“Come,” said Hope, drawing Steven to one side, “sit here in the garden with me, for I want to tell you something.” She was silent for a moment and her eyes were moist. “I owe you everything--all this happiness--Doren, my husband, everything. They have told me, Don Tiburcio, and Doren, too, how you went after my father and how you found them at last. But it is not of that I want to speak, for I can never thank you. I want to talk to you about Consuelo. I know that she sent you to save Doren. She told me when I was ill and so worried. She wanted to give me courage. And it did. To know you had gone after him, it kept me alive. And I cannot forget Consuelo. She loved you, Steven Mercer, when she sent you away; but she thought you didn’t care about her. “Steven, why didn’t you go back to her? Why don’t you go now, right away? She has been waiting there, eating her heart out, worrying about you, and she feels so badly, Steven, that she sent you away and didn’t say she loved you. For she does love you, Steven. She told me so.” It embarrassed Hope to speak about love, but she did it with painful honesty. “I’m going back as fast as I can travel,” Steven assured her smilingly. “Come,” said Don Tiburcio, “I see you two Americanos have much to talk about, but I want to show Señor Estevan my store, my warehouse. Did I not tell you,” he asked with evident pleasure, as he led the way to the bodegas, “that it would be less than six months and not so far away as Mexico that we should meet? I felt that this would somehow come about.” He showed Steven the grains and wheats, the pelts and hides, with which the bodega was stored. “What do you say, _amigo_, to going into partnership with me here? I will handle whatever goods you wish to import from New Orleans and to pass on to me here, and I will supply you with as much Spanish merchandise from Mexico, with silver ore and gold bullion, as you need to carry on your end of the trade in Santa Fe. There is a great future. Don Anabel Chavez is our greatest competitor; but when he is gone there will be little opposition from Luis, for he is both lazy and incompetent. You can buy as you see fit from incoming traders. You can collect furs. The fur business has definitely been transferred from the Northeast to the Southwest and for a number of years the Rocky Mountain Company will be the richest field for hunter and trapper. There is room for many here. Let us, too, build up a business in this country. What do you say, my friend?” Steven was radiantly pleased. Here was the opportunity to trade in a big way. He could show his father that capital was available without asking a dollar from Mercer & Co. He could trade, buying his own cargo and paying for it. He could build up a great business. His dreams soared, all before he had answered Don Tiburcio de Garcia. “That I’ll do, señor,” he responded.