The Shadow Man (10 page)

“I have been in the past,” replied Jacob. “I have also ranched, been a guide and a contract scout, as well as other things.”

Manuel Armijo, dressed in a dark blue uniform with gold lace running down the outside of his trousers and a Mexican general's shoulder straps, left the adjoining table and came toward the Solis family. The governor carefully scrutinized the gringo. He thought he knew all the American businessmen in Santa Fe. But he had never seen this man before. Petra noted Armijo's approach and turned to greet him. “Good evening, Governor Armijo. May I introduce Jacob Tamarron. He is a friend of mine.”

The governor extended his hand. “I am pleased to meet you, Señor Tamarron. Are you a visitor to our town, or have you come to trade?”

“At the moment I am a visitor,” Jacob said.

“Señor Tamarron is a trapper,” Señora Solis said.

Jacob saw the governor stiffen, and his face took on a look of reproach, as if he thought he had been tricked somehow. Jacob's smile broadened. Armijo did not think highly of American trappers.

Armijo pivoted away with barely a nod to Solis, ignoring Jacob entirely.

“Jacob, let us have some wine,” said Petra, attempting to draw Tamarron's attention from the governor's affront. She motioned at the bottles cooling in the wooden tank of ice.

“I am thirsty,” agreed Jacob. He bowed to Señora Solis and said good evening to Emmanuel Solis. He took Petra by the arm and they crossed the room to the wine table.

Petra and Jacob danced to every tune of the musicians. They especially like
la raspa,
with the heel thumping and laughing fast walk. At times Petra's happiness filled her eyes with moisture, creating a mystical, unreal haze to everything upon which she looked.

The night grew old. The crowd of dancers and onlookers thinned. Finally the musicians became weary and packed away their instruments.

Jacob walked Petra home through the cool March night. Without hesitation she graciously agreed to go riding with him the following morning. He watched her enter the large town house of the Solis family, and then he went off toward La Fonda.

Tamarron reflected upon the emotion so strong within him. He had known women for an hour, for a week, and a few times for all the cold months of a winter. He had especially enjoyed the women of the northern Crow Tribe. Then he had traveled south where the beaver pelts were of a lighter color and thus more valuable. There he had known Mexican women and the beautiful, tattooed Mojave girls along the Gila. Always he had thought of women as one of nature's more delightful afterthoughts. Now, tonight, he knew that the search for a good woman to take as a wife and give him strong children was the primary goal of a man's life.

* * *

Petra remained on the patio and listened as Jacob's footsteps faded away to silence. Then she listened to the stars murmuring their song to her. She smiled and hummed the star song back to them.

* * *

Tamarron arrived early at the Solis hacienda, for he was anxious to see the woman again. Earlier still, Petra had risen and her horse stood saddled and tied near the front entrance of the house. She came immediately from the patio and joined Jacob.

Petra's eyes touched Jacob for a fleeting moment, and then both stepped to their horses and mounted. Jacob's face had been unsmiling, as if momentous decisions were being considered. But his gray-white eyes had been gentle when they had rested on Petra.

He led them from the mist-filled valley of the Santa Fe River and east toward Atalaya Mountain. No conversation passed between them. Jacob liked the fact that she didn't try to talk with him. No words were needed.

The horses huffed and drew deep drafts of air as they scrambled upward along ancient trails carved into the steep flank of Atalaya by deer and mountain sheep over thousands of years. Now and then a rock was loosened by the horses' hooves and went tumbling noisily down the slope.

Jacob halted in a forest of pinon pine high up near the snow line. He and Petra dismounted, moved close together, and stared to the west. Below them, the town was a string of miniature buildings along the river. The few whitewashed structures shone like pearls among the plain, earth-brown adobe homes.

Directly across the broad valley of the Rio Grande, the shadowy form of the great
caldera
on top of Jemez Mountain could be seen. In some long-ago, forgotten time a stupendous volcanic explosion had blown away the top of the mountain, leaving behind a gigantic sixteen-mile-wide crater. As Petra and Jacob watched, the morning sun, climbing its fiery arc, crested the backbone of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains behind them. The flaming rays struck fully upon Jemez Mountain and the snowy peak began to glow with brilliant incandescence.

As the new, bright light reflected back upon the dark side of Atalaya, Jacob turned and went to a large slab of rock lying neatly buried in pine needles. He lifted it aside with a mighty heave. From a cavity in the ground he took up a bulky money belt and a leather pouch of approximately equal weight.

He came to Petra and stopped in front of her. He held out both hands, one containing the money belt and the other the pouch.

“Petra Solis, I am Jacob Tamarron. I have gold coin from the many furs I have trapped, and nuggets that I found high on the mountains. All together they are worth eighteen thousand dollars. I own four horses and some guns. I'll give all this to you if you will become my wife.”

Jacob saw the woman's eyes widen to broad circles. A blush slipped across her cheeks. A pulse began to beat in her throat like a tiny, trapped animal.

At that moment he was almost overwhelmed with the desire to drop the gold, take Petra in his arms, and hug her until she cried out. But instead he remained with his hands outstretched, holding the cold metal.

Petra realized the man had offered her everything he owned. The gold meant nothing to her. But there was clear yearning for her in his eyes. And that meant everything. What more could a woman ask? She felt her own desires welling up, warm and pleasant.

“You do not know me,” Petra said. “We met only two days ago. A man and woman should become well acquainted before marriage is considered.”

Jacob's eyes sharpened. Then they became hooded, hiding his feelings. He lowered the gold to his sides. He had made a foolish move. “I misjudged the situation. I thought our rightness for each other was as obvious to you as it was to me.”

Petra heard the sadness in Jacob's voice. He had interpreted her words as a rejection of his proposal. This was no time to play the coy female role. Jacob was a man worthy of a straightforward, honest answer.

“Jacob, I, too, feel we are correct for each other, even though our lives have been so different. I will speak to my father and mother.”

“Do you need their approval?”

“No. But I want their good wishes.”

“Does that mean you will be my wife?”

“Yes. I want to be your wife very much.” The directness of her reply shocked Petra. But how else could she respond to this man who had stirred her so much?

Jacob lifted his head and shouted out happily. The joyous cry sped across the mountainside. In places it was caught against steeply faced rock outcrops and echoed back to him. He heard the deep emotion in his voice. But never would he be ashamed at the depth of his feelings for this woman. He dropped the gold and encircled Petra tightly in his arms.

* * *

“He's not a man, but the mere shadow of a man.” Emmanuel Solis's voice was heated. “He would not make a proper husband for you, Petra.” He strode angrily across the
sala,
the large main room of the house, then came back to stand in front of his daughter.

“These American trappers come out of the deep mountains in the spring and disappear back into them in the fall. They're like wisps of smoke, gone in an instant. This Jacob Tamarron is no different from any of the others.”

“Father, he
is
different,” Petra cried. “And he has asked me to be his wife. I have agreed.”

“You have rejected proposals from other men, men of our own kind. Do the same with this American.”

“Those other men didn't want me for myself. Vincente Jurado was an old man who wished a young wife to nurse him. Anastacio Melgares desired to marry me so he would one day own part of Rancho El Vado. Jacob wants me. Do you understand, Father? He wants me as a true wife.”

“How do you know he is not like Anastacio? Perhaps Rancho El Vado is his goal.”

“He doesn't even know that I own part of the family land. He offered me eighteen thousand dollars in gold. With that much money he could buy land for a very large rancho of his own. Even with all our land we have less than four thousand pesos to spend.”

“In truth, gold and silver are hard to acquire.” Solis pulled at his beard and examined the determined face of his daughter. She stared defiantly back, and he knew that nothing he could say would change her mind.

She was the most resolute woman he had ever known. He had watched that resolve grow in Petra as she came to the realization that her lack of prettiness would prevent her from ever having a proper proposal of marriage. He remembered the very day when, while still in her youth and after her injury, Petra had appeared at the stables dressed as a vaquero. From that time so many years in the past, she had worked like any common rider herding cattle and sheep, branding and shearing. No snowstorm or burning sun had ever prevented her from being at his or Conrado's side in the meanest of work. In the evening, while the men rested, she still worked in the house doing women's chores.

Conrado had taken a wife and asked for land of his own. Solis agreed to the request. However, he also knew Petra had earned an equal share. So he had deeded son and daughter each a quarter interest in Rancho El Vado.

“Father, Jacob is said to be a strong fighting man and would make the rancho much safer for all the families.”

“That is true. I believe he is a brave man and knows the ways of the Indians. There is something else. The Americans have been crowding west across the continent ever since they stepped foot upon the Atlantic Coast. Now they have taken Texas from us. I think the Americans will one day make war on us here in New Mexico. Our president in Mexico City doesn't see the danger clearly enough to send sufficient soldiers to defend us. And we certainly cannot defend ourselves. We would lose any conflict with the United States, and victors have the terrible custom of taking what they want from the defeated. An American in the family might stop some gringo from taking Rancho El Vado from us.”

“Then I have your blessing to marry Jacob?”

“Yes, Daughter. I do wish you happiness. However, you must wait, a proper period of time before the marriage. We can arrange it for next fall when we return to Santa Fe.”

“No, Father! No! No! I have already waited far too long. It's been more than twenty years since I was old enough to wed. I will not delay. The notices to our family and friends must be sent immediately, and all arrangements completed within a few days. On Sunday I shall be married. Then Jacob and I shall go to the Rio Pecos as man and wife.”

“So quick. So very quick. But I understand, Petra. It shall be as you say. Your mother will be very disappointed with your selection of a husband, and also with the early date for the wedding.”

Petra took her father by the arm. “Together we can convince her that Jacob is a fine man and would only add strength to the family.”

* * *

Jacob knelt beside Petra in front of the priest and listened to the words of the matrimonial rites. The priest's voice was almost a monotone as he spoke the familiar words. However, Jacob would endure the ceremony, as well as the nuptial mass and the many scores of people crowding the chapel of La Parroquia, for Petra wanted the blessing of the church. Though he felt no need for religion or chapel, he thought it a good thing that Petra did.

Her shoulder brushed his as she moved slightly. At the soft contact with her, Jacob's blood began to rush with a joyous strum through his veins. A low, happy chuckle escaped him.

Petra turned her veiled face to look at him. He winked roguishly at her. Through the white lace that partially obscured her face he saw her lips curve up in a smile of promise. Even after she had turned back to the priest, Jacob could still see the crinkle of a smile in her cheeks.

* * *

The Rio Pecos hurled its cold, snow-melt water down from the high reaches of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Like a giant beast chained in the bottom of the deep gorge, the river growled angrily and beat itself into a white froth against the hard granite boulders choking its channel.

The roar of the tumbling water soared up out of the canyon and reached Jacob, who was riding his horse in the pine woods on the flank of Glorieta Mesa. He ignored the distant noise and watched the caravan of four covered wagons pass along the Santa Fe Trail below him.

The heavily laden vehicles, drawn by three teams of horses each, wound through the snowy forest lining the road that led eastward toward Rancho El Vado. Conrado and the Solis's three hired vaqueros drove the wagons. The women and children of the vaqueros and Conrado's wife and mother rode with the men. Now and then Jacob could hear their voices calling out. All the people seemed happy to be returning to the rancho.

Emmanuel Solis and Petra each led a string of several horses in the vanguard of the caravan. The many tramping hooves of the animals broke trail in the snow and made the labor easier for pulling the wagons.

It was the evening of the second day since the cavalcade had departed Santa Fe. Jacob had been riding constantly from daylight to dark, scouting for danger, investigating the woods and the ravines where enemies could hide. Often he climbed his horse far up the flank of Glorieta Mesa, and from that vantage point he scanned the terrain in all directions. He was especially wary to the east where the Comanche of the Llano Estacado and the Apache of the lower reaches of the Rio Pecos and Rio Grande could come riding for an early spring attack.