Title-When The Sun Comes Back!
Rating-T
Author-Winnie
Disclaimer- Not mine, and never will be, but it is fun to play around in this sandbox
Comments-This story has been 4 years in the making and I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Marti and Antoinette for the wonderful beta.
AUTHOR's Note-Thanks so much Deirdre, for your help with this story and for bringing so many wonderful characters to life. Without you, it would have lain flat, but instead it has depth and I hope people enjoy it. There is a beauty in the world…a beauty given to us by God and we call her Mother, Mom, Ma, Aunt, Grandma, Sister, Friend.
De Rivera Hacienda
Northern Mexico
The fertile land of the hacienda covered 60,000 acres and was home to many mestizo people. The fields were alive with the rich crop of the midsummer months and would make for a bountiful harvest under a bright moon. The field workers, known as peons, were busy checking the cacao bean and the cotton plants. When the harvest was completed most of it would be sold to the Americans who frequented the cantinas in the settlements along the Rio Grande.
The hacienda owed its very existence to its close proximity to the Rio Grande. The workers had diverted the water from the river onto the lands and during the last ten years the dream had become a reality to the De Rivera name. A system of trenches and wooden funnels brought water to the crops and also brought life to what were once desolate lands. The cotton plants and cacao beans thrived under a rich hot sun because of the water that would otherwise have been unattainable.
In several areas magnolias, styrax, and hamamelis intermingled with beschorneria, agave, and cactus, some reaching as high as 60 feet, but had been cut down or uprooted to clear the land for planting. The landscape was also home to many animals, and birds, whose colors added to the beauty of what to some was rough terrain. The hot sun forced most of the animals, including Gila monsters and snakes to seek shelter during the hottest part of the day, but there were times when one darted out as if searching for an unwitting prey.
The western end of the grounds was taken up by the Haciendada's home. A four-foot wide, cobblestone walkway led up to the Casa Principal. Bright flowering plants such as Penstemons, Angelita Daisies, and Brittle Bush lined the walkway. Two large Mimbre trees, with pink and violet blossoms stood near the entrance to the home that dominated the landscape. The main house and numerous outer buildings were made of cut stone or sandstone and stained with bright red and yellow pigment. Three massive arches were ornamented in the Baroque style. Each one held intricate etchings that depicted the Haciendada's genealogical line since being recognized as descendants of the royal family in Spain. The front of the two-story structure sported a beautiful portico that rose from the marbled entrance to the roof. Near the top of the second floor wall was a flying buttress attached to the roof with several half arches giving the structure the effect of a castle. The second floor held a covered terrace that could be accessed through the master bedroom. The columns were done in white sandstone and supported the upper tier and the roof. A highly decorative cornice of latticework floral design ran along the roof and had taken nearly a year to complete. The windows were Palladian with curved tops and covered in shutters to keep out the hot rays of the sun when the heat of high summer invaded the landscape.
The interior of the home that dominated the well-kept grounds was as impressive as the outside. The main doors opened into a corridor with 12 foot high ceilings and windows along both sides. There were two walk-in closets with silver hooks set at two foot intervals. Further along the corridor opened on a sala with a cathedral style ceiling. A highly polished spiral staircase that opened onto the second floor dominated the sala. Along the wall were portraits depicting the family's history since the early days in Spain. The floor was a rich marble and hardwood combination. The Palladian windows were covered in rich tapestries brought over from Spain. The walls in the sala were stained red and heirloom paintings depicting bullfights and matadors hung along one wall that was devoid of windows.
A single door to the right of the staircase led to the family chapel where a crucifix and a statue of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus sat on an altar covered in velvet and surrounded by prayer candles. Another chapel was built for the peons and Padre Francisco Garrido would listen to their prayers and hold Mass each Sunday.
An open arch led to a caverness cocina that would be used to prepare the daily meals, while a second cocino, which sported a 'horno' or oven, was used for baking breads and pastries for the family. The main cocino had wooden prep tables, stools, and chairs, and a variety of hand-carved stone and wooden vessels including mortars, sugar molds and cheese presses. A trastero, or open cupboard, designed to hold plates and cups within easy reach, hand woven baskets held special herbs, while large, hollowed gourds kept freshly made tortillas warm. Stacks of large clay ollas, or cooking pots, were often stacked upside down ready to be used in preparing the feast. The smells and flavors of the last meal still dominated the sala and the family dining room.
The dining room itself was in a large alcove off the cocino and sported several archways decorated with etchings of small birds and flowers native to the area. The hand carved redwood table was surrounded with 12 high backed chairs. The floors were highly polished and several oil paintings of the Hacienda grounds in its early years hung on one wall. Another was taken up with a massive redwood cabinet and held family heirlooms and china from England and France. Nowhere in the immaculate home was there a sign of dust or other debris.
The second floor held 12 bedrooms, although most were seldom used except when guests arrived from Spain. There were several that held children's furniture, but the main nursery had not been used in nearly 20 years, yet it was kept as clean as the rest of the house. Toys were still in an honored place, waiting for a child's hand to hold them; sadness permeated every fiber of the room and the only people who entered were the mestizo women who cleaned the hacienda. At the far end of the hallway was a water closet with an adjoining room that held a tub for bathing and shelves lined with soft towels used only by the Haciendada and his wife.
The master bedroom held a massive four-poster bed with mosquito netting and curtains that could be drawn across to keep the sunlight and bugs off the Haciendada. The furniture was decidedly masculine and even the walls held very little to prove that a woman had ever been present. Again the room was dominated with portraits of the De Rivera family who had lived on the land since being granted the large holdings by the royal family as a reward for years of service.
Off the master bedroom was a library with a roll top desk and matching chair and several bookshelves lined with books in Spanish, French, and English. A set of large French doors opened onto a sweeping veranda that ran the length of the home and offered a spectacular view of the fields and surrounding countryside.
Don Garcia de Rivera stood watching over the fields with a pride that shone in his dark brown eyes. This was his heritage, the legacy he would pass on to his son. His life since leaving Spain at the age of fifteen had been wrought with hardships, and what lay before him was the result of hard work and accounted for most of the gray hair that speckled his rich dark hair and the moustache on his upper lip. Don Garcia was still a handsome man, even at the age of 58, and could still make the field workers cringe with fear when they heard his voice.
His first wife, Adelina Rosario Gonzales had died while riding near the Rio Grande. He had truly loved her and would often sit staring at the portrait of Adelina holding their son, Alonzo. The boy had his mother's coloring with thick black hair and dark brown eyes. The child had been chubby in his early years, but had trimmed down, as he grew older. Don Garcia stared toward the family plot at the back of his home and felt the ache in his heart. Alonzo had died at the hands of a gunslinger, but he had never been able to find out the man's name. All he knew was that the murderer had taken his son's life and killed any chance of an heir to the De Rivera legacy. There had been rumors that Alonzo had beaten a whore at a saloon in Purgatorio, but even if it was true his son did not deserve to die for such a deed. He had never given up on finding the gringo, but for now he had a new wife to look after.
Don Garcia made the trip to Spain and brought back a beauty whose blood was as rich and pure as his own. She came from a good family and was the middle daughter of the Montoya family. With three older sisters and two younger ones, her family had jumped at the chance to marry one of them off. In a ceremony that took place on the very day he was to return to Mexico, he'd married the 18-year-old virgin named Maria Elena de Montoya. Now, seven months into their marriage, the birth of their first child was imminent.
This should have been a time to rejoice, but Maria was not as hearty as she'd appeared and life in Mexico had been hard on her. Like a flower that had bloomed early and was struck by a late frost, she wilted and had gone to her sick bed five months into her pregnancy. She continued to lie in the bed as if waiting for death to come for her, but he could not let her go until he held his son in his arms. The child was to be his future, his hope of a long legacy, yet now, once again, it seemed to be the death of his dream. The women who worked the fields had tried to help, but there was little they could do for her. He'd sent word to the surrounding settlements in hopes of bringing a doctor to the Hacienda, but so far his men had come up empty handed.
Taking a deep breath, the aging Haciendada reached for the cane that was not just for show anymore. His limp was growing more prominent with the passing of time, yet he could still lord his ways over these people. Any man, woman, or child who dared to disobey his orders bore his mark on their bodies. He made his way toward the bedroom his wife now stayed in and silently cursed the Gods who thought it funny to snatch the victory from him when it was so near.
It no longer mattered that his wife did not share his bed, for theirs had not been a marriage of love like his first one. He needed her to provide him with a son and it did not dawn on him that he had several sons and daughters by the mestizo women who worked his fields. He made his way to the room where his young wife lay covered in the finest sheets that money and station could provide. Her hair spread across the pillows, her skin as white as the snow, and her face as beautiful as an angel. De Rivera moved into the room and reached out to touch her cheek. This was the most affection he'd shown her since she'd retired to her bed and seemed to wilt like a flower left without rain for too long. That was the least of the worries plaguing him for his son still grew inside her.
"Evita, has she eaten?" De Rivera asked the mestizo woman tending his wife. She had bore him a son, one he would have been proud to acknowledge had it not been for her mixed blood.
"Si, Patron, but very little," Evita Martinez answered. "I fear she may not be strong enough to…"
"Do not speak of my son! He has my blood and comes from royal blood and he will be born healthy and strong like all De Rivera men."
"Si, I did not mean," the woman cringed and returned her attention to straightening the blankets.
"Our son will be strong like his papa, and will one day inherit everything I own," Don Garcia said. He looked at the weak woman lying in the bed and walked out of the room. He leaned heavily on his cane and made his way down the stairs and outside. He stood watching as riders hurried into the front yard and Luis dismounted and strode toward him.
"We found a doctor," Luis Martinez told him. At 29 his features were unmistakably those of the De Rivera bloodline, and he knew the Patron was his padre. Yet he did not feel out of place because Don Garcia gave him everything he wanted. He would do anything the older man asked of him including lay down his life.
"Where is he?" De Rivera asked and then noticed the man standing between two of his men. "You are a doctor?"
"Si, Senor," the man said. He knew who this man was and heard stories of his cruelty, but the promised bounty made him braver than he thought possible. One of the mestizo riders handed him a bag that held his instruments and several herbs he thought might be helpful in treating Don Garcia De Rivera's pregnant wife. He did not tell these men that his patients usually had four legs, not once he'd heard what the patron of the hacienda was willing to pay.
"My wife carries our son and has fallen ill. You will help her." It was a statement not a question and he turned to walk back into the house.
"Si, I will do everything I can for her."
"You will make sure my son is born!" Don Garcia warned.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Four Corners
Saloon
The town of Four Corners once held a reputation that rivaled the hellholes known as Purgatorio and Tombstone. There were gunfights and drunken brawls and innocent people killed because they dared try to live in such a place. That had changed the day two men stood up to a group of trail hands and saved Nathan Jackson's life. Most people who'd been present that day swore the silent exchange had bonded the two men as brothers and was the start of the changes that overcame their town.
Mary Travis, whose husband had been murdered, had called the man dressed in black 'The Bad Element' and Larabee hadn't argued the point. What Chris had argued was her use of his reputation to try and make what they'd done the day before seem 'dirty' in his mind. It hadn't been, the fact was it had been a turning point in his life and no longer was he 'The Bad Element'. Since Jock Steele's novel the nickname of The Magnificent Seven' had stuck and people no longer crossed the street to get away from him.
The town was attracting more and more families and instead of gunshots and fighting it was a normal part of life to hear children's laughter. There were times when Chris felt penned in, but he had a little slice of heaven outside town where he could relax away from the pressure of keeping the peace in Four Corners. Right now he didn't need solitude; instead he enjoyed a game of chance with the resident gambler who had a reputation of being a cheat. But those who knew him understood Standish was simply a man who'd honed his skills. Those who called him a cheat were usually sore losers who'd made the wrong bet.
They sat at the back of the saloon, a bottle of whiskey and four glasses of the fiery liquid between the gambler and the ex-preacher. Chris Larabee, Vin Tanner, Josiah Sanchez, and Ezra Standish had been ensconced in the game of poker since mid-afternoon and no one was winning any big amounts. This was a friendly game amongst friends and not a make or break gamble.
"Ez, yer bluffin'," Tanner said simply.
"I believe that is a possibility, my friend, but it will cost you to find out," Standish told him and tossed several coins into the pot.
"I'm out," Sanchez said and threw his cards on the table before reaching for the whiskey glass. "Fortune favors the faint hearted."
"Faint hearted, J'siah? No way in hell!" Tanner cursed. "I'll call yer two dollars and raise ya one!"
"I'm out," Larabee said and tossed his cards into the center. "Looks like it's just you two."
"Ya in, Ez?" the Texan asked, a wicked grin on his face.
"You, Sir, are bluffing," Standish drolled and placed a coin between finger and thumb. He stared at the sharpshooter and saw something in the deep blue depths before letting the coin roll down his fingers.
"Ez, Vin don't bluff," Larabee told the gambler.
"We shall see," the gambler said and flipped the coin into the pot. "I call."
"Damn…" Tanner said, shoulders slumping as the smile left his face.
"See, Mr. Larabee, even Tanners bluff occasionally" the gambler reached for the pot when he showed a straight from the deuce to the six.
"Uhuh, Ez, ya'd best get yer grubby…"
"Grubby?" Standish said indignantly.
"Grubby paws off muh money," the tracker rasped and opened his cards to reveal a Full House of queens over sevens.
"Told you he don't bluff," Larabee's lips quirked into a wicked grin, watching the buckskin clad man reaching for the money. His hand went instinctively toward his gun as a commotion outside the saloon reached his ears. He knew Tanner, Standish, and Sanchez were ready for anything, but what they saw brought broad grins to their faces as Buck Wilmington, as naked as his name suggested, except for a flowery towel wrapped around his waist hurried past their table and hastened his step toward the back door.
"Hey that's real purty, Bucklin," Vin chirped, his eyes crinkled in mirth. "Brings out yer eyes."
"Ya didn't see me!" Wilmington gasped, but stopped when Sanchez's hand caught the edge of the towel and he lost his grip on the material. Buck ducked in behind the bar and heard a soft chuckle just before a small towel struck his face and a loud bellow could be heard just outside the saloon.
"Where the hell are ya? Wilmington I swear I'm gonna cut 'em off and feed 'em to the fuckin' dogs!"
"Friend of yours, Buck?" Chris quipped, taking a sip of whiskey
"Maybe we should let 'im know yer here!" Tanner suggested.
"I got a long memory Tanner!" Wilmington said.
"For a diminutive monetary fee I would willingly…"
"Shut the fuck up, Ezra!" Wilmington snapped and ducked down as the doors swung open and a heavily whiskered, bear-like man filled the entire doorway.
"Where's that womanizing bastard?" Lars Heinrich growled.
"And exactly what 'womanizin bastard' would that be, Lars?" Larabee asked when the big man strode purposefully toward him.
"That sonofabitch Wilmington was with my wife and he's gonna be gelded when I get my hands on 'im!" Heinrich cursed.
"Well now, Lars, how can you be sure Mister Wilmington was the perpetrator?" Sanchez asked.
"Ain't no one else wears them dang bright drawers and he left 'em on the chair. I been looking for a new place for me and Martha to live and he's plowing my field while I'm away. I'm gonna chop his balls off!"
"He doesn't have any for you to chop off, Lars," the gunslinger noted with a straight face as he calmly poured another shot.
"What are ya talking about" Heinrich asked.
"Well see, near as we can tell Buck don't got any fam'ly jewels like a real man," Tanner said.
"He don't?" the big Swede asked incredulously.
"Not accordin' to Nathan," Sanchez answered, fighting to keep a straight face as Wilmington stood up to defend his 'manhood' and was pushed back down by Inez Recillos. "Why don't you ask Nate yourself?"
"Ask me what?" the healer asked when he joined the men at the table, but didn't speak as the whirlwind known as JD Dunne raced in.
"Ya seen Buck? There's a mean sonofa…"
"JD, this is Lars Heinrich," Standish introduced the Bostonian and the Swede.
"Oh shit!" the town's sheriff said. "Look, Mister, Buck's a part of the law in Four Corners and you go shooting him and you'll find yourself in jail!"
Inez kicked the man sitting behind the bar when he whispered something about 'You tell him, Kid!' She coughed to hide the sound of his grunt and smiled at the man who turned toward her.
"Is it true what they told me?" Heinrich asked the dark skinned healer.
"Guess that depends on what they told ya," Jackson said.
"They tell me Buck Wilmington is a gelding…not a stallion?" Lars said with a frown. He turned when the pretty Mexican woman barkeeper choked and then took a broom and began sweeping the floor, a sweetly innocent smile on her face.
"Buck?" Jackson asked incredulously.
"Didn't you tell him he'd never be a real man?" Larabee asked.
"Lost his family jewels in the war. Might as well be one of them funny cowboys," Tanner said, shaking his head sympathetically. "Saddest soldier ever ta try and stand at attention."
"That's why the ladies flock to him because they feel sorry for the poor bastard," Dunne said, turning away when he spotted Wilmington glaring at him from behind the bar. He tried to hide his face when Inez smacked the rogue with the broom and the ladies' man disappeared once more.
"Yeah, that's Buck," Sanchez said. "Always trying to put on a brave front when he doesn't have anything up front at all!"
"I hear this about Senor Wilmington too," Recillos said from behind the bar. "He is like them bullets that make a loud bang, but don't shoot nothing."
"Blanks?" Heinrich asked.
"Si, that is the right word," Inez said and smiled sweetly as she heard Wilmington grumbling.
"This is the truth?" the Swede asked.
"Yes, I'm afraid it is, but Buck keeps trying to prove he's a man," Jackson said. "When are you leaving town?"
"I was going to leave in two days, but I cannot stay here," Heinrich explained. "If I stay I will have to defend my honor and I refuse to hurt someone like him. You make sure he stays clear of my Martha and I promise not to shoot him in the ass!"
"I'm sure he knows that, Lars," Sanchez said. "You're a damn good man."
"Yes, unlike Wilmington I am a man…a real man," Heinrich said and hurried out of the saloon.
Chris looked at the man seated next to him and tried to hide his mirth, but they both lost it when Buck stood up with nothing but a glare and a small towel that covered very little.
"Funny Cowboy my ass!" Wilmington spat.
"Least ya still got an ass," Tanner said with a grin. "Course it ain't a Tanner ass, but we all can't be that lucky"
"Si, that he does, but his cheeks are flaming red right now," Recillos said with a grin.
"Damn it to hell! Ya told him I lost my family jewels! Vin, you're gonna pay for that one!" the rogue vowed.
"Now, Buck, ya should be thankin' us for savin' your ass and your jewels," Jackson said and accepted a glass of whiskey from the ex-preacher.
"Now if that don't beat all? Man thinks he knows his friends and they stab him in the…" Wilmington said and raced behind the bar when Heinrich's voice was heard just outside the door.
"Yes, it is sad, but I have heard men such as him called Eunuchs," Heinrich explained to the unseen person to the right of the batwing doors.
"Sonofabitch!"
"How do you catch a unique Eunuch?" Dunne asked.
"Unique upon 'im," Tanner said and the group roared with laughter.
"Oh yeah, I owe you boys big time!" Wilmington vowed.
TBC