The wind caught her brother’s hat, knocking it off. Her hair tumbled down. The long thick waves were hard to control on a good day. With a heavy sigh, she knew if her father was not open to her new goal, it would have to be cut.
She picked up the hat and put it back on. In the morning, she would talk to him. They were the only De Zavalas left.
Sofia sat the plate of sweet breads on the edge of her father’s desk. Next to the vase of roses and starburst she had cut from her mother’s garden this morning.
“Father, it’s nothing. I fell while cutting the fresh flowers for your study.” She sat in the chair Jackson McCreed had occupied last night. “The bricks were wet from the morning shower. Distracted, thinking about ways to help on the ranch, I slipped.”
Taking one of the large rolls with sugar and icing, her father shook his head. “You should not be concerned with matters of the ranch. You are twenty-two years old. Way past the time to be married and giving me grandsons.”
“I can help you here on the ranch. I used to—”
“There are many things you used to do that are inappropriate for a young lady of good breeding. We have enough cattle gathered to drive to New Orleans.”
He looked through some papers on his desk. “We will use the money to send you to Galveston. There, my cousin Perez has connections with good American families.” He picked up a letter and handed it to her. “We’re making arrangements now. You, marrying into one of these families, will do more to secure our legacy here in Texas than working on the ranch. It will give us solid ground to stand on, no matter the vote from the new congress. I will allow you to marry the one of your choosing.”
“That’s very generous of you, Papi.” He didn’t seem to pick up on her sarcastic tone. Or ignored it. That had been his style since the flood that took her mother and brother—avoid any emotion. He expected the same from her.
He put the document down and sighed. “I don’t want to lose the ranch. If congress votes not to honor our land grants, I want to have a plan to ensure we keep it in our family, for my grandchildren.”
Reaching for his hand, she wanted him to understand she could ease some of his stress by staying. “Papi, you supported the new Texas, they will support you now. You know I can ride and rope better than some of the men out there. I don’t want to leave to find a husband, a man who will be a stranger.”
Desperation gripped her as she thought of ways for him to see her as a partner and not a burden.
“Your mother raised you to take your place in polite society and run a well-managed home. With the changes here in Texas, I’m not sure what our future holds. I want you protected and safe. This is what your mother wanted.”
“My mother wanted me to marry a good family in Mexico. Now you want me to marry a good American.” She stood. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm. “I don’t want either, Papi. I want to stay with you on our land. This is where I belong.”
“No, it’s too dangerous, and who would you marry? There are no proper suitors for you here.” He looked at the family portrait that hung over the fireplace. “Politics have changed the country of origin, but not the intent. You will go to Galveston and find a proper husband.”
“This canyon that holds our ranch is where I belong. This is the life I want, not city streets and walls. Papi, how can you send me away?” Tears threatened to fall. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. She moved around his massive dark oak desk, which anchored the room. “Please, I’m all you have left. You’re all I have left. I can help at the cattle station.”
He looked at her. In the depths of his eyes, she still saw the clouds of sadness that formed the moment they found her mother’s body in the swollen river.
“Mija, you are my future. My life. If something happens to me, you would be all alone with no protection. If anything happened to you? I would have no reason to live.”
“We can’t live in fear. In Galveston, I’ll be alone. Please, Papi.” She moved closer to him, reaching out to touch his hand.
His body went rigid. “You can help by doing what your mother wanted. You, to have your own beautiful home, a family, children and a proper place in society. I would be pleased with grandsons to carry on our family legacy, and little granddaughters as beautiful as their mother.” His hand came up and cupped her face. “Your tears will not change my mind. When you hold your firstborn in your arms, you will thank me.”
Sofia stepped back, away from his touch. She knew without a doubt his mind was set. Unless she did something drastic, she would be sent to Galveston to marry.
She looked at the shelves with its books all in neat and tidy rows, all in their place. She did not want to be put in place. She made a decision.
Jackson McCreed was taking their cattle to market, and he had offered her a job. Her father might be stubborn, but she could match him. She would show him she brought more to the ranch than just social graces and babies. By the time she returned home, he would welcome her by his side.
“Papi, the Schmitts have invited me to go to Galveston with them for some spring shopping. I had told them no, thinking you needed me here, but maybe I should go. I could meet my cousins and look at the list of potential husbands.”
She touched the soft petal of a yellow rose. “They plan to be gone for a few weeks. If I’m going into Galveston society, I could use new gowns.”
With a few steps, he was next to her. He kissed her on the forehead as if she were still a little girl. “That’s a fine idea. You can become familiar with the city before we start going to socials. When are they leaving?”
“At the end of this week. I can go into town with Juanita.” And by the end of next month, her reputation might be ruined, but she didn’t enjoy town anyway. Here on the ranch, it wouldn’t matter.
She didn’t need or want a husband who cared more about social graces than daily life on the ranch. An image of the tall cowboy rubbing the jaw of his stallion popped into her mind, but she shook her head. She would not allow the cowboy to distract her, either.
* * *
A few days later, Sofia made her way through the tree line in the dark, an old work saddle on her hip. She had to move slowly in order not to trip. The boots were a size or two too big and made moving awkward.
A few shirts and a pair of pants, along with extra strips of cloth to keep everything hidden, were stuffed into a worn leather saddlebag. The bag came from a raid of her brother’s room. With a rolled-up blanket, a hunting knife and his prized Hawken rifle she had everything a cowboy would need to survive.
From her own closet, she pulled out the rawhide rope she’d made herself a few years ago. The vaqueros who helped her make it taught her that it was even more important than the horse under a person. It was an extension of the vaquero’s arm.
She loved working with the rope. Her brother got mad whenever her skill outdid his.
Her left hand went to the back of her neck, bare of the long braid she had since her earliest memories. Now it was gone. In the bottom of her brother’s drawer along with a note to her father. She had heard him in there late at night. It seemed once a month her father had developed the habit of going through every corner of her brother’s room. What if he didn’t?
Maybe if he found it with her cut braid, he would understand how important this was to her.
A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the cold metal scissors pressed to the base of her neck.
The thick hair had fought the destruction. In chunks, the braid came loose in her hand. Soft curls sprang