shielding his eyes with his hand . “Did Nacia tell you that?”
“No, I just assumed—”
“Damian, my friend, you think you know everything. Haven’t I complained of that before?” Julio grinned in wide and artificial greeting. “Never assume anything about me.”
5 June, in the year of our Lord, 1777
Fray Lucio still whines about his safety, and the women will soon abandon us, I fear.
Following the advice of little Fray Pedro de Jesus, I have prayed for a solution.
God has provided one. We must seek a hiding place for the gold As the barren mountains rise around us and thicken with the growth of trees, we will surely find this place. We must find this place, for the gold is proof that the legendary city of El Dorado truly exists.
It must be a hiding place marked by signs recognizable to the rightful owners, and the rightful owners are those people dedicated to the salvation of the Indians—the Franciscan brothers.
—from the diary of Fray Juan Estévan de Bautista
Chapter 17
“You’ve been drinking,” Damian accused.
“So I have,” Julio said agreeably.
“Julio.” Damian got to his feet, but Katherine put her hand on his arm to stop him. For Nacia’s sake, the game of host and guest must be played out. As Damian looked down at Katherine, his irritation faded. “Why didn’t you tell Nacia we’d been married?”
With the slightest stagger, Julio strolled to the railing and leaned against it—not so much as support, but because he could walk no farther. “It slipped my mind.”
Damian took a breath. “You stood up with me as witness and it slipped your mind? Julio, you’re worthless.”
Julio waved a dismissing hand. “You’re not the only one who thinks so. All those nosy people who told Nacia she was lowering herself by marrying me have made sure to tell her, ‘I told you so.’ All those people who told her, ‘The bastard is no good,’ have been saying, ‘I told you so.’ All those people.”
“Damn those people,” Damian said inelegantly. “I’m not one of those people.”
Julio’s gaze fell away from Damian’s. He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear Damian’s hurt. “I know you’re not.” He opened his eyes and smiled mockingly at Katherine. “Have we shocked you, Doña Katherina? I assure you, Damian and I have been sniping at each other for years. It never ended with more than a broken nose.”
“I’m not shocked,” Katherine denied, although she was. Julio’s bloodshot eyes conveyed an anguish that made her ache. “I wonder what has hurt you so badly.” Without giving him a chance to respond, ignoring Damian’s start of surprise beside her, she continued, “You have a beautiful home, nestled in between mountains. The trees and the flowers smell of the wild.”
Julio glanced over his shoulder at the peaceful scene off the porch. “Si, it’s beautiful, but it’s not mine. It’s my wife’s. Her family’s.” He smirked at her as he drove his point home. “I don’t own anything. Didn’t you know? I’m not just a bastard because I abuse Nacia. I’m a bastard in truth.”
Katherine folded her hands in her lap and sat straight as an old maid
schoolteacher. “I don’t remember hearing that before.”
“If you’d heard it, you’d have remembered it,” Julio said. “Everyone else does.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t if you didn’t continually rub their noses in it,” Damian interposed.
Amused, Katherine swung to Damian. “Would you care for more of Nacia’s cheese-filled tortillas? They’re delicious. I must get her recipe.”
The bench under her rocked as Julio flung himself down beside her. In an intimate gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and pronounced, “I like you.”
“Thank you.” The cold in her voice would have frozen the restless ocean. “I’m honored.”
His mustache drooped over his lip and his hair was rumpled, but he was handsome in the devil-may-care way that made a woman want to tame him. “You use that chilly voice and that prune face to make your point. You’re not afraid to say what you think.”
She heard Damian sigh, “Dios,” but she recognized a test when she heard one.
“I know how to handle spoiled children. I lived with my cousins too long not to have learned.”
“I wouldn’t call your cousin Lawrence spoiled,” Damian mused. “Ignorant, perhaps. Accidentally rude not purposefully offensive.”
Smiling in surprise, she agreed.” A masterful description of Lawrence. And almost a description of your friend Julio.”
Julio’s grin widened, became sincere. “I do like you. Now I understand why Damian had the sense to snatch you from the widowhood.” With a nasty grimace, he added, “Even if it put a stain on his pure Spanish bloodlines.”
“Julio,” Damian warned. “Such a description of my wife can only lead to your eventual anguish.”
Katherine glared at Damian. Julio aimed his arrows to wound Damian, she knew, but she didn’t want her husband to defend her. She could defend herself, and she discovered she disliked being described as a blot. Lifting a slice of cheese-filled tortilla roll to her lips, she said, “Your father was a foreign sailor, no doubt.” Inserting it into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed.
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