L'Amour, Louis - The Californios by The Californios

Author:The Californios [Californios, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-07-24T14:35:09+00:00

Chapter 12

Montero lagged behind, brushing lightly over their trail, then sifting dust over it to erase any marks that might be left. He held the dust high and let the breeze carry it where it would.

Sean took the lead, with the Senora behind him. Occasionally, they rode side by side. He was a strong man, this son of hers, she decided. A man fit to move large upon the land. He was quiet, but very sure, and his trail sense was excellent.

They found their way over the Cherry Creek trail to the Upper North Fork of Matilija Creek. About a half mile further along, Sean turned into a cove among the rocks and rode back into a comer of the cliffs. There, obscured by live oaks and several huge old sycamores, was a level place. Blackened stones snowed where others had camped, long ago.

Stepping down from the saddle, he offered his hand to his mother, then to Mariana.

"You knew this place?" Mariana suggested.

"No, but I could see the setback in the cliff face, and knew there were such places." He stripped the saddle from her horse.

Sean let the horses roll, then picketed them on a patch of grass nearby. There was a little water in the creek and their picket ropes allowed them to drink.

Montero rode in a few minutes later and began putting a fire together. "It is safe," he said. "They will not find us tonight."

Eileen Mulkerin did not sit down. She stood, feet apart, looking into the small flame. She liked the smell of the crushed juniper, the smell of wood-smoke, and the soft rustling of the water in the creek.

Many times in the past she had camped in just such places with Jaime, and she was thinking of him now, of his lean, strong body, the ease with which he moved, the grace of him.

She rarely thought of him as dead. She liked to believe he was only away, that he would come back to her one day, and in the meanwhile she must do the best she could to preserve what belonged to them.

If they could get back with the little gold they had, if they could ride into the pueblo of Los Angeles and buy things with some of this gold, people would start to talk, and she would be able to hold off Zeke Wooston and Fernandez.

Gold was rarely seen and the sight of it would revive the old stories. If she said she would pay soon, the Californios would believe her, and Wooston would hesitate to push too hard.

The fandango would be a bold stroke, a show of confidence that would add to the belief that she had enough or would soon have enough to pay.

A bat dipped and swirled in the air above them, and not far off a mockingbird was singing his endless songs into the night stillness.

She gathered wood, and Montero broiled beef over the fire. They sat together, talking very little, enjoying the night, the rest, and the food as well as the smell of wood-smoke and coffee.

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