Sun God (43 page)

They talked and talked, clearing up once and for all anything that might still be puzzling. Or troubling. There was only one secret Amy withheld. Had he asked, she would have told him the truth.

They kissed and sighed and fell into easy, relaxed silence. It was Amy who first spoke again.

“Tonatiuh?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Doug Crawford thinks I’m here waiting for him.”

“I know,” Luiz said softly. There was a note of deep sadness in his voice when he added, “We are ill-starred, dear Amy.” He pressed her closer. “I found you only to lose you again.”

“I love you,” she said. “I’ve always loved you. What are we going to do?” She hugged him tightly and buried her head in his chest.

He said, “I’d like to say that we will go away together and forget anyone else exists. We’ll find a place where no one knows us and we’ll start over from the beginning. You’ll get to know me and I’ll—”

“I have always known you, Tonatiuh,” she said with a sudden softness, her mind reaching back to a time tender to them both.

“Yes, you have. So you know what we must do. I have obligations; I am an officer in Juarez’s army of liberation. And I must now lead my men back into battle.” He paused, waited for her to speak, and when she did not, he continued, “You, sweet love, have obligations too. A young daughter who wouldn’t understand if her mother ran off with a half-breed. Doug Crawford has known enough tragedy. He will be a good husband and father.”

Crying softly again, Amy sadly looked into his eyes. “But what about us? You and me?”

Luiz swallowed hard. “We’ve wasted so much time. Let’s waste no more. For as long as I am here, let’s live as if we’ll be together always.” He smiled at her, then added, “And we will be, sweetheart. I told you a long time ago that you are my
tonali.
My fate. My destiny. You will be a part of me for as long as there’s breath in my body.”

“That’s just talk. It’s not enough, Tonatiuh. I love you. I want you. I don’t care about the others! Just you … just you …”

But even as she said the words, Amy knew it was hopeless. Love, no matter how deep, could not change everything. Could not completely alter the past and all that had happened since.

Neither mentioned parting again.

They pretended the bliss they shared would last forever. They spent every moment of every day and night together, and the hours were golden, precious, unforgettable.

Magdelena knew and jealously guarded their much-needed privacy. She cautioned her well-run household to let the pair be. To stay out of their way.

When one evening Magdelena went outdoors to take the breeze on the east patio, she looked up and smiled as Pedrico approached and asked if he might join her.

They spoke of the couple upstairs and it was Pedrico who said, “They deserve a few hours of happiness.”

“Yes,” Magdelena said. Then: “Did you know that …?”

“That they were lovers all those years ago? Yes, I know. And Linda, is she his?”

“She is,” Magdelena said. “Amy has never said as much, but I am a woman and women know. And Linda looks hauntingly like Luiz.”

Nodding, Pedrico drummed his fingers on the wooden chair arms. He cleared his throat needlessly.

“Magdelena?”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps Luiz and Amy are not the only ones who have earned a little happiness.” Magdelena stared at him, wide-eyed. Pedrico nervously stroked his thin mustache and said, “My life has been a lonely one. I believe yours has been also. Do you think … that is, would you consider waiting for me, Magdelena? When this conflict ends, I want to come back here. Orilla is the only home I have ever known.”

Surprised, flattered, Magdelena self-consciously smoothed her untidy graying black hair and smiled almost girlishly.

“I will be here, Pedrico. Waiting.”

With Amy for his beautiful, caring nurse, Luiz quickly mended. Soon he was almost back to full strength and could have taken care of himself. But he chose not to let on. It was far too pleasant having Amy fuss over him.

On a hot afternoon in early September, a rare cloudburst broke over the desert. Thunder boomed loudly, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain splashed against the tall bedroom windows.

Inside, Luiz was propped up against the bed’s headboard, smiling boyishly while Amy, soapy sponge in hand, bathed him. Along with the bath, there had been plenty of teasing and laughter and fun. Luiz laid his head back and inhaled deeply, a contented man.

“I love the smell of the rain on the desert,” he said. “It makes me want to … to … Amy … honey, what is it?”

Suddenly Amy looked up at him with great tears in her eyes. After dropping the soapy sponge back into the china basin of water, she picked up a large white towel and pressed it to Luiz’s gleaming chest.

She had to tell him. She could keep the secret no longer; it wasn’t fair to him.

“Linda is your child, Tonatiuh. She’s yours. Your black eyes, your dramatic coloring, your wild beauty.”

“Sweetheart? You mean that when—”

Forcefully Amy shook her head. “I was carrying your child when Baron and Lucas drove you from Orilla. That’s the reason I married Tyler Parnell. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, of course you didn’t, honey. You were just a child yourself. Oh, God, Amy, Amy.”

He reached for her, but she said, “Wait. There’s something I want you to have.” She rose and crossed to the tall mahogany bureau. She took out a porcelain music box, flipped it open, and while it played, she withdrew a fragile gold locket and returned to the bed.

She held it out in her spread palm and said, “Open it, Tonatiuh.”

Carefully he opened the small gold locket and stared, unblinking, at the tiny photograph of a startlingly beautiful young girl.

“This is …?”

“Yes. Our daughter, Linda. I want you to have this.”

Amy draped the delicate gold chain around his neck and fastened it behind his head. The locket fell into the hollow of his bronzed throat. At once, Luiz removed the heavy Sun Stone from around his neck. He draped it over Amy’s head and placed the gold medallion between her breasts.

He pulled her into his arms and said, “Our daughter is almost as beautiful as you, my love.” A near flash of lightning illuminated his dark face. The following thunder rattled the windows. “I am eternally sorry for all the unhappiness I have caused, for the unnecessary cruelty I have shown you. I love you, Amy. I will love you forever.” His arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart, a dispatch arrived today. Marching orders. We leave in the morning.”

“Then you must take back the Sun Stone,” she said, and raised her head, “so you will be safe in battle.”

“No.” He stopped her when she started to remove it. “You must keep it. It is a part of me.” What he left unsaid was that his safety mattered little since he could never have her. “If the rain stops, will you ride with me to the Puesta del Sol at sunset?” Unable to speak, Amy nodded and kissed his bare chest.

And that night, when the skies had cleared and a million stars dangled in the darkness like diamond pendants, the pair rode his strong black stallion, Noche, up to their private bend in the river. There in the silvery moonlight they made love one last time; it was almost spiritual.

Their bodies still combined, Luiz pressed his hands onto the grassy banks and eased himself upward to get a better sight of Amy. His black eyes shining with love, he said, “We will not meet again. But you go with me; I go with you.”

“Yes, my only love,” she answered, “my darling Tonatiuh.”

At sunup the next morning, El Capitán Luiz Quintano, in full military dress uniform, stood beside his restless black stallion addressing his mounted troop. His back to the salmon-colored hacienda, he stood with his booted feet apart, wide shoulders erect, hands clasped behind him.

When the short speech ended, he drew the stallion’s reins up over its great head and started to mount. But he stopped, turned, and saw her coming toward him, her golden hair a shimmering halo in the early morning sunlight.

Mindless of the soldiers and servants, Amy crossed the yard’s dewy grass and then the dusty plain where he waited. Her hand clutching the heavy Sun Stone resting on her bosom, she reached him.

Luiz looked at her, committing to memory every perfect feature. He said nothing. Nor did she. His arm encircled her and drew her to him. Their embrace was brief but full of meaning.

As if they would never see each other again.

W
HEN EL CAPITÁN AND
his troop had ridden out of sight, Amy sighed, turned, and went back into the hacienda.

Already it seemed empty. Amy felt lost. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She moved aimlessly about the silent rooms, half listening for the deep voice she would hear no more, half looking for the dark face that was forever gone.

When the long summer day finally drew to a close and a full, white moon rose over the desert, Amy climbed the stairs to her suite. Inside, she leaned back against the door and let her searching eyes slide around the big, lonely room.

There was nothing there to indicate a virile man had recently occupied it. No shirt stud rested atop the mahogany bureau or on the night table. No trousers were tossed carelessly over a chair’s back. No gunbelt was buckled around the tall bedpost.

Amy pushed away from the door, went into the dressing room. Here it was the same. No blue military uniforms. No black gleaming boots. No snowy white shirts.

Nothing.

Amy wearily prepared for bed. A clean white nightgown had been laid out just as always. Smiling suddenly Amy did with the gown what El Capitán had done every night. She picked it up, tossed it aside, and undressed.

Naked save for the Sun Stone around her neck, Amy crawled in between the ivory silk sheets, blew out the lamp, and settled back on the flurry pillows. She sighed and stretched her slender legs out full length. She pulled the silky sheet up over her breasts. She told herself it was splendid to be allowed the luxury of sleeping with pillows and sheets and downy comforter.

And then cried because she would gladly have given them up forever if she could have slept the rest of her nights in El Capitán’s arms.

Late the next afternoon Doug Crawford, leading a small detail of Maximilian’s cavalry, rode through the tall white ranch gates of Orilla.

Magdelena was the first to see the mounted soldiers. She called to Amy. Amy hurried outdoors and squinted at the approaching detail. She saw the leader’s flaming red hair blaze in the summer sunshine.

“My God … Doug,” she murmured soundlessly. “It’s Doug. He’s come home.”

She automatically unbuttoned the bodice of her dress and slipped the Sun Stone inside. Then she drew a deep breath, lifted her skirts, and ran forward to greet the big, kind man who loved and trusted her.

Doug Crawford swung down out of the saddle, scooped Amy from the ground, and swung her around. When he lowered her to her feet, he said, “Honey, I’d just about forgotten how pretty you are.”

“It’s good to see you, Doug,” said Amy.

And it was.

Doug Crawford had a kind, gentle nature. He spoke softly, his Southern drawl barely audible at times. His smile, when he looked at her, was genuine and pleasant, adding to the softness of his facial expression.

It was not until she and Magdelena were serving lemonade to his thirsty men that Doug caught Amy alone in the kitchen and said, “Honey, I can’t stay but a couple of hours. We ride from here to form up with a large force near Chihuahua City.”

Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Chihuahua City! That’s where Luiz had headed. “Can’t you at least spend the night and—”

Abruptly he pulled her into his close embrace. “God, how I’d like to. Amy, Amy,” he said, and his arms tightened around her, pressing her to his massive chest and pressing the concealed Sun Stone against her breasts.

Plagued with guilt, Amy’s eyes filled with tears. Against his muscular shoulder, she said, “Doug, there’s something I must tell you.” She pulled back to look at him.

Doug Crawford smiled and said, “Honey, there’s only one thing I want you to tell me. Say you’ll be here, waiting for me when I come back to stay.”

Amy’s tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. “I’ll be here,” she said, then added, “And I will try to be a good and decent wife to you, Doug.”

“Honey, you’re all I could ever want in a wife.” Smiling, he drew her protectively close and said, “My men razzed me about being such a fool in love I’d ride all the way up here just to see your pretty face one last time.”

By sundown Doug Crawford and his men had left Orilla. Long after their departure, Amy stood alone in the twilight, silently asking God to forgive her her sins and to watch over both men.

The following days were long and agonizing for Amy. News was slow coming out of Mexico, but finally word reached Sundown that Juarez’s rebel army had been marshalled and was waiting for the attacking French troops. A bloody siege had ensued. Chihuahua City had fallen. But not before there were heavy casualties on both sides.

There was nothing Amy could do but pace the floor and wait. Magdelena understood perfectly. She too paced and worried. One breathtakingly clear September morning, the two women heard the clatter of horses’ hooves striking gravel. Both flew outside and stood holding hands while the lone rider cantered up the palm-lined drive.

“Pedrico!” Magdelena cried and, dropping Amy’s hand, hurried down the walk to meet him. Amy stayed where she was while the aging couple embraced. It was when they started toward her that Amy commanded her racing heart to slow its beating, her watery knees to continue supporting her.

Unable to speak, she turned anxious, questioning eyes on Pedrico’s dark face.

Pedrico took her hand. “I am sorry,
Señora
Amy. Captain Douglas G. Crawford was killed leading the last mounted charge. He died a hero.”

Amy swayed but stayed on her feet. Barely above a whisper, she asked, “And Luiz?”

“Missing,” Pedrico said. “El Capitán is missing.” Amy paled visibly and Magdelena put an arm around her slender waist. Pedrico hurried on, “So many dead, but many more captured. We can continue to hope, to believe that—”