Destiny - The Callahans #1 (28 page)

“Is someone building here?” he asked.

“My father,” she said, smiling.

“What will it be, another country home?”

“Yes.”

Harold was puzzled and rose in his stirrups
to look back over his horse in the direction they had come. “But
the hacienda is only about five miles away. Why would he need
another home so near our colony?” he asked, retaking his seat and
looking at Teresa.

“For his daughter,” she replied.

“His daughter?” Harold repeated, not fully
comprehending.

“It is our home, Harold. The start of our
hacienda,” she explained, reaching across the space between their
horses to lay her hand on his arm. “It is father’s wedding present
to us. In addition to the eighteen thousand acres your father
purchased, Father has given us another fifteen hundred acres and
eight hundred head of Longhorn cattle to start our herd.”

Harold sat speechless in his saddle for
several moments, watching the workmen scurrying about the building,
now taking shape in his mind as a residence. “I had thought that we
would live in your father’s home for a while,” he murmured.

“Father thought it best we have our own home,
and that perhaps your father would stay with us, when he arrives,
at least until he builds his own home. The homes your people are
building are quite small. Only beginning homes actually. And when
Miguel told me about your sister, I thought she should also move in
with us, until her husband arrives and they can complete their
home.

“Oh, Harold, it is magnificent,” she beamed.
“We will have our own home for our child to be born in. Let me show
you what Father has done,” she exclaimed, spurring her horse and
leaving Harold alone on the crest of the knoll. He watched as she
rode up the slope, dismounted in front of the house, and handed her
reins to one of the workmen. Looking back once at Harold and waving
excitedly, she entered the house.

From his vantage point, he could tell the
home was exceptionally well situated to view the ocean and
surrounding valley, yet close enough to the new Mormon community to
enable Harold to be accessible to his people. Teresa had reasoned,
that as the patron of his fledgling group, Harold should
immediately command the respect due such a position by the
establishment of a stately residence, located somewhat apart from
the others.

Were it not for the presence of Katrina,
Harold would have immediately agreed. As it was, the noose was
closing around Harold’s throat more quickly than he had planned,
and the time was rapidly approaching when he would have to face the
dilemma of how to introduce his wives to each other.

On a morning when Harold and Miguel rode into
Mazatlán to order additional building materials for New Hope, the
name the colonists had begun calling their settlement, Teresa set
out with a buggy in the opposite direction for the colony. Harold
had been silent on the subject of his sister coming to live in
their new home, but had suggested that perhaps her assistance was
still needed by the Olsens. Teresa rode past the house
construction, spending a few minutes to observe changes since her
last visit. Within three weeks, the foreman had said, the main part
of the house would be livable and they would be able to move in.
Certainly well before Christmas, he had promised.

Twice since Harold’s return, Teresa had
viewed the budding colony from a distance, but had not gone into
the town, content to remain on horseback with Harold on the
hillside overlooking New Hope. Twice Harold had gone alone to visit
his sister, but had remained overnight only once, although he had
held daytime meetings with the settlers of the colony on a more
frequent basis.

Riding slowly into the area and guiding her
horse and buggy around depressions in the rough road, Teresa was
greeted with smiles and waves from those working on the new homes.
One heavy-set woman preparing food for the workers, paused to wipe
her hands on her apron, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun,
and inviting Teresa to “light down and sit a spell.”

“Thank you. It is becoming hot this morning,”
Teresa said as she wrapped the reins around the brake handle and
stepped down from the buggy.

“Well, we’ve been at it since before sunup,
but it’s nearly time for lunch for the crew, bless their hearts.
How does a nice cup of lemonade sound?” she asked.

“Wonderful. You’ve made a lot of progress,”
Teresa commented, looking around the yard. “Do you think you’ll be
in your house before Christmas?”

“That’s the plan, ’cept it’ll only be a
one-room cabin. That is ’til my husband gets ’em all built. Then
he’ll start on making each one a bit larger, as time and money
permit.”

“I see,” Teresa said, perplexed. “How many
cabins is your husband building? Is he helping another family?”

“We’re all helping each other,” the lady
said, beginning to exercise caution. “Did you come to see someone
in particular?”

“Yes,” Teresa said, brightening. “I’d hoped
to find Katrina Stromberg, Harold’s sister.”

“Harold’s sister?” the lady asked, also
confused. “Oh, yes, his sister,” the lady repeated, covering her
confusion. “Well, she’d be down to the large barn where all the
children are. She’s kind of looking after the kids.”

“Excellent,” Teresa responded, finishing her
drink. “Well, I’d best be off. Thank you for the refreshment. It’s
just what I needed.”

“Glad to help. Come again when you can.”

“Thank you,” Teresa replied, climbing back
into the buggy. Slapping the reins softly, she nudged the horse
along, picking her way through the budding community toward the
large barn that had already been built and which was in use as a
storage facility for building materials. She stopped outside,
climbed down again, and hobbled the horse before entering the
building.

Several men were removing lumber, and at the
far end of the structure, Teresa could see about a dozen children
arranged in a semicircle, seated around a young woman. Teresa
approached quietly, without disturbing the lesson and listened as
the young woman read to the small gathering of youngsters.

Katrina looked up, and noticing Teresa,
offered a smile. After a few minutes, she came to the end of the
story and closed the book.

“Now,” she said, standing, “who’s ready for
some fresh air and sunshine?”

All the hands went up together and Katrina
laughed at the children. “Jenny, will you take charge please, and
see that the younger children are allowed to have a turn on the
swings?”

“Yes, Sister Stromberg,” Jenny replied,
starting outside.

Katrina walked over to where Teresa stood,
both women smiling as the children quickly ran outside, leaving the
barn empty except for the two of them.

“Good morning,” Katrina said.

“Yes. And good morning to you. I’m Teresa,
and you must be Katrina Stromberg, Harold’s sister.”

Katrina bristled slightly at the use of the
term “sister” in reference to her relationship to Harold. “Yes, I
am. Can I show you something or be of some help?”

“Well, I was hoping that you might have time
to come for a short ride with me this morning. There’s something
I’d like to show you.”

“Oh?” Katrina queried.

“It’s not far, really. Just about a
twenty-minute ride. Will the children be all right?”

Katrina looked toward the large barn door
where the children had exited. “Sister Olsen will be back shortly.
Eight of the twelve are hers,” Katrina laughed. “I guess they’ll be
all right.” Katrina looked carefully at Teresa, admiring her Latin
features, olive skin, and black hair, not certain what the Spanish
woman had to do with her. She seemed friendly enough, but who was
she?

“I’m not sure I know who you are. Did you say
Teresa was your name?”

Teresa laughed out loud. “That Harold. It’s
just like a man, isn’t it? I’m Teresa Cardenas Stromberg. Harold’s
wife.”

Teresa watched as Katrina’s face dissolved
from an inquisitive smile to a look of unbelief, her eyes growing
wide, then rolling back slightly in her head as she collapsed on
the floor.

Quickly, Teresa moved to a water pail near
where the children had been sitting, and removing a kerchief from
her sleeve, dipped it in the water and returned to gently wipe
Katrina’s brow. As Katrina opened her eyes, she found herself lying
on the sawdust covered floor, her head in Teresa’s lap, and the
dark stranger continuing to mop her forehead with the damp
cloth.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Teresa said. “I must
have startled you.”

Katrina didn’t speak, attempting to gain some
sense of this event and the woman who had introduced herself as
Harold’s wife. Sitting up slowly, Katrina placed her hand to her
head, pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen over her
eyes. “Please excuse me,” she offered. “The heat perhaps. I’m not
used to the temperatures.”

Teresa laughed. “You’ll have to get used to
it. It’s November now. Wait until next July and August.”

Katrina smiled weakly, and tried to stand. “I
guess the heat,” she paused, “the baby and all, was just too
much.”

“Baby?” Teresa brightened. “Are you with
child?”

“Uh, yes, I am.”

“How wonderful. So am I. Does Harold know of
your child yet? Is your husband with the colony or perhaps coming
later?”

“Well, I’m not sure if, uh . . .”

“Oh, I have forgotten my manners,” Teresa
said. “Too many questions. Let’s just go for a short ride and see
if we can’t get some breeze flowing over you. That will help your
circulation.”

“Yes, perhaps it will,” Katrina
responded.

As they climbed into the buggy, Katrina sat
quietly as Teresa urged the horse to retrace the path she had taken
into town, directing him toward the far hillside and the short ride
toward the new home under construction.

By the time the buggy reached the edge of
town, it had all become too clear to Katrina—the other families who
were with the group, some with multiple wives from before the
Manifesto, Harold’s excommunication, his request that she introduce
herself as his sister—all of it suddenly made sense. But the
realization brought with it a wave of nausea. Raising her hand to
Teresa, signaling her to stop the buggy, Katrina leaned over the
side of the wagon and retched. Several moments passed while Teresa
worked to still the horse and Katrina took deep breaths, trying to
regain both her dignity and her faculties, determined not to let
this woman receive any further advantage through her own childish
behavior.

“Are you all right, Katrina?” Teresa
asked.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be fine. Let’s press
on.”

“Good. You’ll be excited, I hope. I want to
show you the house Harold and I are building for our home. We’ll
want you to come live with us, of course, until your own home is
finished and your husband is . . .”

“I’m not married,” Katrina said flatly,
allowing herself for a moment to actually believe the
statement.

They rode along quietly for a few moments.
The only sounds were those of the horse wheezing slightly and its
hooves thudding in the soft dirt of the road, as it picked its way
up the rising hillside, beyond which lay the new Stromberg house,
now nearing completion.

“Well, then,” Teresa finally said, “we’ll
just have to see that you are well taken care of during your
pregnancy.” She reached over and took Katrina’s hand as they drove.
“I would like to be your friend, Katrina. Will you allow me to
help? With my baby coming too, we’ll go through this together.”

Katrina looked over at this woman who had so
recently entered her life, just as Teresa turned to look at her.
Their eyes met, and Teresa smiled warmly. She reached again for
Katrina’s hand, and continuing to look into her eyes, asked,
“Friends?”

Katrina allowed a wry smile to play at the
corners of her mouth, and she shook her head in disbelief. What she
was hearing didn’t seem possible. In the space of a few minutes,
she had discovered her husband to be a bigamist, and now his other
wife, who also was pregnant, was offering to be her friend. She
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or what to say. And she had no
idea how this would work out, or if it would.

Her mind flashed to Harold’s behavior—the
dirty business of leading Thomas into believing he was wanted for
murder; his perfidy in secretly getting married on his initial trip
to Mexico; his request that Katrina represent herself as his
sister, instead of his wife. She wondered if he had ever told her
the truth—about anything! And he must have lied in similar ways to
this woman sitting beside her, who apparently didn’t have the
slightest suspicion that Harold might have another wife.

The small joy she would derive from watching
Harold squirm as he returned to find the two of them together had
not yet crossed Katrina’s mind, as it would later in the day. But
for the moment, she found it hard not to accept and even to like
this woman who had only just met her, and who, within moments, had
accepted Katrina as a sister—an unmarried and pregnant one at that.
Teresa’s immediate offer had been, “How can I help?” Harold
Stromberg had two wives, one of whom knew of the situation, one of
whom thought of the other as Harold’s sister, and both of whom were
going to have his baby. An eventful day, all in all.

Seeing Katrina and Teresa sitting calmly
together on the verandah of the hacienda, filled Harold with
consternation. He could see that they were engaged in amiable
conversation, but as he closed the distance from the doorway to
their table, overlooking the quadrangle inside the hacienda
compound, his mind was racing. What they might have discovered
about each other flashed through his mind, and he searched
desperately for something he might say or do. Clearly, he had been
caught, or was in danger of it.