The Time It Never Rained by Elmer Kelton

Author:Elmer Kelton [Kelton, Elmer]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Westerns, Fiction
ISBN: 9780765360588
Google: rQsS4QNlLoIC
Amazon: 0765360586
Publisher: Forge Books
Published: 1973-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

The Anglo people of Rio Seco knew little of racial distinctions and considered Old Man Ortiz as a Mexican. Ortiz regarded himself as a Spaniard, one of the sangre puro, above the common herd. He lived in the Little Mexico section of town, but outside of business it was not his practice to socialize with the Mexican people more than the Anglos did. He was keenly aware where the line was drawn, and he stayed beyond it. His old house had a right to be the largest in this part of town; it was built on the. sweat and blood of the Mexican people.

Charlie punched the doorbell, then looked around while he waited for someone to answer. He could recall that years ago these flower beds were always abloom with something or other, like Mary’s at the ranch. That had been when Old Lady Ortiz was alive. She had had plenty of time to cultivate her flowers, for she could always afford to hire someone else to do the heavy work, and Ortiz himself had little time for her. It was her function simply to grace the household and see to the raising of their son; it was said to have been a lasting bone of contention between them that she had given him but one child and afterward had lost the ability to bear. Even in his young married years, Ortiz was said to have maintained a casa chica—sometimes two—away from home to take care of needs which she never satisfied. That, of course, was not considered socializing. Charlie remembered Senora Ortiz as a woman prematurely old and terribly bitter, borne to the cemetery ahead of her time. The flower beds had died with her.

An attractive young woman opened the door a little way and gave Charlie a questioning look. He said, “I’ve come to see Danny Ortiz.”

She showed no intention to open the door wider. She stared at him uncertainly, then looked back over her shoulder. Charlie heard a man’s voice demanding, “Quién es, Panchita?”

In Spanish the young woman replied that it was some guero asking after Danny. Charlie could hear the voice ordering her to say that Danny was not home. But Charlie could see a sporty-looking red sedan parked in the garage, one he was sure he had seen Danny driving around town.

The woman gave Charlie the message in English and was about to shut him out when he opened the screen and placed his hand firmly against the door, pushing it open wider. “I come to see Danny, and I’ve got a few words to say to his daddy as well.” He stepped into the tiled foyer before she had time to get over her surprise. The woman looked helplessly back over her shoulder. “Señor Ortiz ...”

Ortiz stepped into the foyer from another room, which Charlie took to be a parlor. He was gray, his shoulders stooped, a crab of a man with skin as light as any Anglo’s. His eyes were uneasy, but at sight of Charlie his mouth managed at least the semblance of a smile.

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