Treasure of the Sun (35 page)

In Boston, she was ordinary. When she walked down the street, no one looked at her or whispered about her ancestry and place of origin. Here she stood out. Her appearance, her speech, her habits set her apart, and she didn't know if she wanted to adjust to fit Damian's notion of a proper Spanish wife.

Changing her religion, she had assured Fray Pedro, meant little to her. There had been no succor in stern Congregationalism, and she'd seen no demonstration of kindness in the Chamberlain family's brand of Christianity.

Still, she cringed when she thought of their reaction to her conversion. They'd be horrified by her fall into "superstition," as they had discounted the comfort she'd found in the occasional Catholic mass she'd attended.

Damian's reaction, too, gave her pause. If she accepted her first communion with a compliance akin to stoicism, Damian did not. Her religion didn't matter to her; his did to him. There dwelt in him an exultation, a pleasure that made her uneasy. To him, she didn't do this as a compliance to the laws of California, nor as a nod to his beliefs. It was a gift she presented him, a jewel finer than any other: a vow of devotion to him and his way of life.

Did she dare do this? Since the death of her father, she'd sought control of her emotions, her actions, her self. She'd succeeded, too. She'd freed herself to travel, to do as she liked. She'd learned control of her reactions.

Sometimes, perhaps, that particular control had slipped.

Sometimes her temper had blazed through; sometimes she slipped into the belligerence she'd learned in the Chamberlain household. But on the whole, her belief in control had been rewarded. She'd been determined to gain her independence through control, and she'd done it.

Inch by inch, Damian had undermined that determination.

First she'd granted him her body, and he created a passion she couldn't control. Then she'd agreed to marriage, and he gained legal control of her person. Now she'd offered to become one with him in the only ceremony he truly recognized. What control would he take from her this time? Would she lose Miss Katherine Anne Chamberlain Maxwell and become a stranger called Dona Katherina de la Sola?

In a flash of revelation, she realized that the Californio culture would triumph over her own, at least in the de la Sola home. The self-satisfied woman who had landed in Monterey Harbor was being transformed by forces within and without. She didn't know if she wanted to change. She knew that she could say no. If she wanted to, she could remain the person who'd set sail out of Boston.

If she wanted to.

That was what frightened her. She didn't want to. An emotion held her in its grip, an emotion she didn't dare define. It urged her to make adjustments, to make Damian happy. It urged compromise.

If she weren't careful, this emotion would flatten her into a doormat where Damian could wipe his feet.

That thought made her set her jaw.

Very well. She'd compromise on this one issue. With her whole heart, she'd become a Catholic, because it was important to Damian, because he was her husband and because she should make the best of it.

But she would not compromise any further. She was a proud American and a modern woman. Damian had better learn to accept that unpalatable fact. She nodded firmly. Yes, he'd better accept it.

Emotion would never triumph over logic. Not in Miss Katherine Anne.

She was not changing because of these stirrings in her heart.

4 June, in the year of our Lord, 1777

The Indians press us. We are lost. These mountains are rugged and unfamiliar. Fray Lucio urges that we abandon the gold. The women look hopelessly at us as we quarrel. Why can't the fools see what I can see? That this is a gift of heaven?

-from the diary of Fray Juan Estevan de Bautista

Chapter 16

The morning light found Katherine in the study reciting the quickly learned passages of Catholic belief for Fray Pedro. Damian looked disgruntled, combing hay from his hair with his fingers and sighing loudly as Fray Pedro de Jesus questioned her on her catechism. She wanted to smack the bad-tempered little boy, for this unfamiliar creed required all her concentration. It would be so much easier if conversion required only a working knowledge of the law.

Besides, she reminded herself righteously, she was doing all this for Damian and their marriage. The least he could do was show some gratitude.

At last Fray Pedro was satisfied. Pulling his shawl around his shoulders, he examined Damian from top to toe over steepled fingers. Under his teacher's eye, Damian squirmed like an altar boy in church. Clicking his tongue, Fray Pedro reproached, "Always so impatient. That should be part of your confession this morning."

"Yes, Padre."

"What was it you wanted to know?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Damian slid down in the chair until his spine rested on the seat, and glared.

Fray Pedro's dry cackle sounded in the cool air. "I can't resist teasing you, little Damian." All business, he leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "No~, God dwelt here last night, and I spoke with Him. He has passed His decision on to me. I will tell you what I know and show you what I have."

Katherine shivered as she remembered the night, heavy with silence.

With callous heartiness, Damian asked, "What did you receive from this Fray Lucio?"

"A map and a diary."

"Did you show them to Tobias Maxwell?"

"I showed him the map."

"Not the diary?" Damian insisted.

"I gave him the diary."

Katherine gasped, detesting the unbridled reaction, but she couldn't help it. Damian seemed speechless, and she stammered, "You gave it to him? Did he return it?"

Fray Pedro shook his head. "Why did you give it to him?"

"He fixed our bell. The rope pull had broken off and we couldn't put it back together. And our clock. He fixed our clock. He stayed with us while he worked and I grew to know him." The old man tapped his fingers together. "I had a feeling about him."

She took a deep breath. "All right. What kind of feeling?"

"You know I've been the guardian of this secret for over sixty five years. Yes, more than sixty-five years." His voice trailed off, and he moved his lips in silent computation. Triumphantly, he said, "Sixty-nine years. That's it. Sixty-nine years." The wrinkles of his face slipped and sagged. "So long. Don't you think that's a long time?"

"A very long time," she concurred.

Damian shifted, but he seemed to be familiar with Fray Pedro's quirks. "What kind of feeling did you have about Tobias?"

Fray Pedro smiled wistfully at Damian. "He was your friend.

He told me about you. That gave me my first clue, the first suggestion of his purpose in my life, for I've always known your fate was somehow intertwined with the gold. I thought you were the one who would receive the map and the diary when the time was right."

"Why did you change your mind?" Damian asked. "And when was the right time?"

"Patience, my child," Fray Pedro chided. "I've been the guardian of this secret for sixty-nine years--isn't that what I said?"

Katherine nodded agreement.

"Sixty-nine years. If I died and left the information unattended, it would fall into the wrong hands. I don't know what would happen. Perhaps the treasure seekers would use the gold for ungodly pursuits. Perhaps they'd be killed. It happened once before, you know." He peeked over the top of his glasses. "Damian, you remember."

Recalling the old vaquero's story told so long ago around the campfire, Damian concurred, "Oh, yes."

"I hid that map as best I could, and still it was stolen that time. Many men died for their thievery and greed. No doubt their souls still burn in hell. The one man who survived returned the map to me, and I've been clever with it." Delighted, he rubbed his hands together. "So clever. The others who found the place did it following the trail of the first thieves. When too many men had died for the gold, the attempts lessened and stopped. So when Tobias came to me, it was the first time in many years someone had asked me about the treasure. Perhaps my thoughts wandered and I told him more than I should . . . do you think I wander, Dona Katherina?"

"Not at all," she assured him.

"You're a lovely young woman and a credit to the de la Sola family." He shifted his attention to Damian. "I had been waiting for little Damian to grow up to give him the information."

"Waiting for me to grow up?" Damian exploded. "I'm thirty-two."

"How long has it been since I've seen you?" Fray Pedro exploded in return. "How long did I wait for that avaricious part of your soul to mature? You've stayed away for no better reason than a handful of weeds."

Damian's boots hit the floor with a thud as he stood, and Katherine wondered if he would storm out. But she reassessed the measure of her husband when he strode around the table and pulled the old Franciscan up into his arms. "You're right, Padre. Forgive me."

Fray Pedro lifted his hands to Damian's face, held him and stared at him. Satisfied with what he saw there, he said, "You have matured. So. Let me show you." Tossing his shawl onto the table, he shuffled to the wall, and lifted a framed print off its nail. He handed it casually to Damian. "Here it is."

Damian stared first at the map in his hand, then at Fray Pedro. "Do you mean this is it? But this has been on your wall for as long as I remember."

"Yes. A clever hiding place, was it not?"

He shuffled back to his chair and Katherine rose from hers to peer around Damian's shoulder. Damian looked at her helplessly. She agreed, "A very clever hiding place, indeed."

Taking it into the sunlight, they examined it. ''The lettering says, 'Majorca,'" Damian pointed out.

"Look closely at the landmarks and see if you recognize them," Fray Pedro instructed. He closed his eyes as if he were weary.

With his finger, Damian traced the prominent water course.

"The San Benito River?" Katherine followed Damian's pointing finger as he named the mountains, the creeks, the valleys. Excitement colored his voice as he said, "I think I could get there, Padre. I really think I could."

"No doubt you could, but what will you do when you're there?" Fray Pedro opened his eyes. "The diary, with its instructions, is gone with your Tobias."

Katherine and Damian stared at one another in consternation. "Where could he have put it?" she wondered. "What did the diary look like, Padre?"

"A narrow book bound with brown leather."

"I would have noticed if Tobias had a book," she said with conviction. "Do you remember what it said, Padre?"

"I never read it. I couldn't. I tried to when I toiled at Mission San Antonio, but-" He shuddered, and Katherine went to him at once with the shawl he'd tossed on his table.

"You're cold."

"Yes."

The shadow in the friar's face gave her the courage to ask, "When did you come to San Juan Bautista?"

"I came in the year it was founded, in 1797. Previously, I had been a resident brother at Mission San Antonio de Padua, and in the halls of Mission San Antonio, I would see a ghost."

"A ghost?" She glanced at Damian, amazed.

"My tall Franciscan brother, with gleaming eyes." Fray Pedro lifted his hands to show the size. "Determination and forcefulness marked this apparition. I was young enough to be frightened. The ghost tried to lure me away from the mission. He wanted me to follow him into the hills."

Unable to help herself, Katherine· stepped back from his chair.

He looked up at her and adjusted his glasses. "There's no need for alarm, my daughter. He can't come here, for he doesn't know this place."

She demanded, "Are you telling me we're dealing with a ghost?"

"He won't hurt you," Fray Pedro reassured her. "He was, after all, a Franciscan brother and one of our best curanderos. In the secular world, he could have been a doctor. No, for all his misplaced arrogance, he never deliberately harmed anyone. Only ... people died because of him. He can't rest in peace until I, or my messenger, have settled the issue of the gold."

Damian sank down on a chair. ''Then I had better study this."

"Take it with you," Fray Pedro urged. "Study it at your leisure. In all fairness, I must tell you-when I was ill last year, I did send for you. I wished to give you the map and the diary. That good woman Leocadia sent a message back to say you were visiting. "