Bransford of Rainbow Range: Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little EohippusRhodes, Eugene Manlove
General
Bransford of Rainbow Range: Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus
Rhodes, Eugene Manlove
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Western stories
Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved for
honored guests. Savory venison, chili, fish, eggs, _tortillas_, _etole_,
_enchiladas_, cream and steaming coffee--such was the fare. Don
Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently hovering
damsel anticipated every need.
Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep
shading cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the "makings" of XXXX
cigarettes--corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or sewed;
the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and _chaparejos_ of
raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
other things needful for their simple husbandry.
Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
recital of the year's annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a great
bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their eldest, was
wed with young Roman de la O, of Canada Nogales, to the much healing of
feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was proving a bold and
fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as behooved his father's
son; he had carried away the _gallo_ at the _Fiesta de San Juan_, with
the fleet dun colt "creased" from the wild bunch at Quemado; the herds
had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow passed them by, through the
intercession of the blessed saints.
The year's trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by the
shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
Canada races.
Hither came presently another visitor--Florentino, breaker of wild
horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small, merry
and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even as he came,
the song of Macario Romero--Macario, riding joyous and light-hearted,
spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and death.
"'Concedame una licencia
Voy a ir a ver a me Chata.'
"Dice Macario Romero,
Parando en los estribos:
'Madre, pues, esto voy a ver,
Si todos son mis amigos!'"
And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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