Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) (30 page)

"Aren't you coming with us?" Valentina asked with panic rising in her voice.

"No, you don't need me any longer. You are only a few hours from Paraiso del Norte. You will be there shortly after dark. Don Alonso has the doctor waiting." Stepping back, Tyree waved the wagon forward. As they moved away from the mission, Valentina felt as if a door had just slammed shut on her past life. She was going into a frightening new world with no friend or family member to stand beside her.

As the mission faded in the distance, Valentina glanced down at the face of her husband. He was so pale and haggard looking. Closing her eyes, she gripped his hand, praying for his recovery. She willed her strength to pass from her body to his. She could not lose Marquis to death. He was a part of her. She carried the proof in the baby he had fathered.

Placing a cool hand on Marquis's forehead, Valentina found it much hotter than before. She yelled for the driver to stop, realizing she had to get Marquis's fever down. Once the wagon came to a halt, she spoke to Enrique in Spanish.

"I want a cloth and cool water. Your patron is burning up with fever."

The vaquero lost no time in obeying her order. Several grim-faced men gathered about the wagon as Valentina washed Marquis's face from the canteen Enrique held for her.

"Should we stop and make camp for the night, Senora Vincente?" Enrique asked, concern on his wrinkled face.

It was the first time Valentina had thought of herself as a Vincente. Since Marquis was unconscious, it was natural the vaqueros would look to her for guidance. "No, we must go on. He needs a doctor. How much farther is it?"

"At the slow pace we are going, about three hours," one of the men answered.

"Let us get started then," Valentina said, trying to remain calm. "One of you ride ahead and inform Don Alonso that his grandson is gravely ill. Tell him we will be there as soon as we can. We dare not drive the wagon very fast, for fear it might further harm your
patron's
legs."

Slowly the wagon moved forward as the sound of hoof beats faded in the distance. Valentina kept her vigil, wetting the rag and applying it to Marquis's forehead. Her legs were cramped and she was stiff and sore, but she did not feel the discomfort. All that mattered was that they get Marquis home as quickly as possible.

Once in a while, she would place her hand on his chest to make sure he was still breathing. Looking at his right leg, she saw that blood was seeping through the bandages, staining them bright red. There was no time to stop and reapply bandages. Even if there had been time, Valentina would have been hesitant to remove the splint, fearing she could not redress the wound as well as the doctor had.

The sun had gone down, and a bright moon was riding high in the sky. After what seemed an eternity, Valentina saw lights in the distance. When the wagon drew nearer, she could see the Vincente house lit up like one of the lighthouses of Cornwall sending its beacon out to a floundering ship. Feeling Marquis's pulse, Valentina found it to be very faint.

"Hurry, Enrique, drive faster," she urged fearfully. Never had she felt so helpless. The man she loved was dying in her arms and there was nothing she could do to save him. Was it possible that she would become a wife and a widow in the space of one day? No, she would not allow Marquis to die. He was her husband—the father of her baby. She would will him to live.

As soon as the jostling wagon came to a halt before the huge Vincente house, an army of servants descended on them. Marquis was lifted into gentle arms as two of the vaqueros carried him into the house. Don Alonso hobbled up the stairs after them, leaning heavily on his cane, while Marquis's mother followed, wringing her hands in distress.

Valentina was dazed for the moment. No one had paid the slightest attention to her. It was as if she had been invisible. Standing up, she stretched her cramped muscles and climbed out of the wagon. When Valentina reached for her crumpled wedding bouquet, she caught a glimpse of Marquis's sister, Rosalia, walking slowly down the steps toward her. The young girl's face was streaked with tears as she held out her arms to Valentina.

"Welcome home," Rosalia sobbed as the two of them cried on each other's shoulders. When at last their tears were spent, Valentina turned to the house. "I must be with Marquis now. Show me where they have taken him."

Rosalia slipped her arm around Valentina's waist. "You will not be able to see him just now. The doctor is with him. I will show you to your room."

"I cannot go to my room until I know how Marquis is. Take me to him," Valentina demanded.

Rosalia nodded. "You are his wife. It is right that you should see him."

Leading Valentina past a large arched hallway, Rosalia took her up a winding stairway. "Marquis sent word that this wing should be made ready because he was bringing you home as his bride. The servants have been working all day to make it comfortable."

"I never knew about this wing," Valentina said, only half noticing the richness of her surroundings. She paid little attention to the thick red rug into which the heels of her riding boots were sinking.

"This wing was built so the heir of Paraiso del Norte and his bride could have privacy. It has been a custom in my family that when a man is newly married, he and his bride will live for one year apart from the rest of his family. Grandfather says it has been a tradition in the Vincente family for over four hundred years. No one knows why the tradition was first begun."

When Valentina had last stayed there, her room had been on the opposite side of the house. She reasoned that since the house was built in a square, with the courtyard garden in the center, this wing made up the whole north side of the house.

As they moved forward, Valentina was aware that the hallway was larger than most rooms she had seen in other homes. There were heavy wood couches and chairs covered with white velvet, and the tables, which had been carved by a master's hand, gleamed from polishing. Brightly colored exotic flowers were arranged in heavy crystal bowls that had probably been in the Vincente family for generations. Valentina paid no attention to the sweet scent of the flowers that wafted through the air. Her eyes were fixed on the line of servants who stood anxiously before a thick double door. She did not have to be told that this was Marquis's room.

The servants moved aside, making a path for Valentina and Rosalia. Pausing at the door, Valentina was uncertain how to proceed. Rosalia, sensing her confusion, opened the door and waited for her to enter.

Valentina saw Don Alonso sitting quietly in a corner chair, while Marquis's mother stood beside the bed, assisting a man she recognized as the doctor who had treated her ankle. Hesitating only a moment, she moved across the room. Her eyes fell first on Marquis's face, and with a sinking heart, she noticed that he had not regained consciousness.

Dona Anna was holding a pan of bloody water, while the doctor bent over Marquis's leg. Valentina gathered her courage and moved forward. This was her husband, and she had no intention of being shut out of his life. "I will hold the pan," she said with more authority than she actually felt.

Dona Anna's eyes suddenly filled with resentment. Her grip tightened on the pan. "No, I will hold the pan," she answered defiantly.

Knowing this was no time to argue the point, Valentina glanced at the doctor. "I am sure you remember me, Doctor Anza. I am now Marquis's wife. What can I do to assist you?"

If the doctor was startled by her announcement, it did not show on his face. Without looking up, he spoke to her. "You are not one of those ladies who faint at the sight of blood, are you?"

"I can assure you I am not," she answered with confidence.

"Then you can hold your husband's leg. It wouldn't do if he were to regain consciousness and move while I am stitching him up."

To demonstrate that she would never faint at the sight of blood, Valentina moved around the bed. She felt her stomach churn when she saw the angry red gash that ran from Marquis's knee to the calf of his leg. It was easy to see that the jagged cut was inflamed and infected. Firmly gathering her courage, Valentina gripped Marquis's leg, holding it as tightly as she could.

Feeling Dona Anna's eyes burning into her and not wanting to watch the doctor stitch up Marquis's leg, Valentina kept her eyes trained on her husband's face. She wondered if he was dreaming. What was he thinking of as he floated in a world of limbo? She prayed he felt no pain.

After the doctor had finished stitching his leg, he wrapped it in clean bandages. "I do not believe this leg is broken, so I am not going to replace the splint," he said to Valentina and Dona Anna. "Since the leg is infected, I want to elevate it above his heart. Bring me several pillows so I can prop it up."

Dona Anna sailed out of the room to bring pillows, and Valentina turned to the doctor with inquiring eyes. "How bad is the infection?" she wanted to know.

"It is too soon to tell." Then he turned his attention to the other leg. "This one was badly crushed. I don't know if it will heal properly or if there was nerve damage. It could be that he will never be able to walk again. I just don't know. I will stay here tonight in case he takes a turn for the worse."

Valentina felt herself swaying and gripped the bedpost. "Dear God, no," she whispered. "Don't punish Marquis for my willfulness."

Now Don Alonso joined them beside Marquis's bed. His tired old eyes were not as bright as they had been the last time Valentina had seen him. His hand, resting on the cane, trembled. "Do you foresee any complications?" Don Alonso inquired.

"I just cannot speculate. Marquis has lost a good deal of blood, his leg is infected, and he is unconscious. I will not give you false hope . . . this is serious."

Valentina felt Don Alonso's hand on her shoulder, and she reached up, gripping it for courage. "I will not believe that Marquis will never walk, Doctor Anza. He must walk!" Valentina cried.

"I am saying I do not know," the doctor repeated. "I have noticed there is no feeling in Marquis's legs now. This is a very critical sign."

"He has been in a great deal of pain, Doctor. How can it be that he has lost the feeling in his legs?" Valentina asked.

"Who can say? This is a wait-and-see game."

Don Alonso seemed to have aged ten years in a short space of time. "Is his life in danger?"

"Perhaps," the doctor answered grimly.

Don Alonso lowered his head, and Valentina turned to him. He seemed to go limp against her, and she helped him into a nearby chair. Going down on her knees, she patted his hand. "Do not worry, Don Alonso, Marquis will not die, and he
will
walk. I know this in my heart, and I believe you do too."

The old grandee's eyes searched her face, and he suddenly smiled. "This is not much of a welcome for you, is it, child?"

"It was a far less happy homecoming for Marquis," she told Don Alonso.

Marquis's grandfather glanced in the doctor's direction. "Doctor Agustin Anza, you know this young lady. Welcome her now as my new granddaughter-in-law, Valentina Vincente. Valentina, I am sure you know that Agustin is not only our doctor, but a good friend as well."

Valentina looked into the soft, kind eyes of the doctor. Since Valentina had seen him last, he had grown a trim little mustache. He had been washing his hands, and he turned around to pick up a towel. Moving forward, he took Valentina by the shoulders and raised her to her feet. He then surprised her by squeezing her in a tight hug.

"Sorry that we became reacquainted under such sad circumstances, but it allowed me to see what you were made of. You handled yourself very well a while ago." His eyes were twinkling, and Valentina knew he was referring to her standing up to Dona Anna as well as assisting him. "Tell me, Valentina, does your ankle ever bother you?" he asked.

She smiled. "No, I had a good doctor tending me. I have never had a moment's pain from it."

Doctor Agustin turned to Don Alonso. "This beautiful lady is too good for Marquis. I should have seen her first."

"That is what I think too, but she's probably too good for you and me also."

Valentina was only half listening to the conversation. Her eyes kept drifting back to Marquis. Walking over to him, she touched his forehead and found he still had fever. Her attention was drawn away from her husband as Dona Anna entered carrying an armload of pillows.

Doctor Anza arranged the pillows to his satisfaction and then turned back to the others. "Marquis will need someone with him all night to make sure he does not thrash about and reopen his stitches."

"I will stay with my son," Dona Anna spoke up, her dark eyes daring Valentina to object.

Valentina knew she had asserted her claim as Marquis's wife; now she could afford to be charitable to his mother. More than anything, she wanted to be beside Marquis throughout this critical night, but she also realized what his mother must be feeling.

"I will relieve you about six," Valentina said. "If you need me before then, I will not be sleeping."

Dona Anna turned away, saying nothing further to her new daughter-in-law. Valentina realized at that moment that she would have to win the older woman's respect before she gained her friendship. After the way the woman had treated her today, she was not at all sure if it would be worth the effort.