Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1) (21 page)

“Yes, you should do that. A blue dress to match your eyes,” Steven said.

The men rode toward the house, Steven and Roman still teasing Dominic about the bear. God certainly did have a sense of humor, Dominic decided. He hated bears nearly as much as he hated snakes.

Roman waited for everyone to seek their beds before slipping to the other side of the hacienda to find Rachel, who’d retired early to her room. He’d drunk brandy with Dominic and Tio Pedro after dinner, and the brandy gave him courage to bring her a proposal. He knocked softly upon her door until she opened it. Though she was in her nightdress, he pushed into her room, quickly closing the door behind him.

“Have you been drinking?” Her anxious gaze searched his.

“I am not drunk.” He went and made himself comfortable on her bed. He didn’t feel drunk—relaxed, perhaps, but not inebriated.

“This is improper.” Her cheeks bloomed with color. She looked so fetching in her white nightgown with her hair flowing loose down her back, he could hardly restrain himself.

“Si,”
he agreed, a crooked smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“You must leave.”

“I will leave after we talk.” He patted the bed. “Come sit with me,
pequeña
.”

“I will not come near you on that bed.”

“We have shared a bed before.”

“Stop this right now.”

“Stop what?”

“Toying with me.”

“I assure you,
pequeña
, I am not toying with you. I’m serious about my intentions. Come, sit with me, and I will tell you my proposal.”

“I will not sit with you.” She walked to the door, waiting there to usher him out.

He stretched out on her bed, careful to keep his spurs and boots from damaging the fine bedcover his own mother had sewn.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“If you will not sit with me, I will make myself comfortable here.” He grinned. “I have held you in my arms, all softness and warmth and nothing more. We are well past propriety, little dove.”

“How dare you remind me of such a thing!”

He sat up on the bed. “I cannot forget such a thing. I close my eyes and see you in my bed. In my arms . . .”

“Stop this! We should not be alone together. This is highly improper.” Her voice trembled with indignation.

He got off the bed and walked over to her beside the door.

She backed against the closed portal.

Capturing her chin, he raised her face to his. “Let me make you my woman. I will be so gentle with you,
pequeña.
” His lips descended on hers. His kiss was soft and explorative and hot with brandy. His hands at her waist pulled her firmly against his body, not roughly, but with gentle, unbending strength.

After kissing her mouth for a long time, he kissed her cheeks, tasting salty tears there.

“Why are you are crying?” He rested his cheek against the top of her silky head. “I know every inch of you,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t hurt you, Rachel.”

“You do not understand,” she said tearfully.

“What is there to understand? I lie awake at night thinking about you. All day, you are in my thoughts. I have worked from dawn to dusk exhausting myself, and still I cannot escape these memories of you. Please tell me what is there to understand? I am but a man, and you are my betrothed. It is natural.”

She pushed him away. Walking to her bed, she retrieved her open Bible lying there and began to read.
“My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.”
She stopped reading.

“Go on,” he said. “Read more.”

“My lover is mine, and I am his; he browses among the lilies. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.”

“These words are written in your Bible?” He was surprised.

“These are God’s words of love. We cannot sin against God. Only in marriage is this kind of love allowed between a man and a woman.”

“I cannot marry you,” he said curtly.

“If you are not to be my husband, you have no business here with me.”

Overcome by the sudden conviction that he was sinning against God trying to make her his woman without marrying her, Roman opened the door and walked from her room shaken and unsure of himself. What was happening to him?

His head hurt from the brandy he’d consumed last night. As they rode out early the next morning to search for the bear, the Gavilan Peak incident weighed heavily on Roman’s mind. After the scraggy-bearded explorer Captain Fremont met with Thomas Larkin in January, Larkin brought Fremont to meet General Castro. Castro said Larkin had assured him Fremont’s mission in California was peaceful. These buckskin-clad Yankees were not an American military force, but merely civilian explorers, mapmakers, and guides under the command of Captain Fremont, who happened to be a military officer, Larkin assured them. Castro allowed Fremont and his men to winter in the San Joaquin Valley out of respect for Larkin, but Fremont then brazenly ignored Castro’s command to remain inland away from California’s settled coastal areas.

These Americanos had committed depredations against the Californios in the valley. Fremont’s soldiers had even invaded a rancho near San Juan Bautista. One of Fremont’s drunken men held a gun to Don Angel Castro’s head while another attempted to rape his daughter. A tough old soldier himself, Don Angel wrestled the gun away from the rascal and chased the Americanos out of his home. After this, General Castro notified Larkin of his decision to expel the Americanos from the Monterey area.

These American ruffians then built their crude fort at the top of Gavilan Peak, just thirty miles from Monterey, daring to fly an American flag on top of the peak as they defied General Castro’s orders to leave the province. Castro had put together a cavalry of nearly two hundred Californios, and with three brass cannons, ran the Americanos out of the region in March. Fremont and his men then headed north to Sutter’s Fort. General Castro asked Roman to join his northern forces, but the general presently seemed more bent on fighting Governor Pico in the south than the Americanos taking over the north.

Roman told Castro he would ride with him, but only against the Americanos in the north if war with the United States became imminent. He would not quarrel with Californios in the south. This had been one of California’s biggest problems. The Californios in the north couldn’t get along with the Californios in the south, leaving the two factions always warring for power in the province. It was the Yankees Roman wanted to fight. Until today.

He glanced at Steven riding beside him so confident in his God this morning as they hunted for the bear. Dominic rode on his other side—the ship captain with fists of stone, a man strangely terrified of bears. Roman marveled at these new friends. He truly enjoyed their company, and last night at dinner he and Dominic had discussed Yerba Buena for quite some time, agreeing San Francisco Bay was the best harbor in the world. Certainly, there would come a day when the world discovered this magnificent harbor, and the little village of Yerba Buena would explode into a booming trade center.

They searched half the day for the bear
.
Spring was giving way to summer. Today was one of California’s perfect days—sunny skies, comfortable temperatures, a sky so blue and fair it hurt his eyes to really look at it. Roman could see for miles and felt like riding that far to get away from Rachel. She was driving him half mad with desire, and all her religion was weighing on him too. At the strangest moments he’d find himself thinking about Rachel and suddenly his thoughts would turn to God. In the early days with her, he found her devotion to religion disconcerting. Now it intrigued him. To her, Jesus was real and alive and her whole life came under the guidance of God. Either she was crazy or she was right about Jesus Christ. Roman didn’t think she was crazy.

One of his vaqueros had been following the bear’s trail. The rest of them followed the vaquero, an Indian tracker very skilled in hunting bears. The bear had come back for the calf, and here and there blood littered the path the bear had taken. By the time they found the bear in a clearing in a wooded canyon, the afternoon sun shone directly down on their heads. The massive bear stood up on his hind legs when he spotted the horsemen approaching. He was a full-grown male grizzly, standing at least nine feet tall. Bears would often flee when they spotted men on horses, but this bear roared his fury.

The bear dropped down onto all fours and turned in circles as the men surrounded it on their horses in the clearing.

Roman and his vaqueros galloped their horses in a loop around the grizzly. Steven went after them, leaving Dominic no choice but to do the same. Roman whirled his riata over his head. The vaqueros whirled their riatas too as they circled the bear on their well-trained mustangs.

Before anyone could throw a rope, the bear charged Dominic’s horse. Dominic’s horse, not trained like Rancho de los Robles mustangs to face bears, bolted sideways. Unprepared for the horse’s terror, Dominic pitched from the saddle, landing on the ground with the bear barreling toward him. His horse bolted away, empty stirrups flapping against its sweaty flanks.

Roman spurred his horse over to Dominic. He knew even if he roped the bear now, the grizzly would have Dominic in his jaws before he and his vaqueros could drag the bear away. He dropped his riata and drew his long lance.

In a feat of horsemanship, Roman swept alongside the charging grizzly, burying his long lance between the bear’s rolling shoulder blades.

The grizzly roared in pain, spinning in a circle just feet away from Dominic, who was on his knees facing the bear, a look of horror on his face.

Four vaqueros threw their ropes. Every riata settled around the wounded bear’s neck.

The grizzly roared and lunged at the mounted vaqueros. The palominos backed up swiftly, tightening the rawhide ropes in all directions, immobilizing the infuriated bear.

Roman rode up to Dominic and reached for his hand, commanding Dom to place his foot in the stirrup Roman vacated for him. With Dominic’s boot firmly in his stirrup, Roman yanked his friend up behind him in the saddle and rode a safe distance away from the captured grizzly.

Steven went after Dominic’s horse. By the time he returned, leading the fancy bay gelding Dominic had purchased in Yerba Buena, the bear was dead, and Dominic was helping Roman and the vaqueros remove the riatas from the beast’s bloody neck. Roman’s lance remained buried between the bear’s great shoulders.

Steven dismounted his horse. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed such a thing possible. Roman, you are a warrior!”

Roman smiled. “This was a bad bear. It is good that he is dead.”

“I would like to have the hide.” Dominic stared in wonder at the dead bear. “That thing almost had
my
hide.”

“The hide is yours, amigo.” Roman patted Dom’s shoulder. “Next time, you can kill the bear.”

Dominic turned and wrapped Roman in an exuberant embrace. “There will be no next time. I will never hunt another bear. Thank you for saving my life, my friend!”

“You are welcome.” Roman smiled even wider.

“I spent a fortune on a horse that nearly killed me.” Dominic motioned to the mount Steven held.

Roman smacked Dom on the back. “Your mount is poorly trained. Rancho de los Robles’s horses are not afraid of bears. I will give you a fine stallion that will not feed you to a bear in California.”

“You should have seen your face, Dom. Your eyes about bugged out of your head when that grizzly came after you.” Steven began laughing and couldn’t stop.

“I may have soiled myself,” Dominic admitted, laughing along with Steven.

“A man of honor does not lose his bowels, even in death,” Roman announced and then laughed too.

The vaqueros, skinning the bear, grinned and nodded their agreement.

“You Spaniards may not lose your bowels when a bear tries to kill you, but this Yankee may have to change his britches. I have never faced a grizzly on my knees before. I’ve never been that scared in my life. Even great storms at sea seem tame in comparison.”

With the vaqueros laughing now, Dominic pulled out his knife to help them skin the bear. Like his fancy horse, his knife looked pretty and sharp, but the blade didn’t work well on the thick bear hide.

Roman handed Dominic his knife.

“What will you do with your hide, Dom?” Steven asked.

“I think I will build a fine mansion in Yerba Buena to house my bear hide. I will lay it on the floor in front of a roaring fire and let my children play there when they are babes.”

“You will have a fire in your home?” Roman was curious. “Californian adobes do not have fires.” Though Roman had heard the Americanos built fireplaces in their California homes.

“Yerba Buena feels like New England,” said Dominic. “The wind often rolls off the bay. It can be bitterly cold, even in summer there. I will need a fireplace in every room.”

“I will come visit you in Yerba Buena. I want to see how a man burns a fire in his hacienda. I have never seen this done before.” Roman smiled, feeling grateful the bear had not killed any of them. And there was no going back now. Dom and Steven had become his brothers. They were bonded to him by the blood of the bear.

Rachel looked up from her sewing as a servant came and whispered in Tia Josefa’s ear. “Señoritas, keep sewing,” Tia Josefa instructed Isabella, Maria, and Rachel where they sat in the
sala
. “We have visitors.”

“Who, Mama?” Isabella wanted to know.

“You may come along with me and see.” Tia Josefa’s smile was indulgent.

“I am tired of sewing,” Maria announced.

“What have you sewn?” Tia Josefa did not look pleased.

Maria held up a cloth containing crooked stitches.

“Keep sewing,” Tia Josefa commanded. “You must master this woman’s art before you become the wife of some poor man.”