Outback Heritage

by K'Anne Meinel

  A short, squat, Mexican women stuck her head in. “Dinner is on the table,” she informed Carmen in Spanish with a big smile, glancing at their visitor.

  “Thank you. We will be right there. Have the guest room made up for Senor Larson. He will be staying the night.”

  The woman nodded as she shut the door.

  “Well, let’s look at this later when we can discuss it some more,” Carmen said in English as she stood up. “Let’s go into dinner, shall we?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Carmen looked out at the night from the deep porch that surrounded the hacienda. Her grandfather had built this house, so the cool California nights could be enjoyed. Anyone could sleep out here on the many benches that were scattered around the porches, and they sometimes did. The overhang of the roof concealed her, and anyone watching the house would not be able to see her in the shadows. She frequently walked out on the porches, looking out into the night, just listening and breathing. She regularly wore dark clothes, so she wouldn’t stand out like she would in something like a white dress. Tonight, she had a lot on her mind. Should she sell her share of the station to her cousins? That would mean she could collect a percentage of their profits indefinitely. She also worried about the coming fight for the ranch that had been in her family for hundreds of years. She mused over that idea for a very long time.

  She heard what she thought was a whisper of a footstep, and her handgun was instantly in her hand as she looked from the corners of her eyes out into the night. One could not look directly at things in the dark. Her cousins knew better than to slip up on the hacienda or even the barns without a whispered shout out. She waited, not moving, knowing movement might give her away and concealment gave her an advantage. She waited a long time, and still, no one came onto the porch. Whatever or whoever it was must have gone away. In the morning, she found a set of boot tracks. Very narrow feet had approached the house and stood there as someone watched the house. They had eventually turned and returned to a cut in the nearby bank where a horse had been waiting and rode away. Carmen was not happy about the fact that someone was this close to her home and her children. She didn’t know what they had wanted but considering the news her lawyer had brought her, she could only assume they were up to no good.

  She took a buggy out the next day to show Mr. Larson around the immediate area. Although considered a small ranch by California standards, they were gone several hours and still, she had only showed him a small portion of her property. Patrick realized how much this was worth fighting for as he gazed in wonder at the now harvested fruit and the fields of grain where the workers had gone to work next. He admired the beautiful herd of horses that Carmen took such pride in as she explained her program of breeding. It embarrassed him to be talking breeding with a woman, but she was so knowledgeable and natural about it, he found himself impressed and feeling comfortable. He watched as she used dogs to bring in a herd of cattle along with her magnificent stallion. The love and adoration of the animals was apparent as they were eager to please her. Her children were delightful, ranging in age from ten to three. They were eager to please Carmen as well, and their nurses followed closely behind to keep them in line.

  “Carmen, I must say, you have quite a life here. It’s worth fighting for!” he said admiringly as they shared a small bottle of locally grown wine.

  She nodded. “My family has been on this land for generations. They have no right to take this land from me or my children.”

  He agreed. It was a life that few people could understand. They were practically self-sufficient out here. “Have you ever considered marrying again?” He knew that with the right marriage, especially to a white man, she would be protected.

  She sighed. “I was married to a very weak man. The only good things he gave me were our children.” There was a touch of pride in her voice as she mentioned the youngsters, justifiably so he thought. “Being alone since his death, I have had to grow up. I can rely on myself alone.”

  “But you have your family, your cousins,” he objected, gesturing towards the workers they could see in the ranch yard. She was not alone.

  She smiled. “They do not own the land. It is mine. They will die defending it for me, but they don’t really have that sense of ownership. They too have lived on it for hundreds of years. They are descendants of the original Dons who came here to settle. Some stayed, some married the Indians they found here, and some went back to Mexico or even to Spain. They have pride in the land, but not the responsibility.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Most would not understand. I made the mistake of marrying a good-looking man once, and I won’t make the mistake of sharing my responsibility with another. But I grow tired of the fight, Patrick.” They had agreed to call each other by their first names. Carmen was technically a middle name but easier on Americans ears. “I know you will be doing the legal fighting for me, but I grow weary of it all.”

  “What else can you do though, Carmen? You can’t give all this up!” His hand took in all the land around them, realizing the immense responsibility that fell on her delicate shoulders.

  “I’m thinking a few things over. I’ll decide very soon,” she told him.

  It left him wondering what was going through that fine mind of hers. He had agreed to fight for her, and he would win, but would it be worth the cost?

  * * * * *

  “She wants what?” Patrick Larson said in consternation a month later.

  “She wants us to acquire an ocean-going vessel that will transport horses, people, and household goods. She has decided to go to Australia to claim her inheritance. Apparently, she has sold her family ranch in the valley to a relative, who we have obtained as a client. He has written us too, asking about the impending legal fight for the ranch. She writes to us asking that we obtain passage for her, her children, a few cousins, and her herd of horses,” Simon said as though she had lost her mind.

  Patrick looked at Simon as though he was the one who had lost his mind and not their client, Carmen.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Simon dared to say.

  Patrick smiled sardonically. That was exactly how he was feeling. Carmen hadn’t given up the fight. It would continue with the relative, who had bought her ranch. She was going to start anew in Australia. What a brave soul!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Packing had been sad. Many memories had gone into boxes and trunks along with their clothing and household goods. Carmen had allowed a fandango to celebrate her cousin’s purchase of the ranch. He hadn’t expected she would say yes when he had asked her about purchasing the land. He had also expected that upon her acceptance and their signing of the agreement, her impressive herd of horses, especially the stud named Dancer, would be included in the exorbitant purchase price. He was wrong. Having made the long journey from Mexico City to meet this distant cousin, he had had been surprised when she agreed to sell the ranch to him, but he was angry that he hadn’t gotten all the stock with the deal. He tried to argue with the American woman after the gold had arrived and had been deposited in the American bank, but he lost, and he wasn’t very happy about it. Still, he had a foothold in the California land, and it wouldn’t be his last purchase, if he had his way.

  Carmen hadn’t intended selling to this cousin, but his sudden appearance and eventual offhand offer for the ranch had seemed like a godsend. She didn’t refuse him, and she said if they could agree upon a price, she would indeed sell to him. She knew he had assumed her fantastic herd of horses went with the deal, but nothing was written into their agreement, and once the monies arrived and were deposited into her name, there was nothing cousin Alejandro could do. She had been honest about what had been going on in the valley, telling about the thefts, and they were both confident he could handle it. He thought a man was better suited for this fight, and she just knew she needed to keep her children safe and away from this escalating war. There had been other offers but none as generous and in gold. There would be some bitterness in the valley
from those who didn’t want another Hispanic coming in, but she and her children would be gone.

  “Anyone and their families are welcome to join me. If they don’t like Australia, I will allow them to return to America. I only ask that they give it five years, and after that, if they are unhappy, I will pay for their passage back,” she told her employees, so many of them distantly related to her. The smiling faces all were loyal to her, and they looked amongst themselves as they immediately began to discuss this opportunity.

  This too made Alejandro unhappy, several of her vaqueros, ones he had intended on using for what he considered his ranch now, decided to go with Carmen. If the monies hadn’t been transferred out of his account already, he would have somehow taken them back. Instead, he was left trying to fake smile his happiness at this party, this fandango that she insisted on throwing. The Mexican and American music blended badly to his ears. He must keep his anger from spilling over. She could have this win, but if there was some way for him to get the monies back, even the horses that were now well-guarded, he would.

  Carmen knew that someone as hard as Alejandro might try to make people bend to his wants and desires for the ranch. She had talked to several of her cousins and employees about him, which was why so many were going with her to try a new life in Australia. One changed his mind at the last minute as his wife would not go because she was afraid of the ocean voyage, and another was staying because he felt his duty was with the land that he had grown up on. Carmen understood and didn’t pressure any of them.

  The children’s nurses all decided to go with her, two of them already eyeing the handsome, tough-looking vaqueros, who would be accompanying their Signora. Some had families, and Carmen arranged wagons for them and their possessions. Their children looked around wide-eyed as they set off on the long trip to San Francisco.

  * * * * *

  “Carmen, I know this is an adventure to you, but I don’t know what you will find there,” Patrick Larson warned her as they both watched the many belongings destined for Australia being loaded on the ship he had procured for her use. The horses had gone up the gangway, some with bags over their heads, so they couldn’t see where they were going. They were being led by the voices they trusted and were not distracted by the water all around them. Dancer seemed worried about his harem but stood pridefully. He was the last to be loaded and the most dangerous. Dockworkers eyed the nearly wild-looking horse balefully. Carmen personally took the stallion aboard, making sure he was settled in a stall all by himself as she gave him a couple treats. He looked about, his black eyes taking in the familiarity of the stall, but he was not liking that the ground beneath his feet seemed to be swaying. She returned to the pier to watch as the last of her and her companions’ household goods were loaded on the ship.

  “I’m not worried, Patrick. This is a good decision for me.” She told him of her cousin Alejandro, who had fortuitously shown up and how she had outmaneuvered the arrogant Don from Mexico City on her valuable herd of horses. They shared a laugh. “I don’t know how receptive he will be to your help in fighting to retain the ranch, but he has your name, and you have his,” she discussed with Patrick further.

  “He has written to me,” he acknowledged. “If ever you decide to return, I hope you know that my services are always available to you and your family,” Patrick told her, wondering if something might happen on the long voyage to Australia. So little was known about the interior where she would be settling. Still, her father’s brother had settled there and made a station, and he must have left it to her for a reason.

  “I thank you, Patrick. Maybe you should come and see it?” she teased with a smile as she watched her people walking up the gangplank, the last of their bundles and supplies in their hands. Several were also holding hands tightly with their children, who looked about wide-eyed at the busy port. Her own children were doing their best to get away from their nurses.

  “Ah, that is an adventure I won’t ever take,” he laughed. He knew he was too old for such a journey. “You will have to write and tell me what it is like.”

  They finished up the last of their business. He had arranged for some but not all her fortune to be transferred to the Bank of England, so she would have funds available upon her arrival. Knowing that trips such as this could be arduous, they had also made out her will, leaving everything to her children, if they survived. The rest of her estate would go to her people, if there was no direct descendant remaining. She had copies of her will, her letters of introduction, her uncle’s will, and a few other documents she would need upon her arrival.

  “Well, thank you for your expertise,” she said by way of dismissal, not wishing to prolong the goodbye. She signaled to the nurses to get the children on board the ship. She could see the men loading the last of the supplies from the dock.

  “Godspeed, Senora Mary Carmen Valenzuela Pearson,” he returned, doffing his top hat to her as he relished the Spanish flavor of her complete name.

  Carmen laughed, knowing she probably wouldn’t hear that again except from her vaqueros or a priest. She began to walk up the plank onto the large ship.

  Patrick Larson watched her and the sailors who made the last-minute preparations. Some were pulling in their ropes as they planned to catch the tide, and others were setting small sails to move them out into the bay. The larger sails would be unfurled before they left the large bay that constituted San Francisco, one of the best ports in the world. He had read that Sydney’s immense bay rivaled it, but not enough was written about this new country that was still in its infancy. He turned as the ship began to creep away from the dock. The ropes had been thrown aboard, and the men were climbing either the ropes or the rope ladders. Finally, the plank was pulled onto the ship and they got underway. He waved, and the children waved madly in return. Senora Pearson smiled as she held her three-year-old daughter Rachel in her arms, so she could wave too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Carmen, her children, and their nurses were together in a large cabin with bunk beds. The other settlers that had agreed to go with her and the vaqueros, those with wives and families, were billeted in several other cabins like this, some sleeping on the floor. None of them had ever been on a ship before, and there was a period of adjustment as they all got settled.

  Most of the supplies, the horses, and the household goods were Carmen’s and her people’s, but there were trade goods too, and the captain and his men took care of it all. They had experience in transporting livestock, and the horses were well-tended, not only by the sailors but also by Carmen and her people. They were sympathetic to those who immediately experienced seasickness, but there wasn’t a lot that could be done for these people other than supplying them with buckets and fresh water. Water would be limited to the many barrels they had on board for the stock and people. Any rain that could be gathered would go into empty barrels as they accumulated. This many people and animals would consume a lot of water, and the captain had planned accordingly when he took on this commission. He didn’t know who Senora Pearson was, but she must be important to be able to pay for most of his ship’s cargo area and for all the people and their supplies. Mr. Larson, who had contacted and then contracted with him on her behalf, had negotiated a good deal all around. Captain Jamieson was certain he could get the cargo and all these people and their animals safely across the vast ocean.

  “Captain,” Carmen nodded as she greeted the man, looking out at the horizon as San Francisco had retreated behind them many hours ago. There was nothing but water around them or an occasional boat or ship heading back in the direction they had come.

  “Senora Pearson,” he greeted her, looking out at the deck and his men scurrying about doing their duties. His eyes were perpetually squinted from long days at sea and a lifetime of sailing ships. His eyes missed little as he scanned his ship from the high deck, known as a poop deck. His hands were sure and steady on the large wheel. His first mate stepped up and relieved him of the wheel, and he joined the woman at
the rail. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he inquired as she gazed out at the endless sea. The sun was shining brightly as they were long gone from the endless fogs that frequently enfolded the large city of San Francisco.

  “Fascinating,” she murmured, wondering if this move had been a mistake. But she was committed, for better or for worse.

  “You aren’t suffering from mal de mer?” he teased, smiling and showing teeth slightly stained from tea and tobacco.

  She smiled. Despite his use of the French term, she understood what he was asking. The last two words sounded the same in both French and Spanish. “No, I don’t seem to be suffering from dolor de mar,” she responded, giving the expression the full inflection and richness of the Spanish language. Her Spanish, which she could switch from the Americanized or Hispanic to the Castilian that she had learned at her mother and grandfather’s knee, sounded natural coming out of her mouth. “How long is the voyage, Capitán?” she asked teasingly since he wanted to play with words.

  He laughed. His skills in various languages were a necessity as he shipped goods around the world. He understood she had enjoyed his teasing. “If we keep our winds,” he answered in Americanized English while looking up into the full sails his men were maintaining, “it should be about one hundred fifty days or so. We may stop in Tahiti or somewhere for fresh water, if we don’t get enough rain, which would delay us either way.”

  “It looks so calm and so peaceful,” she said as she looked back out to sea, watching the reflections of the sun on the rippling water. The waves were not too rough as the large ship plowed its way through the deep waters, its sails filled with the winds that would could carry her across this immense ocean.

  “Aye, it is now, but the sea can be a capricious bitch when she wants. Don’t ever count on her,” he told her, searching in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco.