Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Read online

  His grin was wide, showing his flashing teeth. "What if I set my sights on you, Salamar?" he teased.

  She giggled girlishly. "If I were twenty years younger, you would not get away from me, Tyree Garth. I would catch you in my web, and we would live happily ever after."

  Both of them were caught up in happy laughter, until suddenly Tyree's mood became serious. "I am worried about Marquis's legs," he said grimly.

  "It is very bad," Salamar agreed. "I pray that he will regain all his strength. He will need it in the days ahead."

  "He doesn't even know Valentina is having his baby. I don't know how she will ever tell him of her other identity," Tyree said with a troubled frown on his face.

  "It is not good to weave a web of lies. One can get tangled in them. Of course, in Valentina's case, she had no choice. She had to do what she could to earn money to buy food and medicine for her mother. Her mother would have died without the costly medicine."

  Tyree leaned forward, picking up a burning twig from the hearth and applying it to the tip of his cigar. It had begun to rain and the droplets splattered and hissed down the chimney onto the burning embers.

  Salamar was silently gazing into the flames, as if she saw that which no one else could see. Tyree lay on his bedroll, and soon he extinguished the cigar and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Marquis's eyes fluttered open. For a moment he was in a state of confusion as he tried to remember where he was. He was as weak as a babe, and found it took all his effort just to turn his head. Strange and frightening memories danced through his mind as his eyes adjusted and skirted across the room. How had he gotten back here to the cabin? he wondered. The last thing he remembered was being trapped . . .

  As he tried to rise, pain nailed Marquis down. Striving to speak, he murmured painfully, "Valentina?" His voice rose higher as panic saturated his brain. "Valentina's dead!" he cried out in agony.

  From out of nowhere, Tyree dropped down beside Marquis, smiling that crazy, crooked smile of his, bringing comfort and some substance of reality to Marquis's tortured mind.

  Reaching out, Marquis grasped Tyree's shirtfront. "Valentina?" he questioned in a strangled voice. "Is she dead?"

  Tyree pulled the blanket about Marquis's shoulders and grinned reassuringly. "No, she is very much alive. Like yourself, she is going to recover. I consider you both damned fortunate to be alive at all."

  "How did you find us?"

  "It's a long story, which I'll tell you when you have the time."

  "This is another one I owe you, Tyree." Their eyes met. "I owe you so much."

  "Nonsense. Friendship doesn't mean owing. I happened to be in the right place at the right time."

  Marquis's eyelashes lowered over his eyes, as if holding them open was too much effort. "Get me a priest, Tyree," Marquis demanded. "Have him here as quickly as possible."

  Tyree laughed. "I said you and Valentina were going to be all right. Neither of you needs a priest to administer the last rites at this time. You will probably grow to be a very old man—fuming and hell raising."

  "I want the priest to marry me and Valentina," Marquis said, wishing his throat did not hurt so badly. He was grateful when Tyree lifted his head and gave him a drink of water.

  "I'll be damned," Tyree exclaimed at last. "You come into town and leave with the catch of the season. Don't think I'll ever let you forget you captured Valentina right from under my nose." Tyree felt pain in his heart, but he hid it well behind the face of a jester.

  "My leg?" Marquis questioned, touching his right thigh. "It hurts like hell."

  "Give it time to heal, my friend," Tyree assured him.

  "How did you"—Marquis licked his dry lips—"how did you find us?"

  "I had a lady with me who was better than any tracking dog you'll ever see."

  "Salamar?" Marquis questioned.

  "Yes, that's right."

  "You are sure Valentina is well?"

  "The doctor seems to think she weathered the ordeal better than you. He wants you to stay off that leg for a long time."

  The shutters at the window had been thrown open and now admitted the cool evening breeze. Marquis could see the stars twinkling overhead. He had thought never to see the sky again. "I cannot stay off my leg, Tyree. I am to be wed tomorrow. I will stand on my feet to marry Valentina."

  "I don't think so, Marquis. You will follow the doctor's orders. You may have to be wed from a horizontal position," Tyree declared crisply.

  Tyree wondered if Valentina had told Marquis about the baby. Was that why he wanted to marry her so quickly? "How did you convince the lady to marry you? You aren't good enough for her, you know."

  Marquis managed a tight smile. "She has not said yes . . . yet. I will have to use my fatal charm on her, will I not?"

  Tyree shook his head while his eyes danced merrily. "You'd better not do that; you would only chase her away." A grin spread over his face. "Now, if you really want to sweep her off her feet, you'll let me do the asking for you. You would only end up telling the lady how lucky she is to get you."

  Marquis laughed so hard it sent pain shooting through his leg. Catching his breath and gritting his teeth, he spoke. "Not a chance, thank you all the same, Tyree. I will do my own asking. I live or die on my own. I do not want you stealing the lady from under my nose."

  Tyree was perplexed. Marquis had said nothing about the baby. Had Valentina admitted to Marquis that she was also Jordanna? He decided it was best to change the subject. "As soon as you feel stronger, I will take you to Paraiso del Norte. I have already sent word to your grandfather about the accident and asked him to send a wagon."

  "Where is Valentina?" Marquis asked, scanning the room. He trusted Tyree to have spoken the truth when he said she was all right, but he just wanted to see her for himself.

  "She is lying near the fireplace. See, she is there with Salamar. Valentina is but resting," Tyree assured him.

  Marquis was weary and his strength was waning fast. He urgently wanted to talk to Tyree about the baby Valentina was carrying. "I owe you an apology, Tyree," he said in a whisper. "At one point I thought you were the father of Valentina's baby, and I wanted to kill you for it."

  A look of amazement passed over Tyree's face. "I don't understand how you could have drawn that conclusion, my friend." He paused and then asked, "You do not know who the father is?"

  "Hell, no, but it does not really matter. I may never know, but I will marry Valentina anyway." Marquis glanced at Valentina. "Do you have any notion who the father is, Tyree?"

  Tyree felt as if everyone but him was crazed. Nothing made any sense. "I may have some idea, but I am not at liberty to say." He glanced across the room to where Valentina lay sleeping. "I'll be damned. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never understand you, Marquis."

  Tyree bent down and lowered his voice. "You won't marry the woman who is carrying your baby, but you'll offer to marry a woman you believe to be having another man's child! I would say you are more than a little confused. Are you sure you didn't suffer a blow to the head? Do you perchance have your priorities misplaced?"

  He saw that Marquis's eyes had narrowed, and he knew that stubborn clamp of his jaw so well. "Who is the father, Tyree!" Marquis demanded. It wasn't a question. It was a command to know.

  "We have often spoken of honor, Marquis. I am honor-bound not to say," he said cryptically. "You can understand honor, Marquis."

  "I do not want to talk anymore, Tyree," Marquis whispered. Tyree had trapped him with his own words. "I need sleep." Marquis closed his eyes, dismissing everything from his mind.

  Tyree rose to his feet and stared down at his friend. This thing was getting out of hand and turning into a real tangle. None of it made sense. Why had Valentina let Marquis believe another man had planted his seed in her? What in hell had happened in the mine?

  Moving across the room as quietly as possible, Tyree walked outside and stood staring up at the night sky.

  "It would be so simp
le if people would just communicate with each other. Life in general is one damn big joke after another," he said to no one in particular. "And not a very funny joke at that. Most of the time the joke's on me."

  21

  Valentina awoke feeling slightly disoriented. She heard a soft noise and found Salamar seated beside her. Valentina weakly reached out her hand, but before she could speak, Salamar raised a cup of water to her lips. The cool liquid soothed the burning in her throat, easing some of the pain.

  "How . . . did . . ." Valentina's mouth was dry and it hurt to breathe. "Marquis?" Her painful whisper was a plea to know the fate of the man she loved.

  "Marquis is well," Salamar replied. "He has also been asking about you."

  "You wouldn't keep anything from me, would you, Salamar? If Marquis were . . . dead, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

  "You have my word he is alive." Valentina had to be assured over and over that Marquis was alive. "He was moved to a tent so you could have the privacy of the cabin," Salamar told Valentina.

  Valentina pressed her hands across her brow, wishing the pounding ache in her head would go away. "I cannot seem to remember much of what happened. I vaguely recall the sounds of digging. I know nothing about being rescued."

  "That is not surprising since you were unconscious the whole time. You and Marquis had been trapped in the mine for two days when we found you. Since the rescue, you have slept for two more days."

  It was hard for her to grasp the fact that the cave-in had occurred four days before. Her hand reached out for Salamar's, for she needed the comfort only she could offer. There were many things that demanded her attention—many questions that plagued her—but now, she needed sleep. . . .

  Salamar lifted the heavy bucket and poured water into a pan. Picking up the pan, she moved over to where Valentina lay and seated herself beside her. First she washed the grime from Valentina's face and hands. Later, she began brushing the tangles from Valentina's hair.

  "Salamar, who is staying with Mother?" Valentina wanted to know.

  The maid smiled slightly. "Tyree asked Maggie Payne from the Crystal Palace to take care of her. I left instructions about the medicine, and the woman seemed very capable."

  "Are you sure Maggie will take good care of Mother?" Valentina had never spoken to the plump woman who spun the roulette wheel and served drinks, but she remembered her as always happy and laughing. "Will Mother not think it strange that she is left alone with someone she does not know?"

  "Your mother seemed to accept Maggie very well. Maggie was eager to help."

  "I hope Mother doesn't discover what occupation Maggie pursues. She would never understand."

  "I cautioned Maggie not to talk too much. She seemed a sensible woman." Salamar glanced away from Valentina. "I told your mother that you and I were looking for your father, which, in a way, is true. She did not question me more."

  Valentina's eyes glistened with tears. "I don't know where to look for my father. It will be difficult to tell Mother that I have no clue to Father's disappearance. We found Sam Udell dead in the mine. I have no hope left."

  Salamar brushed Valentina's hair away from her face and tied it with a yellow ribbon. "We are never without hope, Valentina. As long as there is life, there is reason to hope."

  Valentina smiled sadly. "Of course you are right. How soon can we go home?"

  Salamar avoided her eyes. "I do not know that you will be going home—at least not to San Francisco."

  "I don't know what you mean. I am going with you. Why should you think otherwise?"

  Salamar dropped the hairbrush in a satin bag before turning her eyes to Valentina. "I have something to say to you and I want you to listen carefully. Listen with your head and not your heart. Think of the baby you carry and not yourself."

  Valentina's hand moved up to her abdomen. She dropped her eyes, feeling too ashamed to look at Salamar. "How did you know about the baby?"

  "That is not important. The important thing is that the baby have a father."

  Slowly raising her head, Valentina met Salamar's eyes, finding no condemnation in the dark depths. Always the realist, Salamar spoke her mind. "At times, when you were asleep, you would cry out for your unborn child. I believe you feared it might have been injured by your ordeal."

  "Do you think the child is all right?" Valentina looked for hope in Salamar's eyes.

  "I do not know. Time will answer that question." Seeing the concern written on Valentina's face, Salamar quickly added, "Since the child has survived this long, the chances are good it was not harmed."

  Valentina plucked at a raveled edge on the blanket. "I don't know what to do. If Mother finds out about the baby, it will kill her for sure. I feel remorse for being so weak and stupid—I have managed to further complicate my already complicated life."

  "It was never weakness, nor stupidity, that drove you into Marquis Vincente's arms. You have loved him for a long time. I knew if he continued to press you, he would tear down your resistance. Now you must think not of yourself, or of Marquis, but of the child and your mother."

  Valentina felt her body tremble. "Marquis asked me to marry him when he thought we were going to die in the mine. I have doubts he will feel the same way now that we have been rescued."

  Salamar tilted up Valentina's chin and stared into her silver-blue eyes. She read uncertainty and heartache there. "Marquis is determined to marry you. He sent for a priest and has been waiting for you to awaken."

  Valentina pressed shaky hands over her face. "What am I going to do, Salamar? Marquis doesn't know this is his baby. Why is he doing this? I don't want his charity— I will not marry him under these circumstances."

  "I told you earlier to think with your head—you are not doing that, Valentina. You know Marquis is the father of this child. Confess the truth to him. Tell him about Jordanna. Then, if he still wants to marry you, you will have been honest with him."

  "I tried to confess," Valentina said, shaking her head. "He completely misunderstood me. He believes my baby was fathered by someone else."

  "Perhaps you should try again ... or give him a little more time," Salamar wisely responded.

  "I haven't got time," Valentina reminded her. "As you said, I have to make plans for the baby. At the moment I don't know what to do."

  "Tyree Garth would be willing to be your husband and the baby's father," Salamar suggested, observing Valentina's reaction to her words.

  "No. I confess I am sorely tempted to take Tyree's offer, but I like him too much to ruin his life. He deserves much better than raising another man's child. Besides, he is Marquis's best friend. How would he feel being the father of his friend's child. No, I can't do that to him."

  "You have to decide quickly what you are going to do. I must get back to your mother before too long," Salamar said, helping Valentina to stand and proceeding to fold the bedding. "Marquis wanted to see you as soon as you were able."

  "I am not going to see him," Valentina replied, thinking that if she and Salamar left right away she could avoid making a decision about her future. Valentina was a proud woman, and now that she knew Marquis was going to live, she remembered the unpleasant remarks he had made concerning the baby. How dare he offer her marriage, believing she carried another man's child? Her chin jutted out and that obstinate gleam that Salamar knew so well was reflected in her eyes.

  "No, I will not go to Marquis on his command. I will not beg for his attention. I do not need his name or his charity for my baby. I didn't go to him as Jordanna. I most certainly won't go to him as myself."

  Salamar shrugged her shoulders. She knew only too well the hurt to her pride Valentina had suffered. She also knew that Valentina had been forced to carry heavy burdens on her small shoulders. She had been strong, and Salamar was proud of her. Now was the time for Valentina to lean on Marquis. He would help her with the burden of the child.

  "Marquis cannot come to you, Valentina. He cannot walk because of his leg injuries. The doctor doe
s not know at this point if he will ever walk again."

  Valentina's face paled, and she shook her head in disbelief. "Dear God, no," she whispered, unable to bear the thought of Marquis, so vitally alive, being crippled. Tears wet her cheeks and she cried out, "It's all my fault. He wouldn't be hurt if it weren't for me."

  "All rests in the hands of God. No man can be so prideful as to think he can turn the future away from God's plan. This is no one's fault."

  Valentina leaned her head against the rough cabin wall, feeling it would take very little to push her over the brink of total mental exhaustion. "I don't care what you say, Salamar. I will always feel responsible for Marquis's being hurt."

  "What do you propose to do about it?"

  She turned to face Salamar. "I don't know."

  The look of despair in Valentina's eyes reminded Salamar of times when Valentina had been a child and had sought guidance or needed advice. "I think you know what you have to do. It does not matter now if Marquis thinks the child you carry belongs to another man. All that matters is that you give this daughter a name—her real father's name. Later, after Marquis has healed in body and spirit, you can tell him the truth about the baby."

  An incredulous spark reflected in Valentina's eyes. "You said daughter! Do you know this for a fact?"

  Salamar nodded. "I had not meant to tell you this, knowing that it might upset you. I dreamed of the daughter that would come from you and Marquis. I saw her not as a child, but as she will one day be. She will be the one to return to England and settle an old dispute over Morgan's Folly."

  Valentina whirled away from Salamar. "I don't like it when you do that. I don't want to think of this baby as a person right now," she shouted. "Just once, I'd like to do what I want to do and not what others expect of me."

  Valentina was crying hysterically, and Salamar knew she had reached the breaking point. There were too many demands being made on her, too many people depending on her and draining her strength.