Sun God (25 page)

Everything the same. Indeed!

Nothing was the same. Nothing. Not even the restful solitude of the old hacienda.

Two weeks ago, on the very day El Capitán had found her scrubbing the floors, he had made a complete inspection of the hacienda, his critical eye missing nothing. With Magdelena and old Fernando in his wake, he strode purposefully through the many rooms, including those long shut off and unused.

Seeing firsthand just how much the splendor of the old mansion had faded, he threw open dryrotted shutters, yanked down dusty, tattered drapes, studied threadbare carpets. Carefully, his face inscrutable, he examined the floors and the walls and the ceilings.

And made the decision then and there to restore the large Spanish-style adobe dwelling to its former grandeur without further delay.

So now there was a great flurry of activity every day in the hacienda as El Capitán’s barechested troops hammered and sawed and painted. Laid new carpets and hung heavy drapery and moved in new furniture.

Half a dozen smiling, chattering female Mexican servants—hired by the captain—worked industriously, polishing and dusting and singing.

And scrubbing floors.

Magdelena and old Fernando couldn’t have been happier; both were in all their glory. El Capitán had put Magdelena in charge of the six Mexican servants, declaring unequivocally that she was solely responsible for making sure they kept the place spotless and sparkling.

Then, noticing that the stooped Fernando’s sunwrinkled old face had taken on a hurt expression, the captain had turned directly to the aging servant and, addressing him in flawless Spanish, said, “
Compadre
, can I count on you to oversee the workers in their monumental task of renovating the hacienda?”

“
Sí
,
Mi Capitán
,
sí
,” Fernando said eagerly, his watery eyes lighting with pleasure.

Skeptically watching the exchange, Amy experienced an unfamiliar surge of gratitude toward the tall commander. The cold, callous man
did
remember how to show kindness—at least with the servants and his elders. Catching herself reluctantly admiring him for his thoughtfulness, Amy turned away.

The restoration of the hacienda was not the only thing changing on the big sunland spread. With the flowing of the river and the dredging out of the irrigation canals, grass was sprouting up on the barren pastures. Rail cars filled with bawling cattle arrived daily at Orilla’s private spur. Vaqueros who had worked the ranch in days gone by heard the news and wandered back, eager to work for the man they had known as a boy. A man they now considered the
Patrón
of Orilla.

Amy watched all the activity with a mixture of pride and despair. She was grateful, of course, that the river now flowed, that cattle would again graze the far meadows, that the ranch would once more prosper. But she was alarmed as well. Surely El Capitán would not be spending such great sums of money—money she wondered how he had come by—if he did not intend to return to Orilla permanently when the French had been finally routed and Mexico was free once more.

The prospect chilled her.

A shout from below her open balcony doors drew Amy’s attention. She did not recognize the voice. It was a sentinel calling excitedly to alert El Capitán.

Amy stepped out onto the balcony in time to see a youthful trooper reining his lathered horse to a halt. Taking care to remain concealed, she watched the tall, long-legged captain walk leisurely out to meet the dismounting courier.

She heard the messenger anxiously announce, “A dispatch from Presidente Juarez, Capitán.”

Luiz took the missive and read it, his dark face displaying no emotion. Holding her breath, Amy waited. Surely he would reveal its contents and make some comment to the messenger.

He did not. He thanked the young soldier, dismissed him with a crisp military salute, and Amy was left to wonder.

Was he being called immediately back into battle? Would he, and all his troops, be leaving within the hour? Was the nightmare about to end, her life about to return to normal?

Amy left her room and hurried downstairs, hoping to learn what was in Juarez’s orders.

El Capitán walked in the front door just as Amy reached the base of the stairs. She automatically stopped and stood there waiting expectantly, a couple of steps up the staircase.

He looked up, saw her, and unhurriedly crossed to her. His handsome face giving nothing away, he put a booted foot on the first step of the stairs and draped his forearm over the polished banister. His hand was mere inches from Amy’s face, and in those long bronzed fingers was the folded manila missive.

The orders from Benito Juarez, President of Mexico.

He never mentioned the dispatch. Instead, he casually inquired if she intended to make her weekly visit into Sundown.

Stiffening immediately, afraid he intended to drive her, Amy shook her head. “No. No, I wasn’t planning on—”

“Pedrico is waiting with the buckboard.” He took his arm from the banister, his foot from the stairs. He placed the yellow missive in his shirt pocket and stepped around her to start up the stairs.

Frowning, Amy grabbed his arm. “Are you sure Pedrico will have the time?” She held her breath.

“All the time in the world,” El Capitán said, and proceeded up the stairs.

Longing to strangle him, Amy stormed across the foyer and out the front door.

In less than an hour Amy had finished with her shopping in Sundown. Leaving Mac’s cavernous store, she was glad it was still early. She would go to the Clayton hacienda for a nice long visit with her good friend, Diana.

If anyone could cheer her up, it was Diana.

Contemplating a lazy, pleasant afternoon with her troubles forgotten for a while, Amy was smiling as she crossed the stone porch outside Mac’s. The sound of familiar feminine laughter from across the plaza attracted Amy’s attention. She would recognize Diana’s throaty laugh anywhere.

Continuing to smile, Amy lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sun and squinted toward the source of that warm laughter. The smile froze on her face.

Standing directly before the double-doored entrance of La Posada Hotel was the laughing Diana. The person responsible for her laughter was Capitán Luiz Quintano!

Amy felt her face go hot then cold, her stomach do a crazy cartwheel. Wishing she could look away, incapable of doing so, she watched as El Capitán smiled disarmingly down at Diana, his teeth flashing starkly white against his dark face. As he smiled he was gesturing, making a slow, graceful downward sweep with his right hand, inches from Diana’s voluptuous body, as if he were telling her that she was lovely from head to toe.

Knowing how the gorgeously gowned Diana responded to compliments, Amy was not surprised when the dark-haired beauty, smiling flirtatiously up at the tall officer, reached a small gloved hand out to Luiz’s chest, and playfully toyed with a gleaming brass button on his uniform tunic.

Rooted to the spot, wishing she could turn away, Amy continued to watch as Luiz nodded his dark head affirmatively, gallantly took Diana’s arm, and escorted her into the white stucco hotel.

A dozen vivid pictures flew through Amy’s brain.

The two of them—Luiz and Diana—sharing a long, intimate lunch. Sipping champagne and gazing into each other’s eyes. Staying long past the hour when the dining room closed, then tipsily making their way out to Diana’s fancy carriage for the short ride to her hacienda where they … they …

Amy rushed anxiously toward the buckboard, grateful that Pedrico was there waiting. She wanted only to get out of town as quickly as possible. Surprised she had stayed such a short time in Sundown, Pedrico, guiding the team around the plaza, asked innocently, “Shall we go to
Señorita
Clayton’s hacienda,
señora
?”

“No,” Amy snapped, violently shaking her head.

Taken aback, Pedrico’s brow wrinkled. “
Problema
, Miz Amy?”

“No. Everything is fine.”

Back at Orilla Amy paced all afternoon. And as she paced she told herself she was being foolish. What did she care if El Capitán and Diana had discovered each other? She didn’t. She was glad. Relieved. Maybe with the distraction of the willing Diana, the captain would no longer find it necessary to torture her each night.

Yes, an affair between the man-hungry Diana and the lustful Capitán would make Amy happy.
Very
happy!

The long, warm afternoon dragged on and the very happy Amy had a throbbing headache. She didn’t feel like going down for dinner that evening, a meal she was sure she would be eating alone since the cold man with whom she usually dined would be having his dinner at the Clayton mansion.

Amy stopped pacing as the idea struck her.

At last an opportunity to look for Juarez’s dispatch! Hurrying into the large dressing room to begin her search, Amy felt little guilt. The white shirt Luiz had worn that morning was lying draped across a chest. She eagerly snatched it up, then sighed when she found the pocket empty.

Annoyed, she dropped the shirt to the floor and riffled through all his neatly pressed military uniforms, sticking her hands into every pocket. Nothing. She pulled out the many drawers of the tall chest, lifted crisp folded shirts, looked beneath stacks of linen underwear and men’s stockings.

She flipped open the square leather box where he kept his jewelry. His wide gold and turquoise cuff bracelet was there. Some silver shirt studs. A gold pocket watch and chain. A lone ladies’ ear screw of rubies and diamonds.

Amy slammed the lid shut.

Frustrated, she lifted his tall boots, turned them upside down and shook them. She felt in the toes of his soft doeskin moccasins. She ran her fingers around the sweat band of his rarely worn hat.

She looked in every conceivable place where a man might hide an important piece of paper. Either he had destroyed the message or he had it on him. Most likely the latter. He knew very well she was dying to find out if he had been ordered back into battle. So, naturally, he would spitefully keep it from her until the last possible minute. The bastard!

There was a gentle knock on the door, and one of the fresh-faced Mexican servants brought in a cloth-covered tray. Amy, lifting the corner of the pink linen cloth, casually inquired if El Capitán had returned. And knew the answer was no even before the servant girl firmly shook her head as she backed away.

Not the least bit hungry, Amy left the tray untouched.

Again she paced restlessly. She continued to pace until long after the sun had set and she was totally exhausted.

Bedtime came and still she was far too jumpy to sleep. It made no sense. For the first night since he and his soldiers had come riding onto the ranch, she did not have to fear his coming to her bed. She should feel nothing but blessed relief!

Amy took a long, hot bath, tensing every time the old house creaked or a sudden sound broke the night silence. She still half expected Luiz to come striding into the dressing room ignoring her demands for privacy.

It didn’t happen.

Amy drew on a long white nightgown, turned down the silken covers on her bed, and prepared for the best night’s sleep she had had in ages. It was wonderful to wear a nightgown like a decent woman, to sleep in a bed with nice, fat pillows and a covering sheet.

Sighing, she blew out the lamp beside the bed and lay back on the comfortable pillows. The moon—almost full—had risen. Its silvery light streamed in the open balcony doors, bathing half the spacious room with an incandescent glow, completely framing the heavy carved door.

Amy moaned aloud as vivid memories rushed in to overwhelm her.

On that very first night with Luiz, she had stood frightened and submissive against that door in the bright moonlight while he undressed her. Amy turned away, pressed her face into the downy pillows, and vowed she would forget that night and every other profane night spent in his arms.

But sleep refused to come. After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Amy rose from the bed. Tired and on edge, she strolled out onto the balcony and looked out over the flat, moon-silvered landscape.

In the distance she saw little puffs of dust hanging in the air. Then she heard the echoing hoofbeats. Finally she saw horse and rider steadily approaching the hacienda.

Moonlight touched the pair and revealed a sleek black stallion with a sleek dark man on its back.

Noche and El Capitán.

Amy clung to the balcony railing, her heart beating wildly with fear and with dread.

Or was it anticipation?

May 5
,
1866

T
HE DAY DAWNED SUNNY
and warm and perfect in the deserts of far southwest Texas. The sky was a bright breathtaking blue with only a handful of high-sailing cumulus clouds casting shadows on the cool mountain peaks far to the south. The air was dry and still, but comfortable, not yet oppressive with the scorching heat of summer.

Newly delivered foals galloped on spindly legs, chasing after their mothers across Orilla’s grassy highland horse pastures. On the flats, longhorn cattle munched contentedly on newly sprouted tobaso. At the hacienda, a red-tailed hawk abandoned his holding pattern to swoop down and drink from the new birdbath Pedrico had built out back on the wide flagstone porch.

Excitement was in the air at Orilla on that sunny morning in May, both inside the big house and out in the whitewashed stucco bunkhouses where El Capitán’s troops were billeted.

Cinco de Mayo.

Since the fifth of May four years ago when determined Mexican soldiers led by General Ignacio Zaragpza and the young brigadier Porfirio Diaz had humiliated the French military force attacking their fortified city of Puebla, all Mexicans—wherever they might be—celebrated the anniversary of this important victory.

Knowing just how much this date meant to his troops, El Capitán Quintano was hosting a big
Cinco de Mayo
celebration blow-out at Orilla. The gay festivities were to begin at twilight.

By midmorning Magdelena and her chattering young help were at work preparing the evening’s outdoor spread, a feast certain to win the unanimous approval of hungry young soldiers.