Michener, James A. (61 page)

Mattie rose and went about her duties, leaving him there, and after a while he went onto the porch, where he supervised the placement of the rude altar from which he would preach to the seven couples. When this was completed he returned to the doorway, looked in at Mattie, and said, his face beaming with love for the old days: 'Matt, old girl! I do wish your husband and The Kronk were here this day. I miss them.'

Marriage, to Father Clooney, remained the most sacred of rites, but when the ceremony was over he did enjoy a bit of celebration and was especially appreciative if it involved some warming spirits. That evening the dancing, the fiddle-playing and the shouting were lively, but next morning Clooney was up early, showing no signs of excessive wear.

'Now, who are the ones who seek conversion in order to grab a wee bit of land?' he asked as the day began, and when four families, including Macnab and his son, were lined up on the porch, he proceeded mechanically to make them technical Catholics. But if he took such political conversion lightly, Finlay could not, for when he stood next in line and realized that he must soon take a solemn oath abjuring John Knox's religion for which his Highland ancestors had died rather than surrender it to the Pope, his knees began to shake, his throat went dry, and a crazed look came into his eye. He recalled those great battles in Northern Ireland between the Presbyterians and the papists, the centuries

of struggle of which he had been a part, and he found himself powerless to move forward.

Father Clooney had seen these symptoms before, always in people who had come to Texas via Northern Ireland, and in his compassion he made it easy for Finlay and Otto to step aside. That day the Macnabs were not converted, the shock was simply too great, but that night Clooney talked with both father and son, for he insisted that Otto be present:

'I know well the torment you feel. I've seen it before, and I respect you for your integrity. I can tell you only two things. My religion is one of the sweetest, gentlest in the world, a consolation and a redemption. I've loved it for nearly seventy years, and when I die within its embrace I shall know no fear, for God has been with me always.

'The Mexican government, in its wisdom, has said that you cannot have land unless you convert to the religion it sponsors. This is a clear law, not unreasonable, and not unfairly administered. So if you want land, you Macnabs, you must convert this day, for tomorrow I may be gone.

'Let me tell you this, my sons, to own land is a good thing, and if you find it in your hearts to join my church, you may discover, like many before you, that it's a worthy home, one which assures you much benevolence.'

The old man did not go on to finish his statement, the implied part about what would happen if the Macnabs did not find their new religion congenial, and he certainly did not say that so far as he was concerned, once they got their land they were free to revert to Presbyterianism, but his entire manner implied that such was his belief.

So Finlay and Otto became Catholics, trembling with fear lest they be struck dead for the blasphemy they were committing, but Father Clooney blessed them just the same and smiled at the heavy perspiration on Finlay's forehead.

That night Father Clooney slept on the porch as usual, but he was uneasy, and long after midnight he roused Finlay and sat with him by the flickering fire: 'My son, we must do something about getting you land.'

Tve converted.'

'That may not be enough. Authorities have grown suspicious of Austin. They're inspecting every grant he makes.'

'What should I do?'

'Forget Austin. Go back to Victoria and ask the De Leons for an assignment in their grant.'

'Will they give it?'

i know that family well. One of the best. I'll write them a letter recommending you.'

'I'd appreciate that. I'll get it in the morning.'

To Macnab's surprise, Father Clooney reached and grasped his hand as if he were responsible for his new convert's welfare: 'No, we'd better do it now.' And taking paper from the same old Bible with which he had converted the Quimpers years before, he drafted a warm note to the De Leons, beseeching them to award land to his trusted friend Macnab. Handing Finlay the paper, he returned unsteadily to the porch.

Sometime after dawn, as was her custom, Mattie went to him with a cup of broth, but when she tried to waken him he did not respond. For several terrifying moments she kept prodding him with her foot, refusing to believe that he was dead. Then his left arm fell lifeless onto the boards of the porch and she could no longer ignore the evidence.

She did not cry out, nor did she call for help. She merely looked down at the body of a man she had first suspected, then grown to love, a faithful shepherd whose flock had been so widely scattered that he had worn himself out tending it. As if his death had also terminated a portion of her life, she gave no further thought to the proposed marriage with Reverend Harrison. After the funeral, which the Methodist conducted with a glowing tribute to his onetime adversary, she sent him north, where he married a much younger widow, who helped him fan the fires of rebellion.

Otto Observed this tangled behavior of his elders — Isaac Yarrow's bitter dismissal of Texas, Reverend Harrison's erratic courtship, the willful return of Father Clooney to a parish in turmoil, the curious behavior of Yancey, ten years older than himself and therefore an adult in his eyes, and the almost inhuman drive of Mattie—without understanding many of the actions or any of their motivations. But as the Macnabs were preparing to quit the inn and move south with their letter to the De Leons in Victoria, an event occurred which he comprehended perfectly.

From the opposite side of the Brazos, at eleven one bright morning, a loud halloo came ringing through the air, and Otto ran to see what traveler was coming south. To his delight, it was Benito Garza, the muleteer he had known in New Orleans, so without alerting Mattie he dashed to the beached ferry, jumped in and started poling across the river, shouting as he did: 'Benito! It's me! Otto Macnab!' And as he neared the far shore Garza, standing with his two helpers, recognized the boy and shouted back: 'The

The three traders piled into the ferry, and Otto proudly escorted them across the river and up to the inn, where he called loudly: 'Mattie! Strangers!' but when she came to the porch she deflated the boy: 'Garza! We've been friends for years.'

It was a lively reunion but also an emotional one, for after the noise and the embraces Garza almost shyly handed Mattie a present, and when she opened it to the applause of all, she found a bolt of English cloth and a simple dress made in France. They were the first such gifts she had ever received, and for a long time she was silent, then she said in a flat tone: Tou carried them a long way, Benito.'

Now everyone spoke at once, and Garza learned of Yarrow's exile, Father Clooney's death and the Macnabs' conversion. He wanted to know where Zave Campbell had located his land, and Finlay explained: 'He hasn't exactly chosen it yet, but he favors a stretch along the Guadalupe,' and Garza approved: 'Any land washed by a river is good.'

It was Otto who spoke the words that mattered: 'Fact is, he's not looking for land. He's looking for a wife.'

As Otto was talking, Benito was holding Mattie's French dress against her spare form, but the boy's words so startled him that he dropped the dress, left Mattie, and took Otto by the arm: 'What did you say?'

'He's not really looking for his land.'

'The other part. Is he looking for a wife?'

'Yes. He gets four times as much land if he finds one.'

It was then that Benito Garza's maneuvering began. Sitting at the rough table and addressing all those in the kitchen, including two travelers who were eating, he said: 'We were nine children and the family had only one ranch along the Rio Grande. No chance for me to inherit the land, so 1 brought my two youngest sisters with me to Victoria. I'm head of the family. With some difficulty I found the oldest one, Maria, a husband, Jose Mardones, but he didn't last long.'

'Did he run away?' Mattie asked, and he replied: 'No. He was shot. Stealing horses . . . from a norteamericano.'

Otto interrupted: 'You told me in New Orleans that horses ran free.'

'Trained horses are different,' Garza said. Then he addressed Finlay: 'So this wonderful woman, only thirty-one, still has no husband, and if Serior Campbell . . .'

'How about your younger sister?' Mattie asked, and he replied:

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'Josefina 7 She's only twenty-six. She can wait. Always get your oldest sister married first.'

This perplexed Otto: 'But if they're older than you, why don't they find their own husbands 7 ' and Garza replied with dignity: in a Mexican family it's the father's obligation. And I am their father, so to speak.'

Now Garza became zealous for an immediate return to Victoria: 'We've got to reach Campbell before he makes a serious mistake,' so before the Macnabs were really ready to depart, Garza applied constant pressure for them to hurry: 'Everything is better for a norteamericano in Texas if he has a reliable Mexican wife. Suppose he wants land? Suppose he gets into trouble with the alcalde? Or if the priests act up?'

'He may already have found a wife.'

i hope not! He would be throwing himself away if he didn't take Maria. I promise you, Sefior Macnab, this woman is exceptional. A man finds a wife like her once in a hundred years.'

In the morning the Macnabs looked in surprise as Garza bent low over Mattie's hands, kissing each in turn, and even Otto could see that the Mexican herdsman loved this rough woman who ran the ferry, and they treated him with more respect as they moved south toward Victoria. There Garza hurried ahead, shouting as he entered the town: 'Sefior Campbell!' He located the big Kaintuck some distance to the north, tenting under a big oak on the banks of the Guadalupe, and his greeting was fervid: 'What fine land you've chosen! Have you found a wife?'

When Zave said 'No,' Garza gave an immense sigh, slumped to the earth beside Campbell, and said softly: 'Sefior, I liked you from the minute I saw you in New Orleans. I could see then that you had character. Now let us all go back to Victoria so that Sefior Finlay can present the papers given him by Father Clooney and claim his land.' He did not mention his sisters.

The De Leons accepted the recommendation of the revered priest, and after lamenting his death, they said: 'We welcome you to Victoria. Choose your land wisely.' And it was then that Garza said almost casually: 'Since we're all here, why don't we go see my sisters?' but he could not help adding: 'Sefior Campbell, I give you my word, you're going to like Maria.'

He led the way to a two-room adobe shack he had built near the central plaza, and as he approached it he started shouting: 'Maria! I bring new friends!' and to the rough wooden doorway came an ample woman with a big warm face. When her dark eyes looked at the newcomers and her mouth broke into a smile of welcome, Otto knew immediately that he had found a replacement for his

Baltimore mother, and as the days passed in her benign presence this feeling deepened, for Maria Garza Mardones was one of those women who embraced the world. Her laugh sounded like a deep-throated bell; she was patient with the follies of men; and she adored children, chickens, colts and hard work.

The closing weeks of 1831 were memorable, because the Americans and the Garzas moved out to Campbell's land and started building a dog-run. The three men chopped trees for the timbers while the two Garza women and Otto mixed mud and straw to make adobes. Since each person worked as if the resulting cabin was to be his or her own, the floor plan could be spacious, with the open runway full eighteen feet wide, and each of the two halves larger than the ones at Quimper's Ferry.

At the end of the first week the Macnabs were surprised to see that Campbell was driving stakes to outline a third room on the north. 'What's that for?' Finlay asked, and Zave said: 'You and Otto. Till you get your own land and your own house.'

Otto, who had fallen in love with Maria, considered this an admirable decision, for he expected his friend Zave to marry the Mexican woman, and he was further pleased on Wednesday of the second week when Zave started driving even more stakes for a fourth room, also on the north but well separated from the one intended for the Macnabs.

'What's that one for?' Otto asked, and Zave said: 'Benito and his sister Josefina. They're to be livin' with us, too.'

'Are you marrying Maria?' Otto asked, and when Zave answered: 'Yep, I cain't pass over a woman who can really work,' the boy rushed to the stalwart Mexican woman and began kissing her.

So before the first room of the dog-run was even well started, Zave had planned what amounted to a frontier mansion, and that was the beginning of the good times at Zave Campbell's. What gave this particular house a touch of extra charm was its position near a solitary live oak festooned with Spanish moss, which meant that the tree provided both decoration and some protection against the sun. Also, a traditional long, low porch joined the two halves on the south side, but in this instance it also swung around to enclose the western end, at close of day the occupants could rest there and watch the sun go down.

Maria, once her marriage to Campbell was solemnized, showed great affection for Otto, and since she had reason to believe that she could have no children of her own, and the boy was so appreciative of anything she did for him, she considered him her son, and for his part he adopted Mexican ways, learning not only the language but also the handling of cattle. Under Benito's skilled

tutelage he improved the shooting skills Zave Campbell had taught him on the Trace.

But it was in horseback riding that he appreciated Benito most, for Garza was both patient and firm in teaching him the basics, and soon he had Otto galloping at the head of the file when the Mexican hands rode forth to round up mustangs. With Benito's help he broke one for himself, a high-spirited little beast with a tawny coat and an obstinate spirit. 'What shall I call him?' he asked Benito, and that excellent horseman said: 'Chico. He'll learn he's Chico real fast.'