“Well,” I said, “we need to get going or we won’t get there.” The country seemed to get drier, and the vegetation was very sparse. Just a few scrub brush trees and a couple cactus’ were all we saw for miles, with loads and loads of throat-choking red dust.
I had always wondered how a horse could keep breathing in a dust storm, when a human would almost choke to death. Of course, I have since learned that dust particles inhaled by a horse can cause inflammation of the lungs and even cause death. A little something I learned from my pa, the livery stable owner. I felt a slight twinge in my chest as I thought of Pa and all the things that he had taught me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As we traveled further south, the land seemed to change to a greener look, with more trees and tall grass. The weather also changed.
“For the better,” Orville said, “’cause I like those warm days and cool nights.”
Almost three days later, we came upon a large sign at least sixteen feet in the air and hanging across the road with big fancy letters burned into it proclaiming Rancho Val Verde. Orville tugged on the reigns and brought the wagon to a halt, then set the brake and scrambled down to the ground. As we looked both to the right and then left, there was a shiny barbwire fence as far as we could see.
“I hate barbwire,” Orville said quietly, wiping his forehead and spitting on the ground. “Some guys in my squad got tangled up in some wire back in ’63. It tore ’em up real bad. Had no use for it ever since. But we don’t have to worry about getting in the wire ‘cause somebody left a big old gate right here for us.” He climbed back up to the wagon seat, hollered giddy-up, then maneuvered the wagon through that nice gate that someone had left for us and urged the team to a fast trot. “I heard someplace that this was a big spread, but I had no idea,” exclaimed Orville
We had been traveling for almost two days, and still saw nothing but land and more land. Right before dusk on the second day, I looked at the western sky as it gleamed a deep amethyst against a sunset of crimson, and I watched as golden rays shot straight up into the heavens.
In the distance, we saw what looked like the top of a castle shining in the sunlight. As we approached, there were seven horsemen that came out of nowhere and rode beside us. Their outfits were of the fancy Mexican style, with lots of decorations and some of the most beautiful mounts I had ever seen. And I had seen a lot of horses in my few short years in the livery stable with Pa. The silvery full moon was straight in the sky when we arrived at the front door of that castle. We were welcomed by a big brown Mexican named Poncho Luis Alfonso Lizarraga, who said he was the El Patron of the whole Rancho, or as us gringos would say, the foreman of the rancho.
“Please allow one of El Asistentes ( assistants) to show you to the bunkhouse for the night. You will meet El Proprietario (the owner) tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The bunkhouse was a large adobe building with windows all around the high walls. It was situated on a little rise away from all the other buildings, so that no matter which way the wind was blowing, there would be a breeze blowing through the bunkhouse. The straw boss assigned us a couple of bunks on the west side of the long room. There was just enough moonlight shining through the window by my bunk that I had to turn away, as the moon was extremely bright tonight. The bunk was a lot more comfortable than where we had been sleeping for the past few nights. Orville took the bunk next to me, and was snoring within a few seconds of his head hitting the pillow. How he could sleep with all the noise he was making was beyond belief. I guess I found out how he did it, because the next thing I knew, the sun was shining through my window and waking me with its brightness.
I sat up on the side of the bed and said quietly, “Orville wake up.”
He sat straight up in his bunk and exclaimed, “Where are we? Is the Rebs coming over the hill?”
“It’s alright, Orville. We’re here at the horse ranch. You can wake up now.”
As we dressed, we looked around at all the empty bunks and realized that it was well past time for all the Vaqueros to be out on the range.
We stepped outside looking for a place to relieve ourselves, when the straw boss walked up and said, “This way senors’. The outhouse is this way, and there is water and towels on the side of the bunkhouse for you to freshen up before you meet El Proprietario. Please to continue up this path to the main door of La Casa (the house).”
When we had freshened up and changed into the cleanest clothes we had, I brushed off the best I could and we proceeded to walk up the path to the main house.
When we got about ten feet from the front door, it slammed open and a small Mexican man, who was probably less than five feet tall, 110 pounds, and wearing very fancy colorful clothes, approached us with a big grin on his mustached face.
“Hola! Hola! Amigos! (Welcome friends) I am called Joaquin Murrieta. So happy to have your presence here at our fine Hacienda. Please come into El Comedor (the desayuno, or how you say in English, some breakfast).
“Please to leave la pistolas (the pistols) on el porche (the porch) before you enter la fachada puerta (the front door), gracias Senors.”
Orville still had his Calvary issued, single-action Colt Model 1847 .44 caliber ball and cap revolver, and the Army issued holster with the snap down flap. We removed our gun belts and placed them on a bench, on the porch, beside the door.
“You have been in our beautiful country before, yes? I notice the Gaucho saddle on the pretty mare.”
As we walked through the door, the smells attacked my palette with a vengeance.
“Please be seated, Senors. I will call for El Mayordomo (the butler) to serve you. After you have eaten, we will meet in El Salon (the living room), share some brandy, and discuss what brings you to our Alcazar (castle) in the south of Texas and north of Mexico.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The meal was fit for a king, and I suspect that is exactly how the owner of this beautiful place pictured himself. There were fresh oranges, pineapple, peaches, and all sorts of delicious fruit. Then there were scrambled eggs with sausage wrapped inside that was delicious, hot cakes, and fried potatoes. There was fresh milk, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and freshly-churned butter to spread on the thickly-sliced bread. As well as many other things that I didn’t know what they were.
When we were finished eating, the butler led us to the living room, where Joaquin Murrieta was seated in a big fancy arm chair that looked like a throne.
“Please to have a seat and El Mayordomo will pour the brandy. It is one of the finest blends in all of the USA, imported from the Wollerssheim Winery in Wisconsin. They have some of the finest wines, but this brandy is almost as good as the Spanish Brandy of my ancestors. Please taste and let me know if I am right?”
I had never tasted hard liquor of any kind, but I didn’t feel I could refuse our benefactor’s hospitality. I reached and took the glass, then Orville did the same.
Orville turned the glass up and chug a lugged the liquid down in one swallow.
Murrieta exclaimed, “Senor, have you never drank brandy before? You do not drink it straight down. You sip very slowly so as to enjoy the fine taste. Please pour another.”
I was still holding the glass and feeling like I didn’t want to try it when Murrieta asked, “You have never had brandy before, No?”
“That’s right. I haven’t ever had any kind of spirits before, and I don’t mean to insult you, but I would prefer something a little easier on the palate.”
“Of course, senor. I am so sorry. Perhaps a little grape juice would be more for your pleasure. It is made from grapes that we grow right here on our Rancho.”
Murrieta called for the butler to bring a bottle of grape juice. He returned with a large bottle and poured me half a glass. It must have been stored in a cellar, because it was cool and sweet to the taste.
“Thank you so much for understanding,” I said to Murrieta.
“Now let us discuss why you came to our Rancho.”<
br />
“We want to trade two horses for one, for my friend,” I told him.
“I would be willing to trade one good horse for all three of your horses, only because I am, how you say, ah, yes, I am partial to the colorful leopard-spotted mare.”
I was quick to inform him that Sugar was not for trade or sale.
“That is fine, but I would not be wanting to trade for the two broken-down mares without her.”
“Then we want to purchase a good horse for my friend.”
“Certainly, I will show you the ones I have for sale myself. If you will please follow me, Senors.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We walked for what seemed a mile, and came to a big horse barn that was as big as a town. There was a large corral to the side of the barn, and there were a dozen vaqueros standing around the corral watching one young vaquero bouncing on top of a mount. It was a chestnut-colored Arabian horse standing around fourteen to fifteen hands high. I could almost feel my bones jarring each time that horse came down on all four feet. That young man was holding on, but it looked as though he was getting tired. With one last whirl and short jump, the horse began prancing around the corral. Applause broke out from the men around the corral, who were calling out the youngster's name. “Horado! Horado!” His full name, as I learned later, was Horado Sebastiano Julian Fermin Tabares, and he had just celebrated his eighteenth birthday a week ago. The horse was a present from El Tio (His uncle), Joaquin Murrieta, of whom we were guests. His uncle had told him he would give him the horse if he could ride him. He didn't, however, tell him the horse had never been ridden. It took him five tries, but on the sixth his luck changed, or as he put it, the horse got tired of him punching him with those spurs.
After his uncle gave his congratulations to the young man, we continued a little farther to the next big corral. There were a dozen or more horses inside.
“These horses are some of the finest in Mexico, and would make anyone a fine mount,” said Murrieta.
There were six grade horses of various colored coats. Grade horses, even though they didn’t have a distinguished pedigree, could do everything any other horse could do, and many make ideal beginner horses. There were two big black Morgan’s, one a Pinto and the other solid brown, both at about fifteen hands high, a Tennessee Walker, that was silver dapple in color, and was about the same size as the others, and a Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse Palomino.
Orville left the inspecting of the horses to me because of my experience in a livery stable.
“Orville, I know you had your heart set on a Morgan, but I don’t think we should leave your buckboard here, even though it is worn out. It can still carry all our stuff. I feel that the Palomino would be the best horse for you, because he is not only a good saddle horse, but he can pull the wagon, too.
Murrieta said, “Ah. A fine piece of horseflesh. Since you are such good amigos of mine, I will take your two worn out mares in trade, and let you have the Palomino for 150 US dollars or 1000 Pesos.”
Orville said, “I don’t have that much.”
“I will still trade for the pretty-colored mare, an even trade,” said Murrieta. “Perhaps you will be my guests for a couple of days and think it over. Maybe you will change your mind. Please come now. It is almost time for dinner. My niece and nephew will be joining us.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We stopped by the bunkhouse to wash up, then proceeded to the main house, where again we were greeted by the butler, who said, “Please follow me,” and led us into the dining room where Murrieta, the young man from the corral, and a very, very pretty girl were seated at the big table.
“Please take a seat and we will begin. This is my nephew, Horado Sebastiano Julian Fermin Tabares, and his little sister, Marcella Lupe Esperanza Tabares, the children of my sister, Senora Tabares, who resides in Mexico. They are visiting for Hofado’s birthday and receiving his present from me, the beautiful Arabian Stallion that just became his today by taming him for the saddle. Once more, congratulations Hafado, and Happy Birthday!”
The meal was roasted pig with fresh vegetables of all sorts, and lemonade to drink, or wine if you preferred.
I had a hard time concentrating on the meal because Marcella Lupe was seated directly across from me. She was a slight, delicate girl, with big almond-shaped sepia brown eyes, and waist-length, raven-black hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head. Her skin had an olive tint that looked extra smooth and would be great to touch. Her lips were colored a deep dark red, and I wondered if they were as soft and sweet as Penelope’s lips.
Murrieta and Orville kept a conversation going, each trying to outdo the other with their exploits. Both Hofado and Marcella Lupe were very quiet. I did, however, spot Marcella Lupe looking my way on more than one occasion. We retired to the living room after dinner for a drink, of which I again abstained and asked to be excused that I might explore the Rancho.
“Perhaps Hofado would show me around.”
“That is an excellent idea,” exclaimed Murrieta. “Maybe you could ask Marcella Lupe to accompany you. You young people should get acquainted.”
Hofado and Marcella Lupe joined me outside, and we headed for the corral where the horses were. Hofado was very excited to show me his new horse, and I said I was proud for him because it was a very fine mount and would serve him well in the years to come. I asked Marcella Lupe if she owned a horse.
She said, “No, my uncle says women should ride in carriages, and not on horses.”
“Where I come from in Texas, all the women ride horses and ride in carriages.”
“Please tell us about where you come from and why you are here,” she asked.
I explained as best as I could about Angel Falls, about my pa and how I came to be on the run from the law, and how Orville and me had come here to buy him a horse, but it looked as though we were not going to be able to do that because her uncle wanted too much money for his horses.
“Perhaps we can make a deal between the two of us,” said Hofado. I want to travel and get to know the country, so maybe if I could talk my uncle into selling the horse you want cheaper, would you allow me to accompany you and your friend when you leave this place?”
“What would your uncle say about you leaving? Would he allow you to leave without returning to your mother?” I asked.
“I am now eighteen years old and free to make my own decisions. How about it, do we have an understanding?” he exclaimed.
“Sounds alright to me, but I would want to check with Orville before I decide,” I answered.
Hafado said, “I will go now and talk to my uncle. You and Marcella Lupe continue on your way to look over the Rancho.”
Marcella Lupe looked at me and said, “If I were still in Mexico, I could not be alone with a boy without a chaperone. Right at this moment, I am very glad to not be in Mexico. How do you feel about that Senor?” She batted her eye lashes at me.
I told her I was extremely glad she was not in Mexico.
“I will be seventeen in just a few months and I have never been kissed by a boy. How would you like to be the first boy I have kissed?”
“I think that would be about the greatest thing that has happened to me in a very long time.”
Her lips were just as soft a Penelope’s lips, but somehow, it just didn’t make me feel the same as when I kissed Penelope. Maybe it was because I was in love with Penelope and didn’t really know Marcella Lupe very well. It was, however, still very exciting and just a little bit scary because I didn’t know if someone had seen us kissing. I suggested that we return to the main house before someone did see us. We spent a little time with one another each day that Orville and me stayed at the Rancho. And yes, I did sample her lips a few more times. But as I said, my heart belonged to someone else back in Angel Falls.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When we returned to the main house, Orville and Murrieta were still enjoying that bottle of brandy, and both were feeling pretty good.
; Hafado said his uncle, since he was in such a good mood from all the drinking, had agreed to let us have the Palomino horse for fifty US dollars, and the two Brindle mares. I told him that sounded great, and that he needed to pack his things and say his goodbyes because we would be pulling out at first light.
The next morning the South Texas Sun was bright, and yet the breeze that rippled around the corner of the big house was cool hinting at the chance for rain. Orville had his new Palomino hooked to the buckboard, and was raring to go before it started raining. He leaned forward on the hard seat, squinting into the incandescent sunrise. He removed his old slouch hat, wiped his brow, then put his hat back on his head, wrapped the reigns around his fist, said giddy-up, and headed toward that big fancy gate.
Hafado mounted his Arabian after saying his goodbyes to his uncle and sister, and headed out behind Orville. I shook Murrieta’s hand, told him how pleased I was to have met him, and not to worry about his nephew as Orville because I would both look after him. I then turned to face Marcella Lupe, looked her in the eye, and said that she had been the most enjoyable part of my stay here at the Rancho.
She reached up, kissed me on the cheek, and said quietly, “Please think about me.” Then a single silver tear shimmered down her cheek. “Return if you can.”
I reached and wiped the tear with the back of my hand, smiled, then turned and mounted Sugar with a little feeling of regret mingled with relief. Regret that I wasn’t staying with Marcella Lupe, and relief that I was moving on. I waved, then turned Sugar to follow after my two partners.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
We headed north, back to Angel Falls where I had left. I needed to see where they had buried Pa and check on things.
We traveled a bit more to the east, hoping to hit a small settlement where we could get some supplies. We might also have to try to find some kind of work, because we were running low on funds. What I didn’t know at the time was that Hafado had plenty of money that had been given to him by his mother and other kin for his birthday.