Michener, James A. (33 page)
Read Michener, James A. Online
Authors: Texas
Before noon next morning he began paying serious attention to Trinidad de Saldana, for the maps showed that the vast acreage her grandfather owned at El Codo stood right where El Camino Real turned to approach Bejar. Any future road leading to the west toward Chihuahua would have to cross the established camino on this land, and he could foresee settlements there and the exchange of goods and the development of real farms, not just empty land called loosely a ranch, with no fences, few buildings and very little control.
The old man can't live forever, he told himself as he studied the ranch from a hillock to the east. When he dies, it goes to his: granddaughter, and a man could do lots worse than her.
He began intercepting her when she crossed the plaza, or speak-i; ing to her when she sat under the trees with her friend Amalia He took great effort to obtain invitations to dinners where she and; her grandfather were to be, and when Engracia de Saldana diedii of the fever that raged north of the Rio Grande—'virulent, pulmo-i nary and strangling,' the doctor called it—he paid a formal visit to the house across the plaza with a large package of sweetmeats imported from New Orleans as his contribution to the funeral feast. He spoke with Trinidad for some minutes, consoling her foi her grievous loss: 'I liked to see Dona Engracia crossing the plaza, for then I knew happiness was on the way.'
Trinidad, caught up in her new lamentations, perceived nothing I of Don Mordecai's plan to acquire her land through his quiet! courtship, but Don Ramon smelled him out in a minute, and nowi began the protracted, painful duel between the elderly Spaniard! and the brash newcomer.
'I don't want you to speak any further with Marr,' Don Ramon \ warned his granddaughter. 'The man does not have decent inten-j tions.'
If Trinidad had accepted her grandfather's accurate assessment, j much trouble would have been avoided, but she was beginning tc j stare down the corridor of years and see only loneliness ahead. Thel man she loved was dead. Her mother was dead. Her grandfathei I was obviously failing, and when he died, she would have to manage J El Codo by herself. So although she was not actively seeking al potential husband, she was aware that Mordecai Marr was a vigor-§ ous fellow who could solve many of her problems. Her next defense of Marr revealed her increasingly muddled thinking, for she cited)
the opinion of a man she detested: 'But Father Ybarra has welcomed him into the community.'
'A worse recommendation a man could not have. Stay clear of them both.'
Trinidad certainly had no desire to engage in any close friendship with the americano, but she did recognize him as a man of character, and he certainly represented a vitality which was lacking in her life and in the life of this town. She did not like Marr, but she was stirred by what he represented, and when she compared his stern and unmistakable masculinity with the rather colorless character of the few unmarried Spanish and mestizo men in the region, she had to prefer Marr.
She had not yet begun to consider him as a possible husband, especially since her emotions were now dominated by her grief over the death of her mother, but she was neither surprised nor displeased when one day he caught her in a passageway where none could see and kissed her rather vigorously.
'I'm sorry,' he said immediately. 'Please forgive me.' Before she could respond, he kissed her again, forcefully. When she recalled the scene later, she had to compare the delicate, almost unfolding caresses of Rene-Claude with the elemental love-making of this americano, and although she much preferred the former and was grateful that her first experience had been so reassuring, she did sometimes suspect that it had been the courtship of children, whereas Marr's more assertive approach was that of a mature man for a rapidly maturing woman. In other words, she did not automatically reject his advances, for she sensed without putting her thoughts into specific words that it was understandable for him to come along when he did and how he did.
There was, however, among the soldiers assigned to the presidio that young lieutenant whom Don Ramon had rebuked for sloppi-ness some years before. He was named Marcelino, born of a distinguished Spanish father and a Mexican woman who was one eighth mestizo, and that eighth dated far back, so that of the young man's sixteen great-great-grandparents, only one had been Indian, and only five of the remainder had been born in Mexico. He was about as Spanish as one could be in the Mexico of this time, but by no stretch of generosity could he be called either Spanish or peninsular. At best he might try to pass as criollo.
In both the presidio and in Father Ybarra's headquarters there was a ridiculous list of names, compiled by clerks with nothing better to do, which purported to designate the particular mix of blood for any citizen in the Spanish dominion. This extraordinary list, which no sensible person took seriously, contained eighty-five
different categories, for narrow-minded men deemed it important to indicate precisely what percentage of the four major strains each citizen contained: Spanish, Indian, Negro, Chinese, the latter having slipped into Mexico via the Acapulco-Manila trading galleons that crossed the Pacific each year. Also, it was important to know the father's derivation and the mother's; in the samples given here from the preposterous list, the father, of course, comes first:
peninsular (gachupin)
criollo (Espariol)
limpio (clean) de origen
mestizo mulato coyote calpamulato
/.ambo gnfo galfarro zambaigo cambujo
Spanish-Spanish, both parents born in Spain
Spanish-Spanish, but of lower status because at least one parent born in Mexico
both parents probably Spanish, but cannot prove it
Spanish-Indian
Spanish-Negro
mulatto-Indian
Indian-mulatto
mulatto-Negro
Negro-mulatto
Indian-Chinese
Chinese-Indian
In this way the purity of the Spanish race was protected and the infiltrations of lesser strains identified, and many of the designations carried derogatory overtones to demonstrate what the superior groups really thought of such mixing:
lobo (wolf)
zambo (lascivious monkev)
Indian and Negro Negro and Indian
Marcelino carried the designation limpio de origen, meaning that he was almost acceptable, but to Don Ramon he was not accept-
able, for the latter, with each passing year, took more seriously the responsibility of finding for his granddaughter a husband of proper category.
Therefore, when the attractive young officer began paying court | to Trinidad, Don Ramon moved to protect his granddaughter, unaware that Marr, the americano, posed a much more serious ; threat. After Lieutenant Marcelino had thrust himself three times upon the Saldanas, obviously enamored of the household's young lady, Don Ramon stifled his pride and went to the presidio, which he had been avoiding.
'Lieutenant, you've become a credit to the army.'
i try to be.'
'Of that incredible rabble you brought here two years ago, half ran away, one committed murder, and three raped the little Indian girls in the mission.'
'A sorry lot. Not a credit to Spain at all.'
'That's what I've been thinking of these days, Lieutenant. Spain. I want my granddaughter to marry a man of Spain.'
'I am a man of Spain. For many generations.'
'Not exactly.'
Marcelino, who had always been aware of his classification and was not disturbed by it, laughed easily, and this irritated Don Ramon: 'I'd prefer if you did not present yourself at our house or sit in church staring at Trinidad.'
'Don Ramon, when a man has a very pretty granddaughter, all men stare at her.'
'You're to stop.'
'As you command, sir,' the arrogant young fellow said with a low bow, 'but if I were you, I'd worry far more about an americano suitor than one like me.'
Saldana reached out to grasp the insolent officer, but the latter merely pushed his hand away, and the interview ended dismally, with Don Ramon embarrassed and Lieutenant Marcelino disgusted with such frontier snobbery. But that afternoon the old man returned: 'Is what you said true, young man? Is the americano paying serious court to my girl, behind my back?'
At the very moment that Don Ramon was asking this question, feeling that as his granddaughter's guardian, he was obligated to know the answer, Trinidad, now lacking a mother or a proper : dueria, was slipping across the plaza and into Marr's warehouse. With the door barred, she and the americano were talking in a far corner when he suddenly grabbed her. She tried to scream, but he silenced her with furious kisses, and when she tried to break away, be forcefully prevented her escape. Soon she was upon the floor
with him on top of her, but after moments of enormous confusion she stopped struggling and lay in awful turmoil as he made wild love.
When it ended she was appalled by its force, by Marr's uncontrollable passion, and could not comprehend her own inability to fight back; she had submitted against her will, of that she was certain, yet she could not believe that she had stumbled into such a confusing situation without anticipating its outcome.
In the days that followed she and Marr tried, each in separate ways, to reach some understanding regarding the assault and its consequences. He decided, during long lonely walks beside the river, that he must brave Don Ramon's objections and propose to Trinidad, winning himself a good wife and a splendid spread of land. He could foresee years of happiness and wealth in Bejar, and as a man of twenty-eight the time to begin his enjoyment of them was now. As for Trinidad, he liked her and felt sure he could have a good life with her. He failed completely to realize that his violent behavior might have alienated her, but he did tell himself: When we meet, I'll offer an apology, if it looks like she wants one.
Trinidad faced problems that were more complex, for in addition to the big ranch at El Codo, she would, at her grandfather's death, inherit all plots of land in town belonging to the Saldanas, and she wondered whether any young woman of seventeen could handle such responsibilities. She was aware that stalwart women among the Canary Islanders had operated businesses when their husbands died, and she supposed that she could do as well as they, but none of them had had entire ranches to control, and most of them had had sons to help.
She had great respect for the Canary Islanders, who amusingly called themselves Don This and Don That, as if they were real gentry, and she would have been happy had she found some young Islander of promise, but she had not. She liked the young lieutenant at the presidio, but her grandfather had already told her of their quarrel and his dismissal of the man.
That left Mordecai Marr, who had so much to commend him in the way of valor, daring, imaginativeness and masculine ardor, but just as much to condemn him: vile temper, harsh manners, a lack of sensitivity, and the fact that he was an americano of' uncertain lineage and unproved character. However, his willingness to convert to the true religion was in his favor, and his obvious love of land made her think that he would be a good custodian of her properties.
Some days later she returned to the warehouse, and when Marr interpreted this as a signal that she had not been unhappy with his i
behavior, she told him sternly: 'You behaved like an animal, Serior Marr, and I'll have no more of that.' Honestly surprised by her reaction, he promised: 'I'll never offend you. Believe me, a man who wanders about like me ... he doesn't learn how to act with j girls.' And this time when they made love he was a different man, even displaying tenderness when they parted.
These bewildering experiences made her hungry to talk with someone, and since no member of her family was available, she turned once again to Amalia Veramendi, in whose garden they conversed.
'Would you ever consider marrying an americano?' Trinidad asked. 'Don Mordecai is attractive. And he works hard.'
'Have you been visiting with him?' ; 'Well, he has kissed me.'
'What's he like? How does he compare with your Frenchman?'
'They're very different, Amalia.' She hesitated: 'But I suppose : all men are different.'
'Do you think he'll stay here . . . permanently, I mean?'
'Oh, yes!' Trinidad said with confidence. 'He wants to buy his own land and settle. He said so.'
'I heard him tell Father he might move his headquarters to .Saltillo.'
'He did?' Trinidad was startled by this information, for Marr had never spoken to her of such a possibility.
'Well, he discussed the possibility of buying some of our land in Saltillo. Our relatives must have three thousand leagues down there.'
'Did your father say he'd sell?'
'The Veramendis never sell.' Amalia laughed apologetically when she uttered these pretentious words, for she was not an arrogant girl. 'Would you marry an americano?' she asked.
'I wanted to marry a Frenchman.'
Tm afraid, Trinidad. I really am. I don't mean about husbands. I mean about everything.'
'What's happening?'
'My dear grandfather talks so much about the death of Spain. The loss of all things good and gentle.'
Trinidad looked up at the trees, and then, as if relieved to escape from talking honestly about Mordecai Marr, she spoke not about her confusion but Spain's: 'I know what he means. When we went south on our wonderful expedition to the capital, we met a file of prisoners marching north, some of them in chains . . . and where : were they going? Right here to Bejar. To serve as soldiers, if you will. Dreadful men, to be the new leaders of Tejas. It was sickening
to see them. It's sickening to learn how they behaved when they got here. 1 had a clear vision that this was the end of Spain. Don Mordecai says it can't hold on another twenty years.'
'He'd better be careful what he says.'
'Oh, he didn't mean that americanos would come down. He meant that the people of Mexico would throw the Spaniards out.'
'He'd better be just as careful about that.'
And then Trinidad returned to the real problem: 'You didn't answer my question. Would you marry an amencano?'