Authors: Connie Mason
“You don’t seem yourself today,
señora,
” she soothed. “Why don’t you go to your room and let me send up a tray for you. Felicia is a wise child. She knows you are near your time and will understand if you don’t join her.”
Numbly Julie allowed Teresa to lead her through the courtyard to the French doors opening into her bedroom. She made no protest when the kindly woman helped her undress and tucked her into bed. A short time later Felicia carried a tray to Julie. Julie’s listless replies to her questions soon convinced Felicia that her sister-in-law was best left alone to her rest, and went off to find her own amusement.
Julie was in a turmoil of indecision. Did she really want to know if Elena and Rod were lovers? Would it not be far better to think Elena a liar than to face the hurt of Rod’s betrayal? Did she truly wish to view his infidelity with her own eyes? Yes, she decided painfully, she could not trust Elena’s word. She owed it to Rod to give him the benefit of the doubt until she proved otherwise. Julie was well aware of Elena’s deceit, well-versed in the many ways Elena chose to demonstrate her hatred and cunning. This was something she had to do, Julie resolved. Somehow, someway, she would be at Elena’s house at ten o’clock tonight.
Julie knew exactly how long it would take her to reach San Luis Obispo and planned accordingly. She joined Felicia, her father and Ramona for the evening meal. Rod, who hadn’t eaten with them in many days, was occupied elsewhere. Following the meal she promptly excused herself and went to her room, presumedly to go to bed. Not long afterward she heard her father and Ramona leave. Shortly Felicia came in to say goodnight. If Felicia thought Julie’s goodnight was rather strained,
she said nothing. It seemed like forever until the house was quiet. Only then did Julie leave her room and stealthily let herself out through the courtyard door.
Julie thanked God the moon was high and the terrain clearly illuminated as she made her way quickly to the stables. Nearly all the horses were put to use during the roundup but Julie was gratified to see that Rod had thoughtfully left the horse that was normally hitched to the small carriage he had purchased for her when she could no longer comfortably sit a horse.
Moving awkwardly, Julie managed to ready the carriage and pull herself into the seat with great difficulty. Taking the reins in her hands and clicking her tongue softly, the carriage started forward slowly. At any other time Julie would not have left the premises without being discovered and probably stopped. But every available hand had been pressed into service for the roundup, leaving the
hacienda
deserted but for Carl Darcy whose own
casa
was some distance from the main house.
Thus it was that Julie moved undetected and unhampered through the countless Delgado acres without encountering any of the
vaqueros
who were camped in the surrounding hills.
It was nearly ten o’clock when Julie reached the outskirts of San Luis Obispo. Following Elena’s explicit directions, she soon found the small
casa
that had been described to her. The streets were deserted even though there was considerable din coming from the several
cantinas
lining both sides of the narrow dirt street. At that moment Julie had never felt so alone in her life.
Elena’s
casa
was at the end of a quiet street. Julie drove the carriage past the darkened house and into the tall brush a short distance away. Hauling her ungainly body out of the carriage, she tethered the horse to a bush and cautiously approached. The sound of her footfall was like thunder in her ears but in truth was barely
discernable as she stepped lightly onto the veranda and made her way around the side just as Elena had instructed.
Keeping to the shadows, Julie stopped abruptly when she reached a pair of French doors thrown open to garner the soft night breezes. Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest, her legs shaking so badly she was certain she could move no further. She seriously considered returning to the
hacienda
without ever learning the truth, thinking that she really did not care to learn whether or not Rod had been bedding Elena. She had already seen the child, wasn’t that proof enough? No, she decided stubbornly, she would never be satisfied until her own eyes beheld her unfaithful husband in Elena’s bed. Elena had been the cause of too much heartache for Julie to accept her word as proof, alone.
The scene inside the bedroom had been carefully set. A lamp burned brightly, leaving Julie no doubt as to the identity of the two people intimately entwined on the bed. Elena’s passion-glazed features were clearly defined, her face turned toward the French doors. She and her lover had been engaged in intense foreplay for some time and needed only the appearance of Julie for final consummation.
Julie sidled from the shadows until the bed and its occupants came into her full line of view. So caught up was she in the scene unfolding before her that she was unaware of the strangled gasp that escaped her throat. But not so Elena who had been anxiously awaiting some sign of Julie’s expected arrival. The moment it came in the form of a choked cry, Elena reacted instantly.
Julie could not turn her eyes from the smoldering scene erupting before her eyes like an act in an erotic play. Though she could not make out the man’s face clearly, only the broad, muscled back and shoulders, Julie instinctively knew the man was her husband.
Elena’s passion-drugged voice soon removed any doubt she might have had.
“Rodrigo
mi amor,
I burn for you. Take me now.”
Julie could not understand Rod’s low, hoarse reply but his actions spoke eloquently of his desire as he kissed Elena passionately. Their nude bodies were beautiful, as graceful as dancers caught in a pagan ceremony dedicated to the God of love.
Rod’s lips and hands played a trail of fire along Elena’s flushed body while she moaned loudly and called out his name over and over again. Before Julie’s shocked eyes, Elena’s breasts grew tumescent with her pleasure, the coral nipples taut pleasure points that thrust out like ripe cherries. Julie commanded herself to move but the message from her brain willed otherwise.
When the man’s dark curly head—Rod’s head—was lost between Elena’s outstretched thighs, a black, suffocating pain pierced her heart. Then Elena’s cries released her from limbo.
“Oh,
si,
Rodrigo,
mi amor, si
! Come to me now! Come to me!”
Raising himself above Elena’s slight form, the man Julie assumed to be Rod, his face still carefully averted, plunged deeply into the warm, moist recess opening greedily beneath him.
Julie did not wait for the climax as abruptly she turned, moving as swiftly as her heavy body and protruding stomach would allow, her hasty retreat hindered by the storm of tears blinding her eyes. Her whole world had erupted beneath her, her entire life lay shattered at her feet, not to mention her broken heart. Nothing meant anything to her anymore. All she had left of her all-consuming love for Rod was his child resting beneath her heart.
As much as she hated to admit it, it was increasingly obvious that all Rod wanted from her was his heir. If memory served her, Rod began treating her like a true
wife only after he learned she carried his child. She knew now he was only humoring her for his child’s sake. Knowing what she did she could no longer remain at
Rancho
Delgado, Julie decided recklessly. She wanted to hurt Rod, to wound him as he had hurt her, twisting her heart in shreds. And then it struck her that the one way caluculated to hurt him most was to take his child from him. Pride riding her mercilessly, Julie decided to do exactly that.
The carriage moved slowly through the darkness, but with any luck Julie hoped her disappearance would not be discovered until late morning. By the time Rod was sent for and a search of the
rancho
conducted, she could hope for a day or two grace with which to make good her escape. But escape to where? she wondered, heedless of the harm her rash actions might cause.
Julie had no intention of involving her father in her difficulties. He had his Ramona and a life of his own. That left only Brett Casey to turn to. Did he still care for her enough to give her shelter? Or would he insist she return to her husband? No matter, Brett was her only refuge. Determined to return to the
hacienda
for nothing, Julie turned her carriage onto El Camino Real, her state of mind such that she gave no thought whatever to the dangers involved. She was penniless, without food and water, and likely to give birth at any time.
The sun was high in the sky when Julie gave her first thought of food. All through the long night as torturous images assailed her mind, Julie dozed fitfully while her horse, pulling the small carriage unfit for such hazardous travel, made its own way over the trail. From past experience she knew that any one of the string of missions along El Camino Real would be more than happy to offer her food and lodging. All she had to do was ask. Unfortunately, the good
padres
from most of the missions would remember her as the wife of Don Rodrigo Delgado.
Troubled by the dilemma facing her, Julie did not hear the wagons approaching from the rear until they were nearly upon her. Exhausted, her body cramped from sitting all night, Julie was never happier to see another human being in her life. Just knowing she was not alone on the trail was a vast relief.
There were six wagons in all. Prospectors, Julie supposed, taking the southern route to the gold fields. She pulled over when she reached a broad spot in the road and waited until they came abreast. The lead wagon stopped when Julie signaled she wished to speak with them.
A middleaged man, his features lined and weathered beyond his years, drove the rig, his thin, bird-like wife perched tall and straight beside him. Both were confused and startled to find a lone woman, well advanced in pregnancy, traveling a trail where banditry and murder were regular occurences.
“My God, girl, what are you doing out here by yourself?” greeted the man reprovingly. “My name is Micah Davis and this is my wife, Martha. Where is your husband? Is he crazy to let you wander on your own in your condition?”
“My husband is dead,” Julie lied, quickly making up a story to satisfy the Davis couple. “I was left on my own in a small village when my husband died of snakebite. I must get to San Francisco. I have friends there who will take care of me.”
“You won’t get far in that buggy,” hooted Micah derisively.
“It’s all I have.” Julie’s woebegone expression and sad story touched a responsive chord somewhere in Martha’s heart. She had left a daughter about Julie’s age back in Illinois.
“What’s your name, child?” Martha asked kindly.
“Juliet. My friends call me Julie.” The Davises waited politely until Julie added, “Julie Darcy.”
“Would you like to travel with us, Julie?” Martha asked hesitantly. “We are going right through San Francisco.”
“Now, Martha,” interrupted Micah sternly, “don’t speak hastily. I don’t rightly know if we should take on the added responsibility of a woman so far gone with child. We’d have to consult the others first to see how they feel about it.”
“Micah,” scolded Martha reproachfully, “it is our Christian duty to take in this poor child. I’m sure the others will agree. At least the women will.”
“Perhaps, wife, but I still think—”
“Please,” Julie interjected, “I don’t wish to be the cause of dissension between you. Besides, I can travel much faster in my horse and buggy and I am quite familiar with the trail.”
“Then what do you want from us?” asked Micah bluntly.
“I need supplies. Food, water, and … and a blanket or two. Enough to see me through to San Francisco. I have no money but this ring should more than compensate for what you give me.” Julie slipped the heavy gold band that Rod had given her after they were married by
Padre
Juan from her finger and placed it almost regretfully in Micah’s outstretched palm.
Shrewdly Micah weighted the object in his hand, glanced at his wife, then back at Julie. “Do we have enough supplies to share?” he asked.
Martha nodded with a sad tilt of her head. She hated the thought of leaving a young woman without protection on so dangerous a journey. She told Julie as much.
“I insist, Mrs. Davis,” Julie smiled gratefully. “All I ask is that you sell me what I need. I’ll be fine. My baby isn’t due for weeks and I’ll be safely in San Francisco with my friends long before then.”
Reluctantly Martha was persuaded and soon Julie’s
buggy was loaded with enough supplies to last several days. After sharing a meal with the Davises and their group, Julie thanked her newfound friends profusely and went on her way.
Thankfully, Julie was miles away when the wagon train was attacked by Three-Fingered Jack and his
guerrilleros.
Three-Fingered Jack was of a different sort than Joaquin Murieta and another romantic hero of the times called Pico. Whereas Murieta and Pico were much beloved by the people, Three-Fingered Jack was hated and feared. And with good reason. He attacked and pillaged indiscriminately, taking human life without thought or conscience.
When the bandits had stolen all the valuables from the hapless travelers on the wagon train and cruelly and methodically raped all the women regardless of age, they calmly killed everyone who had not already been slain in their initial attack. Then they set fire to the wagons. Had Julie chosen to join the group, her fate would have been the same.
Ignorant of the fate of her friends on the wagon train, Julie continued her journey northward. She camped the night curled up in a blanket in the buggy, her child violently protesting being cramped and abused by kicking unmercifully until Julie was forced to abandon the buggy and stretch out on the damp ground.
The following day Julie was nearing the town of Carmel when disaster struck. She lost a wheel on the buggy and received such a jolt that many long minutes passed before she could bestir herself to inspect the damage, which she discovered to her sorrow was beyond her realm of knowledge or ability. From her last trip with Rod a few months earlier, Julie knew that the Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Carmelo de Monterey lay just a short distance away. Thank God
Padre
Serra saw fit to place all twenty-one missions along El Camino Real within a day’s journey of one another, she sighed wearily.