Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1) (30 page)

By the time he reached the fork in the road that led to Rancho de los Robles, it was well past midnight. There, he turned Oro loose. The stallion would go home on his own. He changed out his saddle and led the other horse he’d brought north with him.

After releasing Oro, he rode like the devil was on his heels. It felt that way to Roman as terrible thoughts attacked his mind.

You will find her in Steven’s arms. He has already bedded her. You are a fool to put your faith in a God who took your mother.

Roman raced on, doing his best to outrun the torment of his imagination. He rode at breakneck speed, unsure of why he felt such a great urgency, but he knew once he found Rachel and Steven, he would know the truth and the truth would set him free.

Not long after Roman, Rachel, and Steven left the rancho, Luis Lopez arrived at the hacienda. Sarita couldn’t believe her good fortune. Certainly Tohic was helping them. “You will have no problem tracking Rachel and Steven down,” she told Luis. “Roman has headed south to join Castro. It will be easy for you to overtake the Americanos and do away with them in the wilderness before they reach Yerba Buena.”

“Why do you still want the gringa dead now that she has left Rancho de los Robles?” Lopez wanted to know.

“Roman might decide after the war to go after her. I don’t want any possibility of him returning to her. I want her dead. I want the birds of the air to pick her bones clean. And the Protestant too.”

Lopez laughed. “Such sinister plans you have for your stepdaughter.”

“If my husband does not die in this war, I want you to kill him too, cousin.”

“What will I get for all this killing for you?” Lopez used his fierce-looking knife to clean the dirt out from under his long, ugly fingernails, and then he motioned for Sarita to follow him. “I must water my horse if I will be riding the rest of the day to do your killing. You owe me something.”

“What do you want?” Sarita asked as she left the yard with him.

“I have not had a woman in many days.” He gave her a leering grin, his teeth a rotten mess.

“Take the gringa before you kill her. Take her as many times as you wish before she’s dead. She is a virgin. Surely, that will satisfy you.”

Lopez laughed. “I am not so easily satisfied.”

“I am your cousin,” Sarita argued.

“You are Roman’s cousin too. That has not stopped you from lying with him.”

They’d reached the creek, alone in the trees now where no one could see them from the hacienda. “I am pregnant with Roman’s son,” Sarita reminded him.

“How do you know the child is not a girl, and not your gringo husband’s?” Lopez tied his big albino stallion to a willow limb after watering the animal in the stream.

“I don’t know whose child I carry,” Sarita admitted. “It doesn’t matter. If the child comes forth fair like the Americano, I will drown it before Roman sees the whelp.”

After tying his horse, Lopez walked toward Sarita standing there on the bank. “I will kill the gringos for you, but not for free.” He smiled wolfishly as he unbuckled his belt, dropping two pistols and his savage-looking knife onto the ground as he grabbed Sarita’s arm. “I’ll be quick taking my pleasure,” he assured her. “And quick to make sure you do not bear an Americano’s whelp, fair cousin.”

Steven and Rachel stopped for the night in a picturesque canyon with oaks and pines and some magnificent redwood trees guarding the glade. They prayed together before eating and then read their Bibles beside the light of their crackling campfire.

Roman had tied bedrolls to the backs of their saddles. The food he’d packed for them proved generous and tasty. It would be several days until they reached Yerba Buena. But it was summertime and the night balmy when they lay down to sleep.

Yet within a few hours, an eerie fog from the ocean engulfed their camp, and wolves began to howl. Rachel tossed and turned and prayed, and when she did manage to sleep a little, she had that awful nightmare of the man on the pale horse pursuing her.

When dawn finally arrived, she was incredibly grateful for the break of day.

Steven got up and rebuilt the fire and then crawled back into his bedroll, waiting for the morning sun to warm the glade, but the fog wouldn’t relent.

Rachel pulled her Bible out from under the covers of her bedroll and began reading Zechariah.
“During the night I had a vision—and there before me was a man riding a red horse. He was standing among the myrtle trees in a ravine.”

“Steven, read Zechariah and tell me if the Lord reveals anything to you from this passage.” She waited for Steven to read the scripture as she looked out over the fog-shrouded ravine.

After reading, he asked her, “Did you have a vision during the night?”

“I keep having the same dream. A terrible dream about a man on a pale horse.”

Steven was thoughtful for a moment. “Are you sure the horse is pale?”

“I am certain it is pale.”

Steven flipped through his Bible till he came to Revelation. He began to read, “I looked, and there before me was a pale horse. Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him.”

They lay there silently for a long time, each praying fervently because of the unease they both felt. The morning sun finally began to push the fog back toward the ocean. Birds sang in the trees, and the fire crackled when Steven got up and tossed more wood upon it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No. Not at all.” She sat up in her bedroll, fully dressed, having chosen to sleep in her clothes for warmth as well as modesty. “I’m so troubled, Steven.”

“Our Lord never said our lives on this earth would be easy. Jesus said he would be with us. That he would never forsake nor abandon us no matter what comes our way.”

“What if death comes our way?”

“Then we will see our Lord face-to-face,” Steven replied confidently. “Death is but a doorway into the presence of God. We are not to fear death, Rachel. The apostle Paul said, ‘To live is Christ, and to die is gain.’”

She stood and shook out her skirts. “You are right. I should not fear death.”

“I will pray this dream troubles you no more. We should be on our way to Yerba Buena soon.” Steven began packing up the camp.

“Is the ocean beautiful there?” Rachel walked toward the trees for some private time.

“Magnificent,” Steven called. “Blue as your eyes, Rachel.”

Smiling, Rachel disappeared into the woods.

Steven rolled up their bedrolls and tied them to the back of their saddles. He wasn’t hungry either, so he saddled the horses and packed all their goods upon them. Then he kicked dirt on the fire until it smoldered down to nothing but smoke.

It was this smoke drifting up into the sky that led Lopez right to them.

Steven was helping Rachel into the saddle when he galloped into the clearing. Lopez swung his riata around his head. As he raced into their midst on his big albino stallion, he threw the rope. It snaked around Steven’s upper body, settling around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides.

Lopez jerked the rope tight, yanking Steven off his feet.

He hit the ground with a sickening thud and was then dragged through the camp by the triumphant Lopez.

Rachel screamed as Lopez laughed like a madman. Steven never made a sound as he was dragged behind the pale horse.

Lopez leaped to the ground and swiftly tied Steven to a tree. Steven bled badly from a cut on his forehead. Bruises soon formed on his face and neck and arms.

Rachel jumped from her horse and tried to help Steven. When she reached the tree with Steven there on his knees, Lopez backhanded her across the cheek.

She sprawled in the dirt and then crawled on hands and knees back to Steven. He was tied to the tree now, a disorientated look upon his battered face.

Lopez kicked Rachel away from him. She cried out in pain.

“Don’t hurt her,” Steven begged.

Lopez kicked Rachel again, not hard, but hard enough to knock her onto her back in the dirt. He then walked over and yanked her to her feet.

Rachel had braided her hair in a single plait down her back. Lopez grabbed hold of the braid and yanked the leather binding off the end, then shook her hair free. “I have found gold,” he exclaimed, a wild look in his wicked eyes.

“Don’t hurt her,” Steven pleaded once more.

Lopez dragged Rachel by her hair over to Steven. “The golden woman is mine now,” he sneered, and then kicked Steven in the stomach.

Steven grunted in pain.

Several more times, Lopez kicked Steven in the midsection until Steven’s head hung low and he no longer responded to the beating.

“Please,” Rachel cried. “Please don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Lopez mocked her. Still holding her by the hair, he shook her roughly and then yanked her head back to breathe his hot, foul breath on her face.

Swinging an arm with all her might, Rachel managed to punch him in the mouth.

He growled in fury and threw her to the ground. “You will pay for drawing that blood, little gringa!” He wiped his split lip across his sleeve, viciously kicking her in the hip.

She rolled and whimpered, desperately trying to crawl away from him.

Smiling, his crooked yellow teeth covered in blood, Lopez stalked her. Grabbing her hair, he jerked her back on to her feet.

He carried her over to the horses. Pulling a rope from Steven’s horse, he used it to bind Rachel to the saddle after he’d tossed her up onto the palomino mare she’d ridden since leaving the rancho.

Rachel wept as Lopez walked back to Steven. The monstrous man stopped to retrieve another riata from his horse before going to the tree where Steven was tied.

Approaching hoof beats caused Lopez to dive into the trees
.
When Roman rode into the clearing, Lopez roped him just as he had Steven. Rachel screamed his name as he was yanked off his horse. Seeing him filled her with shock and then soaring hope. She couldn’t believe Roman was really here. Love for him overwhelmed her.

Lopez stepped from the trees. The horses Roman had been leading raced away. The horse Roman rode galloped off as well, causing Rachel’s mare to bolt after them.

Lopez let out a string of curses as Rachel, screaming for Roman, was carried away with the runaway horses.

Steven’s horse, tied to a tree limb by its reins, went wild when the other horses bolted away. Rearing back, it broke free from the tree, and then raced after the other horses. Lopez’s big pale horse remained where Lopez had left it, though the stallion pawed the dirt and whinnied repeatedly after the departing animals.

Lopez ran to his stallion, holding the end of the long rope that had captured Roman. Leaping into the saddle, he wrapped the end of his riata around the saddle horn.

Roman was up on his feet now. Still wrapped in the riata, he ran after Lopez, but the pale horse sprang forward under Lopez’s spurs, yanking Roman off his feet again.

Lopez galloped his horse around the clearing, dragging Roman behind him. Roman kicked wildly to free himself from the rope, but to no avail.

Lopez dragged Roman until he stopped fighting.

Roman was bruised and bleeding when Lopez stopped at the tree where Steven was tied.

Leaping off his pale horse and laughing in glee, Lopez hauled Roman over to the tree next to Steven’s and swiftly bound Roman there.

Steven was bleeding badly from his mouth and forehead. He looked at Roman with grieving eyes while Lopez bound Roman beside him.

“Which one of you shall die?” Lopez asked, pulling his dagger from his belt with a wide smile. “I am in a generous mood. I will let one of you live to play with the wolves tonight.”

Steven coughed, spitting blood from his lips. “Kill me,” he told Lopez. Steven turned to Roman, his gaze piercing Roman’s soul for a moment that lasted a lifetime. “Trust your life to Jesus, amigo.”

“No! Don’t kill him,” Roman begged.

Grinning, Lopez sliced Steven’s cheek open.

With great calmness and courage, Steven looked steadily into Lopez’s hate-filled eyes. “I forgive you,” he told Lopez. “You don’t know what you’re doing, but I forgive you.”

With a growl, Lopez plunged his knife deep into Steven’s stomach.

“Lord Jesus!” Steven cried out.

“NO!” Roman screamed in agony.

Growling like an enraged animal, Lopez sawed the knife down, cutting Steven’s insides out.

Steven died very quickly.

Bloody knife in hand, Lopez stepped over to Roman. “Your friend died a strange death.” Lopez appeared shaken. He took several deep breaths as if trying to regain his composure.

Roman bit back his grief as rage rose up in him. “You have killed a man of God.”

Lopez ignored this. “Do you love the little golden gringa?” He leered into Roman’s face.

Roman gritted his teeth to keep from saying anything Lopez might enjoy.

Lopez laughed wickedly. “Sarita tells me the Americana is a virgin. Is this true, amigo? You have kept this golden woman in your hacienda all these days without touching her? I find this hard to believe. Perhaps you are no longer the man you once were in Texas.”

Roman strained against the rope binding him to the tree. “I will kill you,” he told Lopez. “If you touch her, I will skin the ugly hide off your body the way I skin cattle.”

Lopez laughed again and raised his knife. “Speaking of skinning, I wonder how many ways I can slice you without killing you?”

“Start slicing. The longer you remain here with me, the better.”

The delight left Lopez’s face. “This is true. My golden woman is galloping away.”

“Cut me!” Roman cried.

Lopez sliced Roman’s arm open. “That should bring in the wolves but keep you alive long enough to entertain my pets when they come.”

“I am hardly bleeding,” Roman taunted. “Perhaps you are not the man
you
once were in Texas. Surely, you can cut me better than this, Luis.”

“So we are amigos again?” Lopez wiped the bloody knife on his pant leg before holstering it in his belt. “You use my name in such a friendly manner. How can I cut you now that you call me Luis? Like we are old friends again.”