Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7) (23 page)

Ana dropped the bucket of water and scrub brush she was carrying to the apothecary, and hurried ahead of him.

He went straight to the bedroom and laid Francesca on the bed.

“Camila?” Ana asked.

Sebastian shook his head, and stepped back as the woman took his wife into her arms.

He went to the dining room, downing a stiff drink before pouring one for Francesca. Juan stepped inside.

“She knows the news of Camila?” Juan asked. They could hear Francesca weeping and Ana comforting her.

“Just got back. Bloody shame.”

“Terrible, señor.”

“The villagers, they think Francesca did something.”

Sebastian cursed. “She did nothing wrong. The woman was healthy when we left after the birth.

“There is talk that she admitted guilt. At the bedside.”

“She was upset. You know her. She will always wish she did more. But I was there the whole time, Juan, and nothing was wrong. The butcher now, that man is a suspect.” He was so upset, he downed Francesca’s drink. “He may very well have mistreated his wife.”

“Pepe isn’t friendly but he is respected. And some would say a wife belongs to her husband to do with as he pleases.”

“Who says that?” Sebastian demanded.

“Bishop Bernardo—”

“Bishop Bernardo be damned.” Sebastian cursed, and cursed again at Juan’s widened eyes. Leaving the head vaquero standing in shock, he went to the bedroom to take Ana’s place. The house matron left to prepare some food while Sebastian curled himself around his wife’s sobbing form.

“Shhh, shhh, my darling,” he soothed until she quieted. “You did all you could.”

“It wasn’t enough,” she said in a broken voice. “I thought something was wrong in that household, but said nothing. And when he sang to his child—” Tears choked her.

“I know, I know.” Sebastian kissed his wife’s hair, and set his chin on top of her head. “You’re all right, darling. Just let go and rest for now. You can grieve. I’m here.”

*

Late evening found Sebastian smoking in the garden. His heart felt heavy at the turn of events. The dead mother, his wife a target of a gang and a religious vendetta, the drought—it all seemed to be coming to a head.

He started when Cage came into the garden.

“Evening, boss.” Cage refused Sebastian’s silent offer of a smoke. “Been a long day.”

For a while, the silence lay heavy between them. Then Cage sighed. “Something came for you, while you were out.”

Striking a match for light, Sebastian read the telegram. Silent, he read it again. He felt cold all over, but his cheeks burned.

“What is it?” Cage asked.

Jaw clenched tight, Sebastian couldn’t answer. He felt a little sick as he read the missive from his father a third time.
Will not send funds to support your Spanish whore. Travel fare waiting at Colorado Springs. Return home or be disowned.

He could hear the exact inflection in his father’s voice, and the rest of the rant. “I sent you to America to teach you not to get caught up with these trollops. At least this one isn’t with child.”

Lose his inheritance? All the money he would put at Francesca’s disposal, gone in a blink of an eye. He wouldn’t allow it. He could go to England, make things clear to his father. He could fix this, stand up to the duke, be a man.

“Everything all right?”

“Quite,” Sebastian said, shoving the telegram into his pocket. “Any other news?”

Cage looked at him for a moment, assessing his employer before he shared. “Royal Mountain gang is around. Word is it’s being led by two men. Brothers. Bigs and Johnson. Doyle’s death left them the opportunity to take over his holdings, but they ain’t the brightest. They lost the brothel and saloon, and are grasping at any dollar they can. They’re not above extortion.”

“Or shooting into a widow’s hacienda.”

“Nope. But this business with the goat.” Cage lowered his voice. “That seems like a local thing.”

“It is.” Sebastian gave the cathedral one last glance, then turned his stride back toward the hacienda. All around, liars, killers and thieves, and him without his armor, his father’s money.

He’d have to go to England to fetch it. He had no choice.

*

Sebastian woke the next morning and found his wife up, sitting in the garden. Barefoot, with her hair unbound, she looked terribly young and vulnerable. Some of that sparkling passion had ebbed away.

Grabbing a blanket, he went and placed it around her shoulders.

“Good morning, my darling.”

“Is it?” she asked tiredly. There were dark half moons under her eyes. “My world is falling apart. You are the only solid ground.”

Settling down beside her, he pulled her close.

“I’m here for you,” he said, and felt himself a liar. The telegram burned a hole in his pocket. He had to tell her that no funds were coming, that she’d put her faith in the wrong man. “I’m going to help, I swear it.”

“What are we going to do?”

He searched for a way to ease into the news, and couldn’t find away. “I need to go to England.”

“What?”

“Darling, I’m sorry. The money I promised was coming…it’s not. My father won’t send it. He’s threatening to disinherit me unless I return to England.”

She lay quiet against his chest for a moment.

Then she said in a small voice, “You’re leaving me?”

“No, darling, no. Never. I just need to return to England, convince him to give me my rightful share. Then I can return and stay here forever.”

She stiffened and lifted away from him, staring into his face. “You’re serious. You’re actually thinking of going…now?”

“Darling, I have no choice. My travel fare is waiting in Colorado Springs. I can go collect it, make the trip to England, be done with it.”

He could see her fire returning, but her face and voice were stone. “And how long will this take?”

He shrugged. “As long as it takes…I’ll return as soon as I can. Francesca, do you see, I have to go.”

“You are more than your father’s money.”

“I’m doing this to help you, dammit.”

“I do not need money. I need you.”

It was his turn to pull away. “To do what? Sit here and watch your crops die? I can leave you here with Juan and Ana, you hunker down and survive. We can rebuild when I return.”

She shook her head. “If you go, you will not return.”

“How can you say that? I’ve pledged my life to you. Everything I’ve done has been for your benefit.”

“And now things are hard and you want to leave. A telegram from your father and you run home. Let me tell you this, James Sebastian Chivington the third, you are more than your father’s money.”

He could feel his face flush, and hated it. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because you do not act it.”

He hardened himself, turning away. “I cannot be the husband you need me to be without my inheritance.”

“You can. I only need you. I don’t want your money.”

Whirling he strode close to her, grabbing her shoulders. “Well you need it. You need money. Where are you going to get it? Your farm is failing, Francesca.” He raised his voice. “You and these peasants can’t hold it together, even if you plowed the fields yourself.”

Her eyes shone with tears of rage. “You sit and judge us. Before you came here, you’d never done a day’s work in your entire life.”

Sebastian forced himself to answer calmly. “I will not give up my inheritance. It is mine. I am going, and I will return. I will speak to Juan about hiring men to protect the ranch—

“No, please, mi amor, do not leave me.” She slid to her knees before him. “Please.”

“I’m not leaving for good, Francesca.” He tried to lift her and she wouldn’t, hanging on to his leg.

“Do you want me to beg? To show you how much I need you?” she sobbed wildly.

Sebastian glanced around the garden, suddenly aware they were making a scene. “Darling, please, pull yourself together.”

“Ah yes,” she said, still on her knees. She dragged a hand across her face to wipe away tears. “Act like a lady, be noble, and pure. Do not feel so much. Where have I heard this before? My father and husband, every man in my life. All my life I’ve tried to obey men who would control me. And where has it gotten me?” She waved a hand, chest heaving with gasping sobs. “A failing ranch, a field full of graves. My enemies rise against me.”

“Francesca—”

“No.” She recoiled. “Do not touch me. We are through. I have crawled for you for the last time. You wish to leave, leave. You lied to me. I thought you were a man. You are still a boy, tied to his father’s purse strings. But you are more than just your father’s money. I need you, Sebastian, you.” She grasped his lapels, begging again.

“Francesca…my father doesn’t approve of our union. But I can convince him.”

Her face fell. “It will be too late.”

“How, Francesca? What can I give you? If not money… jokes my wit? My pride?” He caught sight of Ana in the kitchen doorway, watching them with a stricken expression. Francesca’s gaze never left his face.

“I did not marry you for your money. I married you for you.”

Now Cage was approaching from the barracks, eyes on the fighting couple.

“Are you so certain of that?” he muttered, catching her hands in his in an attempt to calm her down.

She stepped back as if she’d been struck. Immediately he noticed his mistake.

“Francesca, I didn’t mean it—”

“Get out,” she said in a shaking voice.

“Darling—”

“Get out,” she screamed. “You want to go?” She gestured wildly to the garden wall. “Go. I spit on your money. I don’t need it.”

She turned on her heel and hurried to Ana, who wrapped her mistress in her arms and pulled her inside the house.

Sebastian hardened himself to the sounds of sobbing. His wife would cry, then she would see reason. She’d understand it was for the best.

It wasn’t the best plan, but he couldn’t lose his inheritance. It was all he had to bring to their marriage, besides a growing work ethic and worthless past.

“Is it true, boss?” Cage sidled up to him, hands in pockets.

“Oh don’t you start,” Sebastian cursed and headed to the bedroom to pack. The sooner he was gone, the sooner he would return.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

*

As soon as the hacienda faded into the distance, the weight of his new quest hit him. How was he going to convince his father to hand over the money?

The only way might be to renounce her. It would pain him, but he would still send the money, of course. She could marry Diego. That might be the best for her. He’d never amount to anything, best she discover that now. All the things his father had said about him were true…

The scent of sage wafted over the field to him, and pulled his memory. Francesca raising her gun to shoot him, then ass up over a log. Riding through the orchard, laughing at him. Striding across the fields to the acequias, snapping orders to the vaqueros. Wrinkling her nose when he came home covered in mud, seducing him in the bath. Waiting for him in the grove, handing him a candle and telling him his past was wiped clean…

Holding his hand as they crossed the fields at sunset.

She took what she wanted, and beyond that, she needed nothing more. His father would forever be disappointed, but Francesca bared her body and soul to him every time she knelt, or lay across his lap for him to discipline.

His life was a meaningless quest without someone to love like that. His money wouldn’t change her feelings one way or another.

He was halfway across the valley when he stopped his horse.

“I’m a fool,” he said out loud.

Cage reined in beside him, but said nothing.

“I’m a bloody, godforsaken idiot. What am I doing?”

“Don’t know, boss,” Cage said patiently.

“I left her. I promised I wouldn’t run at the first spot of trouble, and that’s exactly what I did. What was I thinking?” He glared at Cage. “What the bloody hell were you thinking, letting me leave?”

“Honest truth?” Cage met his employer’s gaze head on. “I was gonna guide you all the way to Colorado Springs, wait ‘til you collected the travel money, then hit you over the head and take everything you have to help your bride.”

“Oh, jolly good,” Sebastian breathed.

“I’d pawn your horse and ridiculous suits, and give the money to Francesca. I’d be in a hurry to get back to the ranch, otherwise, I’d take a horsewhip to you.”

“The least I’d deserve,” Sebastian agreed.

Cage nodded. “Better than the end you’d meet if your little lady rode after you with a gun.”

Sebastian’s humor slipped away. “I don’t deserve her.”

“You don’t if you ride to Colorado Springs. But stick by your woman and do right by her, no matter what. You’ll never deserve her, but she’ll love you anyway.”

“I don’t understand.” Could she take him back after this? Knowing all the mistakes he’d made, and would make?