Diarmid's gaze followed the gesture, he clutched Bruce's reins, stunned. He couldn't speak, he could scarcely breath. Spread out below him and stretching into the distance was the golden valley of his dream, beautiful beyond belief, more desirable than any lass . Blood thrummed in his ears, muffling the don's voice so he only heard bits and pieces. "...grant from the crown...ocean...cattle...drought…hides...ships..."
Finally aware Don Francisco waited for a response, Diarmid did his best to gather his wits. "' Tis a wonder, sir. A wonder and a glory." Before he could stop himself, he added, "God knows how much I wish 'twas mine."
Instead of taking offense, the don gave him a long, measuring glance. "I will tell you I've considered selling," he said at last. "I'm no longer young and my sons--" he sighed. "They are dead, my sons. There's only Concepcion ."
Diarmid heard but one word clearly. Selling. Was it possible--? No, he hadn't anywhere near enough saved. "I'd offer for it if I had the money," he said honestly. "To own land is my fondest dream." He gestured toward the valley, his gaze yearning. "But this--this is far beyond my means."
"Perhaps not," Don Francisco said.
Diarmid's head whipped around to stare at the old man.
"You're a strong and healthy young man ," the don went on, "capable of working hard, able to sire sons."
Confused as to where they were heading, Diarmid nodded in agreement but said nothing.
"I prefer to keep the land in the family," the old man continued. "Are you a Catholic?"
Blinking in puzzlement, Diarmid admitted he was, not mentioning he hadn't been inside a church in six years, not since his mother died.
The don nodded in satisfaction. "When I see how your spirit reaches toward this land, my heart tells me you should have it. That you are not one of us may prove to be an advantage. If the rancho belongs to you, you'll find a way to keep the land, you'll discover a way to overcome the problems I've struggled against too long. I make the assumption you haven't a wife. As for Concepcion , she'll obey me."
" Concepcion ?" Diarmid echoed, the unbelievable truth beginning to dawn.
"My daughter. She's young enough yet to bear at least one child. Marry her and my rancho will, in time, be yours once she bears you a son."
Diarmid's head whirled. Marry that dried-up stick of a lass ? Compared to Concepcion , homely Miriam was a beauty. But even as he rejected the idea, he knew he'd eventually come to embrace it as he'd be forced to embrace her. To own this land he'd wed the daughter of the devil himself.
In a daze, he followed the don back to the hacienda. As they stepped onto the veranda, Diarmid finally began to believe 'twas really true that the rancho could be his, if he agreed, and he quelled a sudden, wild impulse to step inside ahead of the old man, turn to him and say grandly, "Mi casa es su casa."
Chapter Two
At Don Francisco's insistence, Diarmid remained at the rancho as a guest. "You must have time to become acquainted with Concepcion before you make a final decision," he told Diarmid. "And I wish to show you all my holdings."
More likely he wants to be sure he hasn't made a mistake about me, Diarmid thought, not blaming the don. He still couldn't believe the Californio meant to turn his land over to a virtual stranger.
"Becoming acquainted" with Don Francisco's daughter was complicated by having the old Indian woman, Rosa, present on every occasion as a chaperone. Never once was Diarmid permitted to be alone with Concepcion .
Do they think I'll seduce the lass in the courtyard? he wondered. Leap on her and take her by force in the parlor? He'd never once forced a lass--what need, when so many of them were so willing? As for seduction, the pickings would have to be damn sparse for him to be overcome with desire for such a skinny, sallow lass, without even youth to
Finally aware Don Francisco waited for a response, Diarmid did his best to gather his wits. "' Tis a wonder, sir. A wonder and a glory." Before he could stop himself, he added, "God knows how much I wish 'twas mine."
Instead of taking offense, the don gave him a long, measuring glance. "I will tell you I've considered selling," he said at last. "I'm no longer young and my sons--" he sighed. "They are dead, my sons. There's only Concepcion ."
Diarmid heard but one word clearly. Selling. Was it possible--? No, he hadn't anywhere near enough saved. "I'd offer for it if I had the money," he said honestly. "To own land is my fondest dream." He gestured toward the valley, his gaze yearning. "But this--this is far beyond my means."
"Perhaps not," Don Francisco said.
Diarmid's head whipped around to stare at the old man.
"You're a strong and healthy young man ," the don went on, "capable of working hard, able to sire sons."
Confused as to where they were heading, Diarmid nodded in agreement but said nothing.
"I prefer to keep the land in the family," the old man continued. "Are you a Catholic?"
Blinking in puzzlement, Diarmid admitted he was, not mentioning he hadn't been inside a church in six years, not since his mother died.
The don nodded in satisfaction. "When I see how your spirit reaches toward this land, my heart tells me you should have it. That you are not one of us may prove to be an advantage. If the rancho belongs to you, you'll find a way to keep the land, you'll discover a way to overcome the problems I've struggled against too long. I make the assumption you haven't a wife. As for Concepcion , she'll obey me."
" Concepcion ?" Diarmid echoed, the unbelievable truth beginning to dawn.
"My daughter. She's young enough yet to bear at least one child. Marry her and my rancho will, in time, be yours once she bears you a son."
Diarmid's head whirled. Marry that dried-up stick of a lass ? Compared to Concepcion , homely Miriam was a beauty. But even as he rejected the idea, he knew he'd eventually come to embrace it as he'd be forced to embrace her. To own this land he'd wed the daughter of the devil himself.
In a daze, he followed the don back to the hacienda. As they stepped onto the veranda, Diarmid finally began to believe 'twas really true that the rancho could be his, if he agreed, and he quelled a sudden, wild impulse to step inside ahead of the old man, turn to him and say grandly, "Mi casa es su casa."
Chapter Two
At Don Francisco's insistence, Diarmid remained at the rancho as a guest. "You must have time to become acquainted with Concepcion before you make a final decision," he told Diarmid. "And I wish to show you all my holdings."
More likely he wants to be sure he hasn't made a mistake about me, Diarmid thought, not blaming the don. He still couldn't believe the Californio meant to turn his land over to a virtual stranger.
"Becoming acquainted" with Don Francisco's daughter was complicated by having the old Indian woman, Rosa, present on every occasion as a chaperone. Never once was Diarmid permitted to be alone with Concepcion .
Do they think I'll seduce the lass in the courtyard? he wondered. Leap on her and take her by force in the parlor? He'd never once forced a lass--what need, when so many of them were so willing? As for seduction, the pickings would have to be damn sparse for him to be overcome with desire for such a skinny, sallow lass, without even youth to
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