You’re always curious about people, and I expect this man knew more
about people than anybody that ever lived.”
“City people or country people?”
“Both. People are pretty much the same everywhere.”
“Oh, no, they’re not. The people who go through in the dining-car aren’t
like us.”
“What makes you think they aren’t, my girl? Their clothes?”
Thea shook her head. “No, it’s something else. I don’t know.” Her eyes
shifted under the doctor’s searching gaze and she glanced up at the row
of books. “How soon will I be old enough to read them?”
“Soon enough, soon enough, little girl.” The doctor patted her hand and
looked at her index finger. “The nail’s coming all right, isn’t it? But
I think that man makes you practice too much. You have it on your mind
all the time.” He had noticed that when she talked to him she was always
opening and shutting her hands. “It makes you nervous.”
“No, he don’t,” Thea replied stubbornly, watching Dr. Archie return the
book to its niche.
He took up a black leather case, put on his hat, and they went down the
dark stairs into the street. The summer moon hung full in the sky. For
the time being, it was the great fact in the world. Beyond the edge of
the town the plain was so white that every clump of sage stood out
distinct from the sand, and the dunes looked like a shining lake. The
doctor took off his straw hat and carried it in his hand as they walked
toward Mexican Town, across the sand.
North of Pueblo, Mexican settlements were rare in Colorado then. This
one had come about accidentally. Spanish Johnny was the first Mexican
who came to Moonstone. He was a painter and decorator, and had been
working in Trinidad, when Ray Kennedy told him there was a “boom” on in
Moonstone, and a good many new buildings were going up. A year after
Johnny settled in Moonstone, his cousin, Famos Serrenos, came to work in
the brickyard; then Serrenos’ cousins came to help him. During the
strike, the master mechanic put a gang of Mexicans to work in the
roundhouse. The Mexicans had arrived so quietly, with their blankets and
musical instruments, that before Moonstone was awake to the fact, there
was a Mexican quarter; a dozen families or more.
As Thea and the doctor approached the ‘dobe houses, they heard a guitar,
and a rich barytone voice—that of Famos Serrenos—singing “La
Golandrina.” All the Mexican houses had neat little yards, with tamarisk
hedges and flowers, and walks bordered with shells or whitewashed
stones. Johnny’s house was dark. His wife, Mrs. Tellamantez, was sitting
on the doorstep, combing her long, blue-black hair. (Mexican women are
like the Spartans; when they are in trouble, in love, under stress of
any kind, they comb and comb their hair.) She rose without embarrassment
or apology, comb in hand, and greeted the doctor.
“Good-evening; will you go in?” she asked in a low, musical voice. “He
is in the back room. I will make a light.” She followed them indoors,
lit a candle and handed it to the doctor, pointing toward the bedroom.
Then she went back and sat down on her doorstep.
Dr. Archie and Thea went into the bedroom, which was dark and quiet.
