CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“If you are meant to marry Rachel,” Steven assured Roman, “the Lord will bring it to pass. Right now, you must work through this ordeal with Sarita. If she carries your child, you must stand by her. You must accept this child and the mother as well.”

“I know you are right,” Roman agreed as they walked through the vineyard under a blanket of the stars. “I have been so blind. How could I not see Sarita for what she was? Even after she married another man, I could not keep her at bay. She came to me when I was drunk and wanting revenge against her husband. I see how wicked we both were to do such a thing. I am sorry for my sins with Sarita. My sins with other women. My sins with Rachel. Though she was untouched, I wanted Rachel for my woman. I have never taken no for an answer in all my life. I take what I want, thinking only of myself. I have been my own god. I deserve God’s punishment.”

“God doesn’t always have to punish us. We are often punished by our own sins. The consequences of our actions bring us suffering. You have confessed your sins to me. You must also confess these sins to God. I will pray for forgiveness for you and that your suffering is borne in the light of the Lord’s great love for you.”

Roman stopped walking. He took Steven by the shoulders. “I want you to marry Rachel. You are the kind of man she deserves.”

Steven’s smile was full of sadness. “I would like that very much,” he admitted. “But perhaps, like Paul, it is better I do not marry.”

“Who is Paul?” Roman released his hold on Steven and took a deep breath. He was so tired of fighting everyone and everything. Most of all, he was tired of fighting God.

“Saint Paul wrote many letters in the Bible. He was converted after watching another saint put to death. I am named for this saint.” Steven smiled.

Roman looked at his dear face, feeling unease sweep over him. He worried for Steven’s safety. Steven was such a peaceful man, but California was not peaceful.

“When we give our troubles to Jesus, he will make all things right,” said Steven. “If Sarita is lying about the child, this too will be brought into the light. Wait and pray, Roman.” Steven put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, looking with great affection into his eyes. “You will know Jesus, my friend. The Lord has promised me you will know him well.”

# # #

“This child you carry better be mine,” Roman warned Sarita the next morning out in the stables. “If you are deceiving me, God will deal with you.”

“I swear it’s yours. I know you want sons. I will give you sons. I will. . .”

Roman silenced her. “It is important I tell you this.” He took a deep breath, reminding himself Steven said this must be done. “I am sorry. I never should have lain with you. It was a sin against God and against you.”

Sarita threw herself into his arms. “What are you saying? I am not sorry! I love you. I am your woman. I have always been your woman.” She tried to kiss him. “Please let’s return to the way we were before Texas. Before the gringos came to California.”

He set her away from him. “I am no longer that man who left for Texas. I never want to be that man again.” He despised her now, though he knew these feelings of hatred toward her were wrong. And he hated himself for ever having slept with her. Steven had promised him God would help him if he trusted God to deliver him. He pulled the cinch tight on Oro, and then saddled Steven’s horse, and then Rachel’s mount as Sarita continued to ramble on about how the Americanos had ruined their lives.

“We have done this to ourselves,” Roman told her. “Adultery is a sin. We are sinners, Sarita.”

“What has happened to you? God let your mother die! He let my mother die! The only reason I lived was that Tohic healed me. You know this! We must worship Tohic, not the God of the padres. The padres brought only disease and death to California. Tohic has always brought life and healing and . . .”

“Be quiet! Do not speak to me about your devils.” Roman bridled the horses and led them out of the stables. Sarita trailed after him, but when she saw he headed towards the hacienda where the family had gathered on the porch to see him off, she walked the other way. “I will be here waiting for you when you return,” she called as she left him.

Roman did not answer her. He continued to the hacienda where he found Steven waiting in the yard for Rachel to appear with her belongings. The three were to ride together till the fork in the road. Roman would head south to join Castro’s forces while Steven and Rachel continued north to Yerba Buena.

Rachel was set on leaving him. And his feelings for her were so volatile right now, he agreed with Steven that she was safest returning to Boston in the midst of war in California. Roman did not trust her father. Nor Sarita. Even his drunken Tio Pedro. And he felt it his duty to ride down to meet Castro and join in the effort to set California free to govern herself. He could not escape this war, just as he could not escape Sarita’s pregnancy.

He had not spoken with Rachel since kicking down her door last night. Steven had worked out the details with her for departure. It was all Roman could do this morning to maintain his composure as he waited for her to come out of the hacienda. Perhaps he would never see her again. Though he believed Steven meant what he said about not marrying, Steven’s intentions surely would change when they returned to New England together. Roman couldn’t begrudge him that. Steven loved her first.

When she appeared on the porch, Roman thought she’d never looked so lovely. Her hair was in a single braid down her back, like the day they’d visited the Indian village together, but shorter now thanks to his knife. She wore simple clothes—a black skirt and white blouse draped by a sturdy shawl. Peasant clothes. He smiled in spite of himself. For all her beauty, she was such a humble human being, more concerned with others than herself. By the look on her face, he could see this parting caused her great pain. She held tightly to Isabella’s hand. Both of them had been weeping.

Maria, Tia Josefa, and Tio Pedro stood on the porch with sad faces. Rachel looked at him with tear-filled eyes as he waited with the horses. After hugging Isabella, she embraced Maria, and then Tia Josefa, and said a kindly goodbye to Tio Pedro, and then she walked down the steps and handed her satchel to Steven.

She would not acknowledge Roman as he came quietly to her side to assist her onto her palomino mare. On her own, she climbed into the saddle without meeting his gaze.

Roman walked over and mounted his own horse as Steven settled himself in his saddle too.

The three rode out of the yard as the morning sun rose over the mountains. During the hour it took to reach the fork in the road, Steven and Roman talked about the ship journey. The long months at sea. Steven’s plans once he returned to New England. Rachel said nothing. She wouldn’t even look at Roman.

When they reached the fork, Roman dismounted and walked purposefully to her horse. He wasn’t about to let her leave this way. Reaching up, he swept her off the palomino into his arms. He captured her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I only want to say good-bye,” he said tenderly.

“Good-bye,” she said, trying to escape him.

He held her more surely, staring into her eyes. He longed to tell her he loved her, but the words would not come. “Vaya con Dios,” he said instead with a knot in his throat choking him. The same words he’d spoken to his mother all those years ago before she died.

Suddenly, he felt like a lost little boy. Hot tears scalded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Overwhelmed by emotion, he drew Rachel against him and held on to her with his heart breaking.

“God will go with us,” she whispered in his ear. “And God will go with you, Roman.”

He finally pushed away from her, his jaw clenched tight. Tears blurred his vision. “God took my mother. Now he’s taking you as well.”

“God is not who you think he is, Roman. God loves you. He loved your mother. I will pray in time you know God.”

At that moment, he wanted to rage against God. And shake Rachel senseless. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He wasn’t used to grief and wanted to destroy something. Anything to make the pain go away.

Steven came and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Trust God,” he said. “The Lord will not abandon you, Roman.”

“If you are stopped by anyone on the road, tell them you are my friend.” Roman pulled a paper from his shirt pocket. It was written in Spanish. Roman’s signature was there along with General Castro’s. “These are orders General Castro wrote for me. This should be enough for the soldiers to let you continue on to Yerba Buena in safety.”

Steven nodded. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman reached out to shake Steven’s hand.

Steven enfolded Roman in his embrace, holding him tightly. “I will miss you, amigo.”

“I will miss you as well, my friend.” Roman hugged him back with all his strength and then pushed Steven away. He walked briskly to his horse and swung into the saddle. With a last nod to Steven, he galloped away without looking again at Rachel.