Santa Fe Woman

by Gilbert, Morris

  “You can’t see it. It’s covered up.”

  “I seen the whole thing, Chad. I seen Paul pullin’ bones out and messin’ your brains around, and then I saw him put that silver dollar in. It was really something. Maybe I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

  “I thought I told you that there are no women doctors,” Jori said with a smile.

  “There’ll be one when I get growed.” She reached over and took Chad’s hand and held it in both of hers. “Tell me again about the raid. About how you found us and how you got us away from that old Santana.”

  “Not much to tell. We just came and got you. Couldn’t do without you.” He squeezed her hand, and she looked up and smiled at him.

  They heard Mark give a call, and the wagons began to move forward. “When we get to Santa Fe, Carleen, I’m going to take you to a fandango.”

  “A fandango? What’s that?”

  “It’s what the Spanish folks call a big ball.”

  “I’ve never been to a ball.”

  “Are they nice?” Jori said.

  “Well, they’re not much like the balls you have in Little Rock, but you’d enjoy it, I think. I hope you like Santa Fe.”

  Jori was thinking, He’s all right. He’s not going to die. A great relief had come to her over the last few days. She thought back to the time when she had leaned over him in the Indian camp and seen the horrible wound in the top of his head. She breathed a prayer, Thank You, God, for Your tender mercies.

  * * *

  THE COUNTRY HAD TAKEN on a different look. It was a long land but not a level one. It looked to Jori like a land that time had somehow forgotten—vast and empty with endless sand and clumpy grass and sun. It reminded her that the earth was a large place, and she had seen only a small part of it. There seemed to be no end to the country, as day after day they moved ever westward. The sun, of course, was a pale source of heat, but it was a pitiless heat.

  As the days passed, Rocklin grew stronger, and he would point out the spots on the trail—Round Mount, Rabbit Ear Creek, Point of Rock, Wagon Mound. They all looked about the same, the scenery changing little. They were headed almost due south and finally, after many days, Rocklin, who had begun riding for short periods now, had come to sit beside her on the wagon. He pointed ahead saying, “San Miguel is up there. We’ll cross a little river there, the same river that comes around close to Santa Fe down through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.”

  “Sangre de Cristo. What does that mean?”

  “The blood of Christ. I don’t know why they call it that except sometimes the sunset there is red as blood.”

  Two days later Jori was aware of a changing scene. The vegetation was changing. Mostly it was composed of a small bush, dark green. “What kind of bush is that, Chad?”

  “Piñons. You’ll see a lot of them. The Spanish can’t do without ’em. They burn the wood and eat the nuts.”

  That night they made a fire over piñon wood, and it gave off a pungent odor that she liked. They cooked steaks over it, and they had a delicious flavor.

  As they ate, Callie had joined them along with Molitor. The two had spent a lot of time together, and now they sat there talking quietly, eating the steaks. “What’ll you do when you get to Santa Fe, Callie?” Paul asked.

  “Work, I guess.”

  “Work doin’ what?”

  “I’ll find something.”

  Molitor grinned at her. “You know, I think I’d better take you to raise. Kind of like you was my kid sister.”

  “I’m not your sister!”

  Paul lifted his eyes at the vehemence of her answer. “Well, I know that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be kind of like your daddy. You might need a switching once in awhile.”

  “You’re not my daddy either!” she said shortly.

  “What are you mad about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Look, I just want to help you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be a drunk ex-doctor. How about this? I’m going to set up there as a doctor. Won’t make much money, but it’s a start. Maybe you can be my housekeeper, and I’ll teach you about nursing.”

  “Me be a nurse? I couldn’t do that.”

  “Sure you could. What do you say?”

  Suddenly Callie turned her face away. Paul stared at her. He saw that her shoulders were trembling slightly. Quickly he reached out, drew her around, and saw tears in her eyes. “Why, you’re crying. What’s wrong, Callie? I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”

  “No. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” She smiled brilliantly and said, “I feel just fine. Now, tell me some more about how it will be when we get to Santa Fe….”

  * * *

  JORI HAD NOTICED THAT Kate had been unusually quiet. She was a quiet woman anyway, more or less, but there was a despondency about her that was very unusual. Kate Johnson had always been a cheerful woman, able to put up with almost anything and keep her smile. She thought about it and several times almost asked Kate, but instead she observed the woman closely. She saw that Kate was always happy and laughing when Good News was around, but as they grew closer to Santa Fe, she seemed to be losing this. She also saw that Kate’s eyes followed Good News wherever he went, and finally she put two and two together and found the time to talk with Kate.

  It was late at night, and Kate had stayed up sitting by the fire. Almost everyone was asleep except the guards and those watching the animals. Jori came and sat down across from Kate, picked up a stick, and began to poke the fire. She watched the sparks fly upward and then said, “You’re not happy, are you, Aunt Kate?”

  “I’m as happy as most, I guess.”

  The answer was short, and Jori threw the stick in the fire. It began to burn, throwing off the acrid odor that burned her eyes. She moved around, sat down beside Kate, and put her arm around her. “I know why you’re unhappy.”

  “I tell you I’m not unhappy.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re unhappy because you love Good News.”

  Kate started and shook her head violently. “That’s foolishness!”

  “No, it’s not. I’ve been watching you. You’ve been different around him. I’ve never known you to take such an interest in a man.”

  “I don’t want to listen to this talk.”

  “Well, you’re going to, Aunt Kate. Remember the talks you gave me? Remember when I fell in love with Ronald Barker, how you sat me down and talked to me like a dog?”

  “Well, you deserved it.”

  “Yes, I did. So, now it’s my turn. You listen to me. Good News loves you.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Yes, he does. You’re just being bullheaded and stubborn. That used to be me. He loves you. It’s written all over him.”

  “Then why doesn’t he say something?” Suddenly Kate seemed to collapse, her shoulders slumped. “I’ve been waiting for him to say something for a long time. I think he likes me, but he never says anything like that.”

  “Don’t you know why?”

  “He doesn’t love me, that’s why.”

  “No. He thinks you’re better than he is.”

  “Better?” Kate came up. “What are you talking about?”

  “He doesn’t have any education, Aunt Kate. He doesn’t have any money.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But you come from a good family. To him that’s money. You’re educated.”

  “Not all that much.”

  “Aunt Kate, stop arguing with me. I’m telling you he loves you, and you’re going to lose him if you don’t do something.”

  “A woman can’t do anything about that.”

  “Yes, you can, and here’s what you must do….”

  * * *

  GOOD NEWS HAD WANDERED down the length of all the wagons and then had taken the rifle out in the hope of potting a prairie dog or something to eat. He had found nothing, and he was surprised to see Kate come walking toward him. “Hello, Kate,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I
came to talk to you.”

  Surprised, Good News lowered the rifle and put its butt on the ground. “Sure,” he said, “what is it?”

  “Good News, I want to marry you.”

  If Good News had taken a shot directly in the stomach, he might have been more surprised but not a great deal. He opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. He stared at her wildly for a moment and then stuttered, “Why—why—Kate—”

  “I’ve grown to care for you on this trip, Good News. I’d like to spend the rest of my life being as good a wife to you as I could. Will you have me?”

  Good News dropped the rifle, and it fell to the ground. He leaped forward and grabbed her shoulders and held her. “Why, Kate, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes or no.” Kate was looking up at him, and there was a hurt expression in her face.

  Suddenly Good News shook his head. “I’m a blamed fool, that’s what I am, makin’ you ask like this. Why, Kate, I’ve cared for you for weeks now. There’s never been a woman like you, but I couldn’t ask you to marry me.”

  “I know that. That’s why I asked you.”

  “Think what people would say. An educated woman from a good family. I’m nothin’ but an ignorant mule skinner.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t. I care about you.”

  Good News was not an educated man, but he had a deep wisdom, and it came to him suddenly what a tremendous thing this woman had done. She had always been one of the strongest women he knew, but he realized it had taken every bit of determination to come and say what she had. “Why, it’s with you like it is with me, ain’t it, Kate?” He reached forward, and as he pulled her closer, he saw a small smile loosen and soften her lips. He saw the pride in her eyes and the vitality and knew that she was the kind of woman that could, if necessary, draw a revolver and shoot a man down and not go to pieces afterward. She had courage, but at the same time it was a woman’s courage and not a man’s. He pulled her forward, kissed her firmly, and said, “Kate, I want to marry you more than I ever wanted anything in my life. Will you have me?”

  “Yes!”

  Then he put his arms around her and drew her close. At that moment Kate felt like a sailor who had reached port after a long, hard, and dangerous journey.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  JORI NEVER FORGOT HER first glimpse of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains nor her arrival at Santa Fe.

  The mountains were towering, and Chad told her they were five thousand feet high. The air was so thin it made her breath short for a time, but as they made their way into the towering heights through the passes, she found a beauty in the majestic snow-mantled peaks. They crossed a body of water that was the Pecos River, but it seemed more like a creek to her. It was icy cold when she got down to drink it, and Rocklin looked up at the peaks and said, “Snow makes it that cold.”

  They wound their way through the peaks, passing through San Miguel, which was merely a group of small houses straddling the Pecos River. Everything was made of adobe bricks, a mixture of earth and straw that was stacked into walls when it was dried.

  The houses were the color of earth, so the small town seemed to grow out of the earth. The people were friendly and seemed happy enough, and Jori said, “I’m going to have to learn Spanish.”

  “It’d be a help. I’m too lazy myself,” Rocklin said.

  Finally they began to climb, and the animals had to labor. They had to double-hitch up the pass, and it was a punishing trip. But it was worth it to Jori.

  They crested the top of the hill, and in the blink of an eye, she got her first sight of the entire valley of the Santa Fe Plateau. Her eyes could not take it in at first.

  “Well, you’ve come eight hundred miles, and there it is,” Rocklin said. He was sitting beside her in the wagon and was pleased at her reaction. “Right pretty, isn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful!” Straight ahead in the distance was a great range of mountains. “What’s that?” she said.

  “That’s the Jemez.”

  To the south the plain was broken by an enormous mountain that seemed to blot out the sun. “That’s the Sandias,” Rocklin informed her. “And there to the north, that’s the road to Taos.”

  “It’s beautiful. I love it!”

  “Glad you like it. Think you might stay?”

  “I think I could be a Santa Fe woman without any trouble.” She was sitting so close to Rocklin that she could feel the warmth of his body. It gave her a feeling of completeness. She sat there studying the country as they descended to the floor of the basin. It was beautiful, different from anything she had ever seen. Once she had thought it was a hard, merciless country, but there were people here and houses and fires and a river with trees.

  Finally they passed into Santa Fe itself. Columns of smoke were rising to the sky, hazy and drifted by the breeze, cottonwoods were plentiful, and the streets were lined with mules and horses and burros. She saw young women with painted faces and young Spanish men, graceful as anything she had ever seen and vain, apparently, from their costumes.

  She turned to Rocklin and said, “You know, I think you’d be miserable in this place, or else you could learn to love it.”

  “I’ve always liked Santa Fe. There’s somethin’ about it.”

  For a moment the two sat there and did not speak, but something passed between them. She expected him to speak, for she already knew that she loved this man, tall and lanky. When she had had to care for him like an infant, it had been a joy to her, and she knew that she would love him when they both became old. But it was up to him to speak. Suddenly she thought, I told Kate to say her mind to Good News, but it’s different for me. She waited and saw a sentence form itself, something coming into his eyes, but then he said, “Well, let’s get into town. We’ve got goods to sell.”

  * * *

  MARK HAYDEN AND HIS father were sitting at a table in a café. Before them were the remnants of some of the hot spicy food that they both had ordered, and Leland Hayden was looking down at a tablet where he had totaled up a line of figures. “Look at what we got out of our goods. We sold at least two-thirds of it.”

  “Why, Father, I reckon we’re rich.”

  “Seems almost immoral to charge this much.”

  “No, glad to get it. We’re doing them a service.”

  “Well, we made it. Only lost one man. I think we had a good trip.”

  “We almost lost Jori and Carleen. I’ll never stop thanking God for that.”

  “Nor me either.”

  The two men sat there loosely, and Leland studied his son. This was a different young man from the one that had pulled out of Little Rock. His cheeks were tanned, his muscles were taut, and there was an alertness and a pride in him that had been lacking. “The trip has been good for you, son.”

  “I thought it was going to kill me at first, but it’s been the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Well, we’ll have to make some plans, like going back for another load maybe. But not today.”

  “No,” Mark grinned. “I’m not ready to start yet. I want to go to that fandango I’ve been hearing about. I hear they’re really something.”

  The two men sat there talking idly, and Mark said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about all those mules the Indians had. There must have been three hundred of them, and we got them for practically nothing. Why couldn’t we buy some trade goods, take all of our drovers and mule skinners, and go buy a huge herd.”

  “Of mules? And do what with them?”

  “Why take ’em to Missouri and sell ’em, of course. You know how prices are going up on mules, at least so I’ve heard. Then we keep the best of them and bring another train back. Maybe a bigger train, ten, twelve, twenty wagons.”

  Leland suddenly laughed. “You’re bound to be rich.”

  “I doubt it, but I’m thankful to God for what He’s done for us.”

  “So am I, son.”


  “Well, let’s go get ready for that fandango.”

  * * *

  JORI SAW CALLIE WALKING along the main street looking at the stalls in the shops. She came over to her at once and said, “Are you going to the fandango, Callie?”

  “I reckon not.”

  “Why? It’ll be fun, at least they tell me.”

  “Not much for partying. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been to a real one.”

  An idea came to Jori, and she said, “Come on. I’ve got a purse full of money, and we’re going to go shopping and buy ourselves fandango outfits.”

  “Me? Not likely.”

  But Jori would not take no for an answer. She laughed and pulled the young woman into a store and said to the Spanish storekeeper, “I want to see the two prettiest dresses you’ve got in your whole shop.”

  “Sí, señorita. I have the beautiful dresses. Every man in the fandango will fall in love with both of you!”

  * * *

  PAUL MOLITOR HAD LITTLE enough money, so he had simply worn the best he had to the fandango. He had never seen anything exactly like it, but he had quickly discovered that the Spanish people had a great fondness for jewelry, dress, and amusements. As he walked down the street, he studied one of the dresses of the women. They were different from any dresses he’d seen. Most of them consisted of a skirt, a colorful blouse, and a scarf called a reboso around the head and shoulders.

  As for the fandango itself, he discovered that this was a waltz of sorts. He stood for awhile watching the dancers, and finally he moved toward a stand that sold food and wine. The food was remarkably cheap and delicious.

  More than once a woman would stop and smile at him, but he had no money and did not feel comfortable. Finally he made his way toward the end of the street, taking in the sights. He brushed against a young woman and touched his hat saying, “Pardon me,” and would have continued, but then he heard his name. “Why, Paul, don’t you know me?”

  Molitor turned quickly, and his eyes widened when he saw that it was Callie.

  “Why, Callie, it’s you!”

  Indeed, it would have been hard for anyone to have recognized Callie. He had never seen her in anything besides the shapeless men’s clothes, and now her trim figure was outlined by the colorful dress. It was a white dress with a loose bodice, scooped neckline, and short sleeves outlined in red trim. The skirt was full and had bright colors in stripes such as red, green, orange, yellow, and blue to the hem, which fell to her ankles.