ANTICIPATION
To give a clear picture of the preparations for that fiesta, one should
be able to draw with strokes as swift as the horses that galloped up and
down the valley at the behest of riders whose minds titillated with
whatever phase of the fiesta appealed to them most; and paint with
colors as vivid as were the dreams of the women, from the peonas in the
huts to the señoritas and señoras murmuring behind the shelter of their
vines.
One would need tell of those who went boldly into the mountains to find
a grizzly bear and bring it alive and unhurt to the pen, which the
peons, with feverish zeal and much chattering amongst themselves, were
building close beside the smallest corral.
A great story it would make--the tale of that hunt! A man came back from
it with a forearm torn sickeningly, to show how brave he had been. And
the bear came also--a great, gaunt she-bear with two cubs whimpering
beside her in the cage, and in her eyes a sullen hunger for the giant
redwoods that stood so straight and strong together upon the steep
slopes while they sang crooningly the songs she knew of old, and a
glowing hatred for her captors.
A story that would make! A story in which Jerry Simpson and Tige played
valiant part and bore more than their share of the danger, and became
heroes to those who went with them.
One would need to picture somehow the bubbling excitement of Teresita,
while she planned and replanned her festal garments, and tell how often
she found it necessary to ride with Jack across the valley to talk the
matter over with the "pretty Señora" Simpson, or to the Mission San José
to see what Rosa had at last decided to wear.
Then, there would be the solemn conferences in the kitchen, between
Margarita and the señora herself; conferences that had to do with cakes
and preserves and the like, with the niños getting in every one's way,
while they listened and smacked lips over the very naming of so many
good things to eat.
One would need see the adobe corral that was to be transformed into an
amphitheater where were hammering and clatter from sunrise till dark,
without even a pause for midday siesta amongst those lazy peons who
would sleep over their cigarettes, though the padres stood over them
predicting the end of the world the next moment.
Well in the foreground of the picture would be Jack, to be sure; Jack
riding far afield upon Surry, whom he had found the best horse for his
purpose upon the whole ranch; lassoing cattle to get his hand in,
practising certain little twists of his own invention, and teaching
Surry to know without fail just what certain signals meant, and obey
instantly and implicitly when they were given.
Sometimes, when the señorita was not in a perverse mood, she would ride
with him and applaud his dexterity; at other times she would boast of
José's marvelous skill, and pity Jack in advance for the defeat which
she pretended was inevitable. Whether she pitied or praised, she seemed
always sincere for the moment, so that Jack gave up any lingering hope
of knowing how she really felt about it, and contented himself with the
determination to deflect all the pity towards José when the time came,
and keep the praise for himself.
There would be other contests; and scarce a day passed wherein no horse
loped heavily up the slope and stopped with heaving flanks in the patio,
while its rider dismounted and bowed low before Don Andres, giving news
of some vaquero who wished his name to be listed as a contestant in the
riding, or the lassoing and tying of steers, or in the bull-fight,
perchance.
But there was no third name offered in the riata contest for which
Solano was announced as a prize. All up and down the valley; at the
ranches, on the trails when men met and stopped to talk awhile, and
around the camp-fires of the rodeo they talked of it; and many bets
would have been laid upon the outcome, had not all men been of one mind.
When José was not present, or Dade, or the more outspoken of the Picardo
vaqueros, always they spoke of it as the duelo riata, and took it for
granted that it would be fought to the death. Thus are secrets kept from
men who can read from their own natures the truth! The men of Santa
Clara lowered lids and smiled whenever they spoke of it as a contest,
for as a duel had the word first gone forth from the exultant lips of
Manuel; as a duel would it still remain among themselves, spite of the
fiesta and the prize that was offered, and the reiteration that it was
but sport.
One should picture the whole valley for the background; a sunken
paradise of greenery, splotched with color, made alive with bird-songs
and racing cloud-shadows on the grass; with the wooded slopes of the
Santa Cruz mountains closing in upon the west and sheltering it from the
sweeping winds from off the ocean, and the grassy hills rising high and
rugged on the east, giving rich pasturage to the cattle and all the wild
things that fed there.
When it was complete--that picture--then might one weep to be there in
the midst of it all! For there would be much laughter, and the
love-making would make young pulses beat fast to think upon. There would
be dancing, and the tinkle of guitars and mandolins, and a harp or two
to beat a harmonious surf-song beneath the waves of melody. There would
be feasting, with whole beeves roasted over pits which the peons were
already digging in their dreams; with casks of wine from the don's own
vineyard to wash down the juicy morsels. There would be all that
throughout one long, moonlit night, with the day of sports to think back
upon. And through the night they would talk of the duelo riata between
two men who loved one little señorita who laughed much and cared little,
said certain wise señoras, and nodded their heads while they said it.
What if some hearts were bitter over the prospect? From Santa Barbara,
even, were they coming to the fiesta! (Gustavo had the news from a peon
who came straight through from Paso Robles on an errand for his master.)
What if Dade, thinking and thinking until his brain was dizzy, lay long
hours awake in his blankets and stared up at the star-sprinkle in the
purple night-sky, trying to find a path that would lead to peace? The
señorita lay awake also, thinking smilingly that she had nearly finished
the embroidery upon the bodice she meant to wear, and that the pretty
señora had promised to do her black hair in a new and wonderful way that
should smart with envy the eyes of all the other señoritas when they
saw; and that the señora her mother had reluctantly promised that she
should wear the gold chain with the rubies glowing along every little
thumb-length of it; thinking also, perhaps, of how she had made the
Señor Jack's eyes grow dark and then flash anger-lights, when she
taunted him again about going to the wise old woman at the Mission San
José for a charm to make the riata fly true!
What if the old don, seeing also that trouble hung like a vulture over
the feast, paced uneasily up and down the vine-hidden veranda, while he
meditated upon the follies of youth? The young steers that had been
driven in for the roasting-pits were trampling uneasily about the little
corral where they had been put to fatten; and Gustavo walked with his
head thrown back upon his shoulders that he might read that open page
which was the sky, and to any anxious ones who asked, he had but one
answer and that a comforting one:
"The day will be a day of sunshine, with linnets singing in the trees
and the smallest breeze to cool the cheek." The anxious ones, hearing so
good an augury, would pass on, their thoughts upon the day-of-days and
on their lips a little smile.