Authors: Connie Mason
When
Padre
Juan returned Carl exchanged his lame horse for a fresh mount, albeit an inferior one admitted the good father, and continued on his journey north on El Camino Real to San Francisco, unaware of the pitfalls that lay ahead.
That night, because of his delay at San Luis Obispo, Carl sought sanctuary at San Miguel Mission about eight miles from Paso Robles where
Padre
Luis made him welcome. After a simple but nourishing breakfast the next morning he started out early, the tortillas and boiled eggs sitting pleasantly on his stomach.
Carl had just left the village of Paso Robles when out of the mountains swooped Three-fingered Jack Garcia and his band of desperados who preyed on unsuspecting travelers up and down El Camino Real. Before he knew what had hit him, Carl was shot twice, one bullet grazing his head, the other lodging in his side, robbed of all his valuables and left for dead. He lay all day and all night where he had fallen before he was discovered by Ramona Sanchez, the impoverished widow of a proud
ranchero
who had lost his lands and died shortly afterwards in poverty. Luckily Ramona was on her weekly round to salvage fire wood for her hearth.
Good woman that she was, she immediately summoned help and had Carl taken to her crude hut where she unselfishly attempted to save his life. It mattered little to Ramona that Carl was an Anglo. What did matter was the fact that the man could die without her help. Employing her considerable knowledge of healing, liberally dosed with fervent prayers, her patient still lived the next morning, a good sign in itself.
Ramona carefully removed the bullet from Carl’s side and waited for fever to set in. When it came she was
ready with her infusions and medicines brewed especially to cool and soothe his heated flesh. Given his state of health, weakened from the previous injuries he had received from Paco and Jose, it was somewhat of a miracle that Carl survived at all. If he owed his life to any one thing, it was to Ramona’s stubbornness and her refusal to let him die.
Carl remained in a coma for days. And when he recovered enough to speak, he was too weak to travel. He could only lay back on his sick bed and worry and fret over Julie and how fearful she must be over his failure to return as promised. At least he had left her well provided for under the guardianship of Mae Parker, Carl reflected gratefully in one of his more lucid moments.
It was several more weeks before Carl recovered to the point where travel would no longer endanger his health. After much soul searching he decided to return to
Rancho
Delgado because it was closer and also because it was now imperative that Rod go to San Francisco after Julie, for Carl was in no condition at this time to attempt a lengthy trip. After convincing Ramona to accompany him should he become ill along the way, Carl set out at long last for
Rancho
Delgado.
It seemed to Carl that his efforts to reunite Rod and Julie were doomed to failure when he reached
Rancho
Delgado only to learn that Rod had just recently returned from the cattle drive and left immediately for San Francisco. Disheartened, Carl realized he was too weak to follow. The best he could do was to remain where he was to recuperate and allow fate to reunite the lovers and trust in God’s judgment. As for himself, he was content to remain at the
rancho
with Ramona at his side, for he was becoming exceedingly fond of the slender widow who had literally snatched him from death’s door.
As the weeks passed, Felicia began to despair and wish she had never promised Julie’s father that she would not reveal the secret they shared. After one week passed, Felicia eagerly anticipated Julie’s return, but with the passage of the second week and still Carl did not appear, she grew frantic with worry, imagining all sorts of terrible things that could have happened to Carl before he reached San Francisco. When a month elapsed, Felicia genuinely despaired of ever seeing Julie again. She moped around the
rancho
with such a tragic face that Teresa threatened to dose her for fear she was sickening.
Rod and the
vaqueros
returned to
Rancho
Delgado after another successful cattle drive. He had been gone nearly two months. After sleeping the clock around and stuffing himself with some of cook’s delicious food, he set out on an inspection tour of his
rancho,
particularly the stables where he expected to find many new foals. He was not surprised, in fact, rather pleased, to find Felicia currying one of her favorite mounts. It was amazing, Rod reflected thoughtfully, how much he had missed the enchanting child.
Upon seeing Rod, Felicia flung herself joyfully into his arms, completely forgetting that he was
el patron
and she a lowly
mestiza
. “I’ve missed you, Don Rodrigo,” she said, managing a shy little smile.
“And I’ve missed you,
niña.
But do I not deserve a bigger smile?”
“
Si,
Don Rodrigo,” Felicia agreed, trying desperately to overcome her melancholy as she flashed an enchanting grin in his direction.
Intuitively, Rod sensed her unhappiness and sat down on a bale of hay, settling her on his knee. “Do you want to tell me what is wrong,
niña
?”
Felicia thought for a long time, then asked. “Is it wrong to tell a secret,
señor
?”
“Not if keeping it hurts someone,
niña
.” Felicia was quiet for so long that Rod was prompted to add, “Does it,
niña
?”
Felicia shrugged her slim shoulders. “I think it might,
señor
.”
“Then the secret is best revealed,” Rod advised. “If you tell me I promise to keep it to myself. Unless there is someone else you’d rather—”
“Oh, no,” Felicia quickly assured him. “If I tell anyone it should be you.” Rod waited curiously, certain that he would never willingly betray the confidence of this trusting child.
Felicia drew a deep breath, then plunged on. “Do you remember
Señor
Blair?” Rod nodded, wondering what an Anglo horse breeder had to do with all this. “He is Dona Julie’s father.”
“What?” cried Rod, nearly upsetting Felicia when he jumped to his feet. Could it be true? “How do you know this,
niña
?” he asked, his emotions shattered into a million tiny fragments.
“I spoke with him often while he was here and Dona Julie told me so many things about her father that put me in mind of
Señor
Blair, that I became suspicious.”
Rod was amazed at how much more this child knew about Julie than he knew himself. “Why didn’t Julie’s father reveal his identity? I understand none of this. Did he tell you anything at all,
niña
?”
“Not much, Don Rodrigo. But I think he was testing you, trying to decide if Dona Julie should return to the
rancho
.”
“If she should return …
Por Dios!
You mean Julie is alive? And her father knows where she is?”
“
Si, señor.
Dona Julie is in San Francisco and her father promised me he would bring her back to the
rancho.
But he did not return,” she wailed, her small face screwing up pathetically. “He promised,
señor
! A few days, he said. It was to be our secret. What if something terrible happened to him? What if he never reached San Francisco?”
It was difficult for Rod to think beyond the fact that Julie was alive. Surprisingly he could understand her reluctance to return to him considering how badly he had treated her. He wondered how and where she had found her father. But none of that mattered now except the fact that Julie was alive and under the protection of her long lost parent.
The reason behind Julie’s failure to return as
Señor
Blair promised was another matter altogether. Had the man been attacked along El Camino Real and never reached San Francisco as Felicia feared? Or had Carl examined his character and somehow found him wanting? The longer Rod thought, the more he convinced himself that the sad truth of the matter was that Julie wanted nothing more to do with him.
“
Señor,
did you hear me?” Felicia asked, breaking into his reverie. “What if something terrible happened to Dona Julie’s father?”
“I intend to find out,
niña,
” Rod assured her firmly. “There is but one place Julie could be in San Francisco, and if she’s there I’ll find her. I … I only hope she hasn’t already returned east with her father.”
“She wouldn’t do that,
señor,
I am sure of it.” Rod smiled at Felicia’s thinly veiled rebuke.
“Perhaps you’re right,
niña,
but I promise you that if Julie is in San Francisco I will find her and bring her back to
Rancho
Delgado where she belongs.”
Rod left for San Francisco the following day.
* * *
Julie had more than one reason to feel grateful to Brett Casey. Not only had the charming gambler offered her employment, thus saving her from starvation, or worse, but his protection had far reaching results. Julie’s sudden appearance at Casey’s Pleasure Palace was the cause for much speculation. Some thought she was an old girl friend of Casey’s newly arrived to resume their relationship. Other’s considered her fair game and were quickly relieved of that notion when Casey blandly declared that Julie was his mistress and the first man to make a move on her was dead.
At first Julie was enraged by Brett’s bold, as well as unfounded, disclosure. But she cooled down considerably when Brett explained that it was for her own protection that he lied. She had to admit that she was bothered little after that by the rowdy miners looking for a woman to satisfy their urges after long months in the mine fields without female solace.
But the truth of the matter was that Julie was not, nor would she ever be, Brett Casey’s mistress. She liked and respected Brett for all his kindness on her behalf, for his protection, and yes, even for the attention he showered upon her. In the months during which she dealt blackjack at the Pleasure Palace, Brett had begged her repeatedly to become his mistress in fact as well as in word. And each time she had refused, Brett advised her that he was not the type to give up so easily.
It was ironic, Julie thought, that two men should profess love for her while the only man she could ever love cared for another. She wondered if Rod and Elena were happy together now that she was no longer around to interfere with their lives. Did he think her dead by now and had he already wed Elena?
If Julie was not happy, she was content. What kept her from complete happiness was her father’s continued absence. She had heard nothing from him in months and she feared that something dreadful had happened to
him. Surely he would have returned, or at least contacted her in all this time if he were well and safe. Julie fretted constantly over his strange disappearance and began to despair that she had lost him for good this time.
One evening shortly before she was due to make an appearance at the gaming table, Julie sat before the mirror, staring at her reflection. She had changed a great deal since she first arrived in San Francisco over a year ago. She had matured, grown more sure of herself, no longer the untried girl naive enough to set out on her own to find her father in an untamed land. Though much had happened to her it had not coarsened her flawless features nor dimmed her spirits. Though Rod had tossed her aside like so much unclaimed baggage, Julie had emerged unscathed and far stronger, much more aware of life around her. Even her beauty had been honed and defined in such a way as to add to her appeal.
The gentle rap on the door brought a smile to her lips. In all the weeks she had been at the Pleasure Palace Brett never failed to show up and escort her below stairs to begin her duties. “Come in, Brett,” Julie called out fondly.
The door opened and Brett Casey stepped inside, as vibrantly handsome as ever. “Are you ready, Brandy?”
Brandy. Another illusion to add to the mystique surrounding her. The name had been given to her by Flossie, one of Brett’s girls who coaxed the customers into buying drinks, among other things. On the first day Julie showed up downstairs to take up her duties, Flossie had remarked that her hair was the color of warm brandy. The name was immediately picked up until even Brett now called for Brandy. But Julie didn’t mind. Somehow it fit in with her new lifestyle.
“I’m ready, Brett,” Julie announced, patting a stray curl in place.
Brett’s green eyes roved appreciatively over Julie’s trim figure perfectly displayed in an emerald green gown fashioned in shimmering satin that barely concealed two rose-tipped nipples. The dress was designed purposely to delight the customers’ eyes and divert their attention away from their troubles long enough to separate them from their gold. It worked exceptionally well. Though the Pleasure Palace employed many women, some more seductively attired than Julie, only the woman known as Brandy had the ability to draw in the men like bees to honey. From the moment she walked sedately down the stairs on Brett’s arm until she returned at night in the same manner, she was a constant source of admiration as well as speculation.
It was obvious to all that Brandy was a lady as well as a woman who did not stray far from her protector. There was not a man around who did not envy Brett Casey or dream of what it would be like with a woman like Brandy in his bed. For the most part Julie was liked and respected by men and women alike, except for Rita.
Once Julie entered Brett Casey’s life, Rita’s relationship with the gambler deteriorated swiftly. Though it was already on the wane, Brett’s affair with the fiery Mexican came to an abrupt halt the moment Julie walked through the door of the Pleasure Palace. Brett never again took Rita to his bed, or any other woman for that matter. Julie had firmly entrenched herself into his life and his heart and no other would do. Consequently, Rita did her utmost to make Julie’s life miserable.
“You grow more lovely every day, sweetheart,” Brett grinned roguishly. “Are you aware that every man in San Francisco is jealous of me?”
Julie blushed becomingly. “You have a silvery tongue, Brett Casey,” she retorted archly. “And I suspect you are a rogue.”
“Guilty,” laughed Brett. “But you could change all that.”
“Brett,” began Julie, turning serious. “Please don’t—”
“All right, sweetheart, you win,” he gave in graciously, hiding his hurt beneath a facade of good humor. “I won’t press you. But if you change your mind…”
“I won’t.”
“What if I offered marriage?”
Oh, God, Julie silently prayed, please help me out of this mess. “I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve done for me, Brett, truly. But marriage? It’s out of the question. Shall we go?”
That evening Julie’s thoughts were badly fragmented and more distraught than usual. The offer of marriage from Brett was something new. Previously he had wanted her for his mistress. Now he had brought a new dimension to his proposal. Of course there was no possibility of their marriage taking place. She was still married to Rod. But she was a woman awakened to the joy of love, how long could she go on without Rod’s comforting arms? Loneliness was not a state she cared to explore for years to come. She was human; a warm, passionate woman newly awakened by an extremely virile man adept in the art of arousal. Could she be happy with a man she didn’t love? Divorce was not the answer even though she knew Brett would be good to her. Somehow the thought of marriage to anyone but Rod was repellent. She fervently prayed for her father’s swift return as she automatically began dealing the cards to the crush of men ringing her table.
Without a doubt Rod knew he had never made a faster trip to San Francisco. He ate and slept in the saddle, stopping once or twice to refresh himself in a bubbling stream. Had he encountered bandits they would have been hard pressed to catch him. Dusty, saddle-sore and badly in need of a shave, Rod unerringly turned toward Mae Parker’s boarding house, certain that he would find Julie there if she was still in
San Francisco.
You can imagine his shock when he reined up before what should have been the boarding house only to find a newly erected structure standing in its place. At first Rod thought Mae might have built a new, larger house until he realized that Mae hardly had the resources for such a venture. Where Mae’s house once stood now reposed the law offices of Murphy and Harper. In fact, now that Rod thought about it, the entire block had an unfinished look about it, certainly nothing like the weathered buildings that once stood side by side on this street.
The first person Rod encountered knew exactly what had happened, describing in great detail the terrible fire that took not only Mae Parker’s life but the life of several others unlucky enough to be trapped inside their houses.
“A girl,” asked Rod, not even aware that he was holding his breath. “Was a girl about eighteen among the victims? A beautiful girl with blond hair? She and her father were probably tenants of Mae’s.”
“Don’t recollect anyone of that description,” replied the man, scratching his bald pate. “Course it ain’t impossible. But it seems to me most of those killed were older, less agile folks unable to escape the flames fast enough.”
Rod allowed himself a few private minutes to mourn Mae Parker, a woman he respected in every way, before contemplating his next move. It was obvious he was no closer to finding Julie now than he was before he left
Rancho
Delgado. Rubbing his stubbly chin in vexation Rod decided to find himself a room, grab a few hours sleep and clean up before beginning his search.