Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html (14 page)

He thrust the wet-nurse into a chair and stomped to the cradle that held Benito and then carried him lovingly to her before he thrust him into her arms as he warned, “If I find that you let my son go without, your child will pay—with her life!”

He retraced his steps to the door, leaving the blubbering woman as she opened her blouse to his son.  The child suckled hungrily at her breast while her own baby cried in her cradle.  Before he closed the door against the woman, he told her, “I will visit my son at any time.  Remember that he is more important to you than that child.”

The woman followed his pointing finger to the infant that still desperately wailed, and then she whimpered and patted the baby that nursed in her arms.  Wiping away the tears, she watched as he slammed the door behind him.  She stared fearfully at her daughter who writhed with her crying fit inside her cavernous crib.  Then she looked down at the strange baby suckling at her breast and she sighed with acceptance of her dismal destiny.

Diego remounted his steed and headed back to the hacienda, knowing that he had gotten through to the woman that he would kill her child if his went hungry.  Soon, he thought, the boy will get used to her as his source of sustenance and his need for his mother would wane, and so too, would Diego’s need for his wife cease. 

But, what to do with her, he wondered as he stepped into the courtyard of his grand home.  Not to worry, he told himself as he went to the veranda for a glass of wine.  He had a few weeks to think about it.  In the meantime, he would keep her dozing in her comfortable bed while he kept his mistress awake and satiated in his own bed.  A deep roaring laugh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his wrought iron chair and raised his palms to entangle his fingers behind his neck.  Soon, he would have all that he wanted, he thought.  And thanks to his wife’s actions and the cruel yet contemplating schemes of his mistress, he would have it sooner than expected.  

Chapter Nine

            “Maria, hurry up!” Isabelle scolded as she poked her head into her mistress’ room.  “We’ll be late for mass!”

            Maria nodded and waved her hand toward Isabelle as she stood over Savannah’s sleeping body.  Then, she stepped toward the window to draw the drapes so that just enough morning sun could filter through, giving the room a golden glow.  Finding her way back to the side of the bed, she leaned over the woman once again.

            Her mistress lay still and almost lifeless in the bed, save for the slight rise and fall of the blankets upon her chest.  Too much sleep and too little food had taken its toll on the woman’s drawn features.  Her face was sunken and white except for a pair of circles the color of plums that cut into the area below her hollow eyes, filling the deep pits with a sea of violet beneath her black velvet lashes.  Her hair a matted, dull black mass hovered around her head on the pillow like a dark, tangled halo except for the single ringlet that twirled around one tight and colorless cheekbone, which jutted out above the thin, chiseled chin.  Her once full lips were now thin with hunger and lacked any color but the golden caress of the sun that streamed into the room.

            Maria stopped short as she tucked in the blanket when those lips quivered and the eyelids fluttered.  She had not seen so much as a twitch out of her charge in over three months.  She wondered if she had forgotten to give her the last dose of laudanum while she put her hands upon her full hips and stared at the face that now lay motionless.  No matter, she shrugged.  She will die soon enough.  Diego had promised.  The child was suckling eagerly upon the nursemaid’s breast and this one was no longer needed. 

            Maybe she should let the drug wear off a bit so that when Doña Fernandez is put to her death she will suffer.  Maria smiled as she patted the lusterless head that sunk into the pillow.  With malice in her voice, she whispered, “I would like to see you suffer, gringa.  I have suffered while you have been here.  You had taken my Diego from me when he found out about your money, but he no longer needs you in order to get it.  Now, it is your turn to suffer.  Perhaps Diego will allow me to dispose of you, eh?”

            Savannah’s head stirred under the warmth of Maria’s hand and she pulled it away, rubbing the palm as if she had touched the thorn of a cactus plant.  She heard Isabelle’s voice calling once again, so she turned to follow her friend out of the room, her mind conjuring up the most despicable demise for the woman who had caused her to put off her own life of happiness with the man that she adored.

            Savannah swam back to life through the haze of sleep, her head aching as if she had been dropped from the highest mountain.  She groaned as she tried to move her throbbing head.  The sharp pain threatened to hurl her back into oblivion but she fought diligently to wake herself from this dark domain.

            On their own accord, her hands found their way to her head, pressing hard against each temple to ease the pounding, dizzying drums that vibrated inside her skull.  Slowly, oh so slowly, the pain subsided so that she could open her eyes and face the tiny shred of sunlight that shone like a beacon on a stormy night.  She turned her face toward the light, that glorious stream of reality that beckoned her to draw closer to its warm, life-giving glow.  With its powerful vitality, the beam pulled her up onto her elbows, then into a sitting position.  There, she waited until the dizziness subsided, giving her the strength to swing her legs over the side of the bed.  She cringed as a knife of pain shot through her head again and she sat there, holding her palms to it to quell the onslaught.

         After a while, she took a deep, decisive breath and propelled herself from the bed to stand beside it, wavering as she fought for balance.  She took her first step, stretching out her hands to balance herself.  Another step and she was only a few feet away from the silhouette of velvet against the illumination of the window.  With a grunt of excitement and exhaustion, she fell toward the window and leaned against it, basking in the warmth that radiated there. 

            Already, she could feel the strength flooding back into her limbs.  Soon, she could stand on her own accord and she spread back the drapes to worship the blessing of the sun’s warming rays.  She fumbled with the latch and then pushed open the window to breathe in the freshness of the warm spring air.

            It took her moments to realize and moments later to say aloud, “It was cool just yesterday and now, it seems stiflingly hot outside.”

            A perplexed frown crossed her brow as she leaned out the window to take in the scenery.  The garden which flanked her bedroom was withered and dry.  The flowers that she had taken such pains to plant and groom now drooped tiredly in the heat that wavered on the tile veranda.  She looked past the garden wall at the horizon, which danced hazily in the steam that rose in shimmering waves toward the sky.

            “Where did the time go?” she asked herself, placing a hand on her neck.  “How could I have slept for so long without waking up?”

            Surely, she would have remembered the days since spring melted into summer, she thought as she narrowed her eyes at the confusing sight.  Why, she must have missed everything: flowers blooming, riding her horse over the grassy plains, watching her son learn to crawl—

            “Benito!” she whispered, placing her fingertips to her neck, suddenly remembering the heart-wrenching news that she had been told yesterday, a week ago, whenever she had fainted in disbelief. 

            Her baby was dead!  Her sweet little Benito was gone. 

            How can she live without him?  He was all that she had lived for.  Her broken heart crumbled inside her chest, threatening to send her crashing to the floor again in her overwhelming grief.

            But, she must go on.  She must call upon the spirit that she used to have before she had married Diego and before he had beat it out of her and bled it from her body with his cutting words and brutal reprimands.  As she lifted her chin, she begged for the courage to pull herself up and take herself away from this place forever.

            With great effort, she dressed in her riding habit and then knelt beside the bed.  Excitement tore through her when she saw that the bags were still where she had put them.  She pulled the burlap sack toward her and peered inside.  Everything was still there, including the loaf of bread, which was now dusted with a powdery mold that clung to the crusty, hard surface.  She picked it up with her forefinger and thumb and was amazed that it was as heavy as an adobe brick and it smelled so offensive that she carried it to the window and let it drop with a thud on the tiles outside.  Then, she went back to the bed and collected the bags.  Holding the bag that contained the baby’s things to her breast, she sniffed back the sadness as she tucked the beloved belongings into her valise as a reminder of her little son.

            She hefted the bags over the window sill and watched as they hit the tiles soundly, crushing the loaf of bread into a powdery cloud around them.  She followed the bags, jumping just over the heap and picked them up.  She crept to the garden wall, following it to the gate, where she stopped and listened.  It stood ajar, inviting her to open it wide and run to her freedom, but she hesitated to make sure that no one witnessed her departure.

            She was happy that she had waited, for she saw a guard pacing along the wall of the courtyard, his head facing away from her, so he had not seen her.  She took a deep breath, wondering how she could slip by him without him seeing her, for she would have to cross right in front of him on her way to the stables.  She pressed her back against the warm adobe wall and tried to think. 

            As she contemplated her plan, she heard the clickety-clack of claws upon the tiles of the veranda.  In seconds, her Chihuahua was bouncing and yapping at her feet.

            “Shhh, Pedro,” she scolded, but he was too excited to see her.  She knelt down and rubbed his head, letting him slop licks on her face and neck in an effort to quiet him.

            She had to make him leave her, she knew, for he was making enough noise to rouse a dead guard, so the one who leaned against a tree and rolling a cigarette was sure to hear.  She pushed the dog’s rump, urging him to go out the gate, but he squirmed into a complete circle, ending up back at her side.

            “So you want to play, do you?” she whispered, her voice showing mock excitement.  She looked around for a stick, and then waved it in front of the panting dog, enticing him to play.  Finally, she threw the stick through the gate and to the left so that he would chase it away from the direction in which she wanted to go.  Pedro flew through the gate and galloped toward the stick, his tongue lolling behind his ears and his excited yapping echoing through the courtyard.

            Alerted to the disturbance, the guard walked toward the bushes into which Pedro had disappeared to investigate. 

            This was her chance!  Savannah scooped up her bags and darted toward the stables as fast as her weary body could carry her.  Her heart kept time with her feet as she ran across the cracked ground and into the darkness of the stable.  She paused to peek inside the door to make sure that no one was about.  Satisfied that she was alone, she finally let her breath out in a sigh of relief and hurried to the tack room for a saddle and bridle.

            Down the run, a horse whinnied and she recognized the welcoming call of Star Dancer.  He was her last link to the life that she had left behind in Georgia.  And the gelding was probably her only means of getting away from this life.  She whispered soothingly to the horse while she carried the saddle to the stall.  The gelding threw his head and nickered when she stepped inside the stall to caress his silken neck.  Then, she lifted the saddle and blanket to his back and tightened the cinch.

            But, as a wave of dizziness attacked her, she swayed and melted to the ground.  She sat in the straw and put her back against the slats of the stall until she had the strength to stand again.  As she was rising to reach for the bridle, she heard a rumble of commotion outside the stable.  The noise seemed to be coming toward the stable.  Quickly, she hid the bags in the straw and removed the saddle, shoving it into the straw and then dove in beside it.  She held her breath when she heard the voice that she feared the most.

            Don Diego was shouting orders in Spanish to a group of men that she could not see.  From a year and a half of marriage, she had learned to comprehend some of the words that he spat to his men.  He was telling them to find her as soon as possible.  She heard a scuffle as the men hurried to saddle their horses for the search and then she heard Diego speak again, “She can’t have gone far in her condition.  She must be somewhere close by.  Probably flat on her pretty face with the amount of laudanum that she’s been taking.”

            “Laudanum,” she breathed against her palm.  It took her only seconds to realize that he had been drugging her all this time.  Damn him! She swore under her breath.  What kind of a monster had she married?  Well, she would take it no more.  No more would she lie down like a cowardly dog, letting him command her as he was commanding his men, hoping for a morsel of love that he might throw her way.  As soon as she got the chance, she would light out of here and head back to the place where she knew she would be welcome.