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Beside each stream I look for some curiosity... a shell, a pebble, an unusual flower, the quill of a new bird. Keeps my mind off the up, down, up, down.
August 21
Still the Raton. Half a mile an hour. El camino (the road) worse and worse.
Turkey, prairie chickens, and hare abound. I'm becoming quite the cook. Letty would be proud. Jem, on the other hand, gets out of greasing axles and other chores on account of his broken arm, which should be healed up by now, if you ask me.
Later
Seen a bear! Not a live one, but a carcass in the road. Now I think I see them everywhere about. I cried out, but by the time the others came running, my bear turned out to be an ox!
Worse and worse the road.
Each crash makes me think a wagon's gone over the
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precipice and tumbled into pieces at the bottom of the canyon.
Only six or eight hundred yards today! The wagons snap at every turn. We lay up to repair yet another broken tongue. I have to hold my own tongue -- does no good getting my temper in a flare.
August 25, Rio colorado
Out of the Raton at last! Has it been only five days there? Seems forever.
Jem's disappointed we leave without seeing un oso. An alive bear, that is. Dead bears are fine with me.
crossed Red River
Put me in mind of Ash Creek and I was not anxious to enter it, so I climbed up onto a tree stump. Mr. Ryder lifted me up onto his horse, and before I knew it I was landed this side of the Rio Colorado.
Mr. Ryder has been more than kind to me (Jem, too) since leaving the fort.
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August 27. Poni Creek
Hailstorm. My shawl is not thick, and two blankets are scarcely enough at night. I've taken to reporting the weather like Mama used to do (to my annoyance), but it keeps my mind straight.
We cross this stream twice. First on stepping stones by foot, then on horseback, to avoid the deeper places. Mr. Ryder has gone to help the other wagons over crossing No. 1. The banks of the creek are extremely slippery from the rains, and he has had to double up the teams, or a wagon may be turned over. I am left in charge to choose a camping ground.
I've chosen a spot where we can tuck in from the wind. Jem showed me that the tall mountain in the distance is capped with snow like Pikes Peak. I did not believe it with my own eyes, so we used Mr. Ryder's spyglass and sure enough, we are again seeing snow in August!
Nooning at Rayada Creek
There's no rest at noon rest! Work, work, work! Day after day, only time for the cooking and the washing
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and looking after Jem. Haven't felt much like writing. Seem to not have the heart for drawing.
Warmer today. Coming out from under wraps like a rattler after a thunderstorm.
August 29, ocate creek
Hills again. Thickets of trees. Jem still on the lookout for a bear.
August 30. Ojo de gallinas
Long, dark night. Endless. Just when it began to feel hopeless, we saw the light of campfires ahead. Mr. Ryder said, "Them fires is like a straw to a drowning man."
August 31. Mora Creek and settlement
Nooning it at the village of the rancheros, the men who raise cattle, which they call vacas. Their houses are made of mud and are hardly bigger than a pig's sty, fenced in with nothing but sticks. They eat an ugly cheese made of thin milk and pan de maiz, which
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seems to be corn bread. They try to sell us their pan, a bread so hard it could nearly break a toe if dropped. Jem and I felt guilty that none of us saw fit to buy their bread, so we gave them our pinon nuts we'd been saving.
September 1, The Vegas
A most embarrassing scene is what I write tonight! We came to The Vegas, and suddenly there was a crowd of some two or three dozen children pointing and shouting and covering their mouths with laughter. I couldn't think what made such a funny curiosity when I did realize it was me! Those little ones swarmed me like bees, touching my skirts and pulling down my shawl to gaze at my hair.
Jem says it was better than a monkey show at the circus, and Mr. Ryder teased that he should have charged 150 a look. I guess seeing a person of white skin with dark red hair's no different from how I felt seeing my first Indian. Still, it's nerveracking to be stared at like that.
Dinner was tortillas made of blue corn (yes, blue!). These we used in place of knife, spoon, or fork, much
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to Jem's delight. There was cheese speckled over like Letty's bacon at the fort, and chili verde, a strong mix of meat, peppers, and onion that woke my tongue right up. Roasted corn and a fried egg ended the meal. And the best part -- I, myself, did not have to cook!
I kept most quiet, unnerved by the staring eyes of even the dogs. But I did try out some of my Spanish words from Manny, and though I know I made a mess of it, everyone nodded politely just as if I were speaking plain English.
September 2. near San- Miguel
I'm glad for once that Mama's not here. The women around these parts often wear nothing but a chemise and petticoat, or their rebozo, a scarf that acts like dress, shawl, bonnet, or apron. I'm afraid I've now done some staring of my own!
They pull their clothes up above their knees and paddle through the stream like ducks. Since Mama is not here to remind me about being unladylike, I joined them, though Mr. Ryder says I shall not go as far as smoking cigarillos!
Wagon broke ... AGAIN! At the little creek just the other side of San Miguel. While we waited for the
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repair, I spied a chaparral bird, which they call the roadrunner. Must sketch it! What a funny bird. Runs fast as greased lightning on skinny bird legs, and its tail feather longer than it! Mr. Ryder tells me it runs fifteen miles per hour! Faster than our wagon. Wish I could run fast as that bird all the way to Santa Fe.
September 3 Pecos
We actually set foot among the ruins of an ancient pueblo. How could there have been Aztec people here building a temple over five hundred years ago! There used to be a town here, a town built on a rock in the shape of a foot.
All that remains now is a giant footprint.
Mr. Ryder has told us that a race of giants, more than twice his own size, built the temple here, even before the Aztecs. I thought perhaps this was just another of the giant tales, but he claims bones have been dug here of gigantic size.
Seems there is no end to the mysteries and marvels of this place we call Earth. Oh, the red rock! Like being in a painting.
Tomorrow, Santa Fe!
Is there a happy ending for us ?
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September 4, outside Santa- fe
Last day out. Soon we will lay eyes on Santa Fe. I'm anxious to see if the women here also wear nothing but petticoats. The journey's made me braver than most, but not brave enough to go about without my dress on!
Jem says the best thing about New Mexico Territory is eating without knives, forks, and spoons, to say nothing of plates. He can't get enough of the blue tortillas. Sendavel says such corn as we saw in The Vegas grows blue right on the stalk. Madre mia! Blue corn!
Later
Santa Fe! Mr. Ryder said we should be proud to enter under the Star-Spangled Banner. This is America now. Jem asks, "Does that mean flags'll fly for us?" Jem would have nothing less than a parade for our welcome.
September 5', Hilltops above Santa fe
Bells! We hear them calling bienvenido, welcome. Santa Fe at last!
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Just realized I've been holding my breath. The men are madly washing their faces and combing their hair before we enter town. Even Frenchie runs a comb through his surly mustache!
I myself am dreaming of a bath. A real bath!
Later
We heard shouts of "Los Americanos!" even before we could see the town. Jem and I had imagined ourselves a city. A city with castles and turrets and towers. We passed through a great wooden gateway and found instead a set
of skinny streets lined with a smattering of mud houses, bright strings of red peppers drying, and brown babies crying.
Many houses have barred windows. Jem asked Mr. Ryder, "Is this a dangerous place?" but I did not hear his reply.
Dust has kicked up everywhere, and if you ask me, the whole place smells of sweaty mules!
Our wagons wiggled and jiggled their way among donkeys, goats, and Mexican chickens running through the streets. Never have I seen so many dogs in one place. Mr. Biscuit is in doggie heaven! Doing our best not to run them over. We came then to a
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plaza. A tall man leaning on his rifle showed us where to go.
In the plaza
When Jem and I jumped down from the wagon, dogs barked at us, small children stared, and women smiled shyly from under black shawls. New Mexican and Pueblo boys chased after one another playing a stick-and-ball game in the street, while girls sat at a clapping game. Jem could not wait to join in.
There's a warm feeling about the place, something oddly familiar that makes me feel at home (except for the sweaty-mule smell!). Like mud-pie houses we built in Missouri when we were little.
Mr. Ryder had to register and pay his taxes at the customs house. The drivers line up to collect their wages. So Jem and I are alone in this place.
Without Mama, how will we ever call this home?
Later
I know Mama asked me to look on the bright side, so I'll tell you, Diary, I'm secretly happy for a place to put my feet down. Evening is setting, and the sky colors
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light the desert on fire. The air turns to milky blue. At last we're cooling off. Soft lights glow in taverns and dance halls, where we hear much noise and carrying-on, as well as the strumming of a guitarra and mandolin. I've seen La Fonda, a great mud-walled inn, not unlike a small version of Bent's Fort. I wonder if this is where we are to stay. A real hotel!
Tonight we sleep in the wagon while a place is made ready for us above Mr. Ryder's shop. In the land of traders, would that we could trade our wagon for a hotel room!!
September 6, morning in Santa- fe
Mr. Ryder introduced us to his partner, Carlos Villarreal, who runs the shop with him. Mr. Ryder's partner takes a caravan to Chihuahua, traveling the Camino Real, and brings back goods to trade like Mr. R does from Missouri. He is kind and "a most beneficial trader," no small praise coming from Mr. R.
Mr. Villarreal has a friendly face full of smile, and was nice enough to speak extra careful-like so we might understand him. On first meeting us, he said, "Ah! Senor Ryder! La Senora es muy linda. Y que es
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major, ella es muy afabla, muy placentera, my buena." My face heated up red as the desert sun, knowing he was talking about me. Then came Mr. Ryder's hearty laugh. He kept repeating the words hija, hija, daughter, daughter, until I realized that this man had mistaken me for Mama. Mr. Ryder's wife!!
I would have flushed a thousand times more red had not his wife, Lupe, come outside just then, with her children and an old woman they call Abuelita. Grandmother. "Hola! Que pasa?" I said. Lupe took Jem and me in her arms as if she had known us a thousand years. She must've known about us missing Mama. I liked her right away.
Carlos, the oldest boy, is only Jem's age, but he looks as tall as me. Juan is next, he's a shy one, digs his toe in the dirt more than looks at people. He made fast friends with Mr. Biscuit. Then there's little Rosalita. With a laugh that makes her eyes shut tight and sounds like the trill of a bird. She'll do just fine for a little sister!
Mr. Ryder's shop is nearly as big as the trade room at the fort, and just as exciting. Stacks and shelves of baskets and kettles and pottery jars, calico cloth enough to clothe a hundred ladies, tools and shoes and blankets. Fancy hair combs, church-type candle
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sticks. Even playing cards and a parrot that says, Buenos dias!
Jem says, "We must be rich!"
Evening
We're to sleep in a cubbyhole of a room behind the shop, which is usually the storeroom. Lupe's worked hard to make room for us. Mr. Villarreal and Lupe will take care of us and look in on us here.
On our second day here, Mr. Ryder appears to deal more in playing cards than he does in business. I'm writing while we wait for him outside the hotel. A noisy place -- some are dancing the cradle, which puts me in mind of Manny, but I dare not go inside.
In a few days, as soon as he's finished with his business, Mr. Ryder will head back to the fort to fetch Mama. The trip on horseback should go much faster. He can spare but a few good men, so I fear the danger will be greater. If only he could team up with some soldiers for protection. What if something terrible should happen to Mr. Ryder on his way to the fort?
I wish he never had to leave us, but since I long to see Mama again, I tell myself to have a stout heart. Mama would wish me brave.
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September 7 day 3 in Santa fe
Already Mr. Ryder prepares to leave. He's taken us to a store with a candy counter! The candy was in a glass case, as if each piece were a valuable piece of jewelry.
Peppermint and wintergreen and horehound! Red-and-white-striped candy. Piles of it. Heaps of it. Mountains of it! Licorice in jet-black strings like boot laces and braids nearly as thick as Mo'e'ha's! Even in the shape of Mexican sombreros. Candy that looks like shelled corn and candy hearts. (Jem won't eat those!) Best of all, we found tiny dots of red candy that turn our tongues scarlet. So hot, Jem and I stick our tongues out to the wind.
Candy, glorious candy!
Lupe helped me choose something from Mr. Ryder's store to send back for Mo'e'ha. I chose a small nugget of turquoise the color of heaven. Three times I instructed Mr. Ryder on where to leave it for her. I pray he shall not forget!
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September 8 day 4
Jem listened in on Mr. Ryder talking with Mr. Villarreal and another man, a shady-looking character with shifty eyes I've seen playing cards at La Fonda.
I'm afraid now we must both bear a terrible secret.
Mr. Ryder, it seems, has lost everything at gambling. Well, perhaps not everything, but a good deal. What will Mama say! Jem has overheard him paying the man horses and sheep, mules, blankets, and buffalo skins -- near the entire load we brought from Missouri, from the sounds of it. And all was said and done in whispered tones and hushed voices. It must be a fortune, were it gold! What are we to live on?
Jem is downcast, to say the least. We've gone from rich to poor in just a few days. What if Mr. Ryder should have to give up the store? We'd have no place to live and no means to survive. What on earth will Mama say, her children poor as orphans?
Later
Not long after discovering we're in the poorhouse, what do we see but Mr. Ryder going into his shop, where he tore open a bale of calico. The women of the
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village near ran crazy, like Jem and me at the candy store. They came in dozens and could not get enough. Soon the whole bale of forty-five pieces was gone, and all I could see were bags of corn and flour in its place.
At least we shall not be starving! How I wish I could inform Mama that Mr. Ryder has gone completely loco.
Good thing he takes leave in the morning -- at least he'll not be gambling away more of his hard-won fortune.
September 9
We said our good-byes to Mr. Ryder, and I found myself all choked up. Alone with Jem in this strange place! On our way back to the shop, Jem went and found a land terrapin. Poor thing was scared and drew its head back into it shell. No sooner did I turn my back than I found Jem standing barefooted on top of it! "Jem!" I called to him. "Get down, you fool! How would you like to have your back stepped on?"
I'm afraid within minutes of Mr. Ryder's leave-taking, I've already failed my duty to Jem, speaking so sharply to him.
I confess to feeling turtleish myself. I wish I could
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crawl inside my own shell till Mr. Ryder brings us Mama.
September 12
Afternoon
Discovered the marketplace, my favorite part of Santa Fe so far. What a wonder! Piles and piles of foodstuffs. And the dazzling colors! Heaps of red and green peppers, blue corn and golden melons.
A young boy came over selling melons. He told me "dos reales por una." which I took to mean two reales for one melon. Just smelling it I knew I had to have the fruit, so I bought it from him with coins Lupe gave me for helping her in the shop. Just as soon as I turned to walk away, he laughed and laughed and said to his friends, "Tonta, tonta," pointing to his head.
I asked Lupe what tonta means, and she told me it means foolish! Then she explained that a melon should only cost one real and says I'd better stick to trading. How I did feel greener than a new pumpkin!
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I was plenty sore over being called foolish, but then I tasted the fruit -- the juiciest melon a person ever knew. I thought it well worth the 140!
There is so much to see. Woven rugs and embroidered shawls as colorful as the rainbow of fruits. Beaded moccasins and coats, silver trimmed saddles and spurs, Pueblo baskets and pottery jars, too many to count. Strings of prayer beads and Mexican turquoise! That stone looks to me as if they plucked a piece of sky and brought it to earth.
Pueblo women can be seen swiftly tying grasses together. One appears to make a hairbrush, another an escoba (a broom, which every household needs most desperately here). Even a bone collector -- old buffalo bones and those of the prong-horned antelope and wild mustang. He sells them for $5 a ton!
How it all makes me dizzy!
I've spent hours drawing -- a string of peppers, a wreath of flowers, a single bone. Drawing, I'm a little less lonesome.
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September 13, evening
We take our meals now with Mr. Villarreal and Lupe and their family. Each meal is nearly a celebration. Jem's in heaven, eating with his hands all the time and sitting on the floor to eat whenever he wishes. After our dinner of tortillas, rice, beans, spicy chile meat, and hot soup, Abuelita tells a story.
All the stars in the sky: the Santa Fe trail diary of Florrie Mack Ryder Page 8