Ana Martin

by J. L. Jarvis

  “We’ll find a way out,” said Eduardo.

  Without a word, Ana went to the basin and dabbed a moist towel on her face. Then, bracing herself, she took Eduardo’s arm and walked dutifully through the door.

  They arrived at the top of the stairs and looked down at her suitor.

  Chapter 8

  Don Limón’s face lit up at the first sight of Ana. She smiled from the top of the stairs and whispered to Eduardo, “My God, Eduardo. He’s one giant mustache, with no chin beneath it!”

  They began to descend. Eduardo leaned closer and muttered, “It could use a trimming.”

  “With hedge clippers.”

  “Perhaps he cut off the tail from his horse to impress you!”

  Ana smiled sweetly at Eduardo. “It looked better on the horse.”

  By the time they arrived at the foot of the stairs, both were smiling. Eduardo turned Ana over to don Limón, who regarded her with eyes that shone with admiration. Don Felipe and Graciela made conversation, but Ana heard very little.

  The Martínez party arrived at their seats overlooking the lienzo charro, the rodeo arena. Don Limón put his hand at the small of Ana’s back as though he were entitled, and guided her to a seat. As Ana cringed, she caught a sharp look from Graciela. Eduardo nearly tripped over the chairs in an effort to sit beside Ana, but Graciela edged her way and landed there before him. With one last pleading glance toward Eduardo, Ana sat, now confined with no hope for escape.

  Several charros sat on the fence by the gate. It swung open. A rider entered the arena, then several more, each bearing a large flag. Ana studied each rider until the last one emerged. She need not have scrutinized the others, for once Carlos Barragan had arrived, all others faded. Dressed in black, looking dashing and tall in the saddle, he commanded attention with a presence that was bold, yet not proud. Even the other spectators, including Graciela, leaned forward and murmured their approval when he appeared. As the charros made their way around the lienzo, don Limón settled back and put his arm around the back of Ana’s chair. She leaned forward to avoid the warm dampness of his shirt. Carlos rode by. He did not look toward her. Ana wilted back into her seat until she felt the moist arm of don Limón and rebounded. Carlos circled the ring and arrived in front of Ana. He looked up toward her with smoldering boldness. Ana was lost in his gaze as her own turned to velvet. Graciela leaned over and spoke across Ana to don Limón in a deliberate attempt to block her view. Ana strained to see over Graciela’s upswept hair, but only managed to catch a glimpse of Carlos turning away.

  She tried to listen to Limón, but her eyes were drawn to his mustache, which twitched and swayed as he spoke while saliva collected at the corners of his mouth. She looked away to conceal her revulsion, but he would not have noticed. His flinty eyes fastened on her with gleaming approval, as they traveled the length of her throat to points beyond.

  In her misery, she daydreamed. A nod or a “hmm” seemed to be, for him, an invitation to continue until Ana feared her polite stare might congeal. Once she caught Eduardo’s eye and he gave her a sympathetic wink.

  Her thoughts strayed to Carlos. She had not been alone with him for a week. Twice she’d seen him, but others were present. Their eyes would meet with longing to share a world of emotion as an instant passed by them.

  He rode by one more time. Their eyes met. Ana tried not to smile too wide, but her face was luminous. And then he was gone. Ana sank back into her chair. Don Limón’s arm was soon to follow. She leaned forward. He appeared nonchalant as he removed his rejected arm and turned his attention to the charreada.

  Across the lienzo, Carlos sat upon the fence with his hat in his hand. He turned it and studied each design, but his mind was on Ana. He could not keep himself from stealing a look now and then. Limón loomed beside her and had every right. Carlos hated him most for being able to touch her. He watched Ana being devoured by Limón’s wolfish eyes. God help him, he knew that look. Old memories roiled to the surface. He had seen the hacendado looked that way at his Rosa. If Limón were to marry Ana, the result would be the same. She would be taken by a man she did not love. He could not allow this to happen again.

  “Carlos? You’d better get ready.”

  Carlos looked at the other charro and nodded. He would take care of this somehow.

  Ana watched Carlos climb up on the fence that surrounded the bull pen. He wrapped the rope around one hand and slowly lowered himself onto the bull. It began to buck. Carlos gave a nod and two men swung the gate open. The wild bull stormed through with Carlos on his back. Carlos’s legs were extended forward. His body was braced to absorb each jolting shock as though he were connected to the beast. He remained in control by balancing bold resistance and acceptance. His rugged legs absorbed each jolt with fluid motion. Seconds passed. Ana lost count. He gripped a rope with his right hand while his other arm waved about in the air. His back arched back and forth in jerking motions like a human whip about to crack. Ana leaned forward. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her skirt into tight balls in her fists. The motion lessened. The silent crowd began to murmur and then cheer as the bull slowed down and Carlos jumped off. The gate opened and other charros shooed and taunted the bull back through the gate. The cheers came at once. Ana rose to her feet, amazed and relieved. Carlos raised a hand to acknowledge the cheers. He brushed the dust from his pant legs and walked to the stalls where the next rider was about to begin.

  He hopped up on the fence with such ease. A few charros came to him with words and pats on the back. He smiled and nodded, then turned his attention to the next rider. The gate flew open. The bull stormed into the lienzo. The rider hung on tightly, but was losing his seat. He was whipped about like a rag doll before he fell over the side of the bull. When he landed, the bull trampled his leg. He lay under the bull as it bucked back and forth, almost rocking, its hooves pounding on either side of the rider. The charro lay still with his arms close to his body. A hoof grazed his head. Carlos and some other charros grabbed ropes and went into the ring. With caution, they approached. The rider was not moving. While two charros positioned themselves on the side of the bull, Carlos walked toward it, waving his arms.

  With a gasp, Ana stood and watched, her breath tight in her lungs. Carlos got the bull’s attention. He walked toward it. No one watching could move. The bull reared up and kicked and went straight for Carlos, who nimbly jumped from his path just in time for the bull to run past. Carlos whipped the bull’s hide with his shirt and waved him further toward the exit. The bull went past him, heading for the pen, but turned back toward Carlos. For a moment, neither moved, then the bull charged once more. Carlos dodged to the side and then ran. The bull followed. Through the gate the bull came toward him. As the bull passed through the gate, Carlos glided in one fluid jump over the fence. The gate slammed closed behind it.

  Carlos leaned on a fence, breathing heavily through a broad smile as his fellow charros stood nearby. Only then did Ana notice that the rider was safe. They had pulled him from under the bull and whisked him away to the doctor.

  Carlos was laughing. Ana stared, unbelieving. Her heart drummed to her ears while he laughed and brushed dust from his trousers. A hand touched her shoulder. Eduardo reached behind Graciela. He nodded toward her chair. She was the only one standing. Ana looked at her Eduardo, then at Aunt Graciela, afraid to see her aunt’s reaction. But she, too, was staring, transfixed by Carlos, her eyes narrowed and glowing. Ana sat down.

  Carlos took off his shirt and shook the dust out, then put it back on. Ana stole a sideways peek at Graciela, who watched him button each button. Ana divided her attention between Carlos, as he tucked his shirt into his trousers, and Graciela, who never took her eyes from Carlos. He turned and walked away, and still her aunt watched him.

  Abruptly, Graciela’s eyes darted toward Ana. The two stared at one another for no more than a second. Graciela turned as though the past few moments had not happened. But Ana would remember.

  The bull roping went bett
er. The fallen rider had been lucky. He soon emerged, laid on a cot with bandaged head and broken leg, to watch the remaining events. An announcement was made that he would be bedridden for a time, but he would recover. All the charros performed well, but Carlos stood out as the champion. He moved like a dancer, thought Ana, with the perfect tension between might and grace.

  The final event was the paso de la muerte, the pass of death. Carlos mounted the bare back of his horse and rode into the arena, chasing after a wild mare. Ana watched, aware of nothing but the rider in black. He rode astride his horse, effortlessly flexing his leg muscles to maintain his seat. He caught up with the wild mare and rode alongside it, leaning forward, gripping the mane of his own horse. All eyes were on him. The crowd grew silent. His face was hard as he pulled up beside the wild horse and matched its pace. He leaned over toward the other horse until Ana wondered how he kept himself from falling. He reached for the mane of the other horse and missed. The crowd moaned in disappointment.

  Don Limón leaned over to Ana and explained, “This is the most difficult event. If he misses, he could be trampled by both horses.”

  Ana frowned and looked forward.

  Carlos rode up once more beside the mare and leaned over again. Limón’s words haunted her. If he missed he would be trampled. This time he got a good hold of the mane and leapt over from his horse to the other. In an instant he was astride. The horse bucked, but before long Carlos was its master. He rode the horse around the arena. Spectators cheered and applauded. He rode with such poise and confidence.

  Ana failed to notice that don Limón was talking. But those around her did notice. Too late, Ana looked from one to the other. All about her, they waited. Don Limón must have asked a question, and now he waited for her answer.

  She looked from one to the other. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

  “It’s the sun,” said Graciela. “Let’s get you into the shade.” She took Ana’s arm and led her firmly along, while the others followed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she rasped.

  “Doing?” Ana, in her mind, had been quite gracious under the circumstances.

  “You’re not going to ruin this. Do you understand?”

  “Ruin what?”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Graciela smiled broadly to don Limón, who had caught up with them and inadvertently rescued Ana from Graciela’s tirade.

  Mariachis tuned their instruments as burnished trumpets caught the glare of setting sun. Scents of fresh tortillas, spiced meat, corn on the cob, and beans with jalapeños filled the air. Everyone seemed to be laughing and celebrating. Ana felt so alone.

  Don Felipe walked along, surveying his land and his people with comfortable pride. Don Limón leaned over to don Felipe and spoke too softly for Ana to hear.

  “Ana, come along. We have something to show you.”

  Ana was about to follow when don Limón offered his arm. She hesitated, but her uncle saw and said her name in a subtle but powerful warning. The awkward moment passed by. Don Limón excused himself for a few minutes.

  “Ana, it’s not like you to be rude,” said her uncle.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle, but I cannot pretend I could ever love this man.”

  “You have only just met him. In time, love will grow.”

  Ana glanced at him sharply and looked away. “It will not.”

  Graciela said, “Don’t be a fool! The man’s rich beyond anything you have ever known. You would never want for a thing.”

  “No. Not a thing.”

  Felipe gave Graciela a look and pulled Ana aside. “I have known you since you were this tall. And now, here you are.” The warm admiration in his eyes made her think of her father. “It is time to grow up and become a lady of your own house. There is no finer house in this part of the country than the house of Limón.”

  “If I were to marry a house, I would marry his.”

  “Don’t be clever, Ana. It is not becoming.”

  “You have no money to speak of. That don Limón would even consider you is an honor.”

  Sadness swelled in her throat.

  Don Felipe put his tanned hand over hers. “Look around you. It is beautiful, no?”

  Ana nodded.

  “Without water, there would be nothing. I would be nothing. The Casa Limón is upstream. The water is his to control. We cannot survive without his favor. To lose that would leave us in ruin.”

  Ana’s eyes pled.

  “I have known him for years. He is a good man. He cares for you. You would live like a princess. Let that be enough.”

  Don Limón returned to her side. She tried not to shrink from his admiring looks, but they fell upon her with more weight than she could bear.

  Ana walked along on don Limón’s arm, surprised to discover that he was leading her to the stable. She had tried so to be gracious, but this was too much. As much as she longed to see Carlos, she did not want him to see her like this, on the arm of don Limón.

  Inside the stable, charros and stable boys busied themselves attending to the horses. Carlos was not there. Ana relaxed. Don Felipe smiled and nodded to don Limón. Taking his cue, don Limón took Ana’s hand and led her to a stall. Ana looked the light bay mare in the stall. It was a fine looking horse. “She is yours, señorita.”

  “I can’t accept this,” said Ana. She caught her uncle’s harsh glance.

  Don Limón looked at don Felipe, and then back at Ana. “I bought it for you.” Don Limón brought Ana’s hand to his lips. Ana looked at her hand. Her face reddened. Don Limón looked up and, seeing the color in her face, smiled with satisfaction. He did not let go of her hand. The air was so close. Ana longed for fresh air. It was then that she noticed the silhouette in the doorway.

  The setting sun shone about Carlos. She could not see his face, but she knew it was he. And she knew all the thoughts and the feelings that must have coursed through him to find her like this.

  “We can talk more of this later,” said Felipe. “Carlos! Take don Limón and Ana for a ride around the hacienda. I have some matters to attend to.”

  Ana stared pleadingly at her uncle, who clearly meant to leave her alone with don Limón. He cast a knowing smile at don Limón, and he left.

  Carlos directed a stable boy to prepare the horses.

  “Bring them to us outside.”

  Carlos nodded obediently.

  Señor Limón took Ana’s arm and led her outside. She glanced back at Carlos, who would not look at her. He grabbed a saddle and put it on a gelding he had chosen for himself.

  Carlos brought Ana’s horse outside to her, while a stable boy brought a horse to don Limón. Her companion mounted his mare, while Carlos helped Ana into the saddle. He made a show of adjusting the stirrup, while his hand grazed the skin above her boot. Their eyes met. For all the strength he had displayed in the charreada, he now stood before her, powerless to alter the bitter path that unfolded.

  Don Limón positioned himself between Carlos and Ana as they rode through the hacienda. He asked questions, which Carlos answered with a civil tone, which masked his sullen frame of mind. Ana caught glimpses. Their eyes met only once. It was torment. They dared not look again.

  “You are very quiet, señorita,” said don Limón.

  “Yes,” said Ana. She looked toward the mountains. How she wished to hide herself in them, to ride fast, tear the ribbons from her hair, let the wind brush against her face, far away.

  “Come, this way, señorita.”

  The men had turned without her notice. Ana looked one last time at the mountains and entertained reckless thoughts of escaping. This was the moment to ride. Leave now. Go. But Carlos would not leave his son. She would not want him to.

  Ana turned her horse and followed them back.

  “This is a fine hacienda. I hope that soon you will come to visit me and let me show you my home. I know it will please you.”

  “How can you know that?” asked Ana. Carlos flinched, but stopped short of snapp
ing his head back to see her.

  Don Limón’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. I merely meant that I hope—”

  Ana spoke softly, “Please do not hope, don Limón.”

  Beneath his stunned expression, anger mounted.

  Ana patted the neck of her mare. “This is a fine horse, but I cannot accept it. I am sorry.” She turned the mare and galloped to the stable.

  Don Limón sat high atop his own horse with stunned indignation.

  Carlos led two horses into the stable. There were workers inside, busy tending to horses. He kept his voice low as he approached Ana. Ana stood in the corner, as though overseeing their work. Carlos maintained a suitable distance and looked at her only in passing as though engaging in casual conversation.

  “You’ve offended him.”

  Ana whispered, “What else could I do?” She lifted her eyes to his, wanting to let her gaze linger. “We were almost betrothed.” She pulled her gaze from him. “I didn’t know what to do.” They stood within one another’s grasp without touching. “Where is he?”

  “Gone now. I imagine your uncle is getting an earful at this moment.”

  Carlos nodded his head to a stable boy, who rushed over and took the reins of the horses. Carlos led Ana a few steps away. With furtive glances, he took account of every person inside.

  Carlos moved close to Ana and touched her hand with his fingers. A stable boy walked past. Their hands parted.

  “You won’t marry him,” he said, half demanding, half beseeching.

  “No,” said Ana.

  “You will marry me,” he said, turning to her. His fierce gaze bore through her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His eyes softened. “You will?”

  “Yes.”

  Carlos whispered, “Go now—before I do something we’ll both regret—but enjoy.” His mischievous grin was contagious.