by Ward, Marsha
“This was her house, young man, but I bought it a while back. As to finding her, you’ve got a long trail ahead of you. She took off for San Francisco.”
James stared at the stranger for a long time before he turned and lifted his chin to look at Amparo. “She’s gone, cleared out,” he said, and felt a little grin tugging up the ends of his mouth. “She’s down the river and over the mountain, and I’m not chasing her to San Francisco just to say ‘howdy’, girl!”
“Is that your woman?” asked the man.
He whirled around. “My wife!” he said. “She’s my wife! Thought we’d look in on some relations, but San Francisco’s a mite far to go.” James couldn’t keep that grin off his face, nor inventions from spilling out of his mouth.
The man squinted into the darkness. “I hope the widow wasn’t a near relation. The lady vamoosed with a male friend of dubious repute. She’s been playing hob with her husband’s memory.”
“I reckon she was not close to the young lady.” From the heated way Amparo had talked, James knew they hadn’t got along well.
“I’d say I was sorry you missed her, but I’m not. No offense, you understand.”
James shook his head. “None taken.” There was growing in his soul a need to whoop out loud, and he shifted weight from one leg to the other. “Would you know of a place we can put up for the night, seeing we missed the widow?”
“Go back to the plaza,” directed the man. “On the southeast corner there’s an adobe inn. It’s called La Fonda. They’ll put you up.”
“Much obliged.” The young man nearly yelled the words. As the American closed the door, James turned towards Amparo and let loose the whoop, shaking his fists in the air as he did so. The door opened again and the American stuck his head out, saw James grinning at him, shrugged his shoulders as he said, “Young people!” and shut the door.
He nearly ran to the horse. “Amparo, your madrastra’s gone. Vamoosed, like the man said.”
“¿Vamoosed? ¿Vamos? ¿Me dices que ella se fue? ¿Para dónde se fue?”
“Pa ra don de se fue?” he repeated. “Tarnation, I don’t know what you’re asking, but she went to San Francisco with a man friend.”
“¿Se fue a San Francisco?” Amparo’s face twisted up with anger. “Con Juan Pablo Fuentes, me imagino. ¡Ay de mi!” she cried out, looking wildly around. “¿Qué será conmigo?”
James looked at the distress on her face. “I wish I could talk to you, girl. This ain’t a time for grief. I got such a great joy bubblin’ inside of me.” He laughed into the empty street, and whooped again. “Ya hoo! I’m gonna keep you, girl!”
“No entiendo nada de esto,” she replied, lifting her chin and setting her face into a blank expression.
“Don’t you get stony faced on me, mujer. Mule tails! I got to get somebody to help us talk. This matter needs clearing up.” James swung into his saddle. “But first we’ll go find that hotel.”
~~~
James turned the animals over to the hostler at the livery stable behind the inn, then, carrying his war bag and Amparo’s bundle, joined his wife where he had left her in the lobby. After he arranged for lodging, he escorted Amparo down a hallway, opened the door to a small room, and entered, dumping the gear on the bed. Amparo sat down in the one chair in the room, hunching her shoulders as though she were in pain. The look on her face made James ache to erase the confusion he saw there. He went over to her and stood before her.
“I sold your mule. That’ll pay for our stay and get us supplies for the trip home.” She didn’t look up, so he bent down and picked up one of her hands. “Come on. They’re settin’ up the comida. Let’s go eat.” James took her other hand and pulled her to her feet, then held her by the shoulders. Her head drooped, and she wouldn’t look at him. “Amparo, girl, I ain’t going to leave you off here.” He bent his head to let her see his smile. “You’re going home with me, to mi casa. Tarnation! I wish you took my meaning.”
She started a slow wagging of her head, back and forth, back and forth, with her eyes squeezed tight shut. “Estoy confundida,” she said.
James bit his lip. “Mules tails! We got to get this straight. I’ll find somebody here that speaks both lingos, like Tom. But first, let’s eat. My belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”
He took her hand and moved her through the door and off to the dining room, then after he helped her with her chair and sat down himself, he looked around at the other diners in the room.
At the next table a man of middle years sat alone. His black broadcloth suit was an American style, but his face—thin skin tightly stretched over fine bones—was from the Mexican mold. His eyes met those of James, and the young man nodded politely. The man seemed surprised, but gave James a nod of his own. I wonder if he talks English, James thought, and opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter came to take the man’s food order, and the chance passed.
Then the waiter came toward James. When he finished ordering, James looked around the room again. Five Mexican men sat at another table, discussing their business in Spanish. An old man and his wife, whom James took to be Easterners from their dress, huddled over their plates, never glancing up from their food. That’s the whole bundle, he thought, and decided that the man at the next table was the most likely prospect.
The food arrived: steak, potatoes cut in wedges, with crisp fried eggs on the side. James took a bite. He chewed, swallowed, then winked at Amparo. “I like your comida better, girl.” Her cheeks glowed pink, and he wondered if she blushed for the words or the wink.
Oh, my pretty wife. James gulped, thinking of all the things he had in his heart to tell her, yearning to share the deep buried feelings that came bubbling up under his skin. “Tarnation,” he said softly. “I can’t take this any more.”
He took a full breath and turned to the man at the next table. It took a while to get the man’s attention, so James cleared his throat, and when the man looked up through black, heavily hooded eyes, James said, “Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?”
The gentleman jerked his head, slowly wiped his mouth with his napkin, then said, “I have good English.”
James sighed. “That’s fine. That’s mighty fine. I’ve got to beg a favor of you, sir. Can you come sit with us for a spell?” The man nodded once, got to his feet, and took the chair James rose to pull out for him. When he was settled he said, “I am Peter Chaves. How may I be of service?”
James cleared his throat again as he sat. “My name is James Owen. I’m from up in Huérfano County, Colorado Territory. This here’s Amparo. I’ve got a little problem talking to the young lady, me not knowing much of her lingo and all. I know it’s a lot of trouble, but can you tell her what I say, you know, in Spanish?”
“You want me to interpret?”
“I reckon that’s what it’s called. I’m sorry to keep you from your meal, but I got to tell her something real important and know she understands.”
Mr. Chaves blinked, then waved his hand in agreement. “Certainly,” he said. “I will do my best.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll talk on, then, if you’re ready?”
“Go ahead, young man.”
James took his wife’s hand. “Amparo. I was wrong, back there at the church. I lied to the priest, and I’m mighty sorry.” He stopped to get a breath, and felt a drop of sweat plop from his jaw onto the skin of his throat and run down to his collar where it soaked into his shirt. The stranger took his turn, a sour look on his face, and when he had finished speaking, James continued.
“I want things right between you and me, so here and now I make my vows for the regular term. Till death takes me away from you, I’ll be your husband.” He shifted in his chair. “All I got is the clothes on my back, the grub in my pack, and the skills in my hands, but you won’t go hungry as long as I live.”
James glanced at the man, who moved his mouth without words for a moment, then got out, “You are married?”
“Yup.”
Peter Chave
s sat up straight for a minute, his thin skinned fingers twitching on the table, then he drew his brows together as he spoke to Amparo. When he stopped, James began again.
“Your madrastra left town, but you know that. What you don’t know is...I got to dreading the day I would meet her. I thought I could do my duty by you and turn you back to her without a second thought, but I got to where I was hating the idea. I didn’t want to let you go.” James sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll never do it now, and we can go home to the Greenhorn and have us a passel of kids. And you can meet my family, and—”
“Déje, joven. Let me catch up.”
James watched Amparo as the man spoke to her. Wonder flickered in her wide eyes. Then she threw back her head and laughed, and a flush—wondrous and warm—moved over James’s body as he heard the joy in her start low and chuckling like a stream of water growing and boiling out of an underground spring. Amparo tucked her chin down again, shook her head and answered the man.
Peter Chaves looked at James and spread his hands on the table. “She seems very happy, as you can see. She says she feels like she already knows your family.” The man lowered his gaze. “And she is eager to have many niños, babies with your laughing eyes.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I translate the best I can.”
Amparo’s laughing spring seemed to be inside of James. He did his best to keep it from gushing out, holding it private and precious, but he grinned broadly in spite of himself.
“Ah, you did a good job. Thank you. Thank you. Wait.” James swallowed hard. “Tell her—no, tell me how to say ‘I love you’.”
The man rubbed his pink earlobes. “Say ‘te amo’. It’s very easy. Just ‘te amo’.”
James bit his lip and practiced a couple of times in a whisper. Amparo looked at him and squeezed his hand. Then he gazed at her, his pretty little wife, and there was a feeling in him like water seeping in to fill a dry well—gradual, but steady—rising with life giving moisture. He felt no more need to practice, so he said straight out, “Amparo, te amo, today, and yesterday, and tomorrow. Te amo all my days.”
The man rattled off a few more Spanish words to fill in the gaps, and Amparo listened, her lips parted and eyes melting into James’s soul, then she tugged on Chaves’s coat and motioned for him to bend down. She whispered her wants, and got his reply, then a smile blazed from her face.
“Che mes, I lahv you for-e-ver,” she said. She put her hands to her mouth and giggled. “I lahv you, para siempre,” she repeated, and her hands pounced on his and squeezed tight.
Mr. Chaves got to his feet. James stood and shook his hand.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for us. I’m obliged for your help.”
“Good luck to you, young man. And may you quickly learn much Spanish. Such things as you said are for private times and private places.”
James swallowed. “I know. It couldn’t be helped. I’m deeply obliged, Mr. Chaves.”
The man returned to his table and his meal, and James sat down and tried another bite of food, but the sight of Amparo’s glowing face in front of him made it hard to chew. He pushed his plate to the center of the table. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
Amparo pushed away her plate. “Vamos,” she whispered, holding his glance with those dark eyes of hers.
“Yeah, vamos,” he answered, getting to his feet so hastily that he knocked over his chair.
~~~
James opened the door of the room for Amparo and followed her in, then caught up the chair and tilted the back of it under the doorknob. He shook it to check the fit, then turned and laughed.
“Six little beans! I’m kinda shaky, like I was sprawled out behind a bush, waiting for the Yankees to come down on me.” He took off his coat and crossed the room to hang it on a hook. “But there ain’t no Yankees, only a gentle little gal, sweet as sugar, waiting for me to right my wrongs.” James took Amparo’s shawl and hung it over his coat, talking toward the wall. “I got a sorrowful feeling for the way I lied to that priest. But hush, I’m so full of happy, it likes to drive the sorrow away.”
When James turned back to the room he noticed that Amparo had not moved, but stood there in the center of the room, a smile playing with her lips.
~~~
Madre Santísima, he has said he loves me! I thought he found me ugly after the first time, but he does want to hold me, to touch me.
~~~
“I’m scared, Amparo. I reckon it’s like we got wed right there at that table.” James stopped for a breath. “Tarnation, I’m nervy as a tied up coon dog with the fresh smell of varmint tweakin’ his nose. It’s like...we ain’t ever...been together,” he stammered.
~~~
Holy Mary, is this the happiness that comes of doing duty? See how his eyes soften. My papá looked at me in that manner. Yet, there is more in my Anglo’s eyes. I am not ugly to this man, my Chemes, my beloved.
~~~
James held his arms wide, and Amparo stepped into them. “Bésame, mi amor,” she whispered, and James replied, “Bésame,” and bent his head and kissed her.
After a moment he straightened up and said, “My sweet girl, you’re such a wonder, with your eyes all soft an’ shining, and your hair—” He untied the cords binding her braids. “Out there on the street, before we got to your house, I craved to touch your hair one more time before your madrastra took you away from me.” Amparo’s hair came unbound from the plaits. “Oh, my pretty girl, your hair is just like I remembered it, smooth as silk in my hands.” His fingers separated the strands at her temples, and the ear bobs caught his eye. He touched them, then motioned. “Take them off. I want to get you some different aretes, gifts from me.”
Amparo had a puzzled look, so James touched the backs of the ear bobs. Then he remembered a word. “Quita,” he said.
~~~
He has learned many words from me, Blessed Virgin, just as I have learned much from him.
~~~
Amparo smiled and removed the jewelry from her ears. As she did so, James saw the ring on her finger, and caught her hand. Amparo dropped the ear bobs into his palm.
“You can’t wear that muerto fellow’s pledge,” he grunted, pulling the circle from her finger and putting it and the other jewelry on the chest of drawers. “I don’t want his ghost in my bed. Not on my rightful wedding night.”
Amparo giggled. “Noche de bodas,” she whispered.
“Noche de bodas,” James repeated. “Our noche de bodas,” he said, and picked her up in his arms.
~~~
“This here ring is my pledge.”
James stood in the open doorway of the room, looking at his yawning bride lying snuggled in the bedclothes. He had left the room early that morning to sell the wedding ring and earrings to a goldsmith, and buy new gifts. In one hand he carried a large parcel. Between thumb and finger he held out another result of his shopping trip.
A laugh came out of James’s mouth at the sight of Amparo’s eager face as she sat up. He realized she wasn’t presentable, so he pushed the door shut with his boot. Then he tossed the package onto the chair and crossed the room to the bed, picking up her dress from the floor and handing it to her.
James stood and waited while Amparo got out of bed and hurried into her clothes. He caught her hand and kissed each finger, stopping at the ring finger and holding it a prisoner. Then he slid the gold circle down the length of her finger, and it shone in the light with a warmth that reminded him of the hearth at home. Amparo caught her breath.
“That joins us official,” James said, and grinned at the little-girl pleasure on her face.
“¡Este anillo es magnífico!” There was a wonderment in her voice that matched the feeling in his belly as he looked at her, hardly believing that she was his.
He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the perfume of her hair. Amparo was warm, she was here with him, and she loved him. His chest ached with the joy of finding a treasure where he’d only seen a duty.
James pulled ba
ck a bit to look at Amparo, and caught her admiring the ring again, moving her finger and hand to catch light on the polished surface. “¡Qué belleza!” she said, and kissed the ring. Then she turned her attention to the large package on the chair. “¿Que es esto, mi amor?” she asked. James laughed and cut the string tying up the package. He spread apart the brown paper and lifted up a gray wool cloak.
“You won’t be cold going home, girl. Try this on quick. I’ve got to go out again to buy supplies so we can get an early start on the trail.”
“¡Oh!” she cried, and slipped the cloak around her shoulders. “Es muy bella.” She hooked the fasteners and twirled to spread the fullness around her. Then she clasped her hands together in front of her chin and lifted teasing eyes to his. “Gracias, mi amor, ¿pero no me traes aretes?”
“Aretes! Six little beans! I almost forgot.” James stood and shoved his hand into a pocket, then brought out a twisted square of paper. “I bought the prettiest ones I could find, gold, with little red and green stones,” he said as he unwrapped the ear bobs. “Puts me in mind of Christmas coming.” He tucked the paper into Amparo’s outstretched hands, then touched his jaw below his moustache. His skin was still tender from shaving his beard in a hurry that morning before Amparo awoke. Now that he had admitted he was a married man, he wanted to look presentable for his wife.
She pushed the tiny earrings around the paper, watching the colors that reflected from the gems. “¡Qué maravilla!” she breathed. “¡Qué lujo!” Then Amparo walked to the washstand, shoved the china bowl and pitcher to the rear, and put the paper on the edge she had cleared.
James came up behind her, adding his grin to her smile in the cracked mirror over the stand. He lifted her hair away from her ears, stroking her neck a bit as he did so. “Put them on, mujer. I want to see my ear bobs shining through these black tresses.”
“Hombre,” she said, and held the decorations to her ears. “¿Te gustan, mi amor?” she asked, laughing at him as he nuzzled her neck.
“Just put them on, pretty wife. We got to hit the trail this morning. I’m hankering to get you home to Colorado.”