The galeria skirted the patio on three sides, and we sat at a table under the arches, looking out over the sunlit patio at the fountain. We talked of her father, far out on the seas bound for China, and then we talked of Kelda O’Brien and Delia Court, and all that lay outside the walls seemed far away. Despite the violence of Sonora Town and such places as the Calle de Los Negros, ours was a town of flowers, vines, and trees, an island of people and problems lying between the mountains and the sea. Despite the furor off to the north in the Mother Lode country, Los Angeles remained a pleasant cow town. Phineas Banning had opened a stage line from Wilmington to Los Angeles, and later had begun building a railroad. Many of the Californios such as Andres Pico had become outstanding citizens, and despite the seeming quiet of the town, it was stirring with ambition, realization of possibilities. “You should not be here alone with your father gone,” I suggested. “The talk about the El Monte boys was just talk, but why not let me get one of them to live on the premises? They are a decent lot, but very tough, and nobody wants trouble with them. There should be a man here.” “One is coming. He will be here tomorrow.”
“Someone your father knows?”
She hesitated only a moment. “Yes, Father knows him. A friend is sending him to live in the cabin by the corrals.”
“When your father returns, I wish to talk to him again. He seemed to know more about my family than I know myself.”
She hesitated, then said, “He is afraid for you.” “He implied something of the kind. He seemed to think trouble might come from directions I did not suspect.”
She was silent; then she added, “Father is often suspicious where he should not be.”
“Perhaps. He seemed to me to know much that I did not. Until he told me I’d not heard the story of Don Federico trying to kill the other boy aboard ship.” “It was just a story. Father has many such stories, picked up at sea. It was just a disagreement between boys, I think.”
“I wonder what ever happened to that other boy? Don Federico is here, of course.”
“Father suspects the boy is dead. He has always intended to ask Aunt Elena.”
“She knows?”
“If anyone does. The boy was taken away by the older woman who traveled with him. Nobody seems to know where they went, but it is not important. No doubt he is somewhere about, someone we know, perhaps.”
“I do not really know Aunt Elena, but I believe I would like her very much.” “I like her. She comes here sometimes.” After a moment’s pause she said, lifting her chin slightly, “So does Don Federico.”
“What?” I was startled.
“We met at a fandango. He’s quite a marvelous dancer.”
Unreasonably, perhaps, I felt betrayed! I gulped coffee and burned my mouth. Mentally, I swore. Who was I to object? She could see whom she wished. But when had this begun? Since her father left, I was sure. “He can be charming when he wishes,” Meghan said. “And he seems to think a great deal of your grandfather.”
“I have not seen him since I was a small boy. That is, not to be sure of him.” “Of course. He is older, but there is not as much difference between us as between Don Abel Stearns and his wife.”
Astonished and shaken, I protested, “You’re not thinking of marrying him?” She smiled teasingly. “I think that is what he has in mind. A girl cannot be sure, but he has been very correct.”
After a long moment of silence I said, and my tone had changed, “He is my enemy.
When I was a small boy he wanted me killed.”
“Are you really sure he was the one? It has been a long time, and you were very young.”
“I remember him well, very well.”
“You must be mistaken. Once when I mentioned you he did not seem to know who you were. He did not, he said, know many Anglos.”
Suddenly I wished to be away from here. From here, where I had most wanted to be. Beside her whom I loved or thought I loved. After all, I thought bitterly, what did I know of such things?
“He is a fine horseman,” she was saying, “and one of the most handsome men I have ever seen.”
The charm was gone. The water still fell from the fountain into its basin, the leaves still rustled, but my enemy had been here. He had sat, perhaps, where I was sitting, had drunk from the same cup.
I got to my feet. “I must go.”
Surprised, she turned from the plants she had begun to water. “Must you? But you have only just come!”
“I must ride to the ranch.”
Her eyes searched my face, but I hoped nothing showed. Who was I to object to whom she might entertain?
“I have been told of your black stallion. Have you ridden him yet?” “Not yet. He has taken bits of food from my fingers and I have watered him from a bucket held in my hands.”
Something was gone from the afternoon. She knew it now as well as I. We stood for a moment, facing each other, each wanting to say something but finding no words.
Being alone here with Meghan-this was a dream come true. I had wanted nothing more, and the reality had been, for a short time, even greater than the dream. Turning abruptly away from her, I started for the door. “Johannes? Hannes?” I stopped at the gate from the patio to the street. “You cannot know how it is with me,” I said. “My grandfather and your Don Federico harried my parents into the desert, hunted them there like animals, trying to kill them. Finally, after a long time, they did find my father and killed him.” “But that was your grandfather?”
“Don Federico was there, too. He was the one who wished me killed, not just left to die. He wished it done then. He wished to do it, or have it done.” “I cannot believe that. I do not believe it. I know him.”
“Of course. He is a handsome man, and a very good dancer.”
“That has nothing to do with it!”
“I must go.”
“You will come back?”
“If you need me, I will come. Otherwise …” I hesitated, then said, “I shall not. What if I met him here?”
“I’d trust you to act the gentleman. He would.” “How does a gentleman act in the presence of one who wished him killed? And who left him to die in the desert?”
“I told you I do not believe that. You are mistaken in your man.” “What does a murderer look like? He can be a handsome, smiling boy or a gentleman of style. It is not what is outside that makes the murderer, but what is within him.”
“Nevertheless, I would know.”
“No doubt you have some special gift. I hope it always works for you.” When I was in the saddle, I held still just for an instant. She was at the gate, looking after me. But he had been there. No doubt he would come back. Her father would not approve, but he was far away on the high road to China. I rode away, and I did not look back.
My day was ended, my beautiful day. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. For much else, but not this. I had never been in love before. I did not know how to be in love, but I had thought, I had believed this was it, that Meghan was the one I wanted, what I had dreamed of, and now… I would still dream of her. I had seen no one else to make me look twice. I had wanted no one else, and now…
Don Federico …
My eyes went to the mountains, as they always seemed to do on the plain of Los Angeles. I would go to them. I would lose myself in them. I would go back to the desert. Let her have him. Let him …
I swore bitterly.
Suddenly I realized I was running my horse, and slowed down. There was no use to kill a good horse because all had not gone well for me. What kind of a man was I? I had told myself I was strong, that I could be brave. I had thought of myself as having character, and here I was shattered to nothing by a few words from a girl!
Slowing my horse to a walk, I looked around. I was nearing the tar pits on the old Indian trail. In the distance there was dust, a dust cloud coming toward me. My rifle was in its scabbard, but I wore a pistol in my belt, and today, of all days, I was ready. It was Monte, and one of the El Monte boys. When they saw me coming, they pulled up.