Santa Fe Woman (33 page)

“Yes!”

Then he put his arms around her and drew her close. At that moment Kate felt like a sailor who had reached port after a long, hard, and dangerous journey.

JORI NEVER FORGOT HER first glimpse of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains nor her arrival at Santa Fe.

The mountains were towering, and Chad told her they were five thousand feet high. The air was so thin it made her breath short for a time, but as they made their way into the towering heights through the passes, she found a beauty in the majestic snow-mantled peaks. They crossed a body of water that was the Pecos River, but it seemed more like a creek to her. It was icy cold when she got down to drink it, and Rocklin looked up at the peaks and said, “Snow makes it that cold.”

They wound their way through the peaks, passing through San Miguel, which was merely a group of small houses straddling the Pecos River. Everything was made of adobe bricks, a mixture of earth and straw that was stacked into walls when it was dried.

The houses were the color of earth, so the small town seemed to grow out of the earth. The people were friendly and seemed happy enough, and Jori said, “I’m going to have to learn Spanish.”

“It’d be a help. I’m too lazy myself,” Rocklin said.

Finally they began to climb, and the animals had to labor. They had to double-hitch up the pass, and it was a punishing trip. But it was worth it to Jori.

They crested the top of the hill, and in the blink of an eye, she got her first sight of the entire valley of the Santa Fe Plateau. Her eyes could not take it in at first.

“Well, you’ve come eight hundred miles, and there it is,” Rocklin said. He was sitting beside her in the wagon and was pleased at her reaction. “Right pretty, isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful!” Straight ahead in the distance was a great range of mountains. “What’s that?” she said.

“That’s the Jemez.”

To the south the plain was broken by an enormous mountain that seemed to blot out the sun. “That’s the Sandias,” Rocklin informed her. “And there to the north, that’s the road to Taos.”

“It’s beautiful. I love it!”

“Glad you like it. Think you might stay?”

“I think I could be a Santa Fe woman without any trouble.” She was sitting so close to Rocklin that she could feel the warmth of his body. It gave her a feeling of completeness. She sat there studying the country as they descended to the floor of the basin. It was beautiful, different from anything she had ever seen. Once she had thought it was a hard, merciless country, but there were people here and houses and fires and a river with trees.

Finally they passed into Santa Fe itself. Columns of smoke were rising to the sky, hazy and drifted by the breeze, cottonwoods were plentiful, and the streets were lined with mules and horses and burros. She saw young women with painted faces and young Spanish men, graceful as anything she had ever seen and vain, apparently, from their costumes.

She turned to Rocklin and said, “You know, I think you’d be miserable in this place, or else you could learn to love it.”

“I’ve always liked Santa Fe. There’s somethin’ about it.”

For a moment the two sat there and did not speak, but something passed between them. She expected him to speak, for she already knew that she loved this man, tall and lanky. When she had had to care for him like an infant, it had been a joy to her, and she knew that she would love him when they both became old. But it was up to him to speak. Suddenly she thought,
I told
Kate to say her mind to Good News, but it’s different for me.
She waited and saw a sentence form itself, something coming into his eyes, but then he said, “Well, let’s get into town. We’ve got goods to sell.”

* * *

MARK HAYDEN AND HIS father were sitting at a table in a café. Before them were the remnants of some of the hot spicy food that they both had ordered, and Leland Hayden was looking down at a tablet where he had totaled up a line of figures. “Look at what we got out of our goods. We sold at least two-thirds of it.”

“Why, Father, I reckon we’re rich.”

“Seems almost immoral to charge this much.”

“No, glad to get it. We’re doing them a service.”

“Well, we made it. Only lost one man. I think we had a good trip.”

“We almost lost Jori and Carleen. I’ll never stop thanking God for that.”

“Nor me either.”

The two men sat there loosely, and Leland studied his son. This was a different young man from the one that had pulled out of Little Rock. His cheeks were tanned, his muscles were taut, and there was an alertness and a pride in him that had been lacking. “The trip has been good for you, son.”

“I thought it was going to kill me at first, but it’s been the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, we’ll have to make some plans, like going back for another load maybe. But not today.”

“No,” Mark grinned. “I’m not ready to start yet. I want to go to that fandango I’ve been hearing about. I hear they’re really something.”

The two men sat there talking idly, and Mark said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about all those mules the Indians had. There must have been three hundred of them, and we got them for practically nothing. Why couldn’t we buy some trade goods, take all of our drovers and mule skinners, and go buy a huge herd.”

“Of mules? And do what with them?”

“Why take ’em to Missouri and sell ’em, of course. You know how prices are going up on mules, at least so I’ve heard. Then we keep the best of them and bring another train back. Maybe a bigger train, ten, twelve, twenty wagons.”

Leland suddenly laughed. “You’re bound to be rich.”

“I doubt it, but I’m thankful to God for what He’s done for us.”

“So am I, son.”

“Well, let’s go get ready for that fandango.”

* * *

JORI SAW CALLIE WALKING along the main street looking at the stalls in the shops. She came over to her at once and said, “Are you going to the fandango, Callie?”

“I reckon not.”

“Why? It’ll be fun, at least they tell me.”

“Not much for partying. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been to a real one.”

An idea came to Jori, and she said, “Come on. I’ve got a purse full of money, and we’re going to go shopping and buy ourselves fandango outfits.”

“Me? Not likely.”

But Jori would not take no for an answer. She laughed and pulled the young woman into a store and said to the Spanish storekeeper, “I want to see the two prettiest dresses you’ve got in your whole shop.”

“Sí, señorita. I have the beautiful dresses. Every man in the fandango will fall in love with both of you!”

* * *

PAUL MOLITOR HAD LITTLE enough money, so he had simply worn the best he had to the fandango. He had never seen anything exactly like it, but he had quickly discovered that the Spanish people had a great fondness for jewelry, dress, and amusements. As he walked down the street, he studied one of the dresses of the women. They were different from any dresses he’d seen. Most of them consisted of a skirt, a colorful blouse, and a scarf called a reboso around the head and shoulders.

As for the fandango itself, he discovered that this was a waltz of sorts. He stood for awhile watching the dancers, and finally he moved toward a stand that sold food and wine. The food was remarkably cheap and delicious.

More than once a woman would stop and smile at him, but he had no money and did not feel comfortable. Finally he made his way toward the end of the street, taking in the sights. He brushed against a young woman and touched his hat saying, “Pardon me,” and would have continued, but then he heard his name. “Why, Paul, don’t you know me?”

Molitor turned quickly, and his eyes widened when he saw that it was Callie.

“Why, Callie, it’s you!”

Indeed, it would have been hard for anyone to have recognized Callie. He had never seen her in anything besides the shapeless men’s clothes, and now her trim figure was outlined by the colorful dress. It was a white dress with a loose bodice, scooped neckline, and short sleeves outlined in red trim. The skirt was full and had bright colors in stripes such as red, green, orange, yellow, and blue to the hem, which fell to her ankles.

“Why, you look beautiful, Callie.”

“Thank you, Paul. Jori helped me pick the dress out, and she actually bought it for me.”

“Well, you two did a good job.” He stood looking at her in admiration and then said, “Some of this food’s good. Do you want to sample it?”

“Yes. I am hungry.”

He took her to one of the stalls and kept stealing glances at her. She was pleased, and her lips stirred, her smile a small lightness around her mouth. Paul Molitor was shocked at how feminine she was.

“It’s going to be a little bit hard for me to think of you like this.”

“What do you mean, Paul?”

“I mean like a woman.”

“Why will it be hard?”

“Because you never dressed like one or acted like one—but you should.”

“I never had a chance before.”

The light from the lanterns ran over the curves of her shoulders, and it was kind to her, showing the womanliness of her figure. She was smiling at him now, and her face was a mirror as
her feelings changed. A small dimple appeared at the left of her mouth, and her eyes suddenly danced. “I think I like dressing up like a woman. Maybe I can get a job in a saloon.”

“Callie, don’t be foolish!”

She laughed with delight. “I was just teasing. Of course I won’t do that.”

The two stood in the middle of the swirling crowd, and she said, “I’ll have to find something to do here.”

“Why, you could do what we talked about.” She waited for him to speak, and he said hurriedly, “You could learn to be my nurse. I’ll always need a good nurse.”

“That would be—” She could not put it into words, and she turned suddenly. “Let’s walk a bit.” They walked, and she was like a child, delighted by the colors and the dance. He tried to get her to join the festivities, but she said, “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Well, I’m a good teacher. Before the next one I’ll give you some lessons.”

* * *

CALLIE WAS LAUGHING AS they approached the wagons. “I’ll have to find a place to stay. We can’t live in the wagons.”

“No. Maybe I can get a place with an office and rooms over it.”

“Why, I couldn’t stay with you there. We’re not married.”

Paul hesitated then said, “We’ll find you something.”

The two stood silently, and there was something awkward in Callie. She was like a young colt in a way, awkward but full of the promise of true beauty.

Suddenly Paul reached out and took her hand. “I don’t know much about women, Callie. I had one once, but she left me.”

“Where is she now?”

“Dead,” he said.

She caught the sound of something in his voice. “You didn’t ever want another woman?”

“No, that is—” He hesitated then looked down at her. “Not until now.”

She did not answer but stood looking up at him. “All my life I’ve been lonely,” she said simply.

“So have I, Callie. Maybe we could help each other.” He reached out, embraced her, and kissed her lightly on the lips, but it turned into another sort of kiss. At that moment the shock of the softness of her lips came to him, and suddenly he was aware of the wild sweetness that was there. He was aware of his own needs, and something passed between them then—something that took the loneliness, the incompleteness, and the emptiness out of him. When he lifted his lips, he could not speak for a moment. “You’re so sweet, Callie, but I’m too old for you.”

Callie reached up and put her hand on his cheek. “No,” she whispered, “you’re just right.”

Suddenly a great joy came to Paul Molitor and he laughed. “You can be my bride. I can marry you and raise you right so you won’t have any bad habits.”

“And you’d teach me how to bring your boots and wait on you hand and foot.”

“Exactly.”

“I think I’d have something to say about that.”

There was a lightness then that came to both of them. Each knew that they had passed some point and could never go back to being what they were before.

“Stay here in Santa Fe, Callie. A woman needs to be courted. I’ll come courting, and we’ll find out if we can make it through a lifetime.”

Callie Fortier knew then that this man loved her, and she knew that she had loved him for longer. She put her hand on his chest and whispered, “All right, Paul, I’ll stay.”

* * *

“WELL, BLAST IT, CHAD Rocklin, you’re so contrary you’d float upstream if I threw you in the river!”

Leland Hayden was staring at Rocklin with displeasure. He had just paid him and had immediately begun to talk about future plans for establishing a trading business. But Rocklin had brought him up short, saying, “I don’t think I’d be interested, Leland.”

Leland had known that his daughter loved this man, and now the question in his mind was why Rocklin would not want to pursue her. She was lovely enough for any man, he knew that, but he saw something in Rocklin he could not identify.

“Look, Mark has a good idea. We take all our men back, get mules from the Indians, take them and sell them in Missouri. Then we can bring a train back. Why, we could make a good thing out of it.”

“I think you and Mark can do that without me.”

“No, we can’t. We need you, Chad.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about goin’ trapping. Maybe prospecting.”

There was something different in Rocklin, and Leland wanted to blurt out,
What’s the matter with you, man? You’ve got it all
right in front of you. My daughter loves you, and you’ll never find a
better woman.
He knew this would not do, so instead he set out to convince Rocklin to join forces, to go into business with him. But Rocklin would not agree, and finally Leland watched the big man walk off. “What’s wrong with him? I wonder if he’s got a wife stashed away some place.”

* * *

CARLEEN CAME TO FIND Rocklin who was still camping out at the wagons. “What are you doing out here, young ’un?” he asked fondly. He felt a great wave of affection for this young girl and smiled as she said, “I came looking for you. Papa says you’re going to leave.”