Treasure of the Sun (55 page)

Now she loved a man who had the ability to destroy her. Julio was right, she knew. Everything he'd said on the mountain was right. She was better for having Damian. Still she held a tiny shield between them, protecting herself just in case . . . just in case he fell from his horse or was killed by a lightning bolt or caught pneumonia or died of old age at her side.

"Katherine." His voice was a bass rumble under her ear. "For a woman who's clinging to me in a most intimate manner, you're remarkably stiff."

"Am I hurting your side?" she asked, but she didn't stir. "Not at all. It's almost healed, which is more than I can say for us." He rolled over and she rolled with him, landing on her back on the sheets, the pillows skittering away.

Like a procrastinating child, she stayed close to him, hoping to avoid the confrontation she knew was coming. He peeled her away, forcing her head back with his hands on her hair. "Katherine, do you really believe that I would marry you for what you can do for me? I can say with all honesty that such mercenary scheming never crossed my mind."

His eyes pierced hers and she blinked away the shame that rose in her. "I should never have believed Smith. That was foolish of me, and I can only offer my agitated state of mind as an excuse."

"Are you sure he didn't echo your own suspicions?" he asked shrewdly.

She stirred against him, and he flung a leg across her to keep her in place. "The heart of the matter," he marveled.

"I could never understand why you wanted to marry me."

Her hands clenched in fists at his shoulders. "When Smith said you'd married me because I could help you keep your land, it seemed such a good idea, so sensible."

"Was perhaps something you wanted to believe? You have let your family have too much influence over you. You believe them when they say you have no worth."

"I don't!" She bit her lip. Her very vehemence betrayed her. "Yet any man would be privileged to marry you. Why do you think I laid claim to you so quickly?"

"You said it was to protect me from harm," she pointed out.

He shifted under the prod of culpability. "That's true, but not entirely. If I hadn't, every other hidalgo in California would have been around you." His indignation at the thought showed in the flare of his nostrils, the straightening of his shoulders. "I have saved myself many duels."

"That's sensible," she approved.

She was laughing at him. A self-conscious smile crooked his mouth, and he pinched her ear lightly. "You'd do well with a little conceit-but not too much."

"No, Don Damian."

He sobered at her words. "I have tried to show you, with words and with my body, how I love you. Now I need to know. Do you love me?"

She wanted to say so. She wanted to. But her lips wouldn't form the words. It would be too real if she admitted it. Perhaps the gods would hear and snatch him from her. Tremulously, she smiled at him. "Do you think we could host a fiesta? We could reaffirm our vows."

"Our vows?"

"Our wedding vows. In front of Mr. Larkin."

"Larkin? Why?"

"He's the American consul, you know. And we could invite alcalde Diaz to officiate, too. Fray Pedro's already coming, as quickly as he can move, he said. That will make our marriage official in the United States, in California, and in the Catholic Church." Encouraged by the grin that threatened to break over his face, she blurted, "No one would dare dispute it then, would they, Don Damian?"

He stroked the line of her chin with his thumbs. "No, mi amor, mi vida. No one would dare dispute it then."

Damian was a man who appreciated respect. He appreciated the old ways and the use of honorary titles. Yet as he worked his way through the throng of wedding guests, he wondered when

Katherine would dare to call him Damian. Not Don Damian. Just Damian.

Probably about the same time she gave him a real answer to his question. He'd tried to be satisfied with her unspoken affection. She was from Boston. Perhaps she couldn't say what was in her heart. Perhaps she would never say what was in her heart. He'd never realized what an unabashed sentimentalist he was until he'd been blessed with a decorous wife.

Julio caught him as he walked past, mingling with the people who stood in clumps among the trees. "We can't wait much longer to begin the ceremony, or all your wedding guests will be fighting."

"I know. Have you seen Mariano yet?"

"No." Julio raised his voice above the noise. "None of the Vallejos are here, and I've never seen such a crowd as this. All the talk is about Castro, Fremont, and the Americans. There are more rumors than limbs on a tree:'

"I know," Damian repeated. ''It's been a mere four months since my fiesta. We're here at Rancho Donoso, in the same place with the same people, yet it seems our world has changed."

"Not all the same people are here," Julio said. "Who? Oh, you mean Smith. We won't miss him."

"And Vietta and her parents. They're still in mourning for their heroic daughter who tried to save you and Dona Katherina and tumbled to her death. That was a kind thing you did, Damian."

''There's nothing to be gained by exposing the truth. Let the poor girl rest at last," He didn't want to talk about Vietta. He didn't want to remember Vietta, or the treasure, or the cave. Inside him, he was a brew of frustration, worry, and just plain fear. It was bad enough that the Vallejos hadn't arrived. That meant something awful had happened in the unstable world of California politics.

On top of that, he was getting married.

Somehow, sweeping Katherine of her feet and in front of the alcalde hadn't been nearly so nerve-racking.

Nothing had ever been so nerve-racking. A million preparations hadn't distracted him from the fact that Katherine was becoming his official wife. His greatest ambition would be attained. He stared at the hacienda. Inside, he knew, the women milled around, preparing the bride with their female rites and their womanly warnings. He wished this wedding were over, that Katherine were back in his bed where she belonged.

If only the guests behaved. If only no one threw up, or fainted, or cried so loudly he couldn't hear the vows. If only Fray Pedro de Jesus refrained from admonishing him in front of the crowd and his guests.

If only Katherine didn't change her mind.

He wiped his palms on his jacket. "Have you seen Senor Larkin, yet?"

"No, he's not here," Julio denied.

"Let's wait a little longer," Damian wondered if he were stalling for the Vallejos or Senor Larkin or for fear of the wedding ceremony.

His guests were indeed drinking. The talk was loud and ugly in places. In other places, groups huddled in hushed, serious discussion.

His father stopped him as he paced past the quiet ranchers.

"These gentlemen say Castro's on the move,"

"Against whom?" Damian asked sarcastically. "Is he going south to fight Pio Pico or north to fight Fremont?"

A ripple of laughter stirred the group. Don Lucian said, "It is indeed a question. Does General Castro consider the Mexican governor in Los Angeles a greater threat than the Americans?"

"I don't know," a young man said, "but the Americans say Castro is stirring up the Indians in the Sacramento Valley," "Isn't that asking for trouble?" Damian asked. "Do the Indians care whether it's a Californio or an Americano scalp they take?"

The ranchers nodded agreement.

"There aren't many Californios in the valley," one offered. "Cold comfort for the one who loses his scalp."

Don Lucian slapped his son on the shoulder, and Damian moved on to the boisterous group.

Rico grabbed him by the -arm. "Have you heard? Fremont's on the move. The Americans in the Sacramento Valley are gathering."

"Not surprising, if they've heard that General Castro is raising the Indians against them," Damian answered.

"That's just a rumor," Rico said with scorn. "The truth is that some Americans stole a herd of horses that were being transported for Castro."

"Stole them?" Damian was stunned. "What do you mean?" "I mean that Zeke Merritt led a bunch of wild Americans on a thieving spree," Rico insisted.

"Zeke Merritt? That explains a lot. Zeke Merritt hates Mexicans, and he's a man to hold a grudge. I'm not surprised to hear that Merritt's behind the trouble. Let's hope he stops with the horses."

"We'll see." Alejandro snorted.

"Yes, we'll see." It was Hadrian, coming from the stables, sweating and smelling of horse and looking not at all like a wedding guest. "I've just come from Sonoma, and by the saints, you'll never believe this."

"What?" the group asked in unison.

"Some Americans--the ones who stole the horses--they captured Sonoma, taking Mariano Vallejo prisoner."

A silence fell over the brash group, a silence that grew and overlapped into the other groups. Whispers ran through the crowd; everyone pressed closer.

"What have they done with Mariano?" Rico asked in alarm. "Drunk him under the table, for one thing." Hadrian lifted his hand and dropped it. "I rode in the day after it happened, or I would be a prisoner, too. I heard all about it from one of the residents of Sonoma, you understand, but I believe Alcalde Berrreyesa is a reputable source of information."

Don Lucian struggled into the center of the men. "The alcalde is not hurt?"

"No one was hurt! The Americans just rode into Sonoma early one morning and took the post. Not a shot was fired."

Rico stammered, "How?"

"They rode in the back way," Hadrian explained. "No one was on lookout at Sonoma. What for? There's no war, and except for Mariano's home, it's not a rich place. There aren't even many guns."

"You said they took Mariano prisoner?" Damian reminded him. "Why him? Why Mariano? He's said that we must throw off Mexican domination. He has spoken out for annexation to the United States."

"Why any of this? They rode him away along with another seventeen citizens to Sutter at Nueva Helvetia. They tried to make it look official by drawing up documents of surrender, and they put up a flag."

''They're experts at putting up the American flag, aren't they?" Damian asked in exasperation.

"Oh, it's not an American flag," Hadrian corrected. "It's a flag they made themselves."

Damian cocked a brow at the undercurrent of amusement in Hadrian's voice.

Hadrian smothered a grin. "I saw it. The raiders call themselves the Osos-the Bears. So they got this white cloth, put a red stripe and a star on it. Someone drew a grizzly bear. He was not an artist." Hadrian chuckled, rubbing his side with his palm as if he had a stitch.

"No?" Damian encouraged.

"It looks like a pig." The crowd tittered, and Hadrian laughed out loud. "They wrote 'California Republic' on it and spelled 'Republic' wrong. They had to change it." He laughed some more. The crowd's hilarity died, but Hadrian's merriment grew all out of proportion. "I had to slip into Sonoma like a thief and leave like a hunted man because I held a gun. What has California come to?" His laughter stopped, cut by pain. "What has my home become?"

Damian wrapped both arms around him in a restraining hug, and Hadrian dropped his hands onto Damian's shoulder. Slumping against his friend, Hadrian mumbled, "Have I lost my home?"

Turning him away from the sympathetic faces, Damian asked, "How long have you been riding?"

"Forever, I think."

Damian signalled Julio. Julio stepped to Hadrian's other side and lifted an arm to his own shoulders. The three of them headed toward the hacienda.

"I rode to warn you not to marry your Katherine," Hadrian mumbled. "She's an American, and they're going to strip us of everything we own."

"Perhaps they are, but it was too late for me long ago." Hadrian lifted his bleary eyes to the hacienda. "You say you fell in love with her on first sight, but that's no basis for a marriage. You have to have things in common. You have to have a common heritage."

Hadrian was tired, collapsing now that he'd delivered his message, and Damian gripped his temper. "I did fall in love at first sight, but I fell in like when I got to know her. We have many things in common, if not our heritage. For one thing, we both care for our friends, Hadrian, and you need to sleep."

"You're diluting your good Spanish blood with the blood of an enemy."

"So our sons will be leaders of a new part of the United States. Our daughters, too, for they'll be Katherine's daughters." Damian urged him up the stairs to the veranda.