Treasure of the Sun (12 page)

"I'm so clumsy. Let me take you to the house."

"I just need to sit."

"No, I insist." With a firm hold on her waist, he drew her away from the dancing and into the darkened walk between the party and the hacienda.

She struggled in earnest as they swerved into the trees, but he ignored her, dragging her along behind him. He stopped where they could still hear the murmur of voices and music, and see in the faint light from the lanterns. To go farther abroad would cause talk-talk he already risked. This chance he felt compelled to take, however. Angry with her unhappiness, he demanded, "Madre de Dios, Nacia, what made you take Julio over me? At least I'd have made you happy."

"I love him. Now will you stop tugging on me as if I were a dog.”

Letting her go, he turned to her. "You love him. Does he love you?"

She hesitated. "I think so. Yes."

He couldn't see her face in the dark, but he felt her distress.

"Nacia," he began and stopped. He didn't know what to say.

"You want to know why there are so many rumors about us? Why they say Julio doesn't stay home? Why he drinks when we go out in public? Why he treats me as he does?" Her voice rose as she recited the litany of their woes. "Well, I don't know why he's doing those things. I don't know why he-" her voice broke "-why he treats me as if I've betrayed him. I haven't betrayed him, not ever. Not even with you. I never even teased him with you. I could have, for you were so dedicated and everyone knows what rivals you are. But the first time I saw Julio I knew I wanted him, and he wanted me. I didn't care that his father never married his mother, or that his mother was so poor they had to depend on the charity of others. Everyone said he was below me, but I had enough money for us both, and I thought it was forever."

"Now?"

"Now I don't know."

Hearing the tears she fought, he kept compassion from his tone. "Tell me what he's been doing."

"He leaves. For days, for weeks. I don't know where he's going. In the mountains, somewhere, or into the wilderness. He comes back with dirt under his fingernails and blisters on his hands."

"Julio?" he said, startled. "Julio would never. He adores the town. He adores civilization and all its trappings." "I know, I know."

"Do you ask?"

"Not anymore. He won't tell me. But he likes it when I tend his hands and hover over him. He treats me with affection when we're home. It's better than the way--"

She stopped so abruptly he knew what she wouldn't say. "I hoped you didn't know."

"How could I not know? He fornicated with every whore in Monterey, the widows, the Indian women, the servant women." Humiliation sounded clear in her tone. "As if I wouldn't be slapped in the face with it every day."

"He's stopped that," he offered.

"Oh, my, yes."

Sarcasm and hurt, he diagnosed. "Julio's not an easy man to understand. I've known him all my life, and I still don't understand him. When we were young, the other boys called him 'bastard' and beat him. I leaped in to help him, and we both got our teeth knocked out." He chuckled a little. "Lucky they were loose, hmm?"

She didn't move, didn't react to his humor.

He sighed. "When he staggered to his feet, he kicked me for trying to help him. Then he helped me up. There are dark undercurrents in the man, but at the same time, in had to trust my life to anyone, it would be to my father, or to Julio."

"But what is he doing, to get dirt under his fingernails and blisters on his palms?" she whispered. "What if it's illegal? Those dark currents you speak of -they worry me. What is he doing?"

"I don't know."

She began to cry and he pulled her against his cheat. "I don't know. I wish I could lie to you, but we've known each other too long for that. I don’t know.” She cried harder, and Damian wished, with all his heart, he was elsewhere. No matter how much be adored Nacia, no matter how badly she needed this emotional release, her tears still made him squirm.

She seemed to realize it, for as soon as she could, she controlled herself and stepped away. Her voice hoarse with grief, she said, "You always did what was necessary for my good, even if I didn't want you to."

Relieved, he stepped back. "Aren't I always right?"

"Yes, and aren't you a monster for pointing that out? But then-"her voice sharpened "-you're the same monster to all your friends."

"Are you calling me a busybody?" he asked, surprised by the notion.

"A dreadful busybody. I wonder, who does what is best for you?"

With the assurance of a strong and opinionated man, be replied, "I do."

"Well, in the opinion of your friend Nacia, what is best for you is also what's best for Dona Katherina. Perhaps you should think on that."

"My friend Nacia could hardly tell what's best for me or Dona Katherina in the space of one fiesta."

"The same could be said about my friend Damian."

Her rejoinder silenced him, and with astonishment, he wondered if she could be correct. Was he making hasty judgments about Nacia and Julio? Was he treading where no man should go? Most important, were Katherine's good and his own identical? Tucking it all away to bring up and examine later, he said, "Arriba los corazones! Keep heart. You're a good woman, Nacia. The best woman for Julio, and he'll realize it soon."

"You're a good man." She touched his cheek. "When next I see you, I expect to be dancing at your wedding. Remember, a woman like Katherine will never-"

A male voice spoke close to them. "A touching scene. A farewell kiss between lovers, perhaps?"

Nacia quickly stepped away from Damian, and what had been a friendly talk now appeared furtive.

"Julio," Nacia faltered.

"The promise of another assignation, perhaps?"

"Julio, don't be an idiot," Damian ordered.

"An idiot?" Julio's voice grew louder. "Yes, I am an idiot. Thinking any woman could honor her vows. Thinking years of friendship mean anything."

Trying to hush him, Damian moved closer and observed, in the dim light, the swaying and dishevelled figure of his friend. "We've been talking."

"Talking! A pleasant euphemism, that. Perhaps the wronged husband should take himself away." The darkened figure took a step forward. "Perhaps I should leave you two to your kissing."

The thick smell of liquor in the air washed over Damian, and he almost groaned. The punch bowl had too obviously been Julio's refuge this evening. Nevertheless, Damian had to try to defuse the situation, and he kept his tone low and reasonable. "No one has been kissing. Dona Maria Ygnacia would never-" "Dona Maria Ygnacia? Just a moment ago, she was Nacia." The loud, slurred words sounded like an accusation, and Damian cursed the caution that had brought him to a halt so close to the dance floor. At least if they stood farther away, the heads wouldn't-be turning at the sound of a fight. "We are old friends, and your wife has never even allowed me to kiss the hem of her dress."

"My wife," he sneered. "My wife."

"Please, Julio." Nacia stepped forward to grasp Julio's arm.

"Please. Please don't be angry. It was nothing."

“Nothing?” Julio shook her off, his voice raising to a shout. “Nothing? Is that what you call infidelity? Nothing?” Like a pronouncement of an elder, he roared "You're a whore."

Damian caught Julio’s fist as it lifted above Nacia. “Are you crazy, man? You don’t want to hit her.”

Julio paused and swayed, peering up at his captor. With the impaired faculties of a drunkard, he decided, “You’re right. I don't want to hit her, but I want to kill you." His other fist came up in a roundhouse that caught Damian unprepared and knocked him to the ground.

Nacia screamed and Damian cursed, more at the noise she made than in pain. Julio leaped at him, but he rolled away. Julio smacked a tree trunk with his head. It would have put another man under, but the liquor had numbed Julio. He came up shaking his head and shouting, “
Idiota
! I'm going to murder you."

The music faltered as the dancers stopped, drawn by the peal of rage ringing out of the trees. Lanterns flickered their way, held by men running to the scene.

Damian tried to leap to his feet, but Julio met him halfway. They fell, pummelling each other, breaking their fists on each other's faces. Men and women surrounded them as they rolled on the grass.

A punch to his stomach doubled Damian over. Julio pushed him down and yelled, "How dare you touch my Nacia? How dare-“

Fury burst in Damian. With a clip to the jaw, he knocked Julio off and seized him by the throat. Sitting on his ribs, Damian roared, "Only yesterday you knew I didn't want your wife. Stop being so stupid."

He felt a pounding on his shoulders and glanced up to see Nacia crying, “Stop, oh stop."

In a flash, he saw the lanterns around, the staring faces, and knew he stared social disaster in the face Nothing could save them now, but he prayed for a miracle. Released, Julio's fist plowed a furrow in Damian's ribs. The wind erupted from Damian in a rush. He heard the blood explode in his head. There was a sudden silence.

The tinkle of glass drew his attention, and he realized the explosion he heard was not in his head, but a gunshot.

Chapter 6

A gunshot? The candle Katherine held dipped and almost went out as she jumped off the veranda and skidded to a stop. She could see the dance floor across the yard, and a circle of lanterns in the trees. She could see the shattered lamp above the mariachis, see the guitarist shaking glass, wood, and wax out of his hair. She could see the people who stood looking past her, past the hacienda. She turned with a sensation of dread.

Lumped together on the lane, a large group of rough-looking men were mounted on horses, leading mules, and carrying rifles. They watched the dying festivities in a grim, satisfied silence. One of them spat on the ground. Then a horse neighed restlessly, but the stillness conveyed a threat that no words could express.

In the middle and in front of the gang, John Charles Fremont sat astride a cream-colored horse. His hat was cocked over one eye, a little smile lit his face. He posed with arrogance, looking down his nose at the assembled Californios.

Before the peril implied by the Americans, the Spanish men had no defense. They carried no guns to a dance. Their women and children were assembled with them.

In the trees, she saw Julio reach down and pull Damian to his feet. Damian stood alone as Julio put an arm around Maria Ygnacia.

One by one, the children sought the protection of their parents. Their wives moved to their sides, motioning the children behind. The men stepped in front of their families, offering the feeble defense of their bodies.

Then, on Fremont's command gesture, the intruders rode away.

The Californios watched until the sounds had died. Before Katherine’s appalled gaze, they moved toward the hacienda. Senora Medina came by, leaning on her son's arm. Alejandro led his pregnant wife, slow under the burden of his child. Rico had his children organized into a line, and he counted them as they entered the hacienda. His face bruised, Julio led Maria Ygnacia as if she were more precious than gold. Don Lucian came last, helping the stragglers carry their children. Passing her where she stood at the base of the porch steps, all of them mounted the steps with polite nods.

They said nothing, she realized, out of respect for her and the other Americans mixed in their number. What they wished to say about their contempt for Fremont's band would be said in the privacy of their chambers.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she restrained the impulse to apologize. The Californios would only point out that she wasn't responsible for the actions of her countrymen. It would be true. Yet, in another sense, she carried the burden of that discourtesy on her shoulders.

As the last of the families moved into the house, the servants came out. In a giant sweeping motion, they removed the food, cleaned the broken glass, picked up the dropped handkerchiefs. Dazed at the rapid dissolution of the fiesta,. Katherine still stood, candle flickering in her hand.

As the servants tugged the extra chairs toward the storage shed, Damian strolled out of the trees. He tucked one hand in his waistband. He gazed around, shook his head, and began to extinguish the lanterns. He pulled the branches down so he could douse the candle with a pinch of his fingers. Around the circle he went, and lights went out one by one.

He stood out there, in the darkness.