Tears of Gold (17 page)

“You are too, too kind, Doña Ysidora, but our maid is used to caring for him and, to be quite honest, very possessive,” Brendan declined politely.

Doña Ysidora nodded in understanding but continued with a determined light in her eye. “If you should need any assistance or special medicine, I shall, of course, be happy to assist. But you will not miss the festivities this afternoon? We are to have a bullfight and other amusements,” she told them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Brendan reassured her. With an all-encompassing smile, he escorted Mara from the room and any further conversation with the inquisitive Frenchman.

“That was a damned, stupid thing to do, mavournin,” Brendan confronted Mara as soon as they crossed the sunlit patio. “The Frenchman’s no fool. You might be able to overplay your part with the Californians, but I’m thinkin’ them green eyes be a damned sight too sharp. Asked a lot of questions too,” Brendan remarked in puzzlement. “Too bloody nosey if ye ask me.”

Mara glanced up at Brendan in amusement. “Have a little bit of faith in me. I’m no fool either, my dear,” Mara laughed softly, her eyes narrowing as she added tauntingly, “I do believe you’re frightened of him. I can’t believe it!”

“You may laugh, mavournin, but I’ve run across his kind before,” Brendan replied, a frown marring his brow. “I’ve sat across a green baize table from men like the Frenchman, watching them bet a couple of thousand pounds without a flicker of emotion on their faces. I swear they must have ice water in their veins, for any normal man would have sweated through his jacket. They’re arrogant bastards, taking what they want in life and not giving a damn about the consequences. He’s an adventurer, mavournin, not one of your scented, well-mannered, play-by-the-rules London gentlemen. You’ve not met his kind before.”

Mara smiled at his words. “You think he would best me in a contest of wills, Brendan, me love, and that my rapier wit would not survive?” she asked him softly.

“I think, Mara, me love, that our Frenchman would carve you to pieces as easily as a slice of beef. You are a mere schoolgirl compared to his expertise,” Brendan predicted.

“And I suppose you would be more successful?” Mara asked.

“Oh, no,” Brendan replied frankly, “I know when I’ve met my betters, my dear. I’m not sayin’ he would defeat me; I’m just saying that I’d handle him differently,” Brendan mused. “I’d avoid, if at all possible, any direct confrontations with the man. I’d let him think me the fool. ’Tis the best way of getting under his guard. But you’d do well to heed my advice and let him be.”

At Mara’s preoccupied silence Brendan laughed harshly. “I don’t know why I bother, you never have listened to me before. Your problem, Mara, is that you are so arrogant, so blind to your own shortcomings, that you can’t admit that someone else might be just as devious, just as determined as you are. I would be interested in seein’ your face, mavournin, the day you are faced with having that damned pride of yours smashed beneath someone’s feet.”

Mara gave Brendan a contemptuous look, her lips curling. “Don’t be laying any bets on it, will ye, Brendan? I don’t want ye losin’ your shirt as well as your courage.”

“We’ll see, Mara. Someday ye’ll be rememberin’ my words.”

With a careless shrug Mara left him standing in the sunshine and went to see Paddy, soon forgetting Brendan’s words of warning as she read to Paddy until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Mara walked along the corridor a little while later, keeping under the shade of the eaves as she looked out on the glare of the sun. It promised to be another unbearably hot day. Her skirt caught on one of the long, sharp cactus spines, halting her progress. She was bending down to release it when she heard a noise coming from the room opening onto the corridor directly in front of her. Mara released her skirt, glanced past the opened door, and went into the room beyond.

It was apparently Don Andres’s study, for bookcases lined one side of the walls and a large desk sat squarely before them. A couple of comfortable-looking chairs had been placed opposite the desk, and against the far wall was an ornately carved pine chest. The room must also serve as an office, for Jeremiah Davies was standing before a map on the wall. His back was to Mara and he was as yet unaware of her presence in the doorway. He alternately studied the map, then a sheet of paper clutched in his hand.

Mara must have made a sound because Jeremiah suddenly turned and stared at her in dismay. It seemed to her that he looked extremely guilty about something.

“Doña Amaya, may I be of some assistance to you?” he inquired politely as he inconspicuously tried to add the sheet of paper to a stack of papers on the desk.

“No. I heard you moving about, that’s why I looked in,” Mara answered. “I trust I didn’t disturb you. You were so intent upon what you were doing. I really must apologize for interrupting.”

“Not at all, Doña Amaya,” Jeremiah Davies quickly denied, “and no apology is necessary. I was just checking the map to see where Don Andres wants his cattle moved next. I must be able to order the vaqueros to the right section of the property.”

The audacity of the man—to be talking so openly of moving cattle, and to her of all people. Mara schooled her features into a look of polite interest. Perhaps he was merely testing her, hoping she would reveal what she knew about him.

Jeremiah moved away from the map and glanced around the room as if checking to make sure he had not left anything out of place. Mara watched him suspiciously, wondering what he really was up to. She was about to leave when Don Andres spoke from the doorway.

“Doña Amaya, this is most opportune, for I would like to speak with you.” He smiled down into her face. Then, as he looked beyond her and noticed the American, he frowned slightly. “¿Sí, Jeremiah? I did not know we had business?” he questioned his secretary who was now looking uncomfortable and discomfited under the Californian’s stare.

“I left some papers in here. I did not intend to disturb you, Don Andres,” Jeremiah apologized nervously, “but I really must have your signature on them.”

“Come back later, Jeremiah, we will see to it then,” Don Andres told him indifferently as he turned back to Mara. “Please, come in and sit down, Doña Amaya,” he invited.

Jeremiah Davies coughed uncomfortably, drawing his employer’s attention. “If you please, Don Andres, I really must insist that you sign these documents today. It will take only a moment of your time,” he added persuasively.

Don Andres sighed in impatience as he walked over to his desk. “You really can be quite tiresome at times, Jeremiah,” he complained as Jeremiah quickly pulled out the large, leather-backed chair and placed the stack of papers neatly in front of the Californian.

“And what exactly are all of these?” he questioned, his pen poised above the first sheet as he hesitated briefly before affixing his signature to it.

Jeremiah smiled as he explained facilely, “Just a few bills and some orders that must be sent out immediately, and a few letters you dictated the other day. Nothing really important. Oh, and the authority to sell that parcel of land.”

Don Andres raised his eyebrows inquiringly as he looked up from the paper he was signing. “Then why did you insist upon my signing these at this inconvenient moment?” he demanded of Jeremiah.

The American shifted his weight from foot to foot as a disconcerted expression flickered in his blue eyes. “Don’t you remember? I’ll be away from the rancho for the next week or two, Don Andres. I must hire a field in San Mateo for when we herd the cattle to San Francisco to sell, and I must do these other errands for you,” he explained. He anxiously watched Don Andres quickly sign the remaining documents with hardly a glance at them.

Don Andres laid down his pen with an air of finality. “Enough business for today, Jeremiah. Anything else must wait,” he decreed as he smiled up at Mara. “I’m very sorry for keeping you waiting, Doña Amaya.”

He waved a dismissing hand at Jeremiah Davies who swiftly gathered together the papers and, with a deferential look at the Californian, hurriedly left the room. Mara walked over to the map the American had been studying over moments before and eyed it curiously.

“Why, this is quite beautiful,” Mara remarked in surprise.

“Gracias, I am pleased that you find it so,” Don Andres responded warmly to her praise. “It is a
diseño
of the Rancho Villareale and was hand-painted by my grandfather.”

Mara stared up at the colorful map that showed the boundaries of the rancho with painted trees, rocks, and other identifiable landmarks.

“And all of this is your land?”

Don Andres nodded his head proudly, “Sí, the land that the hacienda sits on and half of the valley was granted to the Villareales under Spanish rule. However, the bulk of the rancho was granted to us under the Mexican regime in the late eighteen-thirties. It was after the secularization of the missions and all of their properties and holdings in ’thirty-four that much land was given away. We had many more head of cattle, vaqueros, and Indians, as well as a much larger family to support then. So we needed all this land, and it was just sitting empty,” Don Andres explained.

“We were most concerned during the war between Mexico and the United States that we would suffer grave retributions. However, under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, we were guaranteed legal title to our lands. It said that all property would be respected, and we believed them,” he added sadly. “But now, do they remember these promises? No, they begin to demand that we turn over our lands to the United States government, that they be opened to all of the people to come and settle on. Squatters! They steal our land from us and say that
we
are in the wrong. I do not understand the laws of los americanos,” he spoke in puzzled anger, a reminiscent look clouding his dark eyes for a moment.

“I can remember so well walking around the property with mi padre as we claimed our land. He would pick up a handful of rich soil, drink water from a stream, or break twigs in a grove of oak as he claimed this land for Villareale. We rebuilt the hacienda, made it much larger to house the family we hoped would live and die on this land for many generations to come. Mi padre even built the chapel, which has seen many baptismals and nuptials, but I think it will not see many more,” Don Andres sighed. Then, shaking his head, he laughed self-consciously. “So, as mi madre says, enough of this for it does no good. This is not what I wanted to speak to you about. Just a moment, please.”

Mara continued to stare up at the colorful map, wondering what difficulties must surely lie ahead for these kind-hearted Californians.

“Amaya, this is what I wished to show you,” Don Andres spoke softly behind her.

Mara turned on the slight quiver of anticipation in his voice. The lid of the carved chest stood open, and Don Andres held a miniature gold chest in his hand. As Mara watched, he took a small gold key and inserted it into the lock. As it clicked, he lifted the lid to disclose a jewel-encrusted gold cross on a bed of purple velvet.

Mara drew in her breath, for she truly had never seen anything so exquisite. It was set with a huge ruby in the center and with groups of smaller rubies and pearls along the edges.

“It is yours, Amaya,” Don Andres told Mara, a smile of pleasure curving his mouth as he watched her reaction.

“Mine?” Mara gasped in disbelief.

“Sí, it has belonged to the Quintero family for centuries.”

Mara looked up from the jeweled cross in puzzlement. “But why are you giving it to me? Shouldn’t Don Luís be the possessor of it?”

Don Andres said something beneath his breath and shook his head. “The cross belonged to your mother, handed down from her mother and from your grandmother’s mother,” he explained, his eyes avoiding Mara’s as if he expected her next question.

“But why do you have it, and not Don Luís?”

“You must understand that this is difficult for me to say. Don Luís was not given the cross because he could not be trusted to safeguard it until it would become your heritage. Don Luís is a man who likes to gamble and unfortunately does not often win. He has lost many valuables, many treasures that he deeply regrets losing once he is no longer owner of them. He is often in debt. I am sorry, Amaya.”

“So that is why Don Luís resents you, because you were given the cross,” Mara said thoughtfully. She could better understand Don Luís.

“Sí, for that as well as other reasons. He feels he has many grievances against me, although the cross was given into the keeping of mi padre and I am merely carrying out a promise. Don Luís’s resentments go beyond that, but that need not concern you, Doña Amaya. It is now my honor to give you the Quintero cross.”

Mara sighed. For once she was sorry she really was not Amaya Vaughan and the rightful heir to this golden cross. It would have solved all of their problems.

“You are not pleased?” Don Andres asked, not understanding the look of regret on Mara’s face.

“I can’t accept it, Andres,” Mara told him bluntly. At his look of incredulous dismay, she prevaricated quickly, “It is too valuable. You must keep it in the chest where it will be safe.”

“Ah, I think I understand,” he said softly, “that certain people might wish to exert their authority over their relatives and take possession of the cross.”

Mara smiled her agreement with him, although she didn’t know which relative of hers she really was protecting it from. She could already see the gleam of avarice in Brendan’s eyes. And as far as Don Luís was concerned, well, that was another problem altogether.

“You do understand then, that I would not be able to rest thinking the cross not safely locked up,” Mara told him, relieved not to have the responsibility of the priceless heirloom.

“Certainly. I will guard it well, as I have these many years, Amaya, although we have no thieves here on Rancho Villareale,” Don Andres reassured her confidently. He replaced the cross in its chest of gold, which was valuable in itself, and locked it. He placed it back in the safety of the large wooden chest against the wall. “Should you wish to wear it some evening, then just ask me and I will be pleased to get it for you.”