The light atop the ridge, as both Tennison and Sean knew, was actually in a niche in the rocks that could not be seen except from the sea, and at that only from certain angles.
Taking the wheel Sean guided the
Lady Luck
along the edge of the kelp. The cove was about two miles northeast of the point. There was a reef to be avoided just south of the point, and a breaking rock closer in. Where he wanted to anchor was just outside the kelp with a sand bottom at about seven fathoms.
They moved on slowly, and after a few minutes Sean said, “All right, Ten, let go the anchor.”
He listened to the anchor running out, timing the chain as it ran through the hawsehole. The crew were furling the sails, and soon the schooner lay under bare poles, her dark green hull lost against the kelp and the shoreline.
Tennison came aft again. “Dinghy’s over, Cap’n. You want we should stand by?”
“Do that. If anything develops while I am gone, use your own judgment. If they come after you by boat, take ’em through the kelp. You know where it can be done and they do not.”
Congo had dropped a rope ladder over the side. “Your rifle, sah,” Congo’s voice was soft for such a big man, carrying the warmth of the West Indies in its tone. “I thought you might be needing it, sah.”
“Thanks, Congo.”
Mariana came on deck, wrapped in her serape.
Sean Mulkerin went over swiftly, almost dropping into the bobbing boat. He held the ladder while Mariana came down, showing some caution but no hesitation. She was a girl, he decided, about whom there was very little nonsense, and she could act as swiftly on occasion as he himself.
Congo followed, and sat at the oars. He pushed off into the darkness.
The water was black, with only a few ripples from the kelp. They could hear the rustling of the surf on the sand. Congo used the oars only to give direction. There was just enough sea running to carry them in.
It was very dark and still. Looking up, Mariana saw one lone star peeping through a rift in the clouds. Congo pulled strongly and she felt the bow grate on the sand. Sean leaped over and pulled the boat higher, then extended a hand to help her ashore.
“Go back, Congo, and thanks.”
The big black man shoved the boat into the water, then stepped in. “Cap’n, if you want, I can sure come back. If there’s fightin’ to do—?”
“You’d be the first I’d call,” Sean said, “and thanks again. Take care of the
Lady Luck
for me.”
A cool wind blew along the sand and they stood together watching the boat, listening to the
chunk
of the oars in the oarlocks.
They walked along the dark beach, pausing from time to time to listen. Sean was wary. He could have chosen to anchor in Dume Cove, which was closer to the ranch house, but if Machado was already searching for them, that was where they would look to find the schooner.
“Is it far?” she asked after a minute.
“A few minutes, that is all. You will rest well tonight and the Señora will find some proper clothes for you.”
“She will hate me. I bring you trouble.”
“She will love you.” He hesitated. “Mariana, one thing you should know, and which you will see soon enough. My mother is a very beautiful woman.”
“But of course—!”
“I do not mean she is beautiful because she is my mother, she is simply beautiful…and very Irish. She will love you, but she is strong-minded, perfectly capable of holding her own with anyone.”
“How does such a strong woman have a strong son? Often it is otherwise.”
“We had a strong father, but they never opposed each other, they worked as a team. It was a revelation to many people.”
The cart was there, with one horse. It took shape from the darkness, and then they saw Jesus Montero sitting on the sand close by, a rifle across his knees.
“Buenos noches, señor…señorita.”
She could make out little in the darkness except that the man was old.
To Sean he said, “There is much trouble, señor. They came to take the ranch, and they will come again tomorrow.”
“Who came?”
“Señor Wooston, the big one. Fernandez was with him, and Tomas Alexander.”
“A pack of thieves.”
“There was another one, señor. A man called Russell.”
“Ah?”
King-Pin Russell, renegade, freebooter, and all-around bad man. A man who would do anything, stop at nothing.
“How did Wooston get into this?”
“I know only what I hear. I believe he bought debts from others, threatened them in some cases. I heard from my people that he went to people from whom you had borrowed. Some did not know he was a bad man. Valdez did not. With some he threatened force.”
“That sounds like Wooston…and Russell.”
“Señora waits for you. She has confidence.”
Sean felt a pang. She was expecting help from him and he had brought her only trouble. Yet there had to be something…some way.…
O
N A BRUSH-COVERED knoll, overlooking the trail up the canyon, Tomas Alexander waited with Russell.
“I tell you, Tomas, this here’s no good. He ain’t comin’.”
“There was a rider. A man who comes from the port to the pueblo. He said a big schooner had come in and Mulkerin left ahead of them, so he should be here.”
“We looked in the cove. There was nothin’.”
“He is a shrewd one, Sean Mulkerin is. He knows this coast and might anchor elsewhere. Anyway,” Tomas shrugged, “he might not come in until after dark.”
Russell took a pull at his bottle and put it aside. Sitting out in these dark hills was not what he considered a good time. He dug out more of a hollow for his hip and then settled down to sleep. Yet it seemed he had scarcely closed his eyes when Tomas spoke.
“They come, amigo. I hear a cart.”
Russell eased himself forward to a selected firing position. Wooston had said to kill Mulkerin, and that was just what he intended to do.
He peered along the rifle barrel, then stopped. “There’s three of them!” he said exasperatedly. “How do we know which is him?”
“He won’t be driving, and he has very broad shoulders.”
Russell could see the three figures taking shape, suddenly he heard low laughter. “Hell,” he said, “there’s a woman with him!”
“Careful, amigo,” Tomas warned, “if it is a woman it is a lady. He would bring no woman to his mother unless she was a lady.”
Russell had been lifting his rifle to fire, but now he hesitated. One could be sure of killing one, and with a bit of luck, two. But the third one? There was too much risk that one would get away, and people who live talk. He relaxed slowly.
“A lady? Who would that be?”
“I do not know, but we must be careful, amigo. They know many important people. The Señora has many good friends, and it could be the wife or daughter of some important man. If you shoot, she might be hurt.”
Russell waited, then withdrew his rifle. He was just as pleased, for he did not like the odds. Suppose he killed the woman? That could be a hanging offense, and if it was somebody important he would get no help from Wooston. Zeke did not like mistakes.
Also, he had no wish to have a live Sean Mulkerin hunting the chaparral for him. Undoubtedly Mulkerin knew this area better than he ever would, and a man had little choice of trails. You couldn’t push through chaparral very easily, it was all so tightly woven together, and in any case, it would be noisy. Usually you had to stick to trails, and Sean Mulkerin had grown up here.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Tomas hesitated, wanting to go yet not liking the prospect of facing Wooston, a man he feared. Finally he said, “To my cantina. We will have a bottle of wine and talk of this. Maybe there is another way.”
Working their way back down the path, they reached their horses.
E
ILEEN MULKERIN HAD been awakened by a voice outside her window. It was Montero’s voice and she had been expecting it.
“They are here, Señora,” he said, speaking softly. “They come from the sea.”
“
Gracias,
Jesus.”
She lay still for a moment, thinking of her son. He had sailed away with very little, and the market for pelts and hides was always uncertain. She did not expect him to return to her with enough money to pay off what was owed. That was impossible.
But just that he be here, to stand beside her, to help her face what was coming.
“Jaime,” she said softly, but aloud. “Jaime, I need you.”
Sean was like him in so many ways, yet was his own man. She thought again of this son of hers, who each time he returned from the sea seemed somehow older, wiser, more sure of himself, yet different, too.
That was what experience did to a man, experience and time. Sean had always been slow to express opinions, careful in his judgments, and the sea had done that for him also. The sea demands consideration always, no man upon the deep water may make decisions without careful consideration of wind and wave. She remembered Sean telling her how the Polynesians could tell when an island lay over the horizon and out of sight by the currents or the condition of the water.
She dressed quickly and went into the kitchen. Always at such times her first thought was of food and a warm drink for the traveler.
She made coffee from their small stock. Sean liked coffee but they could buy it rarely. Tea was the more common drink. The Indians often drank a tea made from ephedra, which she had come to like.
She warmed a stew Carlotta had made earlier that day. Coming in at
night?
Why? It was unlike Sean, for as well as he knew the California coast he was a careful seaman, never taking unnecessary risks.
Worried now, she went outside and stood in the chill of the night. California was a semidesert land and the desert cools off quickly at night. There was a breeze in from the sea, and she stood there, listening.
Somewhere a mockingbird was singing his endless songs, frogs were croaking down by the little creek, but their sounds only emphasized the stillness.
As the cart slowly emerged from the darkness, she saw three people on the seat.
Jesus was there, and Sean, and a girl.
A very beautiful girl.
Chapter 5
S
EAN GOT DOWN, then helped the girl down. They turned toward the porch. Sean hugged his mother but before he could speak the girl stepped forward a little.
“Señora? I am Mariana de la Cruz, and I am afraid I have brought you trouble.”
“Trouble? Very pretty trouble then. Will you come in?” Eileen Mulkerin turned to the door, pausing only to say, “Thank you, Jesus.
Gracias
.”
“Por nada, Señora.”
“There’s coffee. Will you be seated? Riding that cart up from the ocean at night is not…well, perhaps it is not the best welcome we could offer.”
Sean started to speak, but Mariana stopped him. “Let me explain, Señora. I was in trouble. I was being forced to marry a man I did not love, whom I did not wish to marry, and I saw your son and I saw his ship.
“I needed help desperately, and he had a strong, kind face, so when night came I slipped away and swam to his schooner.”
“Very romantic,” Eileen said, dryly. “And what will your betrothed say to this?”
“He followed us,” Sean replied. “He is Andres Machado. I am afraid I have brought you trouble, Señora, when there is trouble enough.”
“Andres Machado.” The Señora smiled a little grimly. “When you decide to make enemies, Sean, you do not pick them easy.”
“It was my fault,” Mariana said.
Eileen glanced at her, irritated at the new trouble but liking the proud, strong look in the girl’s face. “It was your fault, and my son could have and would have done nothing else, but we have had troubles before and will have them again. You are welcome here.”
“If you wish, I can go away. I can find friends. My father had friends in California.”
“You may stay here, and welcome. As for your friends, you may need them. I know a great deal about Andres Machado.”