Santiago's Sword

By Cynthia Ventrola Struven

Twelve-year-old Miguel Ortega embarks on a quest to recover a first-century sword in this fast-paced mystery set in 1812 during Californias Early Mission Era. Legend claims that the sword enables its bearer to overcome his enemies. And Spain intends to do just thatto conquer more lands and restore her former glory.

Miguel races to intercept the sale of the sword. On every stage of his journey, threats arise from men and beast to hinder his pursuit. He also faces a conflict within: once he finds the sword, will he be able to destroy it? Revelations inspire him to press on, pointing to yet another reward: the lost treasure of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo.

A treasure hunt, the legend of the sword, and biographies of explorers and saints all combine to draw the reader into the nineteenth century, before Californias statehood, when she was yet untamed. The serene beauty of the Santa Barbara coast provides a bold contrast to the tensions arising among the soldiers, missionaries, and Native Americans. Santiagos Sword stirs in us a longing for the fulfillment of that ancient prophecy so relevant to modern timesthat swords be beaten into plowshares.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512707496

Cynthia Ventrola Struven

Cyndi Struven resides with her husband and youngest son in Santa Barbara County, where she works part time as a program coordinator for a missionary organization, is a “host mom” to students from abroad, volunteers for an afterschool program and for the Goleta Valley Historical Society. She earned a BA in sociology and a minor in English from California State University, Fullerton.

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Santiago’s

SWORD

Cynthia Ventrola Struven

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Copyright © 2015 Cynthia Ventrola Struven.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0748-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0750-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0749-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912852

WestBow Press rev. date: 9/2/2015

Contents

Chapter 1 Wrangle in the Presidio

Chapter 2 Accusations at the Adobe

Chapter 3 Clue on the Mantel

Chapter 4 Desperado in the Chaparral

Chapter 5 Revelations at the Mission

Chapter 6 Thieves in the Sheepfold

Chapter 7 Search in the Night

Chapter 8 Santa Bárbara’s Day

Chapter 9 Bear Hunt in the Woodland

Chapter 10 Feast-Day Fun

Chapter 11 No Rest for the Adventurous

Chapter 12 Kingdom Divided

Chapter 13 Prying in the Plaza

Chapter 14 Tomol on the Pacific

Chapter 15 Challengers on the Coast

Chapter 16 Souvenirs on the Seashore

Chapter 17 Recreation at the Ranchería

Chapter 18 Burial at the Beach

Chapter 19 Romance in Paradise

Chapter 20 Smugglers at Refúgio

Chapter 21 The Sword with the Stones

Chapter 22 Entombed in the Cemetery

Chapter 23 Terrors in the Night

Chapter 24 Cache in the Cliffs

Chapter 25 Tsunami in the Channel

Chapter 26 Rebuilding

Glossary

Historical Notes

Timeline of Historical Events

Fiction Based on Fact

Historical Characters

Social Studies Curriculum—Text Analysis

Bibliography

About the Author

To my husband, Michael, who dedicates the majority of his time to serving others.

Thank you for your patient support

and for never laughing at my projects!

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CHAPTER 1

Wrangle in the Presidio

Santa Barbara, California; Thursday, December 3, 1812

Mischief outran reason, and twelve-year-old Miguel Ortega tossed a handful of pebbles at Águilo’s hooves. The brown-and-white paint horse reacted as if spooked by a rattler. He pricked forward his ears, whinnied, and then jerked his head up and down. He backed up, straining the reins that tied him to the post. Then he bent his head low and kicked out his hind legs like a jackknife whittling wood, barely missing Miguel’s thirteen-year-old brother, Gabriel.

Dios mío! Miguel whispered the prayer, My God! He just wanted to play a joke!

Gabriel whirled around, hands clenched at his sides, teeth grinding.

Miguel blew out the breath he had been holding. He might as well get it over with. He stood up and stepped from behind the cannon in the presidio plaza. If he pressed into the flagpole, maybe Gabriel wouldn’t notice how he was shaking. Miguel crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head under his sombrero. He cleared his throat and forced out a short laugh.

You should know by now, Miguel said in his Spanish tongue, "that you walk behind a horse only after a soothing word!"

"Miguel, you cucaracha! Two more steps and I would have been dung under Águilo’s hooves! Papá is right: you are a fool!"

That did it. Miguel’s face heated. He gritted his teeth and shot to Gabriel like a stone from a sling. He knocked his brother to the ground, straddled his chest, and walloped his narrow nose. Gabriel raised his hands in self-defense. Then he clawed Miguel’s face, drawing blood. He twisted, trying to throw off Miguel. But Miguel’s advantage was speed. He clung to Gabriel like a baby opossum on its mother’s back. Gabriel’s muscles tightened under his shirt. Together they rolled in the dust.

What fools to fight here inside the presidio, a leather-jacket soldier said as he unsaddled his mount in the corral.

This brawl will not please Sergeant Ortega, snorted another soldier.

The tread of boots and tinkle of spurs drew closer. Sergeant Pablo Luis de Ortega dragged Miguel up and off Gabriel with a viselike grip and spun him around like a helpless top. Miguel looked up into the handsome face of his tall, lean father. Papá’s wide-brimmed hat shadowed both their faces.

Stop this at once, his father hissed. "Dare you disgrace me and the Ortega name?"

Ouch. The words stung more than the scratches on Miguel’s face. Instead of hanging his head and apologizing, Miguel shut his mouth and set his jaw. Sangre azul, or blue blood, flowed through son as well as father.

Papá, said Gabriel. He tried to catch his breath. Miguel made Águilo buck while I was walking behind him. Then he jumped me!

Miguel, it looks like Gabriel did not feel the blow of Águilo’s hoof, but you are asking for the sting of a willow branch! Since you have so much energy and time to waste, go straight home and work on the garden fence. Sergeant Ortega swatted Miguel’s shoulder, then performed an about-face. His knee-length buckskin vest flapped round him like the wings of a bird. He must have glared at the handful of soldiers that looked on, because they scattered like flies in his path.

Miguel picked up his sombrero and hit it against his thigh. Better avoid Gabriel’s eyes and the look of victory smeared across his face right now, Miguel thought. Uh-oh. The solders’ wives were staring and shaking their heads. How embarrassing. Even some of the toddlers were giggling. He’d better not smile back, lest Papá notice from his office. They looked like monkeys swinging from vines the way they were hanging on their mothers’ aprons. And there stood the cook over his pot wagging a spoon—but he was smiling too. It seemed as if the whole fort was outdoors today, probably taking advantage of the mild weather. It was better to enjoy the view of mountains and sea than remain in their gloomy and tight living quarters.

And there went Gabriel. Go cry to Papá, you big baby! I would rather Papá give me work than pity.

*****

The Ortega adobe stood its ground in a haphazard cluster of forty-eight houses just outside the presidio walls. Though not a hacienda of grand European tradition, their home provided more comfort than did the cramped family quarters at the presidio. The Ortega family’s most recent project was building a fence around the vegetable garden.

Miguel quickly changed out of his short jacket, knee breeches, and white stockings and into deerskin leggings and boots. His stockpile of handmade weapons rested against the wall in the corner of the room he shared with his three brothers. The arrow project would have to wait till evening. Papá must find him working when he returned with Gabriel for the midday meal.

Miguel worked the axes, saws, and hammers with confidence. When the fence started to take shape, he stood back and smiled at his handiwork. The fence would keep out coyotes and skunks, but raccoons might climb right over. Their black masks suited those bandits!

He looked up when Papá’s and Gabriel’s voices carried to him. Best to keep working, Miguel thought. Let’s see if they’ll greet me or ignore me. Huh! Not a word, just straight into the house. Miguel clenched his jaw and hammered the nails with more force than usual.

The two had disappeared for barely five minutes when the door slammed open and Sergeant Ortega stomped out. Miguel, you might think your prank is funny, but I don’t like it one bit! He charged toward Miguel, fists balled in front of his body. Where is it?

CHAPTER 2

Accusations at the Adobe

Miguel turned from the fence and scrunched his nose at his father. Gabriel smirked at Miguel over their father’s shoulder.

Where’s what? Miguel asked. I don’t know what you’re talking about!

Don’t play innocent with me! The sword is missing from its spot over the fireplace! You are the only one around here daring enough to play a joke like that!

Miguel jolted as if slapped by the accusation. Why do you always pick on me? he shouted back. I didn’t take it. Who would want the old thing anyway?

Sergeant Ortega’s face burned as red as the coals in the oven. He raised his hand to strike but jerked to a stop. Miguel tensed but held his father’s gaze.

His mother walked out of the house, and Miguel shifted his gaze to her. Two-year-old Josefina rode on their mother’s hip, sucking her thumb. Four-year-old Rufina ran after them, smiling as usual. His seven-year-old twin brothers, Ezra and Pedro, must be too busy playing to notice the commotion. Sancho, their hired help, followed behind her. Worry lines creased his brow.

Mamá came and stood between Miguel and his father like a shield. She put her hand on her husband’s arm and looked into his face.

Amado, she said quietly. He lowered his hand but continued to glare at Miguel.

If I can help in any way … Sancho offered.

Sergeant Ortega did not turn to him or respond, instead he whirled around and clomped back into the house.

I’ll help you find it, Papá, Gabriel hollered as he hurried after his father.

I didn’t do it, Mamá, Miguel insisted as she turned to him. Josefina held out her arms to him, but he shook his head.

I believe you, Miguelito. Your father is panicking. Who would take it? And he doesn’t have time right now to search for the sword.

Miguel wrinkled his nose. I doubt that dull sword would cause any danger.

Señora Ortega blanched.

Mamá? What’s wrong?

You don’t know what you say, Son. That sword is … dangerous. She shivered.

What makes it more dangerous than any other weapon we have around here?

It holds a power you know nothing about, she said sternly. Grandfather Ortega entrusted your father with protecting that sword. Your father takes that duty seriously.

It’s ironic that it needs protecting. Miguel snickered.

We need to make sure that the sword does not fall into the wrong hands. She stared at Miguel two heartbeats and then returned to the house with Josefina holding on tightly. Rufina skipped behind.

Humph. Miguel shrugged. What else can go wrong today? He didn’t care a horse’s hair for that sword but knew he