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Rafael’s eyes went wide. His breath rasped in and out, and his knees buckled. He blindly grabbed as he fell. Daniel caught him, and they latched together in a parody of the way he’d held Anna in his arms earlier. Rafe leaned in, clutching and twisting Daniel’s shirt as he struggled to brace his brother. That he shouldn’t have made Rafe get out of bed before he was healed enough added to the weight pressing down on Daniel.
Rafael sucked in breaths like a man who’d been running at top speed for the past hour and couldn’t catch his breath, and Daniel prayed he hadn’t made his brother worse. Rafe had to get better. The idea of life without him was unthinkable.
“Ma’s...right,” Rafael heaved out. “Got to...be gone...days.”
“You can’t do that. Anna is already suspicious.” Daniel’s stomach fell. How in the hell would they hide Rafael for days on end? Anna would be tearing apart the house. Worse than that, he’d seen the hurt pooling in her eyes, the stricken cast of her mouth. She was a vibrant girl, but this pretense and seeming rejection by Rafael was draining the color out of her. “We have to get you to your room before she comes out.”
Daniel pushed Rafe backward.
“Diz—” He let go and slid down.
“Rafe,” Daniel uttered in a low undertone, catching him.
Rafael’s head lolled against Daniel’s chest. His brother was as limp as an empty sack. His arms flopped at his sides, and his legs rocked side to side as Daniel shifted him. He still breathed. Holding the dead weight upright was taking everything Daniel had. He was afraid to grab his brother tighter around the chest for fear he’d do damage to the wound.
The door opened. Hell! He swung around, wondering how he was going to explain Rafael’s faint. Juanita darted through and slammed the door. In rapid-fire Spanish she said Anna was going to kill her.
Dread skittered down his spine like field mice fleeing from a hawk. He twisted Rafe over and told Juanita to grab his legs. They had to get Rafael into his room before Anna saw him like this.
They hadn’t gone more the three feet when the door opened again.
Chapter Nine
It is my fondest hope that we will marry. If I book your passage, will you come to California?
Anna woke the same way she’d gone to sleep. Her thoughts spinning, lumps knotted in her belly and throat and the accusing eyes of the man she’d shot haunting her dreams.
Last night had done nothing to settle her turmoil. Even though nothing more than a dance had happened with Daniel, it very well could have. She was so lost and uncertain she would have gladly stayed in his arms and allowed him liberties, but she was here to marry Rafael.
His conversation last night—what little of it there was—would seem to indicate he still planned to marry her after a courtship. If he was avoiding her because he’d changed his mind, that would make sense, but he’d called her “his sweet” and promised to make it up to her. Well, he might as well start now, with answers.
She was done waiting for Rafael to make himself available to her. If they had a private conversation, they could get things settled. She had come out here to marry him, and there was no reason to delay. If he no longer wanted to marry her, she deserved to know now. She didn’t need a courtship. She didn’t need time. She needed to be settled in as the wife of a man with land.
Nothing was going to stop her from cornering him if she had to. Then she could quit fretting.
She quickly dressed in her old Sunday best, while trying to ignore the green silk hanging from an exposed rafter drying after being rinsed out. Again. Now in addition to the faint yellowish stains, there was a big brown smear where the dregs of the coffee had spilled into her lap. At this rate, she’d have to dye the dress black to be able to wear it.
After opening her door, she stepped onto the walkway. Across the courtyard Rafael’s door stood open, and Juanita was sweeping inside. He must already be up.
Quickly, she walked to the main room and found it empty. Rafael’s coffee cup from last night was where he’d left it, as well as the empty plates. She frowned at the mess as she opened the front door. The porch and yard between the house and the barn were empty, too. Rafael had to be in the house. Anna went back inside.
Juanita hurried in, her head down. “I tell Mrs. Werner you are here to eat.”
She gathered the dishes in a fast rush, the plates clinking together.
“Juanita,” Anna began.
Last night after the coffeepot contents were dumped on her, she’d been ready to tear the girl limb from limb, but Mrs. Werner had held her arms back until she wrestled free. By the time she made it into the empty courtyard, she’d realized she couldn’t catch up with the young woman. And getting into fisticuffs with the adolescent was about as genteel as shooting a man.
“Lo siento,” Juanita said rapidly. “Sorry am I.”
“It’s all right. I’m not mad.” Anna took a step toward the table, which only made Juanita scurry faster. She sorted through how to talk to the girl, who was in that awkward age between childhood and growing up.
Juanita rushed out the door, cold coffee sloshing out of one of the earthenware mugs she carried and the plates looking in danger of toppling to the ground.
Anna sighed. Dealing with her would have to take place eventually but obviously not this morning.
Returning to the courtyard, she looked left and right. Across the way Rafael’s door was shut now. But surely Juanita wouldn’t have been sweeping his room while he was still in there. Still, Anna walked across and knocked on his door. When there was no answer, she turned the handle.
The low, wide bed was empty, the blanket neatly covering its expanse. Whenever Rafael got around to marrying her, she would be made a wife on that bed. The thought of that had provided wicked anticipation on the trip west, but now her throat went dry and her stomach lurched. She’d anticipated marrying a man who at least wanted her as a bride. And while she might be an undeserving Irish immigrant, he was a drunkard who ignored her. Seemed like a fair enough exchange to her.
Shaking her head, she returned to her room. Everything was exactly as she’d left it, bed unmade and all, but it was different, small and cold, not the shared bedroom she’d expected when she arrived. Not the welcome she’d anticipated. If Olivia and Selina were with her, they’d help her make sense of what was going on. But they were with the men who had asked them to be their brides in letters just the same as she’d been asked.
She hoped their journeys had met with better welcomes, but of course they would have. Selina and Olivia were beautiful, and they weren’t frauds. But Anna had confessed the truth to Daniel. He’d probably already told Rafael—and if he hadn’t, she would tell him herself.
Crossing the floor, she pulled the sheets and blanket up. As she made the bed, the oddness of her encounters with Rafael was like a hangnail she couldn’t clip.
Really, this was getting ridiculous, but he hadn’t breakfasted in the main room, so he was likely still in the house. Fine then, she’d search every room in the house until she found him.
She opened the door next to hers. Sprawled across the bed was Daniel, fully dressed. His only concession to his boots was his feet dangled off the side of the bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy and slow. Definitely sound asleep in spite of the sunlight filtering in through his window.
Had he been so tired last night he hadn’t even undressed? No, his white shirt and brown pants hung over a chair. The plaid shirt stretched across his shoulders and the thick canvas pants molding his legs and backside were different.
She should back away and close his door, but seeing him unguarded and completely relaxed made him seem vulnerable and appealing. The urge to cross the room and pull off his boots for him warred with the idea that she needed to keep her distance from Daniel. No more moonlit dances or private conversations. If she didn’t allow herself to be alone with him, there wasn’t any danger of allowing their friendship to turn into something it shouldn’t.
She shouldn’t linger. The room was too small to offer any concealment for Rafael other than under the bed. She leaned over and looked at the open space.
Daniel opened his eyes and jerked his head up.
“Sorry,” she muttered and backed up to pull the door shut.
“What?” He swung his feet to the floor and scrubbed his hands across his face. “Wait.”
Something inside her went soft. She had to stop that.
“You want to go see the vineyard?” His hair was sleep tousled and his eyelids were inclined to droop.
Heat thrummed through her veins as the memory of their shared dance drowned out all her other thoughts. She wanted to cross the room and lay her hand on his chest, or perhaps smooth his hair—which she should never do. “No. I want to speak to Rafael. I was looking for him. I’ll keep looking.”
“He’s not here.”
