Three Wishes (20 page)

I smiled with him, offering the guitar back to him, when I saw his face fall and followed his gaze. “Señor de la Ventura.” It was the lead X-man, coming closer, followed by his squad. But his eyes were only on me. “So this new rose is your guest? Why was I not introduced the last time I came to your rancho?”

“She had not yet arrived,” Javier said, the muscles at his cheek tightening.

I stood, now grateful I was still holding the guitar. I could sense the danger in this one—the entire group around me reflected it—and the guitar gave my hands something to do.

Javier edged in beside me. “Lieutenant de Leon, this is our guest, Señorita Zara Ruiz. Señorita Ruiz, Lieutenant de Leon.”

He took off his tall hat and tucked it under his arm, then bowed over my hand, low enough that his long, greasy black curls brushed the top of my wrist. But he did not kiss it. “I am your servant, Señorita Ruiz,” he said, his eyes lingering on my face and down to my chest and back up again.
My servant. Right
. He did not release my hand but covered it with his other. “Now you must tell me,” he said with a smile, tearing his eyes from me to Javier a moment, “where did your lovely guest come from, Ventura? A musician of such caliber?”

“I was actually hoping you might be of some assistance to her, Lieutenant,” Javier said flatly. “Señorita Ruiz survived a most harrowing blow to her head, resulting in a fall from a ship along my shore. She made land along Pirata Cove. Have you heard of any ships passing southward, with tales of a woman lost?”

I could hear the murmurs of other newcomers in the crowd around us. It wouldn’t take long for everyone encamped here to know my story.

“Indeed not,” the soldier said. I slipped my hand from his at last, and he frowned as if a fish had just spit out his hook. He turned to a man behind him. “Gutierrez, have you gotten wind of any such story at the harbor house?”

The man shook his head too, staring at me, mouth agape.

“But you have sent word to her family?” the lieutenant asked.

“No. I fear Señorita Ruiz remembers precious little, other than her name.”

“Well, thank God she remembers how to play that guitar!” the man said, with a bark of a laugh. Uneasy, forced laughter followed him.

“Yes,” Javier said. “Well, we—Señorita Ruiz and my family would greatly appreciate your sending word if you hear anything relevant at the presidio.”

“Of course, of course,” said the man, looking down at me as if I’d just become a hundred times more intriguing. “Perhaps with a rose such as this in my midst, I can ignore the rather thorny issue that we have yet to receive your quarterly taxes, Ventura.” His dark eyes moved to meet Javier’s, who stiffened. “I assume you brought it with you? Surely it was only an oversight, you not sending it by messenger last month.”

“I have it with me,” Javier said, measuring each word. He didn’t promise to give it to him.

Doña Elena rose to her feet and, spying an ally, Lieutenant de Leon turned to her, fawning over her and the girls. Francesca smiled shyly, but Estrella didn’t seem too pleased with his attention. I supposed it was the age…I remembered just starting to notice at about Francesca’s age that I was capturing attention of the male sort and the strange power that accompanied it.

Javier stood there as if enduring the scene. Clearly, he did not have a lot of love for these dudes. I remembered his comments about their tax demands and the lack of return for that investment. But was it any different here and now than it was in my own day? Back home, the old people talked about a lack of medical care; delivery drivers bellowed about the potholes in the streets; teachers and students griped about the constantly broken air conditioner at school. But here, there was an obvious threat in the soldiers’ body language that I’d never seen among the police or politicians of my day. Plainly, they were nothing more than bullies.

Adalia gestured toward me, and we went to the tent we were to share. “We’re to dress for the dance,” she said quietly, setting little Álvaro down on a makeshift cot. “You’ve already drawn the lieutenant’s attention. He’ll surely require a turn around the floor.”

I hesitated, noticing the distinctly pinched look around her lips. She didn’t like this. Because she was jealous? Surely she didn’t think that guy was cute…

“I…uh, I won’t be dancing tonight,” I said, forcing a smile. “Too saddle-sore to do more than turn in, I’m afraid.” That was true. I didn’t know if I could walk a mile, let alone dance this night.

“Nonsense,” she said softly. “You must come. Everyone will be there. Including Javier.” Her eyes slid to me.

“Maybe that’s the best reason of all to stay away.” I sighed as I sat down on my cot and shrugged. “I’m like you. Leaving soon. The closer Javier and I get, the harder that will be.”

She sat down across from me, looking impossibly fresh and beautiful in her shift. Suddenly younger. Like maybe she was only a year or two older than I was. But she was frowning. “Where will you go, if you cannot remember where you came from?”

“I…I don’t know. I just know I have to be ready when the time comes. And Javier…” I gazed over at her, feeling helpless to describe it.

She gave me an understanding smile. “Javier and Dante…” She looked to her son, as if to distract herself, holding on to his hand as he struggled to his feet, wavering on the lumpy cot and falling into her arms. “They have always been wonderful. I was the envy of every girl from here to the border when Dante professed his love to me. And then it was…gone.”

“How did he die, Adalia?” I asked quietly.

“Steer-wrestling,” she said bitterly, shaking her head. “Here at the rodeo, last year.”

“Oh,” I said, startled. Maybe this was what pushed her over the edge. Returning to where her future with her husband had abruptly ended. “I’m so sorry.”

She stared at me, obviously confused by my phrase, but she understood the look of compassion on my face and softened, looking for a moment as if she might cry, but then carefully regaining control. “You will see Javier wrestle tomorrow. He and his brother had no rival other than each other. But last year, as Dante brought his steer down, one horn pierced his belly.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick. I imagined what that must have been like—the horrible pain for Dante, the lack of medical care, what had to be a long, drawn-out death.

“I had always liked Javier, but it was Dante who held my heart,” she went on, unbuttoning her son’s small shirt, even amid his squirming. “I awaited his return, thinking he might do his duty and take his brother’s place.”

“But Javier did,” I said, puzzled. “Didn’t he?”

Her dark eyes met mine. “I mean, in taking me as his bride.”

“Oh,” I breathed, for the second time. Apparently this was A Thing. Stepping in for Big Bro. In
all
ways. “Oh,” I repeated, feeling totally lame, but lost for something to say. “So, uh…So then…you and Javier…”

“Javier and I have always been friends,” she said. “It simply became clear that it would never be more, even before you arrived.” She set down her son and watched a moment as he maneuvered along the edge of the cot to the end. “And honestly, Zara, I don’t know how I might have…adjusted.” She reached out and took my hand. “Once a Ventura captures your heart, I doubt another can ever compare. Even if it is his brother.”

I swallowed hard. I’d been thinking about that a lot on the ride down here. About Javier’s note. And wondering if I’d ever find a guy like him in my own time. “So were you disappointed? Or relieved? When things didn’t work out between you and Javier?”

“I…” She paused, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “I felt nothing,” she said with a shrug. “It is as if my heart is not only halved, but numb. I’m hoping that in returning home, I’ll begin to feel something again—anything.”

I reached out and took her hand, smiling a little. “If my backside can begin to feel anything after that ride, your heart can begin to feel again too.”

She laughed at that, pulling back her hand to cover her mouth as if embarrassed. But then she continued to laugh, so hard that it made me giggle too. She covered her mouth with both hands, but tears streamed from her eyes as she looked over at me. “Oh, Zara,” she said finally, wiping her eyes, “I can see why Javier is falling in love with you.”

I pulled back. “What?”

She studied me, sobering. “Surely you know.”

I stared at her.

“He is falling in love,” she said, more firmly this time. “As you are, for him. Despite my warning.” She leaned closer and nudged me, as if in on the most delicious secret. “I know. A man like that…a man who can love you to your very soul, is impossible to turn away, once they set their eyes on you.”

“What?” I breathed, knowing the truth of her words, despite my desire to deny them. “It can’t be. I’ve never been in love. And Javier does not yet know me!”

She pulled back, examining every inch of my face, assessing. “He knows enough, as do you,” she said. “The heart recognizes its mate before the head does. I think it was happening even before I warned you to watch out.”

“No,” I said, slowly shaking my head back and forth. “No.”

She leaned forward, taking my hand in hers again. “Yes.”

“No,” I whispered. “It can’t happen. Not now.”

“Love happens where it ought. It happened for me and Dante, even though ours was a much more…
arranged
union than yours might be with Javier. I always knew Javier’s heart would be stolen only by a girl who could surprise him.”

“No,” I said, pulling my hand from hers and shaking my head. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” she said lightly, rising, as if I were just thickheaded. She went to my trunk and lifted the lid, then pulled out my green and black gown, the gift from Captain Worthington. She laid it on the cot beside me. “Wear this to the dance tonight. I think Javier was in love with you even before you showed up at the ranch in it. But this will remind him.”

“I…I don’t want to remind him. I mean…if what you say is true. I don’t want to remind him! I have to leave soon, Adalia. Go home, as you are doing!”

She turned to me, now reaching for her own gown. “Oh Zara,” she said. “Where is that?”

I swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“But doesn’t that leave you free to accept all the Venturas offer you? A fine home. A loving family. And…Javier?”

CHAPTER 14

She left me there, sitting on the cot, clutching my gown, wondering over her words.

A fine home. A loving family. And
…
Javier.

A loving family,
I repeated silently.
My big Wish Número Uno…

Weren’t the Venturas everything I’d always wished for? What Abuela had wished for too?

But it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

Yes, there just might be love starting to simmer between me and Javier. Wish
Número
Dos
. I was brave enough to admit that—that there just might be the kind of love I’d always hoped for, in time. And his family…they represented everything I’d imagined, good and bad. Life was way simpler with just me and Abuela. But hadn’t I hungered for the kind of varied personalities that Rancho Ventura held, from Doña Elena on down to little Álvaro?

And yet Wish Número
Tres
…
Ay caramba
. This was far more adventure than I’d ever hoped for. Abuela had said that sometimes adventure was closer at hand than I might’ve imagined, but this…this was ridiculous. Totally ridiculous. Here in the Wild West, there were all kinds of ways to die. Wasn’t Adalia’s story of Dante evidence of that? I’d wanted Weather-Channel adventure. Measured, “check all the forecasts and decide” sort of adventure.

Not a spin of the reality wheel in which my life might be at risk.

Or a spin of my heart.

No, combining all the Family and Love and Adventure wishes had never been a part of the deal.
You hear me on that, Lord?
I asked silently, staring up at the central post of the tent.
I didn’t ask for a combination of
family, love, and adventure.

But you didn’t specify that they had to be distinct, did you, Zara?

Numbly, I pulled off my drab brown dress and slipped on the black and green over my petticoat. Then I pulled back the top of my hair, leaving the rest curling around my shoulders, brushed out my skirts, and left the tent. The campground had been transformed with nightfall. Kerosene lamps swung at intervals down the row, as if leading the way. In the distance, I could hear music, laughter, cheering.

But Javier was there, looking like something of a matador. Tight black pants that tucked into perfectly polished boots; above that, a short, tailored jacket, embellished with silver thread embroidery, over an immaculate, white shirt that made his teeth seem brighter when he smiled at me. His hair was pulled back with a band. I’d never seen him look so…buttoned-up. Back home he was always more relaxed in some way: either his hair was flopping down over one eye, or his shirt flapped open over that broad chest…