part0030

“Something urgent has arisen,” Don Pedro told his guests and family the following evening. “Roman has been called away for government business, but that need not interrupt our festivities tonight.” He raised his goblet, downing the last of his wine. By the end of dinner, he was well on his way to drunkenness. Watching the wildness fill his eyes, and the sweat bead on his forehead, Rachel began to silently pray.

Though Don Pedro did his best to encourage the Americans to drink with him, Captain Mason and his sailors consumed very little wine at dinner. Unlike the first night when they’d let their guard down, the Americans appeared prepared for whatever battle might arise tonight and hardly touched their goblets. Steven never drank.

Maria had refused to come to dinner, but she was a dutiful daughter, and when Don Pedro sent for her to dance after dinner for the guests, she finally appeared, dressed in a daring red silk gown. Captain Mason couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

After Maria entertained them with her dexterity, Isabella charmed everyone with her playful dancing. Drowning himself in brandy, Don Pedro soon insisted Rachel sing for their guests. Isabella walked with Rachel to the middle of the sala to mollify her papa, who was growing unrulier by the hour.

After Rachel whispered in Isabella’s ear, the girl rushed over to the musicians to inform them of Rachel’s request. With head bowed, she waited for the music to unfurl. When it did, she began to sing for God and God alone.

One of the sailors wiped his eyes after a while. Steven wept too. In a daze, Don Pedro stumbled from the room. Rachel sang on, worshipping her God with all her heart there in the sala. The Spirit’s presence swept in and swirled about the room, taking control of lesser spirits causing trouble there.

When she finally finished singing, Tia Josefa was wiping tears from her eyes too. She approached the Americans and asked them to retire to their quarters for the night. Tia Josefa said a time of holiness had arisen in their home.

Steven offered to pray before everyone departed. Tia Josefa, dabbing her eyes with her shawl, bowed her head as Steven prayed a beautiful prayer of peace, protection, and God’s loving hand in all things.

When Don Pedro returned to the sala, after spending the past half hour in a frustrated search for his brandy, the long room stood empty except for the Indian musicians gathering up their instruments and Rachel and Tia Josefa straightening up the furniture.

“Who has ordered the end of the fandango?” Don Pedro demanded in outrage.

The Indians looked nervously at each other. Rachel kept setting the room in order, doing her best to stay out of Don Pedro’s way.

Tia Josefa approached him. “A time of repentance has arisen among us. Our guests have gone to their beds to pray.” She wrapped her shawl more firmly around her plump shoulders.

Don Pedro looked appalled. “It is not the Lenten season! No one has died. What is this you speak of, woman?”

“Something holy has descended upon our home. We cannot ignore the call of God.”

“She will not sing again under my roof!” Don Pedro’s voice trembled with indignation as he pointed his finger at Rachel. “She has caused this! I demand that our guests return to the sala at once. Go get Maria! She will dance for us.”

“I will not disturb our guests,” Tia Josefa replied softly but firmly. “Go to the barn. Find your vaqueros and share your brandy with them.”

“What has happened to my wife? Do not speak to me this way, woman!”

“You are drunk. Drunkenness is a sin.”

“Do you think you are my priest? You are not my priest, Josefa! I will not be condemned! Not in my own hacienda!”

Clutching their instruments, the wide-eyed Indians rushed from the room in the face of Don Pedro’s drunken tirade.

“You’re frightening the neophytes,” Tia Josefa said.

“Those neophytes belong to me!” Don Pedro shouted. “I am Pedro Ramon Guadalupe Vasquez! I am the patrόn of this household!”

“You are drunk. You are foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.”

“I am the grandson of a conquistador! I will not stand for this in my house!”

“I am going to bed. I will pray for you.” Tia Josefa turned her back on him and motioned for Rachel to hurry from the room ahead of her.

“Do not turn your back on me, woman! Not in my hacienda! My father, a Spaniard of royal blood, built this hacienda with his own two hands!”

Tia Josefa motioned for Rachel to go quickly.

“Josefa!” Don Pedro roared after her.

In San Juan Bautista, General Castro told Roman all that had happened while he was in Texas. Roman had known some of the information, but he hadn’t been told about the Yankee battleship that had sailed into Monterey Bay and boldly raised the American flag, declaring California belonged to the United States. Then, strangely, the Americanos apologized for this outrageous act and returned to the sea.

That battleship was still out there cruising up and down the California coastline. It appeared war with the United States was now inevitable.

If the United States declared war on California today could the gente de razón really do anything about it? Mexico, with her inept governors and cholo troops, certainly wouldn’t be able to stop the United States. Roman doubted Mexico would even send soldiers to help them. The rabble of soldiers Mexico had already sent were known criminals and didn’t help California at all. They were a blight on California’s honor.

In his bed that night at Castro’s house, it wasn’t thoughts of the war that kept Roman awake. All he could think about was Rachel. He was weary beyond measure, but she rushed through his thoughts like water over a falls. Was her sickness completely gone? Was she safe from harm? Was she happy in his home? Was she smiling even now, out in his vineyard with the man of God at sunrise or sunset or any hour in between? He’d had a long day in the saddle, but his night missing Rachel was longer.

Sarita was delighted when a group of buckskin-clad Americanos arrived at Rancho El Rio Lobo. After several days of allowing these dirty, unshaved foreigners to rest in his hacienda, Joshua rode out with the Yankees without so as much as a word of where he was going or why. Sarita knew Joshua satisfied himself now with that stupid servant, Rosa, and that pleased her just fine. With Roman alive, all she could think about was returning to him. This war would help her.

She placed her hand on her womb, praying again to Tohic that this child growing inside her was not the gringo’s. “Please let the seed be Roman’s,” she whispered. “Oh, Roman, soon, my love, I shall come to you, and we shall build a life together.”

She hurried to her room and began to pack only her most beautiful gowns. With her body ripening with the babe, her breasts had grown fuller than ever, spilling over the necklines of her gowns in marvelous abundance.

“You won’t be able to resist me, my love,” she spoke to the empty room as if Roman stood there with her. “This babe is only the beginning. I will bear you many blue-blooded sons of the gente de razón .”