The Penance of Magdalena and Other Tales of the California MissionsChase, J. Smeaton (Joseph Smeaton)
Religion
The Penance of Magdalena and Other Tales of the California Missions
Chase, J. Smeaton (Joseph Smeaton)
Missions -- California -- Fiction
"I did not know what to do. It was many miles to the ranch, and there
was no one that lived anywhere nearer. My brother was in much pain, so
I could not put him on his horse: I was afraid of hurting him more. He
could not talk, but he pointed at the house, for me to take him there.
There was nothing else to do, and at last I got him there. Then I said
I must go and get help to take him away, but he shook his head and
would not let me go. I think he thought he might as well die there as
anywhere, and he was half dead anyway. But I had to go to get food, and
I thought I could bring a doctor also. I left him some water, and got
on my horse and rode--cielo, how I rode!--for I thought he might be dead
when I got back. It was dark most of the way, and it was midnight when
I got to the ranch. I got help, and sent for a doctor to come from Los
Angeles. My wife--she is a good woman, my wife, Elena, senor--she said
she would come with me to nurse Pedro if he could not be brought away.
We were back at the house the next day early, two cousins of mine and my
wife and myself. Pedro was lying where I had left him, but he was out of
his head. Whenever he saw the box he would try to get up and go to it,
so I put it where he could not see it. I had never told my wife about
the box and the money: I thought it would only do harm to talk about it.
"The doctor came the next day. He said Pedro would never be able to
walk; he might be able to speak after a while; but he never has. The
doctor told us he ought not to be moved for a long while. And so we
stayed, senor, and we have never gone away. Don Guillermo was very good:
I think God makes people good to one when one is in trouble, is it not
so, senor? He gave me ten more cattle; two of them were good milch
cows. That made thirty head we had all together. And he sent us a lot of
flour, and coffee and frijoles; and then he found who owned the land the
house was on: it was an American, who lived in San Francisco and never
came here at all; and Don Guillermo told him about my brother getting
hurt, and he promised that we could have the house and the grazing for
nothing for three years, and then pay a little when we could. After
about ten years I bought the place, about fifty acres, and now it is my
own."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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