Authors: Connie Mason
Murieta looked as if he had been struck by lightning. “Your wife! An Anglo?!” He laughed raucously, as if at some private joke. “You have indeed grown up in ten years,
amigo,
if you are brave enough to bring home an Anglo bride. I would like to be there to see your father’s face when you present her. An Anglo bride,” he repeated gleefully. “Ah, Rodrigo, fate has intervened to deal a blow from which Don Diego is not likely to recover. The irony of it all.”
Rod glowered angrily. But with Murieta and his men facing him with drawn weapons there was nothing he could do. “What do you intend to do with us, Joaquin?” Rod asked, his arm curving protectively about Julie’s slim shoulders.
“Contrary to your beliefs I am not a monster like Pedro, here,” he motioned toward his scowling lieutenant. “Neither do I harm beautiful women. But if I were you,
amigo,
I would guard my wife well. I am almost persuaded to win her from you.”
On graceful catfeet, Murieta slinked forward until he stood before Julie. With one finger he tilted her chin upwards until her wide blue eyes met his. Strangely, Julie felt no fear. There was no menace in his gesture.
“Would I be able to steal you from your husband,
niña
?” he asked gently. Instinctively Rod’s arm tightened around her. Murieta smiled wryly. “I think, Rodrigo, the little one means much to you. Be careful,
amigo,
your father once took someone from me I loved dearly, see that he doesn’t do the same to you.”
“You need have no fear for my wife, Joaquin,” bristled Rod, surprised by the sudden flare of jealousy
he felt toward the
bandolero.
Reluctantly, Murieta dropped his hand and stepped aside. “You are free to go, Don Rodrigo. I will not harm you or your lovely bride,” he smiled beguilingly at Julie. “
Vaya con Dios
.”
Taking Julie’s small hand Rod edged past the fierce Pedro toward their wagon nearby. Before he drove off, he turned to Murieta once again. “Will you tell me if you find Maria?”
“Perhaps,
amigo
.” Rod had to accept the vagueness of his answer. “Take your woman and get out of here.”
Without another word, Rod flicked his crop across the horse’s rump and they shot forward. Julie could not help but glance over her shoulder as they drove off. Joaquin Murieta and his men had already begun to melt back from where they came but one man still stood staring intently after them, his wide
sombrero
completely shading his face. Julie had noticed him before but was so intent upon what was happening between Rod and Murieta that she hadn’t the time to delve into her strange feeling when she first noticed his eyes upon her.
Though the
bandito
was dressed much like the other
bandoleros
there was something hauntingly familiar about him, his stance, the set of his shoulders, even though the striped
serape
he wore effectively concealed his form, making it difficult to tell whether the man was fat or slim. Shrugging, Julie turned her attention on the road, certain that she could not know one of Joaquin Murieta’s
bandoleros.
They rode in silence for several miles, Rod withdrawn and thoughtful, Julie intensely curious. Finally she could stand it no longer. “Tell me about Maria, Rod,” she asked softly.
Rod scowled darkly, at first reluctant to reveal that which was so painful to him. At last he shrugged and began the tale Julie had gained only bits and pieces of
during Rod’s and Murieta’s conversation in rapid Spanish.
“I was just seventeen, nearly eighteen, Maria was twenty. She was beautiful, with large doe eyes and a sweet smile,” Rod began wistfully. “Joaquin’s father, an impoverished Spanish
hidalgo,
was forced from his land when he couldn’t prove his boundaries and sought work with my father. They were given a small
casa
on our land. Joaquin’s mother was dead but his father soon took a beautiful Indian mistress, Maria’s mother.
“When Maria’s mother died she came to work in our
hacienda.
We were but children when we first met. Companions. The four of us; me, Joaquin, his brother, and Maria. Joaquin’s father died and Joaquin took his place on the
rancho.
He met and married Rosita. When Joaquin’s wife and brother were killed he left Maria in our care and became a bandit, out to revenge the death of his loved ones. I was sent to Mexico to school about that time and when I returned two years later, Maria and I renewed our friendship.”
“You and Maria fell in love,” Julie said softly.
“
Si
,” answered Rod. “I worshipped her, set her on a pedestal. I … I wanted to save her for marriage.” He paused several minutes, recalling those times when his passion raged but he deliberately withheld himself, wanting to keep Maria pure and unsullied until their wedding day. Sighing, he took up where he left off.
“It wasn’t long before Maria began acting strangely and urged me to ask my father’s permission to marry.”
“And he refused,” supplied Julie.
“Not only refused, but became angrier than I have ever seen him. Maria was a
mestizo,
part Indian. I come from an old Spanish family whose blood lines have remained pure through the centuries. My father coldly informed me that I was to marry Elena and nothing would change that.
“Of course I threatened to take Maria and run away but my father only laughed at me, calling my love for Maria a childish infatuation. Then suddenly Maria disappeared and I was certain my father had sent her away to keep us apart. But he vehemently denied having any part in Maria’s disappearance. Even now I cannot absolve my father of guilt in this matter. Something or someone drove Maria away. Later, I found Joaquin and together we searched for Maria. After a year I gave up.”
“Your father must be a cruel man, Rod,” Julie said, saddened by the tragic young lovers forced to separate by a father’s pride.
“You might call him that,
querida.
Stern, certainly. He is a man steeped in tradition, proud of his ancient blood lines. He did what he did out of love for me, his only son.”
“Have you forgiven him? Even though he may have been behind Maria’s disappearance?” asked Julie, amazed that Rod could have forgotten his first love and forgiven so easily.
“Ten yeas is a long time,
querida,
” Rod smiled sadly. “One tends to forget as well as forgive with the passage of time. “I left home after that and anger at my father kept me away for five years. But in the end my home and land meant too much to me. My father and I exist now in a truce of sorts. He still maintains he had nothing to do with Maria’s disappearance, yet somehow I believe him behind her flight.”
“Yet you agreed to marry Elena,” cut in Julie.
“Our marriage was arranged from the time we were children. I knew I must marry sometime and it was inevitable. There was no one else … so …” he rejoined lamely.
Julie was silent a long time, digesting everything Rod had told her. Suddenly she asked, “Rod, why are you taking me to your home when you know I won’t be welcome.”
Rod’s dark brows shot sharply upward. “You are my wife.” His tone of voice implied that he thought her addled for asking.”
“After hearing about Maria I’m not so certain I’ll be safe in your home.”
“I am older now, not so easily intimidated by my father as was the naive eighteen-year old boy,” Rod said dryly. “I am quite capable of protecting what belongs to me. Have no fear,
querida,
my father will have no choice but to welcome his son’s wife.”
But Julie did fear. Not only the proud
hidalgo,
Don Diego Delgado, but the haughty Dona Elena Rodriques y Montoya.
The first inkling that they were approaching the
hacienda
came with the sighting of countless head of cattle grazing in the surrounding hills and the
vaqueros
who tended them. Even from afar she recognized the cowboys clad in working clothes of goatskin chaps, broad brimmed hats and vests.
Julie soon spotted the red tile roof of the sprawling adobe building, whose weathered, mellow adobe walls glowed a soft pink-beige in the shimmering sun. Gracefully arched doorways gave the
casa
the elegant look of old Madrid with its black wrought iron grills at the windows. Beyond the spacious
casa
were corrals filled with mustangs, barns, and outbuildings used to house the servants and
vaqueros
needed to work the land and see to the family’s needs. Rod informed Julie that there was also a private chapel and bullring used for bullfights and bearbaiting. Julie cringed at the thought but said nothing.
Upon closer observation, Julie saw that the
hacienda
was L-shaped, forming a patio or courtyard sheltered on two sides. Several sets of double doors opened onto it from the house. A large fountain graced the center of the courtyard and urns of hibiscus, jasmine and other flowers placed amid tall pine trees and lush bushes created a private wonderland.
Julie was also surprised that the
rancho
was so close to the ocean, for behind the one-story rambling
casa
she
could glimpse sparkling water. Rod told her they had their own private dock and fleet of barges. A young boy appeared out of nowhere to take the reins from Rod as he came around to help Julie from her high perch on the wagon seat.
Her heart pounding wildly in her breast, Julie passed beneath the wide veranda that ran the length of the house and approached the sturdy door a step behind Rod. She could not help but notice the inevitable iron grillwork gracing the long windows which were open to garner the gentle breeze. Rod had no need to knock for the door swung open immediately to admit them. A small, pretty Indian girl stood aside as they entered a wide hallway. It was ten degrees cooler inside, Julie noticed immediately. Unhesitantly, Rod led her into a large, comfortable room she assumed was the parlor. Rod said a few words to the little maid in Spanish and she scooted off, darting a brief glance in Julie’s direction.
Every stick of furniture, each tasteful decoration in the huge room suggested luxury, from the highly polished paneled floors, cushioned seats, double-hung windows and intricately woven tapestries decorating the white-washed walls. An enormous fireplace took up one whole wall. Julie fell in love with the place immediately.
“What do you think of it,
querida
?” Rod gestured proudly around the room. “Is it what you expected or did you think all Americanos lived in hovels?”
“It’s … it’s so grand,” stammered Julie, searching for the right word. Her vibrant blue eyes sparkled and her face was flushed with pleasure and Rod, struck again by her beauty and innocence, drew her into his embrace, clearly on the verge of planting a kiss on her delectable lips.
“What is the meaning of this, Rodrigo?” demanded an authoritative voice.
Guiltily, Rod rudely shoved Julie aside even though
they certainly had nothing to be guilty about. Judging by his proud carriage and impeccable dress Julie guessed the middleaged man to be none other than Don Diego Delgado, Rod’s stern father. Though not as tall as his son, Don Diego commanded immediate attention with his slim, lithe form and stern-faced arrogance. His fifty-odd years lay sedately across his handsome face and body despite the liberal sprinkling of silver in his black hair. There was nothing of the gracious mannered grandee about him now as he faced his handsome son.
Rod stood his ground, greeting his father affably while Julie shifted nervously beside him. “You will be pleased to know everything has been settled in Monterey to our satisfaction,” Rod informed his father grandly. “The lawyers’ fees were outrageous but well worth it. In the end, the court decided in our favor. There is no longer a question of ownership of the Delgado land grant.”
A genuine smile creased the older man’s handsome features, an aged replica of his son. “I had every faith in your ability,
mi hijo.
Not for a moment did I consider failure. What I do not understand is your delay in returning to the
rancho
.” His wary eyes slid to Julie but he did not acknowledge her presence. “Doña Elena was frantic that you would not return in time for the wedding. Did you forget you are to be married in four weeks?”
“
No, mi Padre,
” Rod explained, “but I could not help the delay. Unforeseen circumstances,” here he paused and drew Julie forward, “altered my plans.”
Finally Don Diego deigned to look down his patrician nose at Julie. “Who is this … this … woman, Rodrigo? If she is your
puta
you certainly have your nerve bringing her here under my roof. Send her away immediately.” His voice brooked no argument and Julie quailed inwardly.
Rod remained undaunted. “I’m sorry,
Padre,
but that
is impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible,
mi hijo,
” Don Diego scolded sternly. “What is this woman to you?”
Drawing himself up to his full height, Rod said, “Julie is my wife.
Padre
Juan married us yesterday.”
Don Diego went dead white beneath his swarthy complexion as all color drained from his face. He began to sway from side-to-side and Rod sprang forward to steady him. Angrily the older man pushed aside his son’s helping hands. “
Madre de Dios!
How could you, Rodrigo? After all I’ve gone through to keep the Delgado lineage pure!” Don Diego was livid with rage. “Once you had gotten over Maria and returned home I was positive you had finally come to your senses and was prepared to accept your responsibility. But this! To bring this
puta
home! To foist her off as your wife! This is unforgivable! ”
“Julie
is
my wife,
Padre,
and I will not have her treated so rudely, not by you or by anyone,” Rod said with grim determination. “If she is not welcome here then neither am I. We will leave immediately.”
Julie’s eyes flew open. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected Rod to stand by her to the extent that he would leave his beloved land for her. “Rod,” she began hesitantly, “perhaps it’s better if I …”
“Be quiet and let me handle this,” he interrupted coldly. Julie flushed at his proprietory tone but did as she was told, biting her tongue to keep from shouting back.
Don Diego, sensing Rod’s determination, began backing down from his original stance, though he was far from happy with the prospects of an Anglo daughter-in-law. “There is no need for drastic measures, Rodrigo,” he cajoled. “We will talk later, in private, about your precipitous marriage. There are things we can do. Ways to remedy your hasty action, fix your mistake. I am a man myself and am not foreign to
the wiles of crafty women and the tricks they employ to snare a husband. Especially a beautiful woman like … like …”
“Julie,” supplied Rod, thoroughly bemused by his father’s crude attempts at reconcilliation.
“
Si,
Julie. You will see,
mi hijo,
that money has its privileges. You will soon be free of this
puta.
Free to marry the woman meant to be your wife.”
“If you are finished,
Padre,
I will show my wife to her room,” Rod said coolly. “There will be no need for further talk on the subject. Julie will remain my wife. If you wish us to leave, say so now and you will never have to set eyes on us again.”
Rod’s impassioned declaration was met with silence. Don Diego did not have the heart to utter the words that would send his only son away forever, even if it meant accepting an Anglo daughter-in-law. When Rod left before, he had suffered five long years wondering if Rodrigo was dead or alive. When his son finally returned, Don Diego swore he would do nothing to send him into exile again. Nor would he risk losing his son again by telling all he knew about Maria.
“So be it,” said the older man resignedly. “You … and your … wife will stay. But you must be the one to tell Elena that you have jilted her.” Then, slanting a scathing glance in Julie’s direction, Don Diego turned on his heel and strode from the room, his pride and anger preventing him from uttering one word of welcome to his new daughter-in-law.
Heaving a sigh, Julie collapsed in a nearby chair. The ordeal of meeting Don Diego was more harrowing than she had imagined. She felt bruised and battered from the verbal abuse heaped upon her and was ready to turn around and return to San Francisco.
“He’ll come around,
querida,
” Rod told her with more assurance than he felt. “He has no choice,” he added grimly.
Julie was not fooled. Don Diego would never, never, treat her as one of the family. To him, she was an interloper; a woman who used her feminine wiles to lure his precious son into marriage. Well, for all she cared … Suddenly Julie’s dismal thoughts were cut off in mid-sentence by a high pitched shriek.
“Rodrigo,
mi novio,
you are back! How I missed you!”
Mouth agape, Julie could only stare as an absolutely stunning woman in a bright pink brocade gown that presented a striking contrast to her creamy tan skin flung herself into Rod’s waiting arms. Her hair was a luscious blue-black pulled sleekly behind her ears and spilling down her back in a rich profusion. Her eyes were flashing brown, full of expression. Her mouth was wide, red, and undeniably sensual. A mouth designed for passion, Julie thought jealously. Though petite, she possessed a curvacious body, the clinging pink brocade bodice accentuating smooth shoulders, full breasts and slim waist. Though undeniably lovely, there was a hint of greed in the pouting mouth, an avaricious gleam in those dark, flashing eyes. Her lips pouted prettily as she stared up at Rod. She had not yet seen Julie sitting quietly in the chair.
“You are naughty, Rodrigo,” Elena chided archly. “I expected you home weeks ago. Did you find some
puta
in San Francisco to make you forget about your
novia
?” Her words were evidently meant to tease but Julie could sense an underlying threat in them should they prove true. Warily, Julie waited for Rod’s next move.
It came almost immediately as he unwound her clinging arms from around his neck and stepped back. “Elena, there is something you should know,” he began, undecided exactly what he should say to the volatile Elena.
Elena was immediately wary. “But,
mi amor,
” she
smiled beguilingly, “you know I was teasing. I am aware of a man’s … needs. If you dallied with a
puta
I cannot fault you for you have returned to your intended, have you not?”
“Elena, listen to me,” implored Rod, attempting once again to gain her full attention. “We cannot be married. It is no longer possible.”
Elena froze, anger turning her expressive face almost ugly. “What are you saying, Rodrigo? Of course we will be married. The inviations are already delivered. My wedding dress is completed. In four weeks I will become Doña Elena Delgado.”
“I am already married, Elena.
Padre
Juan performed the ceremony yesterday.”
“
Bastardo
!” spat Elena, pounding her clenched fists against Rod’s substantial chest. “Who is she? Who is the
puta
who stole my
novio?
Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to finally set the date? I am twenty-six years old, Rodrigo! Do you hear me? Twenty-six! I grew old waiting for you to come to your senses.”
Julie could remain silent no longer. She arose from her chair placing herself in the distraught Spanish woman’s full view. Elena’s black eyes flashed menacingly as she stared at Julie, then she whirled on Rod, crying, “You jilted me for this? A yellow-haired
puta
dressed in rags?” She laughed raucously, her mirth turning into tears.
“Elena, calm yourself,” soothed Rod, suddenly at a loss for words. “It’s not the end of the world. You are a beautiful woman. You will have no trouble finding someone to take my place. Come, dry your eyes and meet my wife.” He turned to Julie, unaware of the hatred blazing from Elena’s black eyes. “Julie, this is Elena Montoya.”
It was the wrong thing to say and Rod could only stand there, mouth agape while Elena flew into yet another rage. Julie felt almost sorry for the woman.
Hesitantly, in a gesture of sympathy and friendship, she put a small hand on Elena’s shaking shoulder.
“Take your hand off me,
puta
!” Elena spat angrily. “You may be Rodrigo’s wife but you are nothing to me, nor will you ever be. What did you do? Lure him into your bed and then scream rape? It’s the only way he would ever marry you. Somehow you learned that Rodrigo is an honorable man and used that knowledge to further your own purposes.”
“It wasn’t like that, Elena,” said Julie softly. “I understand your hurt and I would like to be your friend.”
“Never! Because of you I will become nothing but a source of embarrassment to my friends and family. They will laugh at me once they learn Rodrigo has cast me aside for an Anglo.”
“I’m sorry,” said Julie, meaning it. “Truly I am.”
“I don’t want your sympathy,
bruja.
You haven’t won yet. When someone has taken what belongs to Elena Montoya, beware, that person does not know the meaning of trouble,” she threatened.
“That’s enough, Elena,” Rod said sternly, placing himself between the two women. “Somehow I will make this up to you, I swear it. Let the matter rest for now. I don’t expect you and Julie to become friends, but as long as you both remain under my roof you will conduct yourself with decorum.”
“Are you asking me to leave
Rancho
Delgado, Rodrigo?” Elena asked haughtily.
“Of course not, Elena. You are my father’s guest. You may remain until your own father returns from Spain. Longer, if you wish.”
. Slanting a superior look in Julie’s direction, Elena flounced off, pink skirts flying.
“I’m sorry things turned out so badly,
querida,
” apologized Rod sheepishly.