Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  Amparo finished putting on the earrings and turned to him, giggling. “Te amo, mi amor,” she whispered, and pulled his face down to hers.

  He kissed her, muttering, “Te amo, Amparo.”

  They didn’t start for home until way past noon.

  Chapter 16

  Amparo and James took joy in being together, whether it was riding side by side on the trail so they could hold hands, or lying close together in their bed watching the dog capering in the dawn as the sun rose over the prairie, or looking for a camp sheltered enough to put them out of sight of other travelers. An ice bound wind blew off the mountains and swept the valleys, but the hot blood coursing through James’s veins kept him warm from dawn to dark, and his wife warmed his bed from dark to dawn.

  One morning they stood together in their camp in the dark before dawn, next to the ascending trail to the mountain pass men call Ratón, and looked back on New Mexico as the sun came up and filled the valleys with rosy light. The dog caught a scent and dashed away from its place beside the horses, going off the side of the road and down the mountain.

  “Pretty place,” James muttered into his wife’s hair as he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her middle. “But I know a prettier one. Let’s go home.”

  As he packed the mule, he noticed that the bag of cornmeal was nearly empty. “Tarnation. I didn’t buy a new sack in Santa Fe. I missed that,” he said as he boosted Amparo onto her horse. “My head must be turned inside out ‘cause te amo so much. Hush, we’ll have to stop in Trinidad, girl.” Then James swung into the leather, whistled for the dog, and looked again at his wife.

  Ma’ll be proud to know Amparo. I reckon she will be a mite surprised. Pa likely told her how I wasn’t fit for human company when I left.

  “And now I have a wife!” he said aloud.

  Amparo looked at him. “¿Eres feliz, hombre?”

  “I got a great joy in you,” he said. “And you look so fine, just so fine.”

  She smiled and James grinned. He nudged his horse, and they rode into the pass and toward Trinidad.

  ~~~

  “There are a mighty lot of folks going armed.” James craned his neck to look behind as he and Amparo rode into town. “There’s no womenfolk on the street. I wonder ¿qué pasa?” He turned to the front again. “Whatever it is, we ain’t going to meddle in. We’ll get the grub and be on our way.”

  “Necesito comprar algunas cositas, Chemes,” Amparo said. “Quiero comprarte un regalito para el Año Nuevo.”

  “Every white man I see is walking with another man, and they’re stepping wary. This town is full of weapons.”

  James leaned forward a bit in the saddle, easing the stiffness in his back. Rolling his shoulders, he loosened joints that creaked from the cold, windy journey they had made through the Pass. Then he spotted a ‘general store’ sign nailed to the front of the Colorado Hotel, and guided his horse over to the side of the street.

  “We’ll buy our goods here.” He dismounted and tied his horse and the mule to a post, then looked around as Amparo’s horse came up beside him. “There’s a crowd across the street. Rifle barrels around that adobe house like quills on a porcupine’s back. You stick close to me, Amparo.” He took a turn around the post with the tether from her horse.

  “Eres tan serio. ¿Qué pasa?” she asked, stretching out her arms for him to help her down. James put her on her feet between the horses.

  “Don’t move,” he told her, gesturing with his hand. He looked over his saddle toward the street. “I don’t like the feel of things, girl.”

  Across the way, two men stood at the corners of an adobe building, shotguns held ready to level and fire. A third man guarded the door, and James caught the man staring back at him. Other men wandered back and forth in front of the building, carrying their weapons in front of them across their bodies. Some of the guards were whites, and some were Mexicans, and there didn’t seem to be rhyme or reason for the mixture.

  “Somebody’s a prisoner in that house,” James said. “Those hombres don’t want him busting loose, neither.” He slid his rifle out of the saddle boot. The men across the street tensed up, and James turned away to show he was no threat.

  “Why’s there a mixed crowd over there?” James frowned as he put his left arm around Amparo’s shoulder and guided her up onto the stoop of the hotel. He opened the door, looked around the interior and motioned to Amparo with a sideways jerk of his head. “It’s empty. Go ahead in.”

  I can’t figure it, he worried. Last time we passed through town, seemed like the whites had a pure hatred for the Mexicans. Why are they joined up together across the street?

  James looked into the hotel store. The owner had not yelled at his wife to leave. Good, he thought. Maybe I can get her in and out of Trinidad without trouble this time.

  Noise on the street caught his ear, and he glanced at a group of men coming down the road, shouting at the townsfolk who huddled against the walls of the buildings. “Going to leave him to rot?” one man yelled before James turned and entered the doorway, shaking his head.

  Spices! he thought, inhaling deeply. The overwhelming scent of cinnamon mixed with ginger and nutmeg entered his nose as he walked between rows of store goods toward where Amparo waited in the middle of the room. He grinned and strode to her side. Ma’s going to take to you like a setting hen to a glass doorknob.

  Amparo brushed dust from the sleeve of her dress with her little brown hand, then smoothed her black braids. My little bay filly. I always was partial to bays.

  “Chemes, necesito comprar harina de maíz.” Amparo patted her hands together like she was fashioning tortillas from cornmeal.

  “Yes—sí,” he said as he reached over and smoothed the wrinkles out of the back of her skirt, giving her a little pat. “Putting on weight with all them tortillas, ain’t you?”

  Amparo jumped forward at his touch, and a pink stain darkened her cheekbones. “¡Chemes! ¡Qué vergüenza!” she gasped, then brushed past him toward the clerk at the back of the room.

  I reckon I shouldn’t have done that in public, James thought. He tried to catch her elbow with his free hand so he could make things right, but she moved faster than he did, and he was left with a handful of air.

  “Six little beans, mujer. I meant no harm.” He wondered if his face showed color like hers, then he joined her where she was halted in her flight by the back counter and stood shrugging her shoulders like a hen ruffling her feathers.

  “Can I get you something?” the clerk asked, easing off his stool to greet James.

  “I reckon.” He leaned his rifle against the counter, barrel upward. “The little woman needs fifty pounds of flour and fifty pounds of cornmeal. And a big tin of lard.” James turned as he scratched his thumb along the side of his jaw. “Amparo. Do we need more frijoles?”

  She shook her head, then the counterman spoke again.

  “You don’t speak much Mexican lingo?”

  “No, but I’m picking up words as I need `em.”

  “And she don’t speak English.”

  “A little.”

  “Then why are you carting her around with you?”

  James felt his back tightened, and he reached out to grip the cold metal of the rifle barrel. “I reckon I got a good reason. She’s my wife.”

  The clerk shook his head and moved around behind the counters to fill his order. “I can’t believe a nice boy like you would hitch up with a Mexican. You’d best ride right through Trinidad. Things have been a touch uneasy here before, but after that little fracas last week, well, you just ride on out of here.”

  James loosed the rifle. “I was meaning to ask why folks are going armed out on the street.”

  The man paused to hoist a flour sack down off a shelf before answering.

  “You see, last week it was, a driver for the stage line was drinking with some friends at the saloon down the street.” The man thumped the flour sack onto the counter. Flecks of white dusted the wooden surf
ace. “It was a real nice day for December, Christmas Day, as I recall. Well, Frank Blue, that’s the driver’s name, he likes to gamble a bit. He got tipsy, and offered a wager that he could beat any Mexican in town in a wrassling match.” He put a tin of lard alongside the flour.

  “Did he get any takers?”

  “Well, there was a group of Mexicans standing nearby, and one of them took his challenge. The two of them went out to the crossroads, Main and C Streets, and started their match.”

  “That sounds harmless enough.” James leaned his elbow on top of a box on the counter.

  “Not the way they was fighting.” The clerk drummed his stocky fingers against the top of the lard tin. “This was grappling and punching and no holds barred. Being a holiday, everybody gathered around to watch, the whites on one side of the street, and the Mexicans on the other.”

  “There does seem to be a contrary feeling in this town,” James said.

  “Been that way for years.” The clerk grunted as he lifted a sack of cornmeal off a pile in the corner of the store. “I try to stay away from the bickering, what with the hotel customers to keep out of harm’s way.” The cornmeal joined the sack of flour on the counter. “Now, the Mexican fellow got right into the spirit of the match, you see. I guess he had a deal of experience with that sort of fighting, and he was getting the best of Frank Blue.”

  “Then what happened?”

  The man rested his forearms on the counter. “Old Frank didn’t much like that. He fancies himself a sort of champion. So then he and this Mex tore into each other.” He paused, dipped a steel pen in his inkwell and scratched some figures on a scrap of paper. “Is that all you want to buy?”

  “I think my wife wanted something. Amparo, quieres more?”

  She pursed her lips, then looked at the store clerk. “Señor, necesito espuelas de plata para mi esposo. Espuelas. Para sus botas.” She frowned, then pointed to James’s boots.

  “I don’t need boots. These’ll do me for another season.”

  “No son boots,” she said, shaking her head. “Quiero comprarte espuelas de caballero.” Amparo looked around the shelves. “Allí las tiene,” she said, pointing to a display of horse tack.

  “She wants to buy something for the horse?”

  “I don’t think so. What else you got up there?”

  “Bits and bridles and spurs.”

  “Spurs.” Amparo’s face beamed. “Quiero comprar spurs.”

  “Show her the spurs,” James said, grinning. “She picks up words real fast.”

  “I guess she’d better, if you’re going to keep her around.”

  James felt his face muscles setting into tight bunches. “She’s my wife legal and proper. Church wed in the bargain. I don’t plan to set her loose.”

  The man threw up his hands. “No offense, no offense. Jumping Jericho! What’s that noise out there?”

  James turned at the sound of angry shouting that came from the street outside, grabbing the barrel of his rifle as he moved. Amparo was right behind him. “You got another wrestling match going?”

  The clerk came from behind the counter and walked to the door to peer out. He brought his head back into the room, a scowl on his face. “It’s just that noisy John Dunn trying to stir up trouble. I thought we got rid of him for good when he took the stage south a couple of days ago. But no, here he comes back on this morning’s stage, and five or six buddies with him. All we need is another ruckus. I got enough troubles, running the hotel, the store, and the stage station, and one driver short, to boot.”

  “What happened to your driver?” James put his rifle back against the counter.

  “It’s Frank Blue. He’s over yonder in the jail.”

  “They got a heavy guard on a man arrested for street fighting.”

  “That ain’t the half of it.”

  Amparo tugged on James’s sleeve. “Chemes, las espuelas.”

  “Can you get them spurs for her to look at?”

  “Oh. Sure.” The man took a step into the room, then glanced out the door again. “You know, Frank got going so dirty that he twisted that Mex fellow’s leg from here to yonder, sat on it, and snapped it clean in two.” He came toward the counter. “You never saw such a to do. The Mexican’s friends took offense at the leg breaking and commenced to chasing old Frank, throwing rocks and yanking out their guns. Mister Blue pulled his pistol and fired back. Then Frank’s friends got in it, and one of the Mexicans went down, shot through the brisket. Died on the spot.” The clerk went behind the counter and got down an assortment of spurs.

  “Here you are, little lady.”

  “So Mister Blue got blamed for the killing?”

  “Not so fast, young man. There’s a lot more to the tale.”

  “I reckon we’re not ready to go, yet,” James said, looking at Amparo, who stood by the counter, turning the spurs over and over in her hands.

  “Old Frank took to his heels, with a whole posse of angry folks right behind him, and he tried to hole up in an adobe down the way a piece. Well, the Mexicans started to tear off the doggone roof, they was so riled. Old Frank kicked out the fireplace and got into another part of the building. He locked himself in a room, but the Mexes were still electing to string him up when the sheriff stopped them from ripping the house down.”

  “They must have been related to the dead man.”

  “May be, may be. The sheriff put Frank in that adobe over yonder, since we don’t have a proper jail.” The man nodded his head toward Amparo. “Say, she always take this long to make up her mind?”

  “Can’t say that I know. We haven’t been wed overlong. Tell me, why’s the sheriff got Mexican’s guarding Frank Blue if they’re the ones so mad at him?”

  “Well, the sheriff’s a Mexican, you see. He’s a good man, and I guess he figured it might cool things down if both sides was to take a hand in the guarding.” He scratched his ear.

  “Does it work?”

  “I don’t know. The dead man’s brother and some others have been seen at night, just about when shots are fired into the jail, but nobody’s done anything about it. It’s let up, here lately. Been quiet at night twice in a row.”

  “That’s good.” James walked to the door and looked out. “Your Mister Dunn has gone off down the street. What’s he fussing about?”

  “He’s a friend of Frank’s. He was worried the Mexicans would lynch old Frank, so he took the stage down to Cimarron. Wanted to bring troops back from Fort Union. I guess they told him no, `cause the soldier boys didn’t escort him back. Now he’s trying to get folks to make a run on the jail and let Frank loose.”

  “Six little beans! Can’t he let well enough alone?”

  “That’s the size of it.”

  Amparo came toward James and put spurs into his hands.

  “Chemes, éstas son tus espuelas de regalo. ¡Feliz Año Nuevo!”

  The silver rowels felt cool to his palms, and he turned the spurs over to admire them.

  “Mighty pretty, girl. But I can’t figure why you want me to have them.”

  “I think she wished you a happy New Year, son. Today's January First. ”

  “New Year’s Day. Say, do you have any fancy side combs, maybe silver, or that shell stuff?”

  “Right over here.” The man went to a glass case and brought back several pairs for James to examine. He chose a silver set with little red jewel flowers worked into the backs.

  “Now it’s my turn, girl,” he said, holding the combs out toward his wife. “Happy New Year.”

  She took the combs, and looked at him with those great dark eyes, and his insides moved like butter down a hot cob of corn. Maybe this fellow has a room free, he thought. No, we’d best get out of town, like he said. “Put them in your hair.”

  Amparo pulled a comb through the thick black strands at one side of her head, then stopping short of the place where the braids began, turned the comb and pushed it snug against her head. Then she did the same at the other side, and posed her
head for James.

  “Ah, they look fine, just fine.” He turned to the hotel man. “You got the bill made out? We’ll settle up and pack our gear out of here.”

  The man scribbled some more and said, “It comes to twenty dollars even. Best wishes to you and the lady, and don’t forget, when next you come through, stop here to trade.”

  James fished coins out of his pocket to pay the bill. “I don’t figure to pass this way again. We’re heading home to the Greenhorn.”

  The man put the money in his strongbox, then loaded the sack of cornmeal onto his shoulder. “I’ll help you out.”

  James hoisted the flour over his shoulder, nodded for Amparo to take the spurs and the lard tin, and picked up his rifle. “I’m obliged,” he grunted, and followed the man toward the door.

  A bullet shattered a pane of the storefront, and glass tinkled onto a display of milk cans. James’s heart started drumming, near popping out of his chest as the firing continued, and he dived at Amparo, pulling her down to the floor. They rolled behind a stack of cracker barrels, away from the open area where he’d dropped the flour. He looked back, and the sack lay there, sifting a white halo onto the floorboards around it.

  “Keep your head down,” he hissed at Amparo, motioning with his hand. Then he turned her loose and skinned his way across the floor to the hotel man, who was taking shelter behind the cornmeal. “Are you hit?” James asked him, but the man shook his head.

  “That glass cost me a fortune,” he moaned. “I thought a man had a right to property hereabouts.”

  “Make your claim later.” James listened for a moment to the shouting and gunfire. “Sounds like both sides are excited. Who’s making all those threats?”

  “The sheriff,” he groaned. “I’ll never get money out of the county to pay for that window.”

  “Who else is out there?”

  The man swore. “It’s that John Dunn. He must have stormed the jail and got Frank loose.”

  “Sure sounds like a big bunch out there.”

  “And they’re coming this way!” The man’s face grew pale.