Prologue
San Juan Capistrano, California 1867
The golden hills stretched before them, dotted with gnarled oak trees. Crows cawed in the distance as Lara stood poised, her silhouette stark against the fading afternoon light. She took aim at the tin cans perched along the wooden fence, each shot echoing through the quiet valley below.
Joaquin watched, pride swelling in his chest as Lara's steady hand found its mark time and again. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and the methodical clanking of tin against wood punctuated the silence.
"Bueno, Lara!" Joaquin's praise carried on the crisp air.
"Uno más," she pleaded, mischief dancing in her eyes as her breath formed small clouds in the cold.
"Eres mejor tiradora que Rafael," he chuckled softly, fondness coloring his voice as he recalled his brother's skill.
He noticed the flicker of emotions across Lara's face at the mention of Rafael. Joaquin knew she carried the weight of guilt for the crimes against his family, but he also knew the truth: Lara wasn't to blame.
Joaquin reset the cans one last time, his footsteps crunching softly on the frozen grass. As Lara took her stance, he waited, dark eyes fixed on her as she fired her final shots.
Satisfied, he slapped his hands against his pants, sending up a small cloud of dust. Pride swelled in him at Lara's progress – her confidence growing with each shot, her aim becoming more precise with every round.
"Ven, Lara. Tengo hambre," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Tengo hambre," Lara mimicked, her tone teasing. "When aren't you hungry?"
She holstered her Colt with practiced ease, eyes still bright with the thrill of their target practice. Together, they made their way back to the modest homestead as daylight faded quickly.
"No es femenino, Lara," Esperanza's voice greeted them from the porch. "Nos hubiera venido bien tu ayuda en la casa, pero estás jugando con armas como uno de los niños."
Lara smiled sheepishly as she hung her gun belt on the hooks near the door. A twinge of guilt pricked her conscience – she had promised to help Maira cook dinner but had gone shooting with Joaquin instead.
"Mamá, una dama necesita protegerse," Joaquin interjected, planting a kiss on his mother's weathered cheek.
"Nunca encontrarás un marido así, Lara," Esperanza muttered, her stern gaze fixed on her eldest son. "Disparando, usando pantalones, corriendo como un forajido."
Esperanza couldn't help but feel a mix of concern and sympathy for the young woman. She had witnessed firsthand the pain and trauma Lara had endured at such a tender age. No child should ever have to live through what Lara and her brother did.
In many ways, Lara felt like her own child. Esperanza's husband, Ernesto, had been the foreman at the Alba family farm for many years. While she didn't know all the details of the Alba family history, she had met Lara's mother when she herself was just a young woman.
The history of California was deeply intertwined with Spain, Mexico, and Texas, all encroaching on the indigenous Acjachemen, leaving an indelible mark on the territory. Esperanza's family were Californios, descendants of Spanish and Mexican settlers but native-born to California. Her husband's great-grandparents were Acjachemen, converted to the Faith shortly after the Mission was erected in 1776.
As Esperanza's thoughts wandered through the past, she watched Lara toss a small bundle of wildflowers to Maria – likely a peace offering for abandoning her to make dinner alone. She loved how close the girls were, like sisters. She could still picture them as children, running half-naked in the creek, trying to chase fish. Those first few years had seemed idyllic, but she now understood they had been shrouded in fear and forced smiles.
"Mamá," Joaquin's voice pulled her from her reverie. He enveloped her in a tender hug, then gently planted a kiss on her forehead. "Está bien."
Joaquin had a way of diffusing tension with a simple gesture. Of course, she knew her tender-hearted son also had a fiery temper that had earned him some trouble with the law.
"Lávense las manos, por favor," she urged, ushering them inside and shutting the door against the chill.
With nods of obedience, Lara and Joaquin quickly washed their hands at the basin. As they settled around the table for supper, Lara couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a reminder that home was not just a place, but the bonds of friendship that held them together.
The conversation naturally shifted to Maria's impending arrival, and Lara felt a pang of longing deep within her heart. The sight of Maria's swollen belly, accompanied by the laughter and anticipation of the entire family, stirred emotions she hadn't realized were there.
"What was that wink for?" Lara asked, catching an exchange between Joaquin and Maria.
"No es nada," Joaquin feigned innocence, though Lara could sense mischief lurking beneath his facade.
"Where's Juan?" Lara inquired, noticing his absence from the table.
"Since your uncle passed," Maria said, making the sign of the cross, "he's been spending too much time working."
"I'll talk to him," Lara assured her.
Following her aunt's tragic passing and her father being called to war, her uncle Jack had taken on the role of managing the farm. He had hired Joaquin and Rafael to work alongside him as foremen. Now Lara found herself thrust into managing the farm, lacking the necessary skills to effectively run such an operation.
"My cousins will be here tomorrow. I'll speak with them before I leave," Lara said, her voice tinged with determination.
"When will you leave, mija?" Esperanza asked, her eyes filled with concern as she set a large pot of soup on the table.
"Mañana," Lara replied softly, her gaze fixed on the steaming pot before her.
Without a word, the subtle clicking of Esperanza's tongue conveyed a message stronger than any spoken word could. In that brief moment, Lara felt the weight of her unspoken disapproval, a silent reminder of the expectations that surrounded her.
"Mamá," Joaquin interjected, his tone firm yet gentle.
As the meal progressed, Lara's thoughts drifted to the journey ahead. With a final sip of soup, she rose from the table, the weight of her decisions heavy in her mind. Each step felt like a burden as she moved towards the door.
Grabbing her coat, she quietly slipped outside into the cool night air. A sense of loneliness washed over her as she made her way to the old tree standing watch at the edge of the creek. From a distance, she heard Joaquin's steps approaching.
"I know you're there," Lara said, wiping away tears with her sleeve without turning to face him.
"Everything will be alright," he murmured, stepping close to rub her arms with his hands.
"He sent me that letter over a month ago," Lara said, staring out across the water. "What if I waited too long?"
"You can only do what you can," Joaquin replied softly.
"I owe it to him, as well as to both my mother and aunt, to find him," she sighed, leaning back against him. "They both paid the ultimate price to keep him safe. I owe them this honor. Right?" She turned, looking up at him questioningly.
"Listen to your heart," he said gently, brushing a lock of her tawny blonde hair from her face.
Going against his better judgment, Joaquin closed the distance between them. As he drew Lara closer, he felt the warmth of her body against his, a sensation that sent a wave of desire coursing through him. His lips found hers in a desperate meeting that spoke volumes of unspoken understanding and longing.
"Joaquin," she breathed, pulling back as she came to her senses.
"I'm going with you," he said, his raspy voice carrying the weight of long-concealed emotions and silent longing.
"No. It's too dangerous. You have an easily recognizable face," she smiled sadly, running her fingers across his cheek.
"Lara," he began, but she was already retreating from his embrace.
With every step back to the house, the echo of his feelings reverberated within her, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between friendship and something deeper. Alone in her room, Lara confronted the truth of her feelings for Joaquin. Despite his unwavering love, she couldn't summon the romantic affection he sought. In the quiet of the night, Lara accepted the painful truth: some loves were destined to remain unrequited.
A soft knock drew her attention, and Maria's concerned face peeked through the door, illuminated by candlelight. Lara smiled and waved her in, dreading the conversation she had been delaying.
"Qué es eso?" Maria asked as Lara pressed a sealed package into her hands.
"I don't know if my father is coming back. I want you to have the house, the farm," Lara's voice trailed off, the weight of her words settling over her.
"No entiendo," Maria's voice trembled with confusion, then realization dawned. "Lara, no," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
"I signed a contract with my cousins for their share of the estate. You and your family will be safe. This is just in case," Lara explained, her own voice cracking. "Don't worry, I'll be home soon."
"I know you'll go even if I beg you to stay, so I won't," Maria said, her voice a mixture of resignation and understanding.
"I wish I could stay until the baby is born," Lara said, squeezing Maria's hand as she offered a sincere smile.
"Then hurry home," Maria replied, kissing Lara's cheek before quickly exiting the room.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Lara's heart warmed with memories of countless nights spent beneath the he starlit sky. Her aunt had instilled an appreciation for stargazing in her niece, spending hours teaching Lara the different constellations. The gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine mingled with the salty tang of the ocean air, a comforting reminder of the home she was leaving behind.
With a sense of sadness mingled with eagerness, Lara closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the embrace of the night. In the quiet darkness, amidst the soft howl of the wind and the distant murmur of the waves, she found comfort in her dreamless sleep, the dawn of her journey waiting just beyond the horizon.