Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Read online

  "How long will it take to reach the mine, Santiago?" she asked, pushing all other thoughts from her mind.

  "If the warm weather holds out and it does not rain, senorita, we will be at the mine late tomorrow afternoon. The last ten miles of the journey will be through rugged country. We will have to leave the buggy at a friend's hacienda and go on horseback." He looked at her questioningly. "Can you ride, senorita?"

  "Yes, I can ride very well," she admitted, gazing at the clear golden sky. A flock of blue birds soared into the heavens, and a soft wind kissed her cheek. Now that they were leaving San Francisco behind, the land was an unspoiled paradise. Valentina felt a kinship with this land. Everything would be wonderful if only her mother would regain her health and she could locate her father alive.

  Marquis Vincente and his grandfather reined in their horses at the corral to watch several vaqueros breaking wild horses. It was the first day in weeks that Don Alonso had felt well enough to ride horseback.

  Out of the corner of his eye, the older man glanced at his grandson, wondering what went on in his mind. He had been silent and brooding lately. This was not the way he had expected Marquis to behave after learning his future wife was beautiful. Of course, he reasoned, Marquis was a handsome young man and had been spoiled by beautiful women all his life. Perhaps he was not looking forward to being tied down to just one woman. It was common knowledge that Marquis had a mistress in town and saw other women besides. The thing that worried his grandfather was the lack of interest Marquis had displayed toward his betrothed, Isabel Estrada.

  "You are very different from me when I was your age, Marquis. I was so much in love with your grandmother that I gave up my mistress, insisting that the wedding take place two months sooner than was arranged."

  Marquis smiled at his grandfather. "Yes, but my grandmother was an exceptional woman. All the men in the country were in love with her. Did you never question that she was the right woman for you, Grandfather?"

  Don Alonso frowned. "No. But even if I had, I would have married her anyway. Once a Vincente has given his word, he never breaks it." The old man's eyes glittered with feeling. "Do you hear me? A Vincente never breaks his word, Marquis!"

  Marquis stared into the distance. Was this what his life was going to be like? He could not picture himself rushing home to Isabel every night. She was beautiful— as an icicle was beautiful—and with about as much substance and warmth. Where was the woman who would touch his heart? Was he cold inside? Was his heart surrounded by ice also? Would he never feel really alive?

  He drew in a resigned breath, smiling at the old grandee. "You do not need to worry, Grandfather. I will never break my word."

  "Good, good. I want many great-grandsons to keep me company in my old age. You are the last of a proud line. I do not want to see the Vincente name die out."

  Marquis tried to think of a baby coming from his and Isabel's union. He could not picture her as a mother— not the mother of his sons. "I do not love Isabel, Grandfather. I do not even like her."

  "What has love or liking to do with anything? I admit that if love comes with marriage it is a good thing, but it isn't necessary."

  Marquis gazed at the distant Sierra Mountains and felt a chill in his heart. Deep inside there was a part of him that wanted to know love—if the emotion really existed. So far he had found love to be a fabrication that singers sang about and poets wrote about. It had never touched his heart. He doubted that it ever would.

  5

  The coast had been left behind; Valentina and Santiago now traveled in heavily wooded country. Valentina would have enjoyed the beautiful scenery if she had not been so troubled. She stared blankly at the profusion of wildflowers that grew on the grassy hillsides. She was unmindful of the tall pine trees that scented the air with a bracing aroma. As the horses clopped along the dusty road, her thoughts were on her father. She wondered what she would say to her mother if she discovered her father were indeed dead?

  It was shortly before sunset when Santiago pulled off the road, stopped beside a gurgling stream, and unhitched the horses. Valentina walked along the grassy slopes as he set up a canvas tent for her to sleep in. She was touched by the little man's thoughtfulness. He seemed to anticipate everything that would add to her comfort.

  Valentina patted each of the bay horses that were tethered nearby. Walking downstream, she allowed her eyes to wander past the woods, drinking in the beauty of this land. She stooped down to pick up a pinecone that was the length of her arm, marveling at its size.

  As the sun splashed its last dying colors against the western sky, she returned to camp. Santiago smiled widely, motioning her to sit on the campstool so he could serve her dinner. Valentina was not hungry, but to keep from hurting Santiago's feelings, she ate the beans and tortillas that he had prepared for her.

  Later she entered the tent and lay down on the downy soft bed Santiago had made for her. She fell asleep almost immediately and did not awaken, even when the distant sound of a wolf pack echoed through the dense valley. Valentina felt safe with the little man, Santiago, who had gone out of his way to please her.

  As the next day progressed, the road took on a steady upward grade, becoming no more than a rutted trail. The team made slow progress climbing the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. The fog was so dense it was impossible to see the horses, let alone the road. Santiago slowed the animals to a walk and strained his eyes, trying to watch the road. The chilled wind that blew down the mountainside was biting cold. Valentina pulled her cape tightly about her and pushed her hands into its pockets, trying to keep warm.

  "When we started out this morning, the sun was shining. What happened, Santiago?" she asked, straining her eyes in the swirling fog.

  Santiago adjusted his poncho about his throat before he answered. "We are at a higher elevation. The weather is often unpredictable in these mountains. I have often seen it snow up here in the month of August, senorita."

  They passed beneath tall pine trees, their ghostly images colorless against the foggy sky. The day seemed endless. It was impossible for Valentina to judge time or space since she could not see the sun. A sudden gust of wind blew the swirling mist and it thinned just enough for Valentina to catch a glimpse of a deep crevasse that ran the length of the roadway. Clasping her hands nervously, she tried not to think what would happen if the buggy veered off to the side. She was amazed that Santiago could keep to the road at all since she could not see where they were going. The one thing that kept her from calling a halt until the weather changed was the burning desire to reach her father's mine.

  Suddenly there was a rumbling noise in the distance that made the earth tremble. The sound was somewhat muted by the mist and it was hard to tell where it came from. Valentina felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end when Santiago called out, "Hold on, senorita! It is a landslide!"

  Before Valentina had time to think, the horses reared into the air. Rocks and debris crashed down the mountainside right in front of them. Valentina heard the animals cry out in pain as the buggy lurched before being flung into the air by the impact of the rockslide.

  Amid pain and fear, Valentina felt herself being tossed about as if she were no more than a rag doll. She rolled and slid down the mountainside, until finally she came to a halt at the bottom of a deep, craggy ravine. Valentina found to her agony and dismay that she was being pressed between the buggy and a wall of solid granite.

  At first, Valentina's senses were dulled with amazement that such a freak accident could happen. Gradually, she became aware of the pain that shot through her leg every time she tried to move. In the distance, she could hear the horses thrashing about and knew they had been injured and were in pain also. Between big gulps of air to keep from fainting, she tried to call out to Santiago to see if he had been injured. No sound would come from her throat; the inside of her mouth felt like cotton.

  "Senorita," she heard his voice coming from somewhere out of the fog. Wetting her lips, she tried
to answer but could only moan. "Answer me if you are able, Senorita Barrett," Santiago yelled.

  Strangely enough, the fog seemed to disappear in one great swirling tide, as if it had been sucked up into giant lungs. Valentina's eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness. She reached out her hand when she saw Santiago making his way down the slope toward her. Her eyes moved up the ravine and she could see the wheel marks where the buggy had left the road to slide down into the gully.

  By the time Santiago reached her, she could see the concern mirrored in his eyes. "Can you move, senorita? Are you badly hurt?"

  "I seem to be pinned against the rock, Santiago," she managed to say in a painful whisper. "I do not know if I am badly hurt."

  The buggy had turned over and its wheels were still spinning in the air. The back part was pressed against Valentina so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Santiago leaned into the buggy, pushing against it with all his strength, but it did not budge a fraction of an inch. His expression was troubled as it became clear he could not free her. Removing his poncho, he placed it between her head and the hard stone, hoping to make her more comfortable.

  "I cannot move the buggy, senorita. I am going to have to go for help."

  Valentina's heart pounded with fear and her mouth felt dry. "Must you leave me all alone?"

  "It is the only way. I cannot free you by myself. The ranch of Don Alonso Vincente is no more than five miles' distance. I will go quickly there and enlist his help to free you.

  For the first time Valentina noticed that Santiago's right pant leg was blood soaked. "Santiago, you have been hurt yourself. You shouldn't walk on that leg until you have had medical attention."

  "It is nothing, senorita. The wound looks worse than it actually is. I hardly feel any pain." In spite of his brave denial, Valentina noticed the grimace of pain that moved across his face when he spoke. "I will leave the canteen of water with you, senorita. Before you have had time to miss me, I shall return."

  "How many bullets do you have in the gun, Santiago?" Valentina asked. She could still hear the horses' agonized cries of pain. His eyes followed hers up the slope. "I will put the horses out of their pain," he agreed to her silent plea. "Take comfort that I will soon be back with help."

  Feeling as if she had been abandoned, Valentina watched helplessly as Santiago made his way slowly up the slope. She wished she dared call him back. She had no way of knowing how badly Santiago was injured, and she prayed he could make it the five miles to get help.

  After Santiago had disappeared, Valentina held her breath. She cried out when she heard the two shots, realizing he had mercifully put the horses out of their misery. Afterward, an eerie quiet settled over the land. Valentina was sure there had never been such a silence. Even the wind had died down; not a needle stirred on the pine trees.

  Searching for a more comfortable position, Valentina tried to shift her weight, only to find she could not move. After catching her breath, she decided the greatest injury seemed to be to her left leg. Laying her head back against Santiago's poncho, she wondered if she would ever be able to dance again. Hysterical laughter bubbled from between her lips, and she shook her head to clear it.

  "Foolish Valentina," she whispered. "You don't even know if you will ever walk again and you are worried about dancing. You may die here, deserted and alone, Valentina Barrett." The sound of her own voice did nothing to alleviate the aloneness that weighed heavily on her.

  Time meant nothing. It seemed that Santiago had been gone for hours. The sun had come out and burned off the last remaining patches of fog. The heat was now so oppressive that it beat down on her like the inside of an oven. Valentina could feel her face burning, but there did not seem to be anything she could do to protect her tender skin. Santiago had placed the canteen within her reach so she picked it up, splashing water on her face, but that did not ease the burning sensation for very long. Her throat became parched, and she took a deep swallow from the canteen.

  Valentina tried to shade her eyes against the sun's harsh glare. Glancing about her, she began to panic. Suppose Santiago was so badly injured he couldn't find help? What would happen if no one came to her aid? Would she die here pinned beneath the buggy?

  Valentina realized she could not lose control or she would be lost. She had to keep a clear head and push back the panic that was sweeping into her thoughts. Think of something pleasant, she told herself. Closing her eyes, Valentina forced herself to imagine that she was dancing. She went through the motions in her mind, first taking herself through a Gypsy dance and finally to the dance steps of a graceful ballet. Before she knew what was happening, she felt herself nodding off. Soon she was lost in a world of dreams where she danced across a hot bed of flaming coals.

  Santiago fell facedown into the dusty road, his leg throbbing in pain, his energy spent. Struggling to his knees, he tried to rise, knowing he was the only hope Senorita Barrett had. If he lost consciousness, she might die before anyone could find her. His head was swimming, and he felt himself falling forward just as he heard the thundering horses' hooves coming from over the hill in front of him. His ears were ringing, and he fought to remain conscious.

  Marquis Domingo Vincente was the first to see Santiago's body stretched across the road. Holding up his hand, he called for his vaqueros to halt. He jumped from his horse amid the jingling of silver spurs and the creaking of saddle leather. Going down on his knees, he lifted the wounded man's head and stared into his face.

  "Santiago Garza, what has happened to you?" Marquis asked as the little man slowly opened his eyes. Marquis took the canteen that one of his vaqueros offered and held it to Santiago's lips, allowing him to satisfy his thirst before answering.

  "Do not be concerned about me," Santiago said, licking his chapped lips. "There was a rock slide and my passenger was swept off the road and down into the gully. Please go to her at once. She is pinned beneath the buggy, several miles back down the road."

  Marquis was a man of action and quick decision. Standing up, he ordered two of his men to take the wounded Santiago to the ranch house, while he and the others mounted their horses and rode off in a cloud of dust.

  Valentina groaned as she reached for the canteen. With trembling hands, she raised it to her lips and discovered it was empty. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. What would happen to her mother and Salamar if she died? she wondered. Hearing the whinny of horses and the sound of men talking, she turned her head toward the roadway. A shower of pebbles sprayed into her face as a man made his way down to her.

  Wiping a grimy hand across her face, she felt her fears fade. The man bent over her and she gazed into compassionate dark eyes. Orders were given in Spanish, which she understood because she spoke it fluently. Ropes were tied onto the buggy, and it was soon dragged away, freeing her from her prison.

  Valentina would have fallen forward but for the strong hands that held her. Those same hands were gentle as they ran the length of her body, feeling for broken bones. Valentina was in too much pain to feel embarrassed by the man's exploring fingers.

  "She is a gringa," Marquis observed in a flat voice. His dark eyes roamed at will over the soft curves. It was hard to tell much about her features, but he was amazed at the silver-blue eyes and the golden curls that were plastered to her cheeks with perspiration. Her face was blistered from the sun, and her mouth was cracked and bleeding. Pouring water onto his snowy white handkerchief, he dabbed at her swollen lips.

  "I have never seen a young gringa before," one of the vaqueros stated, looking Valentina over carefully. "She is not very beautiful. Her skin is very red, and her eyes are a funny color."

  Marquis twisted his head, giving the man an irritated glance that immediately silenced him. He scooped Valentina tenderly in his arms. "Be silent, fool; she may understand you. Find anything that belongs to her and bring it along," he ordered in a clipped tone. "I will take her to Paraiso del Norte where my mother and sister can look after her."

  Valentina found hers
elf on horseback, held in the arms of the man who seemed to be the leader. As her head fell back against his chest, she could hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat. A feeling of well being washed over her, and her eyes shut as she drifted off to sleep.

  As if from a great distance, she heard his deep voice as he spoke in halting English. "You are safe, Silver Eyes," he whispered against her ear. "You no longer have anything to fear."

  Valentina stirred and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment she was dazed, wondering where she was. As her eyes moved across the sun-drenched room, she blinked in astonishment. The walls were white and the floor was dark, shiny wood covered with a mint green rug. She lay in a huge bed amid soft pillows. The covers were snow white and a lace canopy hung overhead. The room was large and airy with high, beamed ceilings.

  Slowly Valentina began to remember the accident. She sat up slowly, experiencing vague memories of a man cleaning and dressing her leg wounds and applying ointment to her sunburned face. She had tried to protest when the man had given her bitter-tasting medicine, which she now assumed had made her sleep. She must have slept the night through because the bright sunlight pouring into the room proclaimed it to be early morning.

  Valentina threw the covers aside and gingerly placed her feet on the floor. She was surprised to find someone had dressed her in a soft cotton nightgown. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. When she tried to put her weight on her leg, pain shot through her foot and she gasped.

  There was a soft tap at the door, and Valentina swung her feet back onto the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. The door was opened by a smiling, dark-skinned woman carrying a breakfast tray. Even though Valentina had never seen one, she assumed this woman was an Indian. She had high cheekbones with eyes and hair as black as a midnight sky.