Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Read online

  As Dona Anna stood by the window gazing down at her son in the garden, she could almost feel his hurt. He was living in torment. Tomorrow she would urge him to give up searching for his sister and concentrate on finding his wife.

  Spurs jingled and leather creaked as Marquis dismounted in front of the Crystal Palace. His eyes burned with anger as he shoved the swinging doors aside and walked to the bar. "It's nice to see you, senor Vincente," Ted Hutcheson, the bartender, greeted him in a friendly manner.

  "Where is your boss?" Marquis asked, reaching for a bottle of whiskey and pouring a liberal amount into a glass. Downing it in one swallow, he waited for an answer.

  "Tyree's in his office, I reckon. Leastwise I ain't seen him go out this morning."

  Marquis tossed a silver coin on the bar. "You might want to tell Tyree that his whiskey does not go down smoothly. He might want to consider a better quality."

  Ted whistled through his teeth. Something had Marquis Vincente all heated up, he mused, figuring Tyree and his friend were in for a tiff.

  Marquis shoved open the office door and moved across the room to stand before the desk where Tyree was pouring over a ledger.

  Tyree looked up, his brows coming together. "Marquis, I'm glad you are here. I heard about your grandfather, but it was too late to pay my last respects. You know how I felt about the old grandee. We will all miss him."

  Marquis slapped his leather gloves against the palm of his hand. "You might be interested to know that when his will was read, my grandfather left you five thousand dollars, and two hundred acres of river bottomland."

  Tyree shook his head. "I'll not take it, Marquis. I can't accept such a generous gift."

  Marquis leaned closer and flicked a stack of papers. "It was his to give. If I were you, I would accept it."

  Tyree was becoming aware that something was bothering Marquis. There was something in his cool manner that he could not define. Was it anger? "Where is that lovely wife of yours? Did you bring her to town with you?"

  Marquis's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Do you take me for a fool?"

  Tyree puffed on his cigar. "I have taken you for a fool on occasion—especially lately."

  "I do not find you as amusing as I once did, Tyree. You were like a brother to me. Now, I would hesitate to turn my back on you."

  Tyree came to his feet. "I think you had better explain what you mean. I still consider you my friend, however much you abuse the privilege." Picking up a bottle from the side table, Tyree poured Marquis a drink and extended it to him.

  "Where is she, Tyree?" Marquis pushed his hand away. "I did not come here today to drink your cheap whiskey or play games."

  Tyree lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. "This happens to be very good whiskey . . . and I leave the playing of games to you."

  "You haven't answered my question."

  "What was the question, Marquis?"

  "Where is Valentina?"

  Tyree set the glass on his desk, looking puzzled. No, he thought, this was not a game. "If you have misplaced your wife, why would you expect me to know where she is?”

  "In the name of past friendship, give me the courtesy of telling me the truth."

  "I don't consider our friendship in the past, Marquis, but I get the feeling you do. When last we met, I thought our friendship was still intact. What happened to change your mind?"

  "Do not make me say it, Tyree. At this moment it takes all my willpower to keep from slamming you against the wall. I know Valentina and you were lovers. It is only natural that she would come to you."

  Tyree gritted his teeth. "You bastard, Marquis," he said, moving around the desk within reach of Marquis. "If you don't think highly of me, the least you could do is have more faith in Valentina. I am not now, nor have I ever been, her lover. I have not seen her since the night I spent at Paraiso del Norte."

  "I know about your little meeting with my wife that night in the garden, when you both thought I was asleep," Marquis bit out.

  "Did Valentina tell you?"

  "No, I saw you with my own eyes."

  "Then you must have heard what we were discussing. I'm sure Valentina is glad it's out in the open. You are a fool if you drove her away, Marquis."

  "I somehow get the feeling you and I are not having the same conversation, Tyree. You are saying one thing and I am hearing another. If Valentina did not come to you, then where is she?"

  "As God is my witness, Marquis, I have not seen Valentina in three months. If she has disappeared, I believe you should be concerned, because, to my knowledge, she didn't come to San Francisco."

  "Are you telling the truth?"

  "I swear it. If you like, I'll help you search for her. I'm as worried as you are about her. Why didn't you come to me sooner?”

  Marquis sank down in a chair. "So much has happened, Tyree. If I am wrong about you and Valentina, then what were the two of you talking about that night in the garden?"

  Tyree stubbed out his cigar. "How much did you overhear?"

  "Enough to believe the two of you were discussing something Valentina did not want me to overhear. I thought at the time you were the father of her child."

  "Not likely!" Tyree exclaimed with a hard set to his jaw. "If I were, you wouldn't be married to her now—I would."

  "Yes, that's the part that had me puzzled."

  "You and I both know, without saying, how I feel about Valentina. If she were having my baby, I damned sure wouldn't have let her marry you."

  "But you know who the father is, Tyree?" There was a clipped tone to Marquis's question.

  Tyree met his friend's eyes. "Yes, I know who the father is. Don't ask me though. I can't tell you."

  Marquis stood up and moved toward the door. "Keep your damned secrets, Tyree. Just do not get in the way of my finding my wife. If you do, you will get trampled underfoot."

  "It's always nice to see you, Marquis," Tyree stated ironically. "Drop by anytime, so we can pass pleasantries."

  Marquis paused at the door. "I will tear this town apart searching for Valentina. If you see her, tell her . . . tell her—"

  "Yes?"

  Marquis walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  "I'll be damned," Tyree exclaimed to himself. "Where in the hell could she be?"

  * * *

  Five months had passed since Valentina had disappeared. In that time, between Marquis and Tyree, San Francisco had been searched from the docks to every road leading out of town. They inquired at hotels, asked questions of shopkeepers along the boardwalk and at the fish markets. Even strangers were stopped on the street and asked if they had seen a woman of Valentina's description. Both men gave up each sundown, only to renew their search the next day.

  Two miles out of San Francisco, down a sandy beach, Reverend Percival Lawton was having better fortune than Marquis and Tyree. In the early morning he had awakened by the docks, having no recollection of how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was going into the Crystal Palace.

  His mouth felt dry; he needed a drink badly. He had moved out of the house because he could not face his sister's preaching at him. Prudence had become stingy, withholding his money. He now slept anywhere his mood took him.

  Squinting his eyes against the early morning glare, he watched the woman passing by him, thinking she looked vaguely familiar. Dropping back behind a packing crate, he watched her buy fresh fish from a small boat. It was Salamar, Valentina Barrett's maid!

  Slinking into shadows, flattening himself against walls, he followed her. She moved quickly for a woman her age and Percival had trouble keeping up with her. After an hour of steady walking, he spotted a whitewashed cabin just off the beach. Dropping back into a cove that jutted out to the ocean, he watched Salamar climb the steps to the cabin.

  Blinking his eyes, he saw a second woman come out on the porch. It was Valentina Barrett! Percival's watery eyes fastened hungrily on the lovely face. When his eyes moved lower, he noticed with a sinking heart tha
t she was heavy with child. He slammed his fist against a rock over and over, yet he felt no pain. When blood dropped from his fingers and soaked into the thirsty sand, he still did not notice. The angel he had adored and worshiped was having some other man's baby.

  Staggering back down the beach, he made his way to town. He knew where Prudence kept her marketing money, and he sorely needed a drink. He could sneak into the house and be gone before his sister discovered him.

  Misery weighed him down. Valentina had turned out to be just another slut, and it broke his heart.

  Every day after that, Percival walked to the cabin, hoping for the chance to see Valentina. Some days his vigil was rewarded, while other days she did not come out of the house at all. He would often catch a glimpse of her moving along the beach, playfully darting in and out of the waves. Even as she grew heavier with child, she was still the most beautiful, the most desirable, woman he had ever seen.

  Valentina walked down the beach soaking up the bright sunshine. The cool ocean breeze kissed her rosy cheeks, and her bare feet sank into the warm sand. It was tranquil here by the blue Pacific. She could open her mind and commune with the beauty of nature, forgetting about her own troubles for a time. She could walk for hours, watching the sea gulls in their continuous flights. Sometimes a playful sea otter would bounce along the beach until its mother scoldingly called it back to sea.

  "Valentina-a-a," Salamar called, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat in the air. "You are going to get as dark as I am if you do not stop going out without your hat."

  Walking toward Salamar, Valentina obediently took the hat and clapped it on her head, tying the silk ribbon beneath her chin. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could stay here forever, not worrying about freckles and dark skin, not caring what gown is in style in which season?" Valentina asked laughingly.

  "No, I cannot say I would like it. One can only stand so much solitude. I thought you had your fill of solitude in Cornwall. You are going to have to face reality before long.”

  Valentina picked up a handful of sand, allowing it to sift through her fingers. "There will be time enough for reality when the baby comes."

  "Captain Williams, who allowed us to rent this cabin, will want it back by the end of summer."

  "We are fortunate to have had the cabin this long. If you hadn't always insisted on shopping for fresh fish at the docks, you never would have met Captain Williams, and we never would have known about this wonderful place."

  Salamar nodded in the direction of the house. "I have prepared cool melons and hot tea. I do not want you eating heavily today."

  "Why?"

  Salamar gazed out to sea. "You will go into labor in the early morning hours."

  Valentina felt a weight settle on her shoulders. The thought of the baby brought reality rushing back. It had been five lonely, aching months since she had seen Marquis. She remembered the short happiness they had shared—at least she had been happy when he hadn't been ignoring her. With a heavy sigh, she linked her arm through Salamar's and moved toward the house.

  "If I am soon going to be a mother, we had better make preparations."

  "Everything is in readiness," Salamar said. "We have but to wait."

  "I will be glad when it is over. I feel fat and ugly. It will be nice to be able to see my waistline again."

  "Your husband should be with you tonight, Valentina. You have been very clever in hiding from him. It is said in town that he and Tyree both search diligently for you.

  "I don't want to talk about Marquis, Salamar. As soon as this baby is born, we are going home to England."

  "You are making a mistake," Salamar warned.

  "It won't be the first and, if I live long enough, it won't be my last."

  Salamar took Valentina's arm and helped her up the steps. "If we all had our mistakes stacked end to end, they would probably reach to the moon," Salamar observed.

  Valentina walked into the house and stood at the window. Soon she would become a mother, and Marquis would never know he was a father.

  Percival Lawton bellied up to the bar, licking his lips, staring at the bottle of rum that had been left there. He could almost taste the soothing liquid sliding down his throat. He needed a drink to help him get through the night.

  Tyree Garth was walking past, greeting customers and passing a few comments with friends. When he saw Percival Lawton, he stopped short. Tyree had kept a watchful eye on the man for the last few months. Percival was steadily losing his grip on reality. Tyree did not like the man, but he thought someone should give him a helping hand. The pathetic creature never drew a sober breath. He hung around the Crystal Palace, begging for handouts.

  "Why don't you go on home now, Mr. Lawton?" Tyree said, glancing into the red, watery eyes, then at the rumpled and dirty clothing. "You need to pull yourself together, Reverend. Get back to the fire and brimstone you used to preach."

  "I'm lost," Percival muttered, laying his head on the bar. "I need a drink and I don't have the money."

  No one in San Francisco liked the dull-witted little preacher. Many joked about him getting his just desserts, but Tyree was not among those. He had seen enough men lose their grips on sanity to know that Percival was in a bad way and needed help.

  Tyree gathered him up by the shirtfront and pulled him off the bar. "Come on, Reverend, I'm going to take you home. Chances are that your sister can deal with you.

  "Can't go home," Percival moaned. "I need a drink. If you will give me a bottle, I'll tell you something you want to know."

  "All I need is for you to stay out of my place," Tyree said, hoisting the man upon his shoulder. "You don't belong here."

  "You want to know about Valentina and I know where she is," Percival murmured, slurring his words. "I see her every day."

  Tyree plopped the reverend into a chair and snapped his fingers, motioning for Ted to bring a bottle of whiskey. Percival's beady little eyes lit up. "I got your attention now, didn't I?"

  "That you did, Mr. Lawton." Tyree poured the liquor into a glass and held it out to him. "Tell me where Valentina is and the bottle is yours."

  "She's a soiled angel," was his sniveling reply. "I see her every day walking along the beach, her stomach swollen, hiding from the world in her shame."

  "Where did you see her?" Tyree held the glass within Percival's reach. "Tell me where to find her."

  "The drink?" he reminded Tyree, licking his lips thirstily.

  "After you tell me where I can find Valentina."

  Percival greedily watched the amber liquor as Tyree set down the glass. He could almost feel it burning a trail of forgetfulness down his throat. He had sunk so low that he was no longer particular what he drank—he would do anything to reach that state of oblivion. "Valentina lives in a cabin down the southern beach, just out of San Francisco."

  "I know the place,'1 Tyree said thoughtfully. He was impatient to be off. He had to know Valentina was all right.

  "I worshipped Valentina Barrett, thinking she was good and pure." A loud cry of frustration escaped Percival's lips. "I turned my back on God when she left. I fell from grace when I saw her tumble off her pedestal."

  "Shut up!" Tyree snapped, realizing others were listening to his drunken rambling. He waited until Percival had gulped down the whiskey before he gathered him up, motioning for Ted. When the bartender appeared, Tyree spoke in a low voice. "Take him to his sister."

  "But, Boss, he don't live with his sister anymore. He tells me every day how she would hound him to give up drinking. He thinks if she was to get her hooks into him, she'd watch him like a hawk."

  "It's time someone watched him and got him back on the right road. I will leave his redemption to Providence —and his very able sister. I doubt we will see much of him around the Crystal Palace after today."

  Valentina slipped in and out of awareness. When the pains came, her stomach would contract, and she would grip Salamar's hand tightly. Bathed in perspiration, she moaned, rolling her head from side to side. L
icking her cracked, dry lips, she murmured in a painful voice, "I did not know bringing a child into the world could be so—"

  At that moment another pain struck, ripping through her body. She arched her back, gasping for breath, her mind a swirling tide of pain.

  Salamar lifted Valentina's head, pouring some evil-tasting liquid down her throat. "This will help dull the pain. Try to rest between pains. Doctor Cline should be here soon."

  Valentina ran her tongue along her lips, feeling the pain subsiding. "What time is it?"

  "Just after five."

  "In the morning?"

  "No, afternoon."

  Valentina closed her eyes. She had been in labor for over sixteen hours. Would this baby never come? She could hear a sea gull crying just outside and wished she could walk along the beach, free of pain, feeling the cool water washing over her like a cleansing tide.

  With a worried frown, Salamar watched Valentina drift in and out of sleep. There was something wrong. The pains were coming too often, lasting too long. She walked to the window where a cool ocean breeze touched her face. She felt drained, and aching, as if she herself were having the pain. In desperation, her eyes searched the beach for some sign of Doctor Cline. Why had he not come yet?

  Hearing the neighing of a horse, Salamar rushed out the door expecting to see Doctor Cline. Stopping short, she watched Tyree Garth dismount. Frantically she reached out to him. "Go for the doctor quickly! Valentina is having the baby and all is not well!"

  Without stopping to consider, Tyree bounded onto his mount and kicked it into action. As he raced full speed along the beach, his horse's hooves sprayed granules of sand high into the air.

  * * *

  Valentina felt as if she were floating on dark wings of pain. She could hear voices around her, but she could not fully comprehend the meaning of the words they spoke.

  "The baby is breech," Doctor Cline's voice floated to her.

  "Then turn it!" Salamar demanded. "Either you do it, or I will."

  The voices meandered amid searing pain that seemed to rip her stomach apart. Unaware that she was screaming, Valentina at last found herself drifting into a peaceful world where pain could not enter, a tranquil world where cooling waves of water bathed her fevered body.