Carly ignored his sarcastic jibe. “I know I’ve displeased you, Uncle. But perhaps in time you’ll understand why I had to do what I did.” Already she had forgiven him. He was trying to do what he thought best. In time, maybe he would come to understand why she couldn’t marry Vincent. Maybe when this was over, he would even welcome her home. Carly hoped so. Her uncle was her only family now.
Still, if he didn’t want her, she would find some way to survive on her own.
The drive into town was tensely silent. It was late in the afternoon, a yellow sun hovering above the red tile roofs, when they arrived in San Juan Bautista, a bustling little village nestled at the base of the Gabilan Mountains. Rolling golden hills beneath massive spreading oaks peered down on the city, which began as a mission site then grew with the discovery of gold. The initial boom was past, but along with its Californio inhabitants, a small influx of settlers continued to roll into the town. Still, it retained its Spanish appearance, mostly adobe-walled structures, some so old they continued to sport hide-covered windows.
The streets were crowded: a freight wagon hauling ore from the recently discovered New Idria quicksilver mine, a Wells, Fargo & Co. stage just boarding in front of the fancy new Plaza Hotel, a broken-downcarretadrawn by a sleepy-eyed oxen,the dark-skinned driver burning the animal’s ears with Spanish curses.
The mission sat on an open grassy plaza surrounded by graceful olive trees and colorful blooming flowers. It formed the hub of the city and was the center of most of its activities. The church was built in 1797, the largest of the California missions, Carly learned as Padre Xavier showed them around. The main building stood two stories high with a long arched wing built off to the side. It was fashioned of whitewashed adobe, the impressive interior lined with wooden pews and arching columns, and painted throughout in amazingly brilliant colors: blues, reds, purples, yellows, and greens. Huge wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their dozens of candles illuminating the room with a golden glow.
Carly smiled at the stout little priest who gave them the tour of the church. He was balding but his work-hardened hands looked as strong as his muscled forearms, and his stomach appeared flat beneath his dark brown robes.
“Ramon tells me you are Catholic,” the priest said. “How is it we have not seen you here in church?”
Carly nervously chewed her lip. “I’m sorry, Father, but I haven’t been in California all that long, and as you know, my uncle is not of the faith.” She tried to concentrate on what the priest was saying, but her eyes kept straying toward the door in search of Ramon. It was past the time set for the wedding. Perhaps he would not come.
Carly’s stomach tightened. She would be disgraced, her uncle horribly embarrassed—not that he didn’t deserve it. Still, she had believed Ramon would come, if for no other reason than to insure she would not betray his secret.
Then again, if he didn’t appear she couldn’t really blame him. And the truth was she would never turn him in just because he wouldn’t help her.
Time ticked past. The priest shuffled nervously, and her uncle cleared his throat. The men were worried, too.
Another ten minutes passed. Her palms grew damp and her heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs. He had guessed her threat wasn’t real. Ramon was not going to come.
Carly stared at the door, fighting an urge to cry. She should be angry her plan had failed, but the heaviness in her heart felt more like disappointment.
“Well, Caralee, are you satisfied?” Her uncle’s hard gaze burned right through her. “It’s obvious de la Guerra isn’t going to show. You’ve ruined your reputation, ruined your chances with Vincent, and now you’ll be the laughingstock of the county.”
Carly swallowed past the lump in her throat. She didn’t bother to remind him thathewas the one who had ruined her reputation. She merely had gambled to win a life of her own—unfortunately, she had lost. She’d foolishly believed she could save her reputation and not have to marry Vincent. But the plan had failed. Ramon had seen to that.
She tried to smile, but her bottom lip trembled. “Perhaps it’s time we went back home,” she said softly.
Her uncle merely nodded. His face was as red as the alcoves of the saints behind the altar at the end of the church.
“I am sorry,” the padre said. “Perhaps something unforeseen has happened. It is not like Don Ramon to break his word.”
Carly clung to the excuse, then let it slip away. He hadn’t actually broken his word; he had never really promised he would come. They started up the aisle toward the huge carved wooden doors at the entrance, but just as they arrived, the heavy doors began to creak open.
When Ramon walked in, Carly’s heartbeat seemed to stop. She noticed his snug blackcalzonevas,but there were no festive decorations down the side. A simple full-sleeved white shirtand a pair of high black boots—the occasion, his garments said, wasn’t one of celebration.
A painful jolt ran through her, but she simply lifted her chin. His eyes were hard as he waited for his mother and aunt, who walked in seconds later with Pedro Sanchez. Ramon’s gaze scanned her briefly, taking in her elegant pearl gray gown and the white lace mantilla that covered her head. Something flickered in the cool brown depths then it was gone.
“I am sorry I am late…mi amor.” A thin smile curved his lips. “I hope you were not inconvenienced.” But there was nothing of regret in his dark features. He had been late on purpose. He meant to punish her for forcing the marriage. How could she have forgotten that this too was a side of Ramon?
“You’ve made your point, de la Guerra.” Uncle Fletcher met his hard gaze squarely. “Is there going to be a wedding or not?”
A slight nod of his head. “But of course. That is why we are here, is it not?”
Carly said nothing as he reached out and took her hand, his grip as hard as his eyes and totally unrelenting.
“I-I was hoping I might speak to you first,” Carly said. “There are things I need to explain.”
“There will be time for talk later. We have kept the priest waiting long enough.”
Carly didn’t mention it was he who had been late. Gauging the black mood he was in, she thought it best to say nothing at all.
The ceremony was a brief one, not the High Mass spoken at the altar, an act of celebration in front of friends and family as Ramon would have wanted if his bride had been a woman of his choosing.
For the first time since all this had happened, a niggle of guilt crept down her spine. She hadn’t been fair to Ramon. Then again, he hadn’t been fair to her the night of the raid, whenhe had dragged her off on his horse and forced her to march through the mountains.