Elizabeth smiled as she watched her daughter take the horse back to the barn, the nodded when Jorge told her he was going to seek out some friends. Alone, she walked over to the tables, and to the line that was starting to form. She stood back and instead went to the table where pitchers of fresh, cold well water were waiting.
What a day it had been. But she was suddenly anxious to get back to her own ranch. To her own people, and her business. She’d also done the math in her head, and realized that much time had passed since she’d heard from Will. She hoped there was a letter waiting from him, and found that she could hardly wait to get back to Arroyo, to see.
She was woken out of her deep thought by a sudden burst of music from the courtyard. She heard horns and violins and guitars, and a selection of wonderful singing voices, and turned to watch the entertainment of both men and women playing a variety of canciones rancheros. When the line began to dwindle, she wandered over to make a plate of food for herself. There was a wide variety of dishes, with corn and flour tortillas, rice, beans, cheese, eggs, breads of different varieties, and several types of meat from cow, chicken, sheep, and goat. She also eyes some desserts down on the end of the table, where she saw cakes with jams and jellies and cookies with honey, powdered sugar and cinnamon and a selection of fresh fruit. Thinking that she would return for dessert later, she made her way to a chair and sat, enjoying both the weather and the people. In the distance, she could see her daughter sitting on a fence with a handsome young caballero, giggling.
Closer to the courtyard, she saw Jorge dancing with a beautiful Mexican woman.
Everyone, it seemed, was finding love at this particular party.
When she finished her meal, she stood to walk back to the dessert table, but was stopped by a group of women sitting on the porch.
“Señora Arroyo, please come and sit with us,” a stout woman with a big, gentle smile said.
Elizabeth eagerly made her way to the group of ladies, taking the warm tea and cinnamon cookies she’d gathered from the table.
“Señora, my name is Rita Villarreal. I am Victor’s sister, and daughters to Martin Vargas.” Rita stretched out both of her hands to Elizabeth and welcomed her. “Thank you for making the long trip to our ranch, and bringing your beautiful and talented daughter. That was some ride this morning, wasn’t it, ladies?” Rita directed her attention back to her friends.
“Si, Si. Magnifico!” several voices all echoed at once.
“Where did your daughter learn to ride so well?” one lady quickly asked.
Elizabeth blushed. “Well, I taught her everything I know, and…” She paused for a second to gather her next words. “She is a great student, and watches all the workers on the ranch for hours. Along with Jorge, her trainer. He practices a lot with her.”
“Have you decided which horse you want to take with you as your prize?” asks another lady in the group.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in excitement and smiled. “I certainly have my eye on a few horses, and my plan is to walk around with Jorge and Pilar tomorrow, after the fiesta. Our ranch will really benefit from one of the many excellent stallions here. It will be a hard decision.”
Rita continued, “Please, Señora, have a seat and tell us more about your beautiful ranch. Except for maybe Señora Josefa, none of us have been so lucky as to travel that far north.”
Elizabeth turned her head towards Josefa and asked, “Señora, where did you travel to?”
The woman thought for a moment, to recall some memories, and a big smile came across her face. “I was a young girl, and mi madre y mi padre made the trip from our home east of here. We rode with several families up to Laredo, to join in festivities with other families.” She closed her eyes to remember more. “I recall having such a fun time. There was music and dancing and young men and beautiful dresses and lots of delicious food.” She paused again to remember the smells and the sounds. “This went on for days. I remember a young man who I met, and who promised to marry me when he was older. His name was…” She paused briefly to stay in the memory. “His name was Jose, and he was muy guapo!” Josefa closes her eyes again and a couple of other women lightly giggled, as they remembered their own memories of young boys.
“And did you ever see him again?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.
“No, sorry to say. I begged and begged my parents to allow me to stay with my tia and su esposo at their home, but they forced me to go back with them. I was never able to make it back to Laredo.” Josefa sat quietly for a moment, and then lifted her head back up, taking a deep breath. “I have a great husband and beautiful kids, and I am very happy.”
“Señora, that sounds like the story of how I felt when I first met my husband, Roberto.” Several of the ladies leaned forward, eager to hear how an Americana woman met her Mexican husband, and now ran one of the largest ranches in Northern Mexico.
Elizabeth sat down at the table and poured herself a class of warm tea. She reached for another cook, and began the story of how she’d met her wonderful husband when she was a young teacher in Texas.
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