Ramona, by Helen Hunt Jackson

You can help carry the things down to the booth; for we are short of hands now, with Juan Can in bed, and Luigo gone to Ventura for the doctor. You and some of your men might carry all the supper over. I'll call you when we are ready.'
The men sat down in a group and waited contentedly, smoking, chatting, and laughing. Alessandro walked up and down between the kitchen and the shed. He could hear the sounds of rattling dishes, jingling spoons, frying, pouring water. Savory smells began to be wafted out. Evidently old Marda meant to atone for the shortcoming of the noon. Juan Can, in his bed, also heard and smelled what was going on. 'May the fiends get me,' he growled, 'if that wasteful old hussy isn't getting up a feast for those beasts of Indians! There's mutton and onions, and peppers stewing, and potatoes, I'll be bound, and God knows what else, for beggars that are only too thankful to get a handful of roasted wheat or a bowl of acorn porridge at home. Well, they'll have to say they were well feasted at the Moreno's,—that's one comfort. I wonder if Margarita'll think I am worthy of tasting that stew! San Jose! but it smells well! Margarita! Margarita!' he called at top of his lungs; but Margarita did not hear. She was absorbed in her duties in the kitchen; and having already taken Juan at sundown a bowl of the good broth which the doctor had said was the only sort of food he must eat for two weeks, she had dismissed him from her mind for the night. Moreover, Margarita was absent- minded to-night. She was more than half in love with the handsome Alessandro, who, when he had been on the ranch the year before, had danced with her, and said many a light pleasant word to her, evenings, as a young man may; and what ailed him now, that he seemed, when he saw her, as if she were no more than a transparent shade, through which he stared at the sky behind her, she did not know. Senor Felipe's illness, she thought, and the general misery and confusion, had perhaps put everything else out of his head; but now he was going to stay, and it would be good fun having him there, if only Senor Felipe got well, which he seemed likely to do. And as Margarita flew about, here, there, and everywhere, she cast frequent glances at the tall straight figure pacing up and down in the dusk outside.
Alessandro did not see her. He did not see anything. He was looking off at the sunset, and listening. Ramona had said, 'I will call you when we are ready.' But she did not do as she said. She told Margarita to call.
'Run, Margarita,' she said. 'All is ready now; see if Alessandro is in sight. Call him to come and take the things.'
So it was Margarita's voice, and not Ramona's, that called 'Alessandro! Alessandro! the supper is ready.'
But it was Ramona who, when Alessandro reached the doorway, stood there holding in her arms a huge smoking platter of the stew which had so roused poor Juan Can's longings; and it was Ramona who said, as she gave it into Alessandro's hands, 'Take care, Alessandro, it is very full. The gravy will run over if you are not careful. You are not used to waiting on table;' and as she said it, she smiled full into Alessandro's eyes,—a little flitting, gentle, friendly smile, which went near to making him drop the platter, mutton, gravy, and all, then and there, at her feet.
The men ate fast and greedily, and it was not, after all, much more than an hour, when, full fed and happy, they were mounting their horses to set off. At the last moment Alessandro drew one of them aside. 'Jose,' he said, 'whose horse is the faster, yours or Antonio's?'
'Mine,' promptly replied Jose. 'Mine, by a great deal. I will run Antonio any day he likes.'
Alessandro knew this as well before asking as after. But Alessandro was learning a great many things in these days, among other things a little diplomacy. He wanted a man to ride at the swiftest to Temecula and back. He knew that Jose's pony could go like the wind. He also knew that there was a perpetual feud of rivalry between him and Antonio, in matter of the fleetness of their respective ponies. So, having chosen Jose for his messenger, he went thus to work to make sure that he would urge his horse to its utmost speed.
Whispering in Jose's ear a few words, he said, 'Will you go? I will pay you for the time, all you could earn at the shearing.'
'I will go,' said Jose, elated. 'You will see me back tomorrow by sundown.'
'Not earlier?' asked Alessandro. 'I thought by noon.'
'Well, by noon be it, then,' said Jose. 'The horse can do it.'
'Have great care!' said Alessandro.
'That will I,' replied Jose; and giving his horse's sides a sharp punch with his knees, set off at full gallop westward.
'I have sent Jose with a message to Temecula,' said Alessandro, walking up to Fernando. 'He will be back here tomorrow noon, and join you at the Ortega's the next morning.'
'Back here by noon to-morrow!' exclaimed Fernando. 'Not unless he kills his horse!'
'That was what he said,' replied Alessandro, nonchalantly.
'Easy enough, too!' cried Antonio, riding up on his little dun mare. 'I'd go in less time than that, on this mare. Jose's is no match for her, and never was. Why did you not send me, Alessandro?'
'Is your horse really faster than Jose's?' said Alessandro. 'Then I wish I had sent you. I'll send you next time.'

VII

IT was strange to see how quickly and naturally Alessandro fitted into his place in the household. How tangles straightened out, and rough places became smooth, as he quietly took matters in hand. Luckily, old Juan Can had always liked him, and felt a great sense of relief at the news of his staying on. Not a wholly unselfish relief, perhaps, for since his accident Juan had not been without fears that he might lose his place altogether; there was a Mexican he knew, who had long been scheming to get the situation, and had once openly boasted at a fandango, where he was dancing with Anita, that as soon as that superannuated old fool, Juan Canito, was out of the way, he meant to be the Senora Moreno's head shepherd himself. To have seen this man in authority on the place, would have driven Juan out of his mind.
But the gentle Alessandro, only an Indian,—and of course the Senora would never think of putting an Indian permanently in so responsible a position on the estate,— it was exactly as Juan would have wished; and he fraternized with Alessandro heartily from the outset; kept him in his room by the hour, giving him hundreds of long-winded directions and explanations about things which, if only he had known it, Alessandro understood far better than he did.
Alessandro's father had managed the Mission flocks and herds at San Luis Rey for twenty years; few were as skilful as he; he himself owned nearly as many sheep as the Senora Moreno; but this Juan did not know. Neither did he realize that Alessandro, as Chief Pablo's son, had a position of his own not without dignity and authority. To Juan, an Indian was an Indian, and that was the end of it. The gentle courteousness of Alessandro's manner, his quiet behavior, were all set down in Juan's mind to the score of the boy's native amiability and sweetness. If Juan had been told that the Senor Felipe himself had not been more carefully trained in all precepts of kindliness, honorable dealing, and polite usage, by the Senora, his mother, than had Alessandro by his father, he would have opened his eyes wide. The standards of the two parents were different, to be sure; but the advantage could not be shown to be entirely on the Senora's side. There were many things that Felipe knew, of which Alessandro was profoundly ignorant; but there were others in which