Renegade Love (Rancheros) (5 page)

Marinda poured her friend another cup of strong black coffee. “I don’t blame you for being unable to get an ounce of sleep last night. Actually, I don’t know how you will be able to function until the wedding. I would be a mess.”

Bright sunlight spilled through the open front door and one window warming the two rooms of Marinda’s small adobe house. It was sparsely furnished but clean and colorfully decorated. Bright colorful blankets hung on two walls, clay pottery filled with fresh flowers lined the roughhewn mantel above the fireplace and baskets dyed in various colors added to the wealth of care and happiness that Marinda obviously gave to her home.

Such would not be the case with Rosa, and she made no attempt to hide her disappointment and sorrow from her friend.

Marinda reached out to rest her hand over Rosa’s, offering her what comfort she could. “Perhaps,” Marinda began, though hesitated as if unsure of her next words, then fixed a firm smile on her face and continued. “Perhaps this marriage will be good for you.”

“Good for me?” Rosa repeated surprised that her friend could suggest such a thing.

“Yes, think about it, Rosa. What kind of life do you have with the Curros? Lola takes her hand to you often and Roberto thinks nothing of using the strap on you. You work like a dog day after day and what do they say to you... you’re a lazy sot.” Marinda shook her head. “They care nothing for you. Life would be easier for you as the wife of Esteban Cesare.”

Rosa noticed that Marinda’s voice dropped to a bare whisper when she spoke his name, almost as if she feared evoking some evil.

“You will have servants to wait on you.” Marinda turned Rosa’s hand over in hers and patted the blisters on her palm that were healing. “And you will have these no more. Your hands will become like the rich ladies of the haciendas, soft and pretty.”

Rosa tossed her head back and laughed. “And you will come to visit me and the servants will serve us. We will not lift a finger.”

Marinda joined in the merriment, glad she had been able to bring her friend out of her sorrowful mood. “And we will take our wine outside and sit in the garden enjoying the lovely flowers.”

“Yes,” Rosa agreed joyously. “The garden off the dining room is beautiful. We shall walk the stone path together and admire the variety of flowers.”

Marinda beamed with enthusiasm. “We will take our children there to play...” Her words trailed off as she watched Rosa’s face turn a deathly pale. “What’s wrong?” she asked with concern.

Rosa shook her head, although it wasn’t the only part of her that shook, the rest of her shivered as though the room had suddenly turned stone cold. “Marinda,” her voice quivered, “I—I’m frightened.”

Marinda grasped her friend’s hand tightly. “Your wedding night frightens you?”

Her response was a sharp squeeze to Marinda’s hand.

“It’s not as bad as the old women wish us to believe,” Marinda said with a giggle. “I actually like making love. Paco is a wonderful lover, kind and considerate...” Once again her words trailed off. She suddenly realized what truly frightened her friend. “Oh, Rosa, I did not think. I thought you fearful of the act itself.”

“No, Marinda, it’s not the act itself. You well know that I am not ignorant of it, you and I having giggled and teased each other often enough about the secrets of the marriage bed. I had looked forward to sharing such intimacy with the man I loved and wed. But...” This time Rosa’s words drifted off as if she could not bring herself to speak them.

“But you don’t love Esteban, nor does he love you,” Marinda finished for her.

“And...” Again Rosa was unable to finish.

“And you fear he will not be gentle in bed.”

Rosa nodded slowly.

“You think of the things he did to women when he was with Pacquito’s band of renegades, don’t you?”

“How can I not? You’ve heard the stories.” Rosa shuddered and crossed herself.

“You can’t believe all you hear.”

“Don’t try to console me with lies,” Rosa said wearily

“I don’t know what else to offer you,” Marinda said honestly, holding back the tears she wished to shed for her friend.

“He is rough in his manner.”

“Perhaps he knows no other way. After all he spent many years with the renegades.”

Rosa sighed, as if her burden was growing too heavy for her. “But how do I help his tortured soul?”

“By being who you are, a kind and gentle soul. He will learn and change.”

“Until then?” Rosa asked, hoping for an answer.

Marinda crossed herself once again. “You survive.”

“I grow weary of telling you that I will not marry Rosa,” Esteban said, walking with his father toward the stables.

“And I grow weary of hearing it,” Alejandro said. “The arrangements have been made and finalized. You will marry Rosa next week and that is my last word on the matter.”

Esteban stopped abruptly and turned to his father with controlled calmness, yet fire blazed so out of control in his dark eyes that it made the older man’s blood run cold. “I have taken a knife to many a man who dared to dictate to me, but you are my father and deserve respect. I will give it to you, though only so much so watch your tongue. I will not be told what to do, I am not a boy. I am a man who has done things that would make you turn away from me in disgust. I am far from a gentleman and sometimes far from human. Is this the fate you wish for the innocent Rosa?”

“Somewhere in you still lurks that young boy who was filled with compassion and love,” Alejandro said hoping to reach that part of his son. “That ounce of humanity would never allow you to hurt Rosa.”

Esteban pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the ground, the dry dirt sending up a plume of dust. He yanked his tie from around his neck and threw it to land on top of the jacket. He ripped his shirt open baring a good portion of his muscled chest, the defiant act casting off his gentleman’s façade. “You are a fool, old man, if you think that.” His fists clenched at his sides. “These clothes cannot hide who I am... a man with no remorse, no heart... no soul.”

Fear had Alejandro stepping back away from him. His skin suddenly dampened and he paled at the thought that the renegade bastards could have possibly taken all that was left of his son’s humanity. He quickly recited a prayer that it not be so.

“That’s better,
Father.
” Esteban’s smile was cruel, his voice mocking. It was as if he enjoyed seeing the fear on his father’s face. “Forget this farce of a marriage. I will be captive to no man—or woman—ever.”

Esteban walked away, his strides firm and powerful.

Alejandro let out the breath he had not realized he had been holding. His hand went to his chest, his heart racing wildly

“Alejandro, are you all right?” Valerianna asked, rushing up to him. The deathly pallor of her husband’s face alarmed her and she reached out to him.

Alejandro grasped his wife’s hand and squeezed his eyes shut against his own trembling. “For a moment, just a moment, I thought Esteban would harm me.”

“You can’t mean that, Alejandro.”

Alejandro continued, needing to voice his doubts. “Have we misjudged our son’s nature? Has his years with the renegades actually turned him into a cold and uncaring savage?”

“Stop! Please stop,” Valerianna begged, hearing her own misgivings expressed aloud and feeling as though she betrayed her son.

Alejandro slipped his arm around his wife. “I worry for Rosa. I pray she will help him and that this marriage will be good for him.”

“It will. It will,” Valerianna insisted, her head nodding with each word as if she was trying hard to believe her own words.

“But Rosa is young and inexperienced,” Alejandro said with worry.

“Esteban would not harm one so innocent.”

“The Esteban we knew would not, but what of the Esteban who has returned to us?”

Valerianna held her tongue, for in all honesty she could not answer truthfully.

~~~

Esteban rode in the direction of the village. He had made a point of keeping his distance from Rosa. Her few visits to the hacienda to be fitted for her wedding dress had been planned and so he was able to avoid her.

His father and mother remained steadfast in their determination to see him wed. No amount of talking or threatening seemed to do any good, though he had struck a chord—a fearful one—in his father moments ago.

The idea that he had frightened his father upset him. He had thought himself in control of his emotions, what emotions he still possessed. His unacceptable reaction reminded him just how much of a renegade he had become. His total disregard for his father’s concern and love offended him. He was offering help, a way of keeping him at the hacienda surrounded by those who cared and would help heal him.

No one could heal him. No one. Not even Rosa.

Esteban slowed his horse as he entered the village, the animal snorting and holding his head erect, displaying as much fierceness as his master. Several women hurried their children into their homes, while others crossed themselves and turned their heads away from him.

Padre Marten, standing with two older men, offered a blessing or perhaps the slow, methodical way he made the sign of the cross was meant more to ward off evil.

Rosa followed Marinda out of her house and caught the padre’s action. Marinda followed it with a blessing of her own and Rosa grew angry. The padre had no right to condemn Esteban so blatantly. If the church would not forgive and accept him, how could the people of St. Lucita?

The cruelty and injustice of the situation disturbed Rosa. It wasn’t fair. There was no one to defend or protect him just as there had been no one to defend or protect her when she had been turned over to the cruel Curros. But this man who sat his horse so proudly even when being scorned by the people of the village, who had once held him in high esteem, was going to be her husband and he had defended her last night. So fearful or not, she would give him what he had given her... she would defend and protect him.

“Rosa don’t,” Marinda warned grabbing Rosa’s arm as she took a step forward.

“He seems so alone. Would you not offer help to a lost soul?”

“He’s not alone, he’s indifferent. And perhaps his soul is far too lost or too evil to save.”

“Perhaps,” Rosa said weighing her friend’s words, “but he is to be my husband and I have a duty to him. It is not right of me to standby and do nothing.”

Marinda’s voice softened. “You are right, perhaps then he will look kindly upon you.”

Esteban, in a savage way, had shown her kindness last night, and she would do the same for him. Besides, her thoughtful nature would not allow her to abandon him.

Her steps were quick in fear of her courage deserting her. And desert her it almost did when she drew close. Turbulence marked his dark eyes. His black-as-night hair, usually tied back, fell loose, the ends skimming the top of his broad shoulders. His torn shirt allowed for a clear view of his chest defined with muscles. His disheveled appearance made him appear more renegade than aristocrat.

The frightening thought turned her legs weak and almost faltered her steps, but somehow she managed to keep walking without a misstep.

“Rosa!”

She jumped from the strength of his voice and looked up at him perched on his saddle. A chill ran down her arms from his icy stare.

Esteban leaned down toward her. His words were direct yet spoken low for her ears alone. “Obedience, I like that in a woman. You come and I don’t even call. I wonder... will you come so quickly and obediently to my bed?”

Her gasp was audible and caused many eyes to widen, she in turn looked at their questioning faces embarrassed that they may have heard his improper remark.

Esteban immediately reached down, grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Don’t ever take your eyes from mine when I speak with you unless I give you permission.”

Nothing ever changes. Here she thought to defend him and what does he do? Demands obedience. Her life would be no different from what it was or perhaps it would be worse. Either way what did it matter, her life was not her own. It never would be. “As you say, Esteban.”

Her easy acceptance of his orders irritated him. No fire fueled her blood, her nature much too passive. She would obey all his commands without question as a good wife should. Why did that irritate him? She would do as she was told, which meant she would leave him alone if he so ordered.

He released her chin with a gentle shove and, without a word, turned his horse and rode out of the village, leaving Rosa standing in the road alone.

Marinda went to hurry to her side, but stopped when she saw Padre Marten approach.

“Come with me, my child,” Padre Marten said, holding his hand out to Rosa. “It is time we talked.”

Rosa walked in silence beside the padre. The early afternoon found the adobe church empty and the echo from their sandals slapping the stone floor as they entered appeared an intrusion upon the holy silence.

With a hand to her elbow, Padre Marten directed her into a pew near the front, close to the altar.

Rosa crossed herself and slipped into the pew. Her nervousness increased when the padre sat beside her. Padre Marten was strict and stern in his religious beliefs. The parishioners followed the law of God and the church, and one did not falter from that law. If he did, he must seek forgiveness in confession and perform penance. This was expected from all, with no exceptions.

“You will marry Esteban Cesare Saturday,” Padre Marten said, as if it were already done. “Are you prepared to accept him as your husband?”

Accept him as her husband.
She was just beginning to realize the depths of what that meant and the fact that nothing would change it. She would marry Esteban Cesare whether she wanted to or not. She nodded and felt as if she finally acquiesced to her fate.

“Good, child, good,” the padre praised. “And as his wife it will be your duty to see that he attends church services.”

Rosa held her tongue, though her eyes turned wide.

“It is your duty as a daughter of God,” the padre warned sternly.

“Rosa will serve only one master, Padre... me!”