Will glanced around the courtyard as the man set him down, noting that the ranch was a thriving enterprise. The courtyard measured at least 75 feet in each direction, and acted as the centerpiece for the ranch buildings. There were corrals – filled with young horses – across the yard from where they sat, and buildings on both sides. The courtyard itself was made of bricks, laid into the ground, and built to last through the ages.
“Your ranch is beautiful,” he noted quietly, taking in the number of people moving through the buildings and working with the horses. “Tell me more about it, then I will tell you my story.”
“The ranch is over 100 years old,” Elizabeth started. “It was built by my husband’s great grandfather, Alfonso Arroyo and his wife Louisa. The bricks you see before you were brought in by hand, and laid out one by one.” She pointed to the opposite corner of the courtyard, where the brick ended. “The last brick in that corner holds a number of initials. When you are able to walk, I will show you. Initials were added for each of their children, and then each of their children’s spouses. We add new initials every time a child is born.”
She paused, thinking. “That brick is growing quite full, now. I believe that we will have to start a new one soon.” She turned to Will smiling, and he smiled back. “The building to our right is the main ranch house, where my family lives. We added the second story many years ago, as the family was outgrowing the original house.” She pointed to the building next to it. “That is the traveler’s house, where we house any guests. Behind you is the hands’ house, where you are staying. The other buildings, but for the barn, are the houses of various other family members.”
Will nodded, looking around him, and looked toward the corral in front of him. He heard children laughing in the distance, and turned back to Elizabeth. “Are those the children who saved me?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Oh no, those are the children of my brother-in-law and his wife. Pilar and Santiago are much older, at 11 and 12. They are in the house now, with their teacher.”
Will looked back toward the main house. “I would very much like to meet them,” he said softly. “I owe them a large debt of gratitude.”
Elizabeth nodded, understanding. “I will bring them out when they are finished with their schoolwork. Now, since I have brought you breakfast, I believe you owe me a story.” She handed him a plate of rice, beans, and eggs, and told him to eat.
As he took his first bite of the rich food, Will cast his memory back to the place where his life had started, and told her his story.
“I was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1849.” He sighed, remembering a lonely childhood. “I never knew my mother. She died just a couple days after my birth, when she was only 20. She had been married to my father for less than a year.”
Joseph Austin had been several years older than his bride, but he always said that Olive Perkins was the most beautiful girl in town, and had caught his eye when she turned 16. He, in turn, had been from one of the most established families in Boston, and the owner of one of the oldest general stores. It had been a perfect match.
“They met when my mother came into the store as a customer, and fell in love immediately. My father proposed within months. They moved in with my father’s parents, who had a house a few blocks away from the store.”
