Untamed Fire
Authors: Donna Fletcher
Tags: #western historical romance, #alpha hero, #spirited heroine
Untamed Fire
by
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Untamed Fire
All rights reserved.
Copyright©2012 by Donna Fletcher
Smashwords Edition: 2012
Printing History
Untamed Fire
Kensington Publishing Corp/Zebra Books
October 1991
Cover art
Marc Fletcher
EBook design
Visit Donna’s Web site
http://www.facebook.com/donna.fletcher.author
Table of Contents
Spain 1798
“Don’t be afraid to touch her,” Don Felipe
said. “After all, she belongs to you.”
Rafael Cabrillo, twelve years old, stared at
the sleeping twin girls in the double cradle, Annabelle and Calida
Calvez. His blue eyes rested on the little girl whose tiny mouth
opened in a big yawn. Her small fingers were curled tightly in
fists and were tucked snugly against her chest. He reached out
hesitantly. “She’s so tiny I might hurt her.”
“Nonsense, my boy,” Don Felipe insisted.
“Annabelle is already one month old and is as strong as can be. She
will grow even stronger and someday make you a proper wife,
obedient and faithful. I will make certain she is taught
accordingly. Now take her hand, after all, she is your
betrothed.”
Rafael extended his fingers until they
covered her curled ones. Instantly, as if his touch was a command,
her fingers unfurled and latched onto one of his, squeezing
tightly. “She knows she belongs to me,” he boasted proudly.
Don Felipe placed his hand on Rafael’s
shoulder. “Will you care for her always?”
Rafael’s expression grew serious. He raised
his chin and stuck out his thin chest. “Always, I pledge I will
protect and provide for her always.”
“I have chosen wisely for my daughter. You
will make a good husband.” Don Felipe patted Rafael on the shoulder
before leaving to join his wife and the other guests in the room
across the hall.
Rafael returned his attention to Annabelle.
She still continued to clutch his finger as she slept soundly. The
possessive hold pleased him. “I will look after you forever,
Annabelle. I will let no harm come to you.”
As if the tiny girl heard and understood,
she opened her eyes, released his finger and returned to a
contented slumber beside her sister. Rafael could have sworn that
just before Annabelle closed her eyes, she smiled at him.
~~~
Screams that seemed to go on forever woke
Rafael from a deep sleep. He sprung up in bed, his wide eyes
darting around the dark room and his heart thumping wildly. Had he
been dreaming? Silence filled the warm night air. No piercing
screech and no agonizing wails of a woman were heard.
He waited almost expectantly, knowing any
minute it would come... and it did. The screeching wail that had
penetrated his sleep and his heart once again ripped through the
night. He jumped out of bed and hurried into his clothes. He raced
out of his room following the anguished cry.
At the end of the hall Rafael met with
chaos; men running back and forth, women weeping and clutching
their rosary beads. He maneuvered around the confusion and mounted
the steps two at a time to the second floor.
“No! My Babies! My Babies!” Dona Isabel
screamed while Rafael’s mother Dona Maria tried unsuccessfully to
console the distraught woman.
Rafael stood silent, his back braced against
the wall watching. Several other women joined his mother in
offering their support and comfort, but nothing appeased the
hysterical woman, she continued to scream for her babies.
Rafael remained still, catching a word here
or there as people passed by.
“Kidnapped—”
“Both gone!”
“—Nowhere to be found.”
“—Vanished—”
Rafael didn’t want to believe what his
quick, young mind was telling him. They were wrong, all of them.
They had to be.
The hall grew less boisterous, the women
having taken Dona Isabel to her room where endless weeping could be
heard.
Rafael didn’t hesitate. He had to discover
the truth for himself. He walked down the hall to the door of the
nursery. It was open and lit so that no corner could harbor a
shadow or a secret. He stepped in and looked directly at the double
cradle. Annabelle had to be there. She had to. He had promised,
pledged his protection to her.
He ran over to it, grabbed the side and
swung it down. It was empty. Only the white lace shawl that had
covered both girls lay crumpled inside.
“No,” Rafael whispered. “No, she can’t be
gone.”
Shouts just outside the door startled him
and he turned, watching the play of two shadows against the open
door.
“We’ve looked everywhere, Felipe,” the man
said. “They’re gone.”
“They can’t be. My daughters couldn’t have
vanished so quickly. Continue the search.”
The shadow nodded. “We’ll continue, Felipe,
but the kidnappers have had several hours start. They could be
anywhere.”
Rafael could hear the fear in Don Felipe’s
voice when he spoke. “I’ll never find them. Will I, Gaspar?”
“Of course we’ll find them, Felipe. You must
never give up hope.”
The shadows moved away and Rafael turned and
stared at the cradle. He picked up the shawl, hugged it close to
his chest and wept.
Los Angeles 1818
Rafael Cabrillo kept a tight rein on his
mare and traveled at a steady gait down the rutted road that led to
the San Gabriel Mission. He sat tall and straight in his saddle, a
posture befitting his heritage and importance in the community. He
held his head erect and his chin slightly tilted upward, another
sign of his noble upbringing. He kept his fixed glance straight
ahead, turning only now and then to give a respectful nod to the
old women busily preparing their noonday meals in front of their
small adobe houses.
He heard their whispers and occasionally
caught one crossing herself in protection. He smiled, his blue eyes
crinkling in amusement. It was protection for their daughters and
granddaughters that they sought in their prayers. Of course they
never suspected it was their sweet little
ninas
themselves
who sought him out and not he them.
He rode through the open gates of the
mission and stopped before the church. Two young boys greeted him
with enthusiastic offers of help. He tossed each a coin before
handing the reins of his white mare to one and directing the other
to tell Padre Jose he was here.
Rafael walked over to the fountain in the
middle of the courtyard. The sprouting water added coolness to the
surrounding area. It was a welcome relief from the late morning sun
that often baked Los Angeles.
Rafael hoped the padre would be able to
accommodate him immediately. He was anxious to return to the
hacienda and see to the conditions of his vineyards and orchards.
If the matter hadn’t been important he would have sent one of his
vaqueros
to tend to it, but it concerned his mother, Dona
Maria and that made it his responsibility alone. He was confident
the padre wouldn’t disappoint him. He would know of just the right
peasant girl who would make a suitable companion for his mother;
one who would be obedient to his commands and mindful of her
position.
~~~
“Hurry! Hurry! Juan fell!” the little girl
screamed. “He’s bleeding. He’s hurt. You must hurry.”
Gabriella Alvardo felt her stomach wrench.
She cast a silent prayer that her brother Juan was not seriously
injured as she grabbed her youngest sister Teresa by the shoulders.
“Where is he?”
The dark-haired, skinny Teresa was near to
tears. “At the far-side of the orchard.”
Gabriella felt a sense of panic grip her.
Juan was their youngest brother, only five years old and small for
his age.
“You must hurry, Gaby,” Teresa pleaded,
pulling her by the arm. “His mouth was covered with blood.”
Gabriella rushed from the back of the
church, where she had just finished hanging the padre’s clean
vestments, to the front. Quickly genuflecting before the altar, she
raced down past the numerous wooden pews and out the open, front
door. It was as if God had heard her frantic prayer and produced a
miracle. There, before her eyes, was the most beautiful white mare
she had ever seen.
Gabriella hastily crossed herself in thanks,
grabbed the reins from the startled, young boy, placed her bare
foot in the stirrup and with only the slightest difficulty hoisted
herself up into the saddle.
She was off in a flash. So intent was she on
rescuing her brother that she didn’t hear the angry shouts of the
tall man she sped past.
“She stole my horse!” Rafael shouted for the
third time at the padre.
Padre Jose patted his perspiring brow with
the sleeve of his brown robe. “Senor Cabrillo, I have known
Gabriella Alvardo since she was a baby. She would never do such a
thing.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
Padre Jose shook his head so rapidly he grew
dizzy. “Never. Never, senor, would I imply that.”
Rafael clenched his fists tightly in an
attempt to stem his temper. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the
young girl had mounted his mare and took off. Bella was his pride
and joy. Nobody but he rode her. She was like a young virgin that
he had broken and she obeyed no one else. Yet when the peasant girl
had mounted her, she had bolted to her command. He felt
betrayed.
“I am certain Gaby will return the horse.”
Padre Jose assured him.
Rafael leaned over the thin, short man like
a menacing demon bent on revenge. His blue eyes heated with fury
and his temper was on the verge of erupting. “When?”
“I-I-I cannot be certain.”
“Well, I can, Padre. If she doesn’t return
in ten minutes; I’ll have her hanged for stealing my horse.”
“
Ay de mi
,” Padre Jose cried, folding
his hands in prayer and shaking them to the heavens; Gabriella’s
only hope.
~~~
“Juan, how could you?” Gaby scolded,
grabbing her little brother by the back of his neck.
“It was just a trick,” Juan tried to
explain.
“A stupid trick,” she yelled. “Teresa
thought you were hurt badly.”
“It was only berries I squished all over my
mouth.”
Gaby hoisted herself back into the saddle
and reached down for Juan’s small hand. Spying the berry juice
smudged all over his fingers, she grabbed him by his skinny arm and
pulled him up behind her. “Don’t you dare touch me with those
sticky fingers.”
“But what will I hold on to?”
“The saddle,” she ordered. “At least I’ll be
able to wipe that clean and it won’t stain the black leather.”
Juan obeyed for about five minutes. Then his
red-stained fingers did what they had been itching to do since he
had seen the white horse. He patted her beautiful white rump,
ignoring the red stain that grew deeper with each tender pat.