Rescuing The Runaway Bride. Bonnie Navarro

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       Chapter One

      Mid-January, 1842

      Alta California, Territorio of México

      Tightening the strap under her chin, she pushed the old wide sombrero back on her forehead as she looked out over the swift stream. Vicky tried to ignore a growing sense of foreboding. Or at least she attempted to as she refilled her canteen. She had never seen this stream before. The fact that she didn’t recognize it could mean only that she had somehow wandered off Hacienda Ruiz land.

      Rubbing a gold crucifix between her numb fingers, she tried to pray once more to a God she wasn’t convinced listened. An icy shiver sent fear up her spine and made her tremble as she hauled herself back onto Tesoro’s back. She’d had the chills most of the morning as she had tried to find her way out of the woods. Papá would be furious with her when he finally made it home, not to mention José Luis, who had made her promise to come back by midday if she didn’t catch up with Papá. But she had bigger concerns at the moment.

      She’d chased after Papá, attempting to go with him to the secret meeting of the noblemen of the territory. She had to convince him to stop the plans for her wedding to Don Joaquín on her birthday. But the snow started to fall before she caught up to him and his men, and she was forced to take shelter in one of the rustic cabins on the outskirts of the hacienda, almost a full day’s ride from the main buildings. Somehow her journey brought her here, three days later, off hacienda lands and sick with a fever and no more provisions.

      Tesoro, her best friend and true companion, shifted underneath her. “Que pasa, Tesoro?” Vicky asked the horse what she sensed, even as she patted Tesoro’s neck and urged her on downstream a few more feet. When Tesoro stopped and pawed the ground, a shudder passed through her, as well. They were no longer alone. Pulling her rifle out of its scabbard, she listened. Nothing. No sound. No bird singing or squirrels chirping. Utter silence. The wood’s way of warning about danger. Predators. Or strangers.

      Then she saw him. An Americano from the looks of his dress and his hair, which she caught a glimpse of just before he shoved his hat back on his head. She’d never seen anyone with such golden hair before except for pictures in books. Even her mother, the fair-complected Crilloya, had dark brown hair. Vicky’s own dark skin came from her father’s native mother instead of his noble father’s lighter hair and skin.

      Tesoro snorted and pawed the ground, but she didn’t turn away from the man downstream. Maybe he was lost, as well. Vicky sat straight in the saddle and watched him closely. Was he friend or foe? Considering she was off hacienda lands and not sure how to get back, she didn’t dare make contact.

      Should she flee? She wasn’t sure she could stay in the saddle at a gallop. The fatigue she СКАЧАТЬ