THE MERIENDA
"Daughter mine, awake! 'Tis the day of the merienda."
"I'm up, little papa."
A rasp of file on flint was heard as she struck a light.
"Ugh-oo-oo! the water's cold."
The old don laughed. "Cold water drives the sands of sleep from the
eyelids, child."
He walked along the corridor to his sitting room. The large time-piece
showed four o'clock and three minutes. Five minutes later his daughter
joined him, clad in tanned-skin blouse and skirt, with a straw sombrero
on her head.
"Here I am, papacito. Is breakfast ready?"
"Breakfast waits, but the coming of the morning waits not."
The peons served them by candlelight.
Soon they were ready for the start.
Before the courtyard gate were the doña's carreta, the señor's horse,
and a squad of mounted fighting peons. Servants placed soft tule grass
in the carreta, lambwool comforters, for greater ease in riding.
In double file marched the mounted peon soldiers, the carreta between,
while the lord of the hacienda rode by his daughter's side. Thus they
reached the plaza of the village near the Mission San José.
The place was alive with carretas bearing mothers, dueñas, and
daughters, with caballeros, with bustling peons and early-risen Indian
children.
Lanterns were strung around the square, in the middle of which blazed a
big bonfire. The caballeros capered their horses before the carretas.
The señoritas applauded by "Brava! Brava!" or shrieked at some
unusually daring equestrian feat.
Captain Moranda was early at the plaza. Many a señorita turned her
glance from adventurous youth and cavorting horse to the soldier in
trig uniform, whose steed was frequently by the side of Doña
Carmelita's carreta.
Preparations were now under way for the setting-out. Each carreta now
had four horses, tandem, a postilion mounting the wheel animal of each
team.
"Sunlight on the peak!" intoned a peon stationed on a rooftop.
Señor Mendoza, in charge of the affair, looked carefully over the
carretas arranged longitudinally, the caballeros around them, and the
fighting peons armed with carbine and saber. "Adelante!" he shouted
and galloped away at the head of the cavalcade.
The carretas surged forward. At the end of an hour, half way up the
mountain, Mendoza gave a command to halt.
The eastern sky was rosy. The morning star still shone undimmed though
all others had retired. The cañon facing the procession was hidden in
purple twilight, while the mountain peak blazed like some glory throne.
The joyful men and women became silent before the majesty.
In the valley the light was chasing the shadows up the hills. These
shadows were flying to the picnickers as if for protection, when, lo!
the sun was on the eastern horizon.
Mendoza signaled Captain Morando, who chanted the opening line of Saint
Francis of Assisi's "Canticle to the Sun."
Tongue after tongue caught up the words. The Indians, who had been
taught singing and knew well the music of the church, united with the
others, and the swell of five hundred voices rolled over valley and
hill.
"O, most high, Almighty, good Lord, to thee belong the praise, honor,
and all blessings:
"Praised be our Lord, for our brother the wind, and for air and cloud,
calms and all weather, by the which thou upholdest in life all
creatures.
"Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable unto
us, and humble, and precious, and clean.
"Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom thou givest us
light in the darkness; and he is bright, and pleasant, and very mighty
and strong.
"Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which doth sustain us
and keep us, and bringeth forth divers fruits and flowers of many
colors, and grass."
"Adelante!" again called Mendoza, and once more they were off. The
odor of pine reached them at one height; at another the resinous
redwood, in mammoth groves, pointed skyward. The señoritas and
caballeros talked, laughed, sang, and perhaps mildly flirted.
At ten o'clock they reached the entrance to the cañon which marked the
beginning of Calaveras Valley. Vast tangles of blackberry bushes were
everywhere, creeping up the cañon side, festooning projecting rocks,
climbing trees, ivylike, and dropping their branches dark with ripening
fruit. Tinkling rills ran along, unaffected by the drought. Colonies
of birds floated in the air, sang in the trees, or, fluttering around
the vines, ate their fill.
From time immemorial these grounds had been carefully guarded from
everyone till the merienda day at close of spring, on which occasion
the first fruits were gathered by the land barons and their select
company, with feasting, dancing, and merrymaking.
After that day all embargo was removed, and the products of the valley
were free to all.
According to custom the señorita whose carriage first reached the
merienda ground was queen of the day, and an early-California chariot
race occurred yearly here.
Down the inclined way the carretas went, toward the bottom of the
valley where the choicest berries grew.
Mendoza wheeled his horse and gave the command to stop. "We rest a few
minutes. Then, let the carretas which compete in the race range
themselves as will be directed, and start at the word."
Pedro Zelaya and Fulgencio Higuera were appointed judges.
Carreta after carreta drew forward. Soon a score or more were side by
side, to enter the contest.
The judges were busy moving one team forward, another back. When all
were at equal advantage the stalwart Higuera called:
"Make ready! Run!"
Away they went, the caballeros fringing the sides, the other carretas
trailing in the rear. Weeks of patient labor of the peons had made the
course even and smooth.
"Now! Now!" cried Hernandez. "I'll show Mendoza my Mexican imported
horseflesh is superior to his Californians. Boy," to the postilion,
"taut with the reins, and ready with the whip!"
"Hoop-la! Hoop-la!" the drivers shouted to their straining teams, the
long whiplashes curling from their hands and touching the splendid
animals in stinging crack, while the caballeros admonished or
encouraged.
"The spur on the wheeler, Miguel! The lash on that leader!" or,
"Grande! Grande! Martino. Another such spurt and you win!"
Lolita Hernandez, Alfreda Castro and Carmelita Mendoza were ahead. For
a minute the three carretas ran neck and neck.
Marcel Hernandez, father of Lolita, rode by her team. In the
enthusiasm of the moment he urged the horses with his riding-whip and
joined with the postilions in shouting, "Hoop-la! Hoop-la!"
Patricio Martinez, Alfreda's long-time cavalier, hovered near her,
shouting: "Now's your chance, Diego! Stir up that pinto! Ease the bit
on that sorrel! Go it, my beauties!"
The Doña Carmelita's peon had a cool head, driving so as to draw from
the other racers their best speed. Little by little he lessened the
swiftness of his own horses, allowing the others to forge ahead.
The Hernandez Mexicans and the Castro Andalusians held their own, side
by side, as if in double harness. For more than a hundred paces it
seemed neither one gained nor lost a hairbreadth. Suddenly the Castro
animals winded. High-stepping and proud, they gradually lost.
Magnificent in their defeat they fell back.
"Huzza! Huzza!" yelled Hernandez. "I knew I breed the best stock in
the valley. My daughter shall be queen of the fiesta."
Then Carmelita's peon gave rein to his horses. They sprang from the
ground and rushed onward. For an instant the two carretas ran
together, each splendid horse, straight-backed, ears low, nostrils
distended, striking his feet in unison with his fellows. Soon the
Hernandez team began to slip backward foot by foot.
"Diablo! Diablo!" thundered Hernandez. "Peon, urge your horses! Use
the whip!"
The Hernandez Indian dug his spurs into his mount, and cruelly flayed
the leaders.
The other carreta yet more quickly moved ahead. Already the Mendoza
wheeler was abreast the Hernandez leader.
Above the roar of the vehicles sounded the plaudits of the caballeros.
"Viva! Viva, Mendoza! Viva the California horses! Viva the Señorita
Mendoza!"
A stone the size of a walnut caught in the hind shoe of Mendoza's
wheeler. The steady pace of his horses broke.
The Hernandez animals pressed on.
"Swing out, boy, swing out! Sweep in from the side!" exulted
Hernandez. "Victory for the Mexican horses!"
The driver turned his team. "Bueno, boy, bueno! Now straight ahead!
Loose the rein! Let 'em go!"
The Mendoza postilion bent affectionately over his horse. "Fly,
Mercurio! Fly! for the doña's sake!"
He unstrung his whiplash. It burned the leaders with living fire.
They leaped forward, the tremendous stride flinging the pebbles from
the wheeler's hoof.
Along the roadway the horses sped, lessening the Hernandez advantage at
every bound. After them poured the yelling, gesticulating crowd.
A hundred paces only remained.
The shouting ceased, the tenseness of the moment closing every throat.
The Mendoza carreta overtook the other, passed it, and reached the goal
two lengths ahead. Carmelita was the queen of the day!
With a flourish the Doña Carmelita's postilion drew up before the
pavilion at the merienda ground, Mendoza and Captain Morando assisting
the breathless, excited girl to alight.
Caballero and carreta whirled into the open space around her.
"Hail! Hail, to the queen of the merienda!" arose on all sides. She
bowed right and left in acknowledgment.
On one side of the building stood a dais whence the queen ruled her
loyal subjects.
"Come, little one," her father said. "Your ladies of honor will
accompany you to your throne."
Lolita and Alfreda walked with her to the dais, then curtsied in
deference.
"Your wishes, queen of the merienda?" they asked.
"For one hour let matron, maid, and man gather blackberries for the
feast. Then all shall come to luncheon in the pavilion, not forgetting
to bring the fruits of their labor. For the afternoon my command is
that all enjoy themselves to the full."
Thus briefly spoke the ruler of the day; after which she took her
willow basket and hastened to gather berries, as did her maids of honor
and everyone else.
The appointed time saw all assembled near the feast tables which had
been made ready by the peons. Heaping dishes of berries were
conspicuous among a variety and abundance of viands.
Colonel Barcelo, commander of the presidio at Monterey, with his wife
and her younger sister, the Señora Valentino, rode up on horseback.
The Colonel and his wife were well known to the picnickers. His
sister-in-law had but lately arrived from Madrid.
The newcomers were accorded a gracious reception.
"Happened to be visiting near San José. Hearing of the merienda, we
came along without an invitation," said Barcelo, laughing. "Besides, I
wished Señora Valentino to witness one of our festal days. It is
unique. Madrid itself holds nothing to equal it."
The brown eyes of the lady from Madrid flashed in accompaniment to her
pearly teeth. "Rare things have I seen in California in the fortnight
I am here."
"In a moment luncheon is served. My worthy Barcelo, I invite you and
your party to our table. My daughter and a few others sit with us.
Come, friends," spoke Señor Mendoza, true to the unbounded hospitality
of the California grandee.
A peon sounded a gong. The hungry merienda folk lost little time in
coming to the meal.
Señor Mendoza was at the head of his table, Doña Carmelita at the foot.
At the host's right and left were seated Colonel Barcelo and his wife;
Señora Valentino, by his sister. The ladies of honor, with Hernandez,
who sat by his daughter, filled the other places, except one. This had
been reserved for Morando, who now came up.
"An accident to one of the horsemen detained me for the past half
hour," was his explanation to Señor Mendoza.
"A caballero's misfortune always calls for assistance from a brother,"
replied Mendoza. Continuing: "Captain Morando, I wish to introduce you
to Señora Valentino, who favors us to-day by her presence with her
relatives, the Barcelos. Señora Valentino, may I present Captain
Moranda?"
The señora acknowledged pleasantly the Captain's low bow.
"Captain, to your chair," from Mendoza.
Conversation lulled for a little. Early hours and open air had given
zest to the appetite.
"My dear Señora Valentino, I wish you could have seen our carreta race
this morning," remarked Señor Mendoza. "But it will not be the last."
"While I say nothing against the race of this morning as such,"
interposed Hernandez, "for it was good enough as far as it went, I do
claim that my horses were better than yours, Mendoza. Your peon rider
happened to be more at home in his business than was mine, nothing
more. I wish I had been in that postilion's place myself; then there
would have been a different story to tell."
"A horse can display but the swiftness his limbs possess," rebutted
Mendoza.
"Riding is not what I knew in my youth," commented Hernandez, who was
giving ample appreciation to the pleasures of the table.
"Captain Morando, were you not at a ball given in Madrid last year by
the officers of General Guerrero's division in their quarters?" said
Señora Valentino.
"I was, indeed. And now, señora, I remember you well. Strange I did
not recall you at first."
"The fact that I was in ball-dress then and in riding-habit now is,
undoubtedly, what prevented you from recognizing me before."
"Why, we have old friends here!" interjected Colonel Barcelo.
"How is Colonel Valentino, your husband?"
"Shortly after that ball of which we speak my husband was ordered to
service in Morocco, and there he laid down his life for his country."
"I regret that my question called up sad memories. Nearly a year have
I been away from Madrid, and news travels slowly to us here. I offer
to you my sympathy in your great loss."
"You are very kind, Lieutenant--I should say, 'Captain' Morando.
But--what is past is gone. It is well, then, to forget. A wonderful
life these Californians live!"
"I trust Colonel Barcelo and his lady will find opportunity while in
this vicinity to bring you, señora, to visit us at our home in Mission
San José. What says my daughter?"
The Doña Carmelita cordially seconded her father's invitation. The
Barcelos accepted; the Señora Valentino likewise.
"Mission San José--Mission San José--" mused the latter. "Is there not
living there a Franciscan friar, one Lusciano Osuna?"
"It is so," assented Mendoza.
"I heard he was in California, and as you mentioned the Mission San
José it came to me that was given as his present home."
"A man of some importance, probably, in Spain," volunteered Señor
Hernandez.
"I do not know him personally," replied Señora Valentino. "In the
cathedral of Barcelona I heard him give the Lenten sermons several
years ago. It was quite shortly after his ordination, but his
discourses possessed rare charm and power. The city was literally at
his feet."
"Strange such a man comes here as a mission padre?" observed Hernandez.
"It was his request. Some unknown powerful influence seconded him,
else Spain would not have lost her great preacher."
At that moment the strains of the grand march floated through the
pavilion, from the excellent orchestra provided for the dancing.
Captain Morando was quickly at Doña Carmelita's side. "Señorita the
Doña Mendoza, may I claim your favor for the grand march and the waltz
following?"
It was granted.
Carmelita and Morando were at once circling in the waltz.
"I still have the rose which fell to me from the sky one moonlit night
a month ago."
"Does it keep so long?" mischievously.
"It is pressed in a book of poems. Each couplet of book-leaves holds a
petal. The odor of the petals speaks to me the same thought which is
the subject of these poems. Shall I tell you what it is, Señorita
Doña?"
"Hush! the music ceases. Lead me to a resting place."
There was to be no resting for Señorita Mendoza. Importunate youths
claimed dance after dance.
The elders, men and women, were scattered around in groups, some
looking at the dancing, others conversing, a few playing cards.
Señor Valentino, owing to her recent bereavement, did not dance. She
seated herself on a rustic bench beneath a widespread sycamore, where
she was soon the center of an interested coterie. The lady so recently
from Madrid retailed to Spanish-born gentry the news of the distant
imperial city.
After a while Captain Morando came up. Soon the two were in animated
conversation.
"Ah! Captain, not on the floor! Foot-weary so soon?" spoke a dueña
who now joined them.
"No, señora, not foot-weary. I forego for a time the pleasures of the
dance that I may listen to the words of our beautiful visitor here."
He made a low bow to Señora Valentino, who laughingly extended her hand
to him. He bent sweepingly over it, barely touching the ends of her
fingers with his.
"The Señor Captain Morando!" a man's voice called at his elbow. It was
Abelardo Peralta. The music and dancing had stopped. The guests were
assembling around the dais on which was seated Doña Carmelita.
"Our queen demands your presence, Señor Captain," Peralta went on.
The Captain was shortly before her majesty the queen of the fiesta.
"The games are about to begin, Captain Morando. Do you not remember
that I appointed you and Don Abelardo to define the boundaries of the
racing course, and to determine the various goals? Also please to
remind the Señora Valentino that she is requested to crown the victors."
As the afternoon waned the interest in the athletic events increased.
The footraces for young men showed that the sons of the province were
nimble of limb, and won the approbation of Pedro Zelaya himself, whose
swiftness was credited with being only less than a fast-galloping horse.
The señoritas ran a shorter course very creditably.
Then came a contest of knife-throwing in which the men of the period
were wonderfully proficient. The knife was flung, blade extended, from
the palm of the hand with such force that the point of the weapon would
sink several inches into a wooden target placed twenty, thirty, or
more, paces away.
"Hoop-la! Hoop-la!" came through a cloud of dust. A number of
vaqueros had driven a wild steer from the mountains to the race course.
The picnickers looked at the animal from their safe position on the
platform. Again and again the creature charged at the vaqueros, who
deftly swung their horses out of harm's way.
"Send him here!" some young fellow called to one of the herdsmen.
"No, no," another cried, "send him over this way to me."
The animal pawed the earth, bellowed, and rushed around the race course
in fury.
Don Pedro Zelaya climbed out on a projecting tree-branch and dropped on
the animal's back, in the midst of one of its mad careenings. It stood
stock still for a moment in bewilderment. Zelaya's sharp spurs soon
stirred it into action. It ran, leaped, even bucked like a broncho, in
trying to rid its back of the burden, but in vain.
"Brava! Brava! Señor Zelaya. Soon will you have another gentle pony."
"Let him chase thee around the race course," yelled a youth. "One
hundred pesos to fifty he catches thee!"
Zelaya found time to wave his acknowledgment of the persiflage.
The steer suddenly tried rolling over and over to free itself. The man
sprang to the ground each time it dashed itself down; then, with the
litheness of a cat, leaped to its back as it arose.
The animal finally gave up all efforts to throw the rider, and ran at
full speed around the racing track, amidst the loud plaudits of the
assembly.
Señor Zelaya drew himself back into the branches of the tree, after a
little, and his mount escaped to the forest.
The men exhibited all manner of fancy riding. Some rode at the flank
of a horse at gallop, or under the belly, or astride the neck. Others
leaned from their saddles in flying sweep and picked up coins from the
ground; or drew from the sand chickens buried to the head, yet so
gentle the rider's hand that the fowl was not in the least injured.
The shadows come early in the deep cañons. The queen sent her
messengers to call the people around her throne while the winners
received their prizes. Abelardo Peralta announced, in her name, that
after the distribution luncheon would again be served in the pavilion.
"Our queen makes Don Abelardo her chief courtier," remarked Lolita
Hernandez in the hearing of a number.
"They have been friends since childhood, Señorita Lolita," returned
this young lady's dueña.
Lolita laughed mirthlessly. "I fancy the captain from Madrid has
offended. Perhaps her majesty saw him kissing Señora Valentino's hand
this afternoon."
"Fie! Fie!" from another dueña. "He touched only the tip of that
lady's fingers with his own. I saw it myself."
"Diffident soldier!" from a grave señor. "In my youth I would not have
been content with so slight a token."
"Manuel! Manuel!" from his wife.
"Señora Moraga, thy husband thinks on his courtship of thee," spoke yet
another dueña, laughing.
"I'm sure it looked as if the Captain kissed the stranger lady's hand,"
Lolita reiterated. "I'm sure too Carmelita saw it, for we were dancing
in the same set when it happened."
"'Twas but a lady's favor and a man's privilege, little one," said
Moraga.
"Manuel! Manuel!" again from his wife. "And before such a child as
Lolita!"
"I know Carmelita favored Captain Morando above Don Abelardo the day of
the dinner at her father's house. I saw it, and so did all the girls.
I know she changed toward him to-day after what I--saw. I know she
did."
Señora Valentino approached the group.
At almost the same moment Morando came up from the opposite direction,
having been at the race course collecting from the judges their
decisions as to the victors.
"Ah! Captain mine, bearest thou a word for beauty as well as for
prowess in athletics?" questioned Moraga.
"The queen has appointed no judge of beauty. Even the wisest would
find bewilderment here where all are so fair," replied the gallant
Morando.
"Our Captain is a diplomat," smiled the señora. She bowed to the
gentleman in question; he yet lower to her.
A messenger advanced, saying with much ceremony: "Señora Valentino, the
queen requests you to crown the winners from the dais. Captain
Morando, you are commanded before the throne there to read your
reports."
The señora curtsied. "My sovereign's will is mine."
The soldier saluted, but before he could make speech Mendoza's hand was
on his shoulder. "Pardon me, friends, I have a word with the Captain."
"Morando," said the old don when they were apart, "you may not know the
keen instincts of our wild animals for change in weather. Bear and
mountain lion are hurrying through the forest here back to the high
mountains. During the drought they have been under foot, tame as dogs.
My fighting peons brought me word of this sudden activity of the
animals, and just now I observed it for myself. It means the quick
coming of a storm."
"Maldito! is it sure? Leagues from home are we and scores of women
folk with us."
"To make doubly sure I rode my horse to the summit of a high bluff.
The clouds are rolling hitherward in masses black and angry."
"What, think you, we would better do?"
"I'll order the peons to bring out the carretas and saddle the horses.
'Twill be a few minutes only. Then I'll call for silence and ask all
to take conveyance or mount, speaking of imminent storm in such way as
not to give unnecessary alarm. For myself, I'll lead my fighting
peons; let come next the carretas; then marshal you the caballeros."
As said so was it done.
Soon all was in readiness, and the procession was tearing over the road
by which it had come early in the day. Doña Carmelita had given her
carreta to Señora Valentino, while she rode with her dueña. Provision
was also made for Señora Barcelo, Mendoza declaring it unsafe for a
woman to ride horseback under the circumstances.
As they sped along darkness overtook them. Intermittent lightning
darted forked tongues across the sky, while thunder pealed and
reverberated. The pent-up rain of months poured on the returning
picnickers. In the dry creek-beds streams arose even while they were
crossing.
The dueña's carreta was somewhat slower than the others and thus was
last in the line. Morando rode by Carmelita's side.
Suddenly the heavens seemed to split. Torrents of water roared on the
hillside, inundated the roadway, and poured over carretas and horsemen.
There had been a cloud-burst.
A heavy boulder whirling in the flood was flung against Morando's
horse. As it fell caballeros close by grasped bridle-rein and
stirrup-strap and drew the animal to its feet. Panic-stricken it
dashed wildly forward.
The lightning ceased. The dense blackness but increased the confusion.
The carretas floundered in the water. Finally, all save one fought
their way to higher ground. A projecting tree-limb had struck the
dueña's postilion. His horse slipped beneath him and turned with the
turbulent current. Man, horses, carreta, and occupants were washed
down the declivity.
The caballeros, unknowing, struggled on.
The dueña's horses soon found footing on the hillside, and taking the
bits in their teeth ran headlong down grade into the deep cañon.
When Carmelita recovered consciousness she was lying in a cave, on some
bear skins, near a glowing fire of logs. She could hear horses
stamping and eating. Her dueña, still unconscious, was on another pile
of skins.
A man came from the darkness and stood by her. He was dressed in
tanned-skin shirt and trousers, and in his hand he held a sombrero.
The mustached face was burned brown in the sun.
He noticed that Carmelita had opened her eyes. "Neither of you is
seriously injured. I am physician enough to determine that. Rest here
quietly till morning, and doubtless your friends will come. I'll have
some one prepare you a hot drink now." This he spoke in Spanish. Then
in English, as he turned away: "Queerest product of a spring freshet I
ever saw!"
He chuckled at his own conceit.