The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old CaliforniaAtherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
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The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old California
Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
California -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Western stories
"I never have heard any one use more words."
"Ay! they roll from my tongue--and from Reinaldo's--like wheels
downhill."
She turned to Adan: "They will be happy, you think,--Reinaldo and
Prudencia?"
"Ay!"
"What a beautiful wedding, no?"
"Ay!"
"Life is always the same with thee, I suppose,--smoking, riding,
swinging in the hammock?"
"Ay!"
"Thou wouldst not exchange thy life for another? Thou dost not wish to
travel?"
"No,--sure."
She wheeled suddenly and galloped over to her father and Alvarado, her
caballeros staring helplessly after her.
When we arrived at the rancho the bullocks were already swinging
in the pits, the smell of roast meat was in the air. We dismounted,
throwing our bridles to the vaqueros in waiting; and while Indian
servants spread the table, the girls joined hands and danced about the
pit, throwing flowers upon the bullocks, singing and laughing. The
men watched them, or amused themselves in various ways,--some with
cockfights and impromptu races; others began at once to gamble on a
large flat stone; a group stood about a greased pole and jeered at two
rival vaqueros endeavoring to mount it for the sake of the gold piece
on the top. One buried a rooster in the ground, leaving its head
alone exposed; others, mounting their horses, dashed by at full speed,
snatching at the head as they passed. Reinaldo distinguished himself
by twisting it off with facile wrist while urging his horse to the
swiftness of the east wind.
"I am going to dare more than Californian has ever dared before," said
Estenega to me, as we gathered at length about the table-cloth. "I am
going to get Doña Chonita off by herself in that little canon and have
a talk with her. Now, do you stand guard."
"I shall not!" I exclaimed. "It is understood that when Doña Trinidad
stays at home Chonita is in my charge. I will not permit such a
thing."
"Thou wilt, my Eustaquia. Doña Chonita is no pudding-brained girl. She
needs no dueña."
"I know that; but it is not that I am thinking of. Suppose some one
sees you; thou knowest the inflexibility of our conventions."
"You forget that we are _comadre_ and _compadre_. Our privileges
are many." He abruptly dismissed the intimate "thou," with his usual
American perversity.
"True; I had forgotten. But whither is all this tending, Diego? She
neither will nor can marry you."
"She both can and will. Will you help me, or not? Because if not I
shall proceed without you. Only you can make it easier."
I always gave way to him; everybody did.
He was as good as his word. How he managed, Chonita never knew, but
not a half-hour after dinner she found herself alone in the canon with
him, seated among the huge stones cataclysms had hurled there.
"Why have you brought me here?" she asked.
"To talk with you."
"But this would be severely censured."
"Do you care?"
"No."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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