Chapter III. Las Palomas

by Andy Adams

　　There is something about those large ranches of southern Texas thatreminds one of the old feudal system. The pathetic attachment to thesoil of those born to certain Spanish land grants can only be comparedto the European immigrant when for the last time he looks on the land ofhis birth before sailing. Of all this Las Palomas was typical. In thecourse of time several such grants had been absorbed into its baronialacres. But it had always been the policy of Uncle Lance never to disturbthe Mexican population; rather he encouraged them to remain in hisservice. Thus had sprung up around Las Palomas ranch a little Mexicancommunity numbering about a dozen families, who lived in jacals closeto the main ranch buildings. They were simple people, and rendered theirnew master a feudal loyalty. There were also several small ranchiteslocated on the land, where, under the Mexican regime, there had beenpretentious adobe buildings. A number of families still resided at thesedeserted ranches, content in cultivating small fields or looking afterflocks of goats and a few head of cattle, paying no rental save aservice tenure to the new owner.The customs of these Mexican people were simple and primitive. Theyblindly accepted the religious teachings imposed with fire and swordby the Spanish conquerors upon their ancestors. A padre visited themyearly, christening the babes, marrying the youth, shriving thepenitent, and saying masses for the repose of the souls of the departed.Their social customs were in many respects unique. For instance,in courtship a young man was never allowed in the presence of hisinamorata, unless in company of others, or under the eye of a chaperon.Proposals, even among the nearest of neighbors or most intimate offriends, were always made in writing, usually by the father of theyoung man to the parents of the girl, but in the absence of such, by agodfather or padrino. Fifteen days was the term allowed for a reply,and no matter how desirable the match might be, it was not accountedgood taste to answer before the last day. The owner of Las Palomaswas frequently called upon to act as padrino for his people, and sosuccessful had he always been that the vaqueros on his ranch preferredhis services to those of their own fathers. There was scarcely a vaqueroat the home ranch but, in time past, had invoked his good offices inthis matter, and he had come to be looked on as their patron saint.The month of September was usually the beginning of the branding seasonat Las Palomas. In conducting this work, Uncle Lance was the leader, andwith the white element already enumerated, there were twelve to fifteenvaqueros included in the branding outfit. The dance at Shepherd's haddelayed the beginning of active operations, and a large calf crop, tosay nothing of horse and mule colts, now demanded our attention andpromised several months' work. The year before, Las Palomas had brandedover four thousand calves, and the range was now dotted with the crop,awaiting the iron stamp of ownership.The range was an open one at the time, compelling us to work far beyondthe limits of our employer's land. Fortified with our own commissary,and with six to eight horses apiece in our mount, we scoured the countryfor a radius of fifty miles. When approaching another range, it was ourcustom to send a courier in advance to inquire of the ranchero when itwould be convenient for him to give us a rodeo. A day would be set, whenour outfit and the vaqueros of that range rounded up all the cattlewatering at given points. Then we cut out the Las Palomas brand, andheld them under herd or started them for the home ranch, where thecalves were to be branded. In this manner we visited all the adjoiningranches, taking over a month to make the circuit of the ranges.In making the tour, the first range we worked was that of rancho SantaMaria, south of our range and on the head of Tarancalous Creek. Onapproaching the ranch, as was customary, we prepared to encamp and askfor a rodeo. But in the choice of a vaquero to be dispatched on thismission, a spirited rivalry sprang up. When Uncle Lance learned that therivalry amongst the vaqueros was meant to embarrass Enrique Lopez, whowas oso to Anita, the pretty daughter of the corporal of Santa Maria,his matchmaking instincts came to the fore. Calling Enrique to one side,he made the vaquero confess that he had been playing for the favor ofthe senorita at Santa Maria. Then he dispatched Enrique on the mission,bidding him carry the choicest compliments of Las Palomas to every Donand Dona of Santa Maria. And Enrique was quite capable of adding a fewembellishments to the old matchmaker's extravagant flatteries.Enrique was in camp next morning, but at what hour of the night he hadreturned is unknown. The rodeo had been granted for the following day;there was a pressing invitation to Don Lance--unless he was willingto offend--to spend the idle day as the guest of Don Mateo. Enriqueelaborated the invitation with a thousand adornments. But the owner ofLas Palomas had lived nearly forty years among the Spanish-Americanpeople on the Nueces, and knew how to make allowances for the exuberanceof the Latin tongue. There was no telling to what extent Enrique couldhave kept on delivering messages, but to his employer he was avoidingthe issue."But did you get to see Anita?" interrupted Uncle Lance. Yes, he hadseen her, but that was about all. Did not Don Lance know the customsamong the Castilians? There was her mother ever present, or if she mustabsent herself, there was a bevy of tias comadres surrounding her,until the Dona Anita dare not even raise her eyes to meet his. "Toperdition with such customs, no?" The freedom of a cow camp is asplendid opportunity to relieve one's mind upon prevailing injustices."Don't fret your cattle so early in the morning, son," admonishedthe wary matchmaker. "I've handled worse cases than this before. YouMexicans are sticklers on customs, and we must deal with our neighborscarefully. Before I show my hand in this, there's just one thing I wantto know--is the girl willing? Whenever you can satisfy me on that point,Enrique, just call on the old man. But before that I won't stir a step.You remember what a time I had over Tiburcio's Juan--that's so, you weretoo young then. Well, June here remembers it. Why, the girl just cut upshamefully. Called Juan an Indian peon, and bragged about her Castilianfamily until you'd have supposed she was a princess of the blood royal.Why, it took her parents and myself a whole day to bring the girl aroundto take a sensible view of matters. On my soul, except that I didn'twant to acknowledge defeat, I felt a dozen times like telling her togo straight up. And when she did marry you, she was as happy as alark--wasn't she, Juan? But I like to have the thing over with in--well,say half an hour's time. Then we can have refreshments, and smoke, anddiscuss the prospects of the young couple."Uncle Lance's question was hard to answer. Enrique had known the girlfor several years, had danced with her on many a feast day, and neverlost an opportunity to whisper the old, old story in her willing ear.Others had done the like, but the dark-eyed senorita is an adept in theart of coquetry, and there you are. But Enrique swore a great oath hewould know. Yes, he would. He would lay siege to her as he had neverdone before. He would become un oso grande. Just wait until thebranding was over and the fiestas of the Christmas season were on, andwatch him dog her every step until he received her signal of surrender.Witness, all the saints, this row of Enrique Lopez, that the Dona Anitashould have no peace of mind, no, not for one little minute, until shehad made a complete capitulation. Then Don Lauce, the padrino of LasPalomas, would at once write the letter which would command the hand ofthe corporal's daughter. Who could refuse such a request, and what was adaughter of Santa Maria compared to a son of Las Palomas?Tarancalous Creek ran almost due east, and rancho Santa Maria waslocated near its source, depending more on its wells for water supplythan on the stream which only flowed for a few months during the year.Where the watering facilities were so limited the rodeo was an easymatter. A number of small round-ups at each established watering point,a swift cutting out of everything bearing the Las Palomas brand, and wemoved on to the next rodeo, for we had an abundance of help at SantaMaria. The work was finished by the middle of the afternoon. Aftersending, under five or six men, our cut of several hundred cattlewestward on our course, our outfit rode into rancho Santa Maria properto pay our respects. Our wagon had provided an abundant dinner for ourassistants and ourselves; but it would have been, in Mexican etiquette,extremely rude on our part not to visit the rancho and partake of a cupof coffee and a cigarette, thanking the ranchero on parting for hiskindness in granting us the rodeo.So when the last round-up was reached, Don Mateo and Uncle Lance turnedthe work over to their corporals, and in advance rode up to Santa Maria.The vaqueros of our ranch were anxious to visit the rancho, so itdevolved on the white element to take charge of the cut. Being astranger to Santa Maria, I was allowed to accompany our segundo,June Deweese, on an introductory visit. On arriving at the rancho, thevaqueros scattered among the jacals of their amigos, while June andmyself were welcomed at the casa primero. There we found Uncle Lancepartaking of refreshment, and smoking a cigarette as though he had beenborn a Senor Don of some ruling hacienda. June and I were seated atanother table, where we were served with coffee, wafers, and home-madecigarettes. This was perfectly in order, but I could hardly controlmyself over the extravagant Spanish our employer was using in expressingthe amity existing between Santa Maria and Las Palomas. In ordinaryconversation, such as cattle and ranch affairs, Uncle Lance had a goodcommand of Spanish; but on social and delicate topics some of hisefforts were ridiculous in the extreme. He was well aware of hisshortcomings, and frequently appealed to me to assist him. As a boy myplaymates had been Mexican children, so that I not only spoke Spanishfluently but could also readily read and write it. So it was no surpriseto me that, before taking our departure, my employer should commandmy services as an interpreter in driving an entering wedge. He wasparticular to have me assure our host and hostess of his high regard forthem, and his hope that in the future even more friendly relations mightexist between the two ranches. Had Santa Maria no young cavalier for thehand of some daughter of Las Palomas? Ah! there was the true bond forfuture friendships. Well, well, if the soil of this rancho was soimpoverished, then the sons of Las Palomas must take the bit in theirteeth and come courting to Santa Maria. And let Dona Gregoria look wellto her daughters, for the young men of Las Palomas, true to their race,were not only handsome fellows but ardent lovers, and would be hard torefuse.After taking our leave and catching up with the cattle, we pushedwestward for the Ganso, our next stream of water. This creek was atributary to the Nueces, and we worked down it several days, or untilwe had nearly a thousand cattle and were within thirty miles of home.Turning this cut over to June Deweese and a few vaqueros to take into the ranch and brand, the rest of us turned westward and struck theNueces at least fifty miles above Las Palomas. For the next few daysour dragnet took in both sides of the Nueces, and when, on reachingthe mouth of the Ganso, we were met by Deweese and the vaqueros we hadanother bunch of nearly a thousand ready. Dan Happersett was dispatchedwith the second bunch for branding, when we swung north to Mr. Booth'sranch on the Frio, where we rested a day. But there is little recreationon a cow hunt, and we were soon under full headway again. By the time wehad worked down the Frio, opposite headquarters, we had too large a herdto carry conveniently, and I was sent in home with them, neverrejoining the outfit until they reached Shepherd's Ferry. This was adisappointment to me, for I had hopes that when the outfit worked therange around the mouth of San Miguel, I might find some excuse to visitthe McLeod ranch and see Esther. But after turning back up the homeriver to within twenty miles of the ranch, we again turned southward,covering the intervening ranches rapidly until we struck the Tarancalousabout twenty-five miles east of Santa Maria.We had spent over thirty days in making this circle, gathering over fivethousand cattle, about one third of which were cows with calves by theirsides. On the remaining gap in the circle we lost two days in waitingfor rodeos, or gathering independently along the Tarancalous, and, onnearing the Santa Maria range, we had nearly fifteen hundred cattle. Ourherd passed within plain view of the rancho, but we did not turn aside,preferring to make a dry camp for the night, some five or six milesfurther on our homeward course. But since we had used the majority ofour remuda very hard that day, Uncle Lance dispatched Enrique andmyself, with our wagon and saddle horses, by way of Santa Maria, towater our saddle stock and refill our kegs for camping purposes. Ofcourse, the compliments of our employer to the ranchero of Santa Mariawent with the remuda and wagon.I delivered the compliments and regrets to Don Mateo, and asked thepermission to water our saddle stock, which was readily granted. Thisrequired some time, for we had about a hundred and twenty-five loosehorses with us, and the water had to be raised by rope and pulley fromthe pommel of a saddle horse. After watering the team we refilled ourkegs, and the cook pulled out to overtake the herd, Enrique and Istaying to water the remuda. Enrique, who was riding the saddle horse,while I emptied the buckets as they were hoisted to the surface, wasevidently killing time. By his dilatory tactics, I knew the young rascalwas delaying in the hope of getting a word with the Dona Anita. Butit was getting late, and at the rate we were hoisting darkness wouldovertake us before we could reach the herd. So I ordered Enrique to thebucket, while I took my own horse and furnished the hoisting power. Wewere making some headway with the work, when a party of women, amongthem the Dona Anita, came down to the well to fill vessels for houseuse.This may have been all chance--and then again it may not. But thegallant Enrique now outdid himself, filling jar after jar and liftingthem to the shoulder of the bearer with the utmost zeal and amid aprofusion of compliments. I was annoyed at the interruption in our work,but I could see that Enrique was now in the highest heaven of delight.The Dona Anita's mother was present, and made it her duty to notice thatonly commonplace formalities passed between her daughter and the ardentvaquero. After the jars were all filled, the bevy of women started ontheir return; but Dona Anita managed to drop a few feet to the rear ofthe procession, and, looking back, quietly took up one corner of hermantilla, and with a little movement, apparently all innocence, flasheda message back to the entranced Enrique. I was aware of the flirtation,but before I had made more of it Enrique sprang down from the abutmentof the well, dragged me from my horse, and in an ecstasy of joy,crouching behind the abutments, cried: Had I seen the sign? Had I notnoticed her token? Was my brain then so befuddled? Did I not understandthe ways of the senoritas among his people?--that they always answeredby a wave of the handkerchief, or the mantilla? Ave Maria, Tomas! Suchstupidity! Why, to be sure, they could talk all day with their eyes.A setting sun finally ended his confidences, and the watering was soonfinished, for Enrique lowered the bucket in a gallop. On our reachingthe herd and while we were catching our night horses, Uncle Lance strodeout to the rope corral, with the inquiry, what had delayed us. "Nothingparticular," I replied, and looked at Enrique, who shrugged hisshoulders and repeated my answer. "Now, look here, you young liars,"said the old ranchero; "the wagon has been in camp over an hour, and,admitting it did start before you, you had plenty of time to water thesaddle stock and overtake it before it could possibly reach the herd. Ican tell a lie myself, but a good one always has some plausibility. Yourascals were up to some mischief, I'll warrant."I had caught out my night horse, and as I led him away to saddle up,Uncle Lance, not content with my evasive answer, followed me. "Go toEnrique," I whispered; "he'll just bubble over at a good chance to tellyou. Yes; it was the Dona Anita who caused the delay." A smotheredchuckling shook the old man's frame, as he sauntered over to whereEnrique was saddling. As the two led off the horse to picket in thegathering dusk, the ranchero had his arm around the vaquero's neck, andI felt that the old matchmaker would soon be in possession of the facts.A hilarious guffaw that reached me as I was picketing my horse announcedthat the story was out, and as the two returned to the fire Uncle Lancewas slapping Enrique on the back at every step and calling him a luckydog. The news spread through the camp like wild-fire, even to thevaqueros on night herd, who instantly began chanting an old love song.While Enrique and I were eating our supper, our employer paced backwardand forward in meditation like a sentinel on picket, and when we hadfinished our meal, he joined us around the fire, inquiring of Enriquehow soon the demand should be made for the corporal's daughter, and wasassured that it could not be done too soon. "The padre only came once ayear," he concluded, "and they must be ready.""Well, now, this is a pretty pickle," said the old matchmaker, as hepulled his gray mustaches; "there isn't pen or paper in the outfit. Andthen we'll be busy branding on the home range for a month, and I can'tspare a vaquero a day to carry a letter to Santa Maria. And besides, Imight not be at home when the reply came. I think I'll just take thebull by the horns; ride back in the morning and set these old precedentsat defiance, by arranging the match verbally. I can make the talk thatthis country is Texas now, and that under the new regime Americancustoms are in order. That's what I'll do--and I'll take Tom Quirk withme for fear I bog down in my Spanish."But several vaqueros, who understood some English, advised Enrique ofwhat the old matchmaker proposed to do, when the vaquero threw his handsin the air and began sputtering Spanish in terrified disapproval. Didnot Don Lance know that the marriage usages among his people were theirmost cherished customs? "Oh, yes, son," languidly replied Uncle Lance."I'm some strong on the cherish myself, but not when it interfereswith my plans. It strikes me that less than a month ago I heard youcondemning to perdition certain customs of your people. Now, don't geton too high a horse--just leave it to Tom and me. We may stay a week,but when we come back we'll bring your betrothal with us in our vestpockets. There was never a Mexican born who can outhold me on palaver;and we'll eat every chicken on Santa Maria unless they surrender."As soon as the herd had started for home the next morning, Uncle Lanceand I returned to Santa Maria. We were extended a cordial reception byDon Mateo, and after the chronicle of happenings since the two rancheroslast met had been reviewed, the motive of our sudden return wasmentioned. By combining the vocabularies of my employer and myself, wementioned our errand as delicately as possible, pleading guilty andcraving every one's pardon for our rudeness in verbally conducting thenegotiations. To our surprise,--for to Mexicans customs are as rootedas Faith,--Don Mateo took no offense and summoned Dona Gregoria. I wasplaying a close second to the diplomat of our side of the house, andwhen his Spanish failed him and he had recourse to English, it isneedless to say I handled matters to the best of my ability. The Spanishis a musical, passionate language and well suited to love making, andthough this was my first use of it for that purpose, within half an hourwe had won the ranchero and his wife to our side of the question.Then, at Don Mateo's orders, the parents of the girl were summoned. Thisinvolved some little delay, which permitted coffee being served, anddiscussion, over the cigarettes, of the commonplace matters of thecountry. There was beginning to be a slight demand for cattle to driveto the far north on the trails, some thought it was the sign of a bigdevelopment, but neither of the rancheros put much confidence in themovement, etc., etc. The corporal and his wife suddenly made theirappearance, dressed in their best, which accounted for the delay, andall cattle conversation instantly ceased. Uncle Lance arose and greetedthe husky corporal and his timid wife with warm cordiality. I extendedmy greetings to the Mexican foreman, whom I had met at the rodeo about amonth before. We then resumed our seats, but the corporal and his wiferemained standing, and with an elegant command of his native tongue DonMateo informed the couple of our mission. They looked at each other inbewilderment. Tears came into the wife's eyes. For a moment I pitiedher. Indeed, the pathetic was not lacking. But the hearty corporalreminded his better half that her parents, in his interests, had oncebeen asked for her hand under similar circumstances, and the tearsdisappeared. Tears are womanly; and I have since seen them shed, underless provocation, by fairer-skinned women than this simple, swarthydaughter of Mexico.It was but natural that the parents of the girl should feign surpriseand reluctance if they did not feel it. The Dona Anita's mother offeredseveral trivial objections. Her daughter had never taken her into herconfidence over any suitor. And did Anita really love Enrique Lopez ofLas Palomas? Even if she did, could he support her, being but a vaquero?This brought Uncle Lance to the front. He had known Enrique since theday of his birth. As a five-year-old, and naked as the day he was born,had he not ridden a colt at branding time, twice around the big corralwithout being thrown? At ten, had he not thrown himself across a gatewayand allowed a caballada of over two hundred wild range horses to jumpover his prostrate body as they passed in a headlong rush through thegate? Only the year before at branding, when an infuriated bull haddriven every vaquero out of the corrals, did not Enrique mount hishorse, and, after baiting the bull out into the open, play with him likea kitten with a mouse? And when the bull, tiring, attempted to makehis escape, who but Enrique had lassoed the animal by the fore feet,breaking his neck in the throw? The diplomat of Las Palomas dejectedlyadmitted that the bull was a prize animal, but could not deny that hehimself had joined in the plaudits to the daring vaquero. But if therewere a possible doubt that the Dona Anita did not love this son of LasPalomas, then Lance Lovelace himself would oppose the union. This was animportant matter. Would Don Mateo be so kind as to summon the senorita?The senorita came in response to the summons. She was a girl of possiblyseventeen summers, several inches taller than her mother, possessinga beautiful complexion with large lustrous eyes. There was somethingfawnlike in her timidity as she gazed at those about the table. DonaGregoria broke the news, informing her that the ranchero of Las Palomashad asked her hand in marriage for Enrique, one of his vaqueros. Did shelove the man and was she willing to marry him? For reply the girl hidher face in the mantilla of her mother. With commendable tact DonaGregoria led the mother and daughter into another room, from which thetwo elder women soon returned with a favorable reply. Uncle Lance aroseand assured the corporal and his wife that their daughter would receivehis special care and protection; that as long as water ran and grassgrew, Las Palomas would care for her own children.We accepted an invitation to remain for dinner, as several hours hadelapsed since our arrival. In company with the corporal, I attended toour horses, leaving the two rancheros absorbed in a discussion of Texasfever, rumors of which were then attracting widespread attention in thenorth along the cattle trails. After dinner we took our leave of hostand hostess, promising to send Enrique to Santa Maria at the earliestopportunity.It was a long ride across country to Las Palomas, but striking a freegait, unencumbered as we were, we covered the country rapidly. I hadsomewhat doubted the old matchmaker's sincerity in making this match,but as we rode along he told me of his own marriage to Mary Bryan, andthe one happy year of life which it brought him, mellowing into a moodof seriousness which dispelled all doubts. It was almost sunset when wesighted in the distance the ranch buildings at Las Palomas, and half anhour later as we galloped up to assist the herd which was nearing thecorrals, the old man stood in his stirrups and, waving his hat, shoutedto his outfit: "Hurrah for Enrique and the Dona Anita!" And as the lastof the cattle entered the corral, a rain of lassos settled over thesmiling rascal and his horse, and we led him in triumph to the house forMiss Jean's blessing.