Three Wishes (24 page)

CHAPTER 17

I’d thought that after all that had happened, Doña Elena would forget that she ever wanted to take me to the beach and see where I’d found the lamp. I prayed about it all the way home, over the two days it took us to make the trek back to Rancho Ventura, and every time I felt her inquisitive gaze upon me. I thought that, with all that had transpired…with the grief over Adalia and little Álvaro, with the heady joy of the rodeo…there’d be plenty to occupy her mind, other than me.

But it was as if glimpsing her own stretch of coastline had reminded the older woman of the task. I happened to be riding near her, and she edged her mare closer to me. “Soon, my girl. Soon you must take me to where Javier discovered you and tell me what you can remember.”

“Oh, certainly,” I said, as if I had no qualms about it at all. But inwardly, I cringed. Clearly she just wanted to make sure I wasn’t a spy. Having that British captain show up at the charreada, plus Gutierrez tossing out the suggestion, seemed to stir up anti-American sentiment all over again for the loyalists. But really…what exactly did she or anyone else think I could accomplish here at the ranch? What would a spy even do in this day and age? Report on the number of cattle? Trade rates? Would that really be worthwhile? But even Javier had worried about it…

Javier
.

I sighed, admitting it to myself. She saw what everyone else did…Javier and me getting closer, day by day. And as much as this Mexican mama had declared I might be the perfect bride for him, she obviously wanted to make sure I was as perfect as she had hoped.

That night, I was so road-weary, I fell into bed, sure I’d be asleep before my head hit the pillow. But thoughts of Doña Elena, Javier, our kiss, the gold coins he’d had to pay in taxes…all of it swirled in my mind until I finally sat up again.

Javier had been gone since we arrived home, apparently seeing to rancho business, the storehouse by the harbor—I wasn’t sure what all he was up to. But I hadn’t seen him for hours. He had helped me to dismount, asked me if my legs were numb with a teasing smile, and then he was off. And throughout those hours I’d missed him.

Missed him.

I frowned at that thought. I shouldn’t have ever let him kiss me. He was in my head, weaving his way into my heart, far too quickly. And it would just make it all the harder when it was time for me to leave this place. I didn’t need some crazy-hot, tall, Mexican man in my head as The One when I got back. Who was ever going to live up to him, back in the twenty-first century? I rubbed my face.

It didn’t matter. I was going back for
me
, to accomplish
my
dreams. I would find my way to school and through it. Become somebody. Establish a career with my own income, my own house, a wardrobe—yeah, a news station would probably give me a stipend for clothes so I’d look decent on camera. I’d have adventure, and eventually fall in love—I swallowed hard, shoving Javier out of my mind again—and family.

It would all come together. I was not even eighteen yet. I had time to find love again. Lots of time. It didn’t all have to happen here, back in 1840, where there weren’t equal rights for girls, or modern medicine that could save a man after a rodeo accident, or even a decent road, for that matter. I winced and rubbed my lower back, still so sore after our long ride.

The house seemed deadly still, and I thought I might go fetch a mug of too-thick milk and play a little guitar to get my mind off everything. I threw on my brown dress and padded down the hall and stairs, but a light in the library drew me.

It was Mateo, looking startlingly like his older brother for a moment, in the solitary, low light of a single candle.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” I said, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

He looked up at me, startled. He’d been playing solitaire at the big desk. “No,” he said. “I wanted to go with Javier to the harbor, but he refused.” I walked closer, and observed the frustration in every play of his cards.

“You can put your red eight on the nine,” I said, pointing.

He nodded and made the move, then two others.

“Why wouldn’t Javier take you?”

“He said I was too young. That he was to play cards, and I wasn’t yet of age.”

“To play
cards
?” I asked, gesturing toward his game of solitaire.

He paused as I sat down across from him. “To play poker. The trouble is that when he was my age, he played. He and Dante learned about the same time. But my brother…He treats me as if I am still but a boy. Too young to learn. As if I am Jacinto’s age!”

I swallowed hard, determined not to smile. He
was
a boy, but I could see why he’d be frustrated, because while he was only as old as a freshman, he behaved more like a senior, in my day. They just grew up faster, back in the 1800s, I decided. “Javier was away for a time,” I said. “He hasn’t yet had much of a chance to see you as a man.”

“He hasn’t
given
me the chance,” Mateo said, slapping down his hand in frustration when he got stuck for good, and he rubbed his head in irritation. The guy was such a gentle sort, I knew that he was really worked up.

“So…what if I taught you how to play?” I asked, gathering the cards together.

It was his turn to gape at me in surprise. “
You
play?”

“A little,” I said, cutting the deck, shuffling, and then using a bridge to neatly fold them back together like some sort of Vegas cardsharp—a trick my abuela had taught me. I shuffled again.

“Yes. I’d be most grateful,” he said, eyes wide with hope and surprise.

And so we began. I taught him about pairs, and three-of-a-kind, full houses and straights. About how to watch what others picked up and discarded, making calculations about the odds of having this or that. “You’ll be good about keeping a poker face,” I said, as we started our fifth round. “You’re a quiet sort, so use that, not betraying if your hand is good or bad. And watch for it in others—but be aware that they may be bluffing, making you think what they have is good or bad. Watch them, learn their ‘tells’—things about the way they move their fingers, their lips, their eyes, before you’re even playing cards with them.”

By the seventh hand, he’d won, fair and square. By the tenth, he had won two more. I smiled at him and shook my head, yawning. “There it is…the fruits of your poker face and a keen mind. You didn’t need a teacher. You only needed the opportunity to play.”

“Thank you,” he said, with a pleased little smile, “for giving me one.”

“Of course,” I said, rising. “Now, I think I can sleep. And you?”

“Yes.” He gathered the worn cards together and placed them in a wooden box, beside another deck. “Will you teach me how do that thing while shuffling, sometime?”

“The bridge?” I asked. “Of course. By the time Javier finally gives you a chance to play, he won’t recognize his baby brother.”

He grinned at that, and we turned to go—just as Javier was coming through the front door. He looked up at us in surprise, took off his hat, hung it on a peg, and his cape beneath it. “You two are up rather late,” he said, obviously waiting for an explanation.

“Yes,” Mateo said, turning to follow me up the stairs. “I’m not as young as I used to be, brother.”

“We’ll see if you say that tomorrow when it’s time to rise and see to your studies,” Javier said. But his eyes were on me, clearly wishing I’d stay behind.

Instead, I hurried up several more stairs, widening our distance. I didn’t need time with him. I needed to steer clear of him, because the more time we spent together, the harder our separation would be. And if we found ourselves alone…and he kissed me again…No, I’d let things go too far.

And soon, I’d have to set it all straight.

The next day, as soon as breakfast was done and Javier and the latest guests headed toward Bonita Harbor, Doña Elena requested a stable boy bring around two saddled horses and called for two armed men to accompany us on our ride. “Request that Hector and Ignacio attend us.” Her eyes moved to me. “My dear, are you ready?”

I nodded. Perhaps if I had this conversation with her at last, she could help me convince Javier to let me have my lamp back. To try and get back to my own time. Panic was building in my chest, as day by day these people were weaving me more deeply into their lives, making me forget where—and when—I truly belonged. Even last night, with Matteo, had made me feel more at home!

“May we go with you, Mamá?” Estrella asked eagerly, the first note of hope in her tone I’d heard since seeing her baby cousin depart.

“No, my dear. You and Francesca must stay here and see to your correspondence; there is much that requires your attention after our absence.”

“But Mamá,” the girl said, “that will only take—”

“This is a ride that Señorita Ruiz and I must take on our own,” the grand lady replied firmly.

Estrella clamped her lips shut, saying nothing more, although her big brown eyes radiated disappointment. Francesca, standing behind her, had a measure of resentment in her eyes. But Doña Elena, ignoring them, turned toward the doorway and looked to me. “Come, my dear. Let us change into our riding habits. We shall meet momentarily in the front hall, yes? It’s a pretty day for a ride.”

“Yes, yes,” I mumbled, barely glancing to the window. My breakfast roiled in my stomach. How was I supposed to deal with this formidable woman? Tell her enough truth to satisfy whatever curiosity was driving her, and yet not too much?

Upstairs, Maria was waiting on me, with items of clothing splayed across the bed behind her: the freshly washed, ruby colored, long-sleeved fitted coat; long skirt; and tiny top hat with veil. She had the cursed corset back in her hands. “Forgive me, Señorita,” she said, glancing aside in embarrassment.

Yeah, yeah.
I sighed and reached for the top button on my brown day dress. I’d made it all the way to Santa Barbara and back in the cursed riding habit and corset—what would one more day be? Maria swiftly saw to the other buttons, I slipped it off, and she wrapped the corset around my chest and belly. In seconds, it seemed, she had it laced up the back again, like an old…
friend
.

That was it. I just needed to make peace with the awful thing, and I wouldn’t resent it so much. That’s what I told myself anyway.

Doña Elena awaited me in the foyer, looking fresh and smart in her own all-black riding habit and not the least out of breath. In fact, she looked totally pumped up for this adventure ahead.
That makes one of us.
After the trek south and back, I was over riding in such a contraption.
So
over it.

“Ready, my dear?” she asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered, passing by her through the door a servant had opened. I blinked in the bright sunshine, again thankful for the slight shielding of the veil on the hat.
Sunglasses, version 1.8.4.0.

Doña Elena paused behind me a moment and then followed, mounted and looking prim and perfect. Her silver hair was in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, her black hat pinned at a jaunty angle. With a glance back at me, sitting more confidently on my gelding today, despite my sore butt screaming to get back off, she set off at a trot.

Sighing heavily, I followed, just wanting to get it over with now.

Our two armed guardians fell into line behind me, their rifles across their laps. But they seemed relaxed, not really concerned at all. “So are the armed guards really necessary?” I asked the woman, when she settled her mare back to a walk, and I could come alongside.

Guards had been with us all the way to Santa Barbara and back, of course, just more…subdued. Today they were all Secret-Servicey. Because I went with Doña Elena alone? Maybe the grand old lady demanded extra protection. Maybe she was more at risk, a bigger target, like the First Lady or something. I hid a smile, thinking of Hector or Ignacio with ear pieces and black sunglasses, speaking into a microphone at their wrists.
“Lady Hawk is on the move. I repeat, Lady Hawk is on the move.”