The House of Santos

By Jeannine Pondozzi

The House of Santos is a family saga, filled with characters who people the US western landscape in the Arizona territory from 18221898. The House of Santos grows from three families who join together to create a heritage from their strengths, love, and ambitions. They have a passion for life, for moving forward, and for growing as they change. If they fulfill their dreams, it is because of their human endurance, love, understanding, and stubborn striving for success and stability.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543422290

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Jeannine Pondozzi.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5434-2230-6

                eBook          978-1-5434-2229-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/11/2017

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Contents

Part I Beginnings

Author’s Note

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part II Growth

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Part III Completion

Acknowledgements

The Story So Far:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

PART I

Beginnings

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The characters in this book have lived in my head for over fifty years. Now that I am among the country’s senior citizens, I have time to let them out of my head and let them people the pages of this book. I know their behaviors and relationships well. I have lived with their honor and dishonor, with their love, affection, passion, anger, and grief. Mainly, theirs is a love story as tender and as violent as any love and as life-giving and cruel as human passion can be.

My heroes have always been cowboys. I suppose they still are. My characters fit well into the western landscape. The story takes place during the nineteenth century, from about 1822 (Robert’s birth) to about 1898 (the year after Diego‘s death), and I have arranged events to avoid the Civil War and Reconstruction. This is not a shoot ‘em up, bar brawl, draw and shoot story, though there is some suggestion of that, but, mainly, this is the story of families that join together to form the house of Santos. It is the story of the people who created a heritage from their strengths, loves, and ambitions. Most of all, it is a story about passion for life, for moving on, for achievement and personal growth in the midst of change. It is a story about fulfilling dreams, almost impossible in some cases, but achievable when human endurance, love, understanding, and striving for success and stability can accomplish wonders.

The characters in this story have given me much enjoyment. I hope that you, readers, enjoy them, too.

Jeannine C. Pondozzi, 2013

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my sisters, Delores (Dee) and Donna. They are the people nearest and dearest to me in the entire world. Though both younger than I, they have taught me more about living and loving than they will ever know. Dee and I have lived half a continent apart for many years, but that never diminished our love and support for each other. Donna, my youngest sister, is a lover of horses. As a child, she wanted a horse, not a rocking horse; she had one of those. I think that on every gift occasion, she looked outdoors to see if the horse arrived. We lived, of course, in a northeastern city, but that didn’t stop Donna from longing and hoping. There are not long passages about horses in the book, but I hope that she’ll enjoy what’s there.

Dee and Donna, I’ll love you, as the characters in the book say, para siempre (forever)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No person creates alone. I would like to acknowledge the help and support of my sisters, friends, and professionals. Monica Phillips, now deceased, always encouraged me to write. My sisters Dee and Donna not only encouraged me in the writing of The House of Santos but were readers and good critics of the first unedited photocopied version. I would like to acknowledge other readers: Shirley Schlosberg, Dr. William R. Brown, Esther Miklic, Gary McLouth, and my niece Amanda Taylor Hall. They are friends and family from whom I could expect honest feedback. I also want to acknowledge my Spanish-speaking friends who helped with the Spanish in the book and with the Mexican customs. I know that a fictional work can take liberties, but I hesitated to take liberties with the language and customs of a people, especially since help was readily available. I want to thank, especially, Esther, Maria and Yanitza, as well as Michelle and Diana. The professionals at Tate Publishing Enterprises have been especially helpful, patient, and supportive, especially Stacy Baker, director of book acquisitions, Katja Tysdal, administrative assistant, Cheryl Moore, photo and graphics associate, as well as everyone at Tate who helped to bring this book to fruition.

For the help and encouragement from all of my family, friends, and professionals, thank you.

Chapter 1

EDWARD HOGAN, UNAWARE THAT HE was about to experience an exciting and important day, walked from the American consulate building into the blazing July Mexican sun, where it was past noon and unmercifully hot. The streets were full of people in bright costumes. The festivity could possibly have been because of a local holiday or holy day, but Edward knew that Alta Vista was celebrating the return of El Gato, a local matador who recently returned to his hometown and who was to fight in the bull ring this very afternoon. Edward had been invited to the event by John Wilson with whom Edward worked in the secretarial pool. Wilson was hired two weeks ago to fill a position vacated by Wesley Gordon, who was returning to Boston to be married. Wilson was a pleasant-enough fellow and a capable scribe, but was pompous and a bit arrogant for the taste of most of his fellow workers. Edward, however, liked Wilson’s manner of confidence and sense of adventure, and Edward was pleased to accept Wilson’s offer of a ticket to the afternoon bullfight, even though Wilson had offered the ticket to several others before approaching Edward. Edward knew that his colleagues were put off by Wilson’s swagger, his de facto pronouncements, his complaints, and his way of pontificating over issues, but Edward was not very bothered by these traits because Edward thought that Wilson was probably as bothered by the habits of his colleagues as they were bothered by him.

Edward turned at the shout of his name. He quickly located Wilson and waved as Wilson made his way across the hard-packed dirt street, dodging people and wagons.

Edward! Wilson shouted. Ready?

Yes, Edward had to shout back.

Well, let’s go! Wilson screamed, nudging Edward forward before taking Edward’s elbow and propelling him down La Avenida de Torres toward the bullring. Edward fell into step even though he disliked being pushed. He cursed himself for leaving his building without a hat as protection from the sun for the streets radiated heat and were exceedingly dirty and oppressive, partly because of the extraordinary number of people, but mostly because the street was unpaved, sandy, and baking in the noon sun. Still, Edward nodded and greeted everyone who passed, much to Wilson’s discomfort.

"Do you have to greet everyone?" Wilson complained.

Why not? Edward’s reply came out more curtly than intended.

For heaven’s sake, Wilson sputtered, they’re strangers! They have no interest in you!

No, Edward refused to turn the incident into an issue. And I have no real interest in them, but it’s hot, and it never hurts to be pleasant. And Edward continued his greetings. As people passed, Edward spoke quietly in Spanish, inclining his head or giving women a quick salute.

I swear, Edward, your naiveté is going to get you into trouble, Wilson hissed. But Edward didn’t feel a bit naive or uncomfortable. He greeted people politely for pleasure and from habit. Many smiled and returned the greeting; others, recognizing Edward as an American, returned a greeting in English.

Truly, Edward enjoyed the people in Alta Vista. They were hardworking, friendly, and generally pleasant. On one of his jaunts, Edward came across a sweet shop where the owner, Pablo Aveda, had offered to teach Edward how to speak Spanish. Pablo claimed to be a descendent of Spanish nobility, was fluent in English, and possessed great knowledge of Mexican culture and history. Edward liked him immediately and soon realized that he had made a friend. Edward and Pablo took walks daily, mostly in the evenings. They talked, sang, and drank together. Every Friday, after cashing his paycheck, Edward paid Pablo for the Spanish lessons, which Edward considered to be a great benefit. However, most enjoyable to Edward were Pablo’s lectures on Mexican culture and history.

Language had always been Edward’s forte. Even as a child, Edward was fascinated by words and often made up word games for his sister, Helen. Helen, four years younger than Edward, was a sickly child, frail and ill, prone to coughing, fainting, chest pains, and general malaise. Edward’s parents worried about Helen a lot when the family emigrated from London in 1848. But Helen had weathered the crossing well. She had been excited about their new home and chattered endlessly, asking more questions than anyone could answer.

Sean, Edward’s father, had been a banker in County Cork, Ireland, before being transferred to a counting house in London, England, in 1830. Sean made a good living, found suitable lodgings for his family, and sent his children to a good school. The family prospered in London, but in 1845, news of a potato blight in Ireland reached the newspapers in London. The fungal blight devastated the potato crop, leaving the Irish poor even poorer. Sean decided to take his family to the United States after Sean’s friend, Billy Duncan, told him about the opportunities in America. Anxious for his family to prosper, Sean, his wife, and two children, accompanied by Billy Duncan, set sail for their new home. After a long and miserable crossing, they arrived at Castle Garden in New York Harbor. Immediately upon docking, runners swarmed the ship to convince the immigrants to secure housing. The runners promised good rooms and space to store luggage. Sean paid a bully-faced runner named Drake for lodgings on Mott Street. After the immigration procedures, Sean ushered his family into a shabby-looking, filthy tenement. They were allotted two squalid rooms with cots, a small table, and one straight-backed chair. The situation was intolerable; so, Sean left Edward to care for Helen while Sean and his wife, Margaret, walked the neighborhood. They were unimpressed with the streets filled with garbage and the crumbling buildings. Drying laundry hung from windows and on dirty ropes strung like spider webs between buildings. The neighborhood was barren of trees or flowers, and hastily printed For Rent signs decorated what appeared to be a hopeless wasteland. The landlady, from whom Sean had rented the inadequate rooms for his family, bluntly told Sean that he wouldn’t find better accommodations for Irishmen anywhere in New York.

Sean, however, summoned Billy Duncan and secured Billy’s help in locating more suitable lodgings. They found a freestanding house on Walker Street, a few blocks north of the slum area. The house was small but suitable and affordable. Billy helped Sean and his little family clean and paint the house and then acquire furniture. Much of it was cheap and mismatched, but Margaret arranged and decorated the new home tastefully. In less than three weeks, Sean moved his family into the house and found a job at a local bank.

It didn’t take Sean long to realize just how unwelcome the Irish were, even in professional jobs, but Billy Duncan supported and encouraged his friends and introduced them to a calligrapher, who, with a good eraser and a few pen strokes, changed Hogan to Hobarton on the family’s immigration papers. Hobarton sounded more British than Irish. So Sean became John Hobarton. The family was told of the change and set about practicing their new personas. The years spent in London allowed the family to say truthfully that they were from London. Sean’s brogue and that of his family, now sounded quite British. Sean hired a neighbor woman to read and care for Helen during most afternoons. Edward was instructed to listen carefully and imitate Mrs. Harris’s speech patterns. Young Edward thought this a fine game and spent hours behind Helen’s day sofa, taking his own detailed pronunciation notes and, later, practiced imitating the sound of Mrs. Harris’s voice. Soon, Edward, Helen, and Margaret sounded like Harris clones.

At school, Edward had trouble with local toughs, who were mean and sometimes violent. Sean Hogan was not the first immigrant to change his family name in order to fit into society and prosper, but there were always those who liked to make themselves feel superior by picking on new immigrant arrivals. Edward soon learned that the troublemakers were not easily dissuaded, so Edward found himself in several fights. Margaret was alarmed when her son came home bruised and sometimes battered, but both Sean and Edward said that self-defense was not a shameful endeavor. The normally mild-mannered Edward became quite adept at street fighting.

Meanwhile, Sean worked hard and distinguished himself at the bank. Mr. Albright was so pleased with his new hire that Sean soon found himself in charge of loans. Sean had an uncanny aptitude for recognizing good loan risks. Unfortunately, some of the best risks were hard-working immigrants. But Sean was not allowed to grant loans to Italians, Irish, Spanish, or Jews. So while the bank rejected the loan applications of hard-working immigrants, Sean would give his address to some of them. The loan seekers soon appeared at the little house on Walker Street. Sean would meet with them in the front room that had become his office, offer them tea or coffee and muffins, and then talk business. Sean chose the best risks and lent them money at a rate substantially below that of the bank.

It wasn’t long before word of Sean’s business spread to others in the immigrant communities, and Sean spent long hours after work and on weekends screening scruffy-looking applicants who, for the most part, proved to be excellent risks. So after a few years, Sean found that he was a rich man and could purchase a fine home in Manhattan’s affluent Upper East Side.

Edward, always a quick study, played a new game with his father—How Good a Risk Is This Man? Edward’s keen observations and attention to detail helped Sean tremendously. At school, Edward excelled at his studies and was soon accepted at the prestigious Stonegate Boys’ Academy in Connecticut. Helen missed her brother terribly. Edward had often spent long hours tutoring Helen who missed a significant amount of school because of her poor health. As they grew, Edward and Helen made friends and adapted well to their new home. Helen’s poor health kept her from the parties and social activities, but Edward participated without reservation. In fact, Edward became very popular at Stonegate where he excelled in languages and sports.

By the time Edward reached young manhood, he realized that he needed to find a way to make his own living and his own way in the world. Sean was disappointed and angry when Edward declined to continue in the lending business, choosing instead to apply to an institution preparing young men for government foreign service. Edward was accepted immediately and began preparing himself with the same abandon as when playing language or lending games.

Helen was crushed when Edward announced that he had been selected to travel to Mexico with the government secretarial pool. Sean was devastated and, again, angry. Helen was sure that she would never see her brother again, but Edward assured Helen that he would certainly return and that he would write often.

Once established in his quarters in Alta Vista, Mexico, Edward wrote faithfully every three or four days, and to Edward’s immense pleasure, Helen wrote back. She had matured quickly and, to Edward’s surprise, helped Sean in the family business. Though Helen’s poor health prevented her from participating in vigorous physical activity, her willingness and determination enabled her to keep the books for Sean. Helen soon learned about lending, interest, and percentages. In fact, Sean discovered that Helen had a good mind and was very shrewd, in her own way, about the suitability of Sean’s clients. Helen was also gracious and respectful, and Sean was glad to have her help with the business. Margaret was sure that Sean would get into trouble with all the lending, but Sean disagreed. He insisted that he could do as he pleased with his money. He wasn’t cheating or charging exorbitant rates. He was just helping certain immigrants get started in a new country, something that he couldn’t do at the bank.

Though Margaret didn’t care for Sean’s lending business, she did love her family and kept a tidy and efficient home. She was an excellent cook and a loving wife and mother who was sure that the move to the United States had not been a mistake.

Without warning, Margaret became sick with some kind of fever. Helen wrote an agonizing letter to Edward, detailing the illness, the doctor’s visits, Sean’s worry, and Helen’s dread. Helen implored Edward to return, but for Edward, it was impossible. Edward’s supervisor said that Edward couldn’t be excused from work. Besides, people who lived in New York were always coming down with fevers. He assured Edward that his mother would recover. Accordingly, Edward wrote to Helen and explained the situation. Though difficult, Edward had an obligation, and he decided that he would return to New York as soon as he could. Two weeks later, Edward learned of his mother’s death. She had died quietly in her sleep. Helen and Sean’s letter carried disappointment that Edward had not been able to return home before Margaret’s death. Edward’s return letter contained condolences and information that, had Edward begun travelling immediately upon learning of his mother’s illness, he would not have made it home in time to say good-bye. Still, Edward’s impassioned letter to Sean and Helen was filled with sorrow and deep apology. In New York, Sean grieved not only for his wife but for his absent son. Helen became frightened when Sean’s grief expressed itself in anger—shouting, stamping, breaking whatever was near. Helen hastened to write to Edward, telling him about their father’s rages and grief. Helen confessed that Sean was angry because Edward should have just returned to New York despite his supervisor’s instructions to the contrary. In his return letter, Edward told Helen that he was sorry for his father’s rage and for all of their grief, but Edward could never simply leave the job. It would be too dishonorable. Besides, Edward would not have arrived in New York in time to say good-bye in any case.

Chapter 2

FINALLY, EDWARD AND JOHN ENTERED the arena, and Edward, again, cursed his failure to take along a hat, but John assured Edward that John had brought a newspaper, which, if properly folded, could provide protection from the sun. Edward doubted that, and as a young usher led the way to the top of the arena stands, Edward’s doubts increased. Once seated, Edward had a chance to look around. The seats were good, actually affording a view of the whole arena, the bleachers that were filling with people, whose bright clothing added color to the drab structure, and an air of festivity to the entire event. The arena’s oval floor was filled with loose dirt and sawdust. At the far end were doors through which the bull and his opponents would enter. Several rows below and to his right, Edward noticed a group happily seated under a canopy, which shielded them from the raging sun. Summoning the usher, Edward asked in his best Spanish where he could rent such a canopy. The usher replied that the canopy belonged to don José de los Santos. The young woman to don José’s right was his daughter, Amelia, and the two young men seated just behind Amelia were don José’s sons, Ramon and José. Then Edward asked where he might purchase a sombrero to protect himself from the sun. The usher held up his hand, signaling Edward to wait, then disappeared down the bleachers. Meanwhile, John had folded two hats from the newspaper pages. He held one out to Edward. I’m sure this will do.

Thanks, Edward murmured as he put on the hat. Surprisingly, the newspaper did help somewhat. Edward squirmed to get comfortable in his seat just as the usher returned with an invitation to join don José and his family. Edward was elated and was eagerly following the usher when he realized that John was not behind him. When Edward looked back and signaled John to follow, John waved Edward on; so, Edward continued following the usher. Don José, splendidly dressed, florid, balding, with some height, and a bit overweight, was waiting when Edward arrived with the usher who greeted don José and then proceeded with the introductions. Edward’s response, though in elementary Spanish, delighted don José, who continued in Spanish, Santos is an old and respected name in Mexico.

I have heard of it, Edward replied. Hogan is an old and respected name in Ireland.

Don José raised one eyebrow. So you are not an American?

Yes, I am, Edward answered quickly. My parents, my sister, and I arrived in the United States from London several years ago. We have a home in New York City.

I see, said don José. You are, then, an American citizen?

Yes, replied Edward, marveling at don José’s ability to switch effortlessly from Spanish to English.

Please sit down, don José invited. Have a cool glass of tea.

Before Edward could respond, Ramon handed him the tea, and Edward gratefully took a long sip.

Stay, don José urged. Tell your friend to come down. We can watch the bullfight together.

Edward turned and signaled for John to join them, but John shook his head emphatically. I’m sorry, Edward apologized. My friend won’t join us, and I must not stay. My friend gave me the ticket to today’s event.

You have been to a bullfight before? asked don José.

No, replied Edward. This is my first time. I would like very much to stay with you and your family, but it would be rude to leave him up there, Edward explained, pointing to John who was now fidgeting in the bright glare and the heat.

I understand, don José said, nodding. As Edward turned to go, Ramon stepped forward.

Senor, I do not mean to be rude, but what is that on your head?

Oh! Edward grabbed quickly for the paper hat that he had forgotten. His hand came away black with the newspaper ink that, now having melted in the heat, was running down Edward’s forehead. He looked sheepishly at don José who couldn’t suppress a chuckle. From his right, Edward heard light laughter, a sound that reminded him of ice tinkling in a glass. It was Amelia who was following the conversation and enjoying the joke. Edward looked closely at Amelia for the first time. She was gorgeous! Though seated, Edward could tell that she probably stood about five and a half feet. She was slender and lithe. Her face was heart-shaped. She had high cheekbones, a clear complexion, and olive-black eyes that flashed under carefully manicured brows. Her smile broke over straight white teeth, and she fingered her long raven hair that she wore pulled back. The secured tress was hanging over her right shoulder, combed smooth to resemble a rolled tortilla. Excuse me, senorita. I work as a secretary in the American consulate. I do a lot of writing, but I didn’t realize that I could bleed ink! And Amelia’s second laugh made Edward’s heart glad. Amelia, too, now looked more carefully at Edward. He had height, slightly over six feet, which he carried over a large frame with confidence and dignity. But he was very bothered by the heat. His top jacket was folded over his arm, and his shirt was soaking wet. His hair was a very light brown clinging to his head, held fast by the heated ink. His brows were bushy over deep, summer sky blue eyes. He was strikingly handsome, and he knew how to joke. Amelia decided that she liked him. Don José too liked this young American who was so courteous, respectful, and unpretentious. Don José signaled to his youngest son, and José stepped forward, almost immediately, with a damp cloth. Here, senor. I think that this will help.

Edward accepted the cloth gratefully and wiped away the ink. Thank you. That’s better. I foolishly came out without a hat, Edward explained.

Then, senor, at least take my sombrero. It will protect you from the sun, Ramon offered.

I couldn’t, Edward protested. It’s too beautiful.

Then borrow it, Ramon insisted. You can return it tonight at the party. We are giving a party for El Gato, the local matador. We live at number 8 on the Avenue of the Three Fountains. Please come and bring your friend.

Thank you, Edward replied as he accepted the beautiful sombrero. Then with a salute to don José and a nod to Amelia and her brothers, Edward left to join John Wilson. As Edward ascended the bleachers, don José addressed his children, I like this American. He is polite, respectful, and appreciative, and he can laugh at himself. Bleeding ink! Of all things! And don José and his children enjoyed the joke again.

Edward, meanwhile, reluctantly returned to his seat and met John’s grin.

So, quipped John, the prodigal has returned!

Yes, replied Edward. And sadly. Why didn’t you come down? They think you’re being foolish.

Who cares what they think? John sounded peeved. They’re barbarians!

Not so! Edward answered, annoyed. They’re lovely, fine people, and they’re cultured! See, Ramon was good enough to lend me his sombrero.

You look silly, John said, determined to start something.

You should see yourself, Edward said, pointing to the ink running down John’s forehead. John raised his hand to his head and smeared the ink all the way down his nose. Then he grabbed the mushy newspaper hat and threw it to the ground.

Hardly adequate, Edward couldn’t help the barb.

Here, John said, pointing to the tea still in Edward’s hand. Let me have some of that.

Edward handed the glass to John, and John downed the cool tea in one gulp.

Thanks, Edward said sarcastically as John returned the tea glass. I guess you wouldn’t be interested in more tea. They’re having a party this evening for the matador, and we’re invited.

No, replied John. Count me out.

That’s fine. Edward shrugged. I’m going. I have to return the sombrero, and I want to see the senorita again. She’s very beautiful.

And she thinks you’re stupid! I saw her laughing.

I laughed too, Edward reminded John. With ink running down my face, all there was to do was laugh! And Edward pointed again to John’s blackened forehead. With an audible grunt, John reached for his handkerchief, dipped it into the tea glass, sopped up the melting ice, and rubbed his forehead. Just then, a trumpet sounded and the crowd grew momentarily silent as everyone turned to the doors at the end of the bull ring. Then three matadors entered side by side, followed by the banderillos and picadors, the matadors’ assistants. That’s El Gato on the left, a scruffy, unshaven, slightly unkempt man pointed out as he moved from the bleacher seat above and stood between Edward and John.

Who the hell are you? John shouted his annoyance.

John, please, Edward interjected. I’m Edward Hogan. And you?"

I am Carlos José Luis Garcia y Verde, said the man as he reached for Edward’s proffered hand.

So what are you doing here? John still sounded gruff and annoyed.

You are Americans, Senor Verde guessed. I thought I could explain some things about the bullfight.

No! John shouted as he moved away from Verde. We can see for ourselves. We’ll do just fine.

But Edward wasn’t so sure. True, Verde was unattractive, pushy, and smelled badly, but Edward wanted to understand what he was watching. Senor? Edward asked pleasantly. Which matador is El Gato?

That fellow on the left, Verde pointed out. Edward looked closely at El Gato. He was a rather small man, less than six feet, and quite slender though fabulously dressed in a blue silk jacket embroidered in gold. He wore straight black pants and carried a cape draped across his left arm. On his head, El Gato wore a traditional three-cornered hat. The other matadors were similarly dressed, except that the man at El Gato’s left wore a coral costume, while the third matador wore green. They walked abreast to the strains of marching music. El Gato, smiling, waved his hat and inclined his head toward the cheering crowd.

There are three matadors, Senor Verde explained. Six bulls will be killed in this afternoon’s corrida.

Edward gulped. He had forgotten about the killing but clapped and cheered with the crowd. The noise, the crowd, and the heat prompted Verde to suggest that the three of them move to the top of the arena. We can breathe easier and see everything.

Good idea, agreed John, and both John and Edward turned to follow Verde to the top of the bleachers. There were fewer people at the top, and the view was unobstructed, but the heat was just as insufferable. Edward was grateful for the sombrero. Then Edward heard his name. Eduardo! Eduardo! Someone was calling insistently but softly. Turning to his left, Edward saw Ramon waving and gesturing. Please, Eduardo, come sit with my family. Bring your friend. You will both be more comfortable.

John, Edward said, it’s the second invitation. We can’t refuse.

If you say so, John gave in and shuffled to the end of the row.

Ramon, said Edward, this is Senor Verde. Senor Verde, this is Ramon de los Santos.

We’ve met, Ramon said as he moved down the stairs. Then quietly, Ramon said to Edward, My father does not like him. He bothers Amelia.

Don José met his guests with an outstretched hand. Welcome! Welcome!

Thank you! Edward shook hands, glad for the shade and the relative quiet and calm.

I’m glad that you decided to join us, don José said pointedly to John.

You are very generous, John responded.

José, bring a wet cloth for our guest. Following his father’s instruction, José stepped forward. Here, don José said as he handed the cloth to John. Refresh yourself. John accepted the cloth and rubbed it across his face. When it came away full of dark ink, John scowled. Damn stubborn ink!

I understand, replied don José, that scribes in the American consulate bleed ink, and he was in a full smile, attempting to share the joke with John. But John had almost no sense of humor.

Nonsense! The blasted sun made the newspaper too hot!

And started the bleeding! Edward finished before laughing. But John would have none of it.

I’m leaving! Coming, Edward?

After the bullfight, Edward answered, even as he accepted another glass of cool tea from José. As John stormed away, Edward cocked his head, held his free hand palm up, and winked at don José.

On the arena floor, El Gato was entertaining the crowd as he stepped close to the bull and swung his cape expertly. The bull bellowed and charged, but like a knowledgeable and practiced cat, the matador whirled away unharmed.

Come sit with us. Don José indicated chairs next to the rail.

Thank you, Edward said as he took one of the chairs. Almost immediately, Amelia was at his elbow, being helped by don José into the seat to Edward’s right. Amelia was so close that Edward could smell her perfume. Jasmine, he guessed. Ramon then took the chair to Edward’s left. Suddenly, Edward felt a great personal revulsion. Here, he was seated next to a gorgeous young woman, and all he could think of was the heat that contributed to his perspiration and wet shirt. He must smell like a pig! He felt dirty, rancid. Edward then turned to Ramon to reveal his embarrassment. Ramon understood. He told Edward to move to the chair at the end of the railing while Ramon escorted Amelia back to her chair behind them. Gratefully, Edward waited until Ramon had Amelia’s elbow. Ramon explained Edward’s discomfiture as he walked beside his sister. Amelia was surprised. She told Ramon and her father that Edward was being too gracious, but don José told Amelia to remain away from the railing until don José and Ramon could speak with Edward. Amelia told her father that she was not offended, and she wanted Edward to know that too. Don José assured Amelia that the matter could be easily cleared up but that Amelia must stay back from the rail to let the men talk. When Amelia agreed, Ramon went to stand beside Edward.

I thought the bull charged a red cloth, Edward said to Ramon.

It’s a common misconception among those who have little experience with bulls, Ramon instructed. The bull will charge any large moving object regardless of color. El Gato uses his cape well, don’t you think?

He’s elegant and graceful, certainly, agreed Edward as El Gato moved toward the bull, spun dangerously close to the horns, and expertly swished his cape. The movement brought an approving roar from the crowd and gave Ramon a chance to tell Edward that he needn’t be ill at ease. Amelia is not offended, but she must move closer in order to watch the bullfight. Edward nodded but asked if Amelia would mind staying at the other end of the rail. Ramon turned and signaled to his father and sister. Both came and stood beside Ramon. Meanwhile, in the bull ring, the picadors, mounted on horses wearing padded armor as protection from the bull’s deadly horns, moved between El Gato and the bull. The picadors carried lances, which they thrust at the bull. Edward winced at the animal’s apparent torment.

Don’t worry, senor, Amelia’s voice sounded softly behind Edward. The kill will come quickly! But Edward could see blood coming from the bull’s wounds. He could not cheer but leaned closer to the rail as the banderillos advanced on foot toward the bull carrying barbed sticks decorated in bright-colored ribbons. The banderillos plunged the sticks into the bull’s shoulders. Edward heard the bull scream, then saw the animal lower his head and paw the earth. At that moment, El Gato came forward again and used his cape to make passes at the bull.

But, Edward said, turning to Amelia, he’s teasing the bull. This is cruel!

No, senor, replied Amelia as she too leaned forward. Watch now! And as Edward looked again, he saw El Gato step deftly to the right of the bull’s head. With a swift and exact movement, El Gato jammed his sword between the bull’s shoulder blades and into the bull’s aorta. Calmly and with great discipline, El Gato pulled the sword upward, then plunged it down again. The bull raised his head, shook it, and with a snort, crumpled at the matador’s feet. The crowd exploded, but Edward sat immobile.

Are you all right, senor? Ramon asked as he put a hand on Edward’s shoulder. Here, drink. Edward accepted the tea and took a gulp. Then he stood. Amelia moved with him.

You do not approve, she said, looking straight into Edward’s eyes.

It’s like a Roman circus, Edward answered as he returned Amelia’s look.

You have not been very comfortable here this afternoon, Amelia said.

My discomfort is my own, senorita, Edward told her.

Perhaps you think that you are giving offense, but there is nothing you can do about the heat or your reaction to it. No one is offended.

You are gracious and kind, senorita. Thank you for your hospitality, Edward said as he turned to go.

We have a carriage, called don José. We will be happy to drive you to the consulate building. Edward could hardly think about sitting so close to anyone in the carriage. Thank you, but no, Edward refused as politely as he could. I can walk.

We will see you tonight? Ramon reminded Edward with a question.

Yes, Edward answered. Number eight on the Avenue of the Three Fountains. But here, I’ll return your sombrero now.

No, Ramon refused. Keep it until tonight. It will ensure that you come to the party.

Thank you again, said Edward while he put on the sombrero. As he took his leave, Amelia gave him a wave and a captivating smile. Edward turned to go, realizing that he was feeling better.

Chapter 3

EDWARD EXITED THE AMERICAN CONSULATE building into the cool evening air. This time, he exited from a side door, behind which were the quarters of the consulate employees. It was a glorious night—clear, cooling, and filled with the scent of fruit tree blossoms. Edward took a deep breath and walked to the Avenue of the Three Fountains. He could easily have guessed which house was hosting the party because number eight was blazing with light and shaking with bright fiesta music and the laughter of party goers. Edward moved confidently to the house and was greeted enthusiastically by José who called out and pumped Edward’s hand hard. Hola! It was Ramon. Hermano, please! Do not dismember out guest! Ramon slid smoothly between José and Edward. Come, said Ramon. Our father is waiting. And Ramon led his brother and Edward toward don José who was greeting his guests.

So, said don José, you have come…and alone. You are very welcome. I’m sorry that your friend did not come.

Thank you, don José, Edward replied, bowing slightly. John is quite tired from this afternoon’s bullfight.

Come, then. Meet El Gato! And just as don José spoke, El Gato appeared at Edward’s right. After introductions, El Gato turned and smiled at Edward.

What did you think of this afternoon’s contest?

It was my first time at a bullfight, Edward began. I was a little upset at the public execution of the bull for sport.

Upset? El Gato smiled pleasantly. Perhaps you would rather see the bull execute me?

I didn’t mean that, Edward hastened to reply.

It is, after all a contest. The bull against the matador. One or the other must triumph.

I understand, though it is upsetting.

Senor, I always try to kill my opponent swiftly and humanely.

Yes. I did realize that.

Well, then, El Gato replied pleasantly, perhaps you will be present when I face another bull.

Perhaps, Edward replied, smiling.

As the music sounded, Edward turned to don José. May I ask your daughter to dance?

Yes, don Jose’ responded. You may dance with her, if she accepts. Edward walked to Amelia who was speaking with El Gato. When Amelia was finished, Edward stepped toward her. Will you dance with me? he asked.

I have promised this dance to El Gato, Amelia answered. But I will be happy to dance with you during the next dance. Edward nodded and turned to find Ramon practically at his elbow.

I wanted to dance with your sister, Edward told Ramon. But she already has a partner.

Yes, Ramon answered. El Gato is very fond of Amelia.

Edward felt momentarily crushed. But the music stopped, and Edward noticed that Amelia was approaching. Will you dance with me now? Edward asked hopefully.

Yes, Amelia answered. I’d like that.

And then Edward and Amelia waltzed as the music began again. Both were very good dancers. They moved fluidly, turning and whirling as if they had danced together forever.

Amelia looked at Edward. You are much more comfortable now.

Yes. I’m more comfortable now that I’m clean and not so offensive.

Nobody was offended, senor. Amelia smiled.

You are kind. Edward practically whispered.

I am being sincere, senor.

I didn’t think that you weren’t, Edward responded.

Senorita? Amelia smiled as he addressed her. May I see you again?

Again?

I mean after tonight. I’d like to get to know you. Perhaps we could do something together?

You have something in mind?

Perhaps we could go out for a meal or to a public event. Or perhaps you would prefer a carriage ride or a concert.

I would like that very much, but you must ask my father.

Your father? But why?

Amelia smiled. My father will have to give his permission. El Gato will occupy most of my free time while he is in Alta Vista, she stated simply.

When the music stopped, Edward guided Amelia toward the edge of the floor and into a comfortable chair, offered to bring punch, and walked to the refreshment table after Amelia accepted his offer. Edward filled two cups from an immense bowl and returned to Amelia. She accepted the drink with a quiet thank you and sipped daintily from the cup. Meanwhile, Edward was thoroughly fascinated, but not as pleased as he thought he’d be. He should have known that Amelia would be occupied by another suitor. Amelia was not only stunningly beautiful; she was also gracious and fascinating. He had no idea that Amelia was regarding him with her own fascination. Edward appealed to her heart. She found him very attractive. Lost in his thoughts, Edward failed to notice Ramon’s approach. Are you enjoying the evening? Ramon asked.

Yes, I was, Edward answered.

Oh? Has something happened to spoil your enjoyment? Ramon asked as he smiled.

Edward told Ramon about his disappointment at learning that most of Amelia’s free time would be taken by El Gato.

He is a good friend and quite fascinated by Amelia, Ramon told Edward.

And Amelia? Edward asked.

I’m not so sure how Amelia feels about El Gato, Ramon confessed. She does not refuse his attention, however.

Edward thought for a moment before addressing Ramon. I was wondering, Ramon, if I could get to know your sister better. Amelia told me that I must ask your father.

Ramon’s eyes shone as he stroked his chin. Come. I’ll take you to my father.

And Edward fell into step with his new friend willingly. When Ramon indicated don José standing by the open veranda doors, Edward noticed that don Jose was motioning them forward. As they approached, Edward observed two beautiful women standing with Don Jose. Both women had stature, regal bearing, dark hair and eyes, and brilliant smiles as they greeted guests. Don Jose introduced his wife, doña Maria Alvera, and his sister-in-law, Pilar, to Edward.

Mucho gusto, Edward responded to the introductions.

Eduardo wants to ask you something, Ramon told his father. Don Jose stepped toward the veranda doors and motioned for Edward to approach.

Senor? don Jose addressed Edward.

I was wondering, don José, Edward began, if I could get to know your daughter. I’d like to take her out.

Oh? Where? asked Don Jose as he raised his eyebrows.

I would like to talk with her perhaps in a restaurant, at a public event, on a carriage ride, Edward proposed.

You are suggesting that you see my daughter alone? asked don José.

Yes, answered Edward. I’d like to get to know her.

I see, said don José cordially.

She may accept your invitation, but you must not be alone with her.

Edward was stunned. How can I get to know her if I can’t speak with her alone? he asked.

In this country, don José began patiently, an unmarried woman is not permitted to be alone with a man.

Edward shook his head. He didn’t understand. Don José explained that Edward would be permitted to invite Amelia to any event that Edward suggested, but Amelia would have to have a companion. Don José’s sister-in-law, Pilar, was Amelia’s usual companion. Pilar was the duena in the de los Santos household. When don José asked Edward if he understood the meaning of duena, Edward replied that he understood that a duena usually runs the household, keeps the books, and supervises the help.

And, don José finished, the duena can act as a companion to young unmarried women. If Edward wanted to get to know Amelia, Pilar would be Amelia’s companion. Pilar was only ten years older than Amelia, was a widow, and an excellent duena. Don José would give Amelia permission to accept or reject any of Edward’s invitations so that Edward would not have to keep asking don José, but Edward must not be alone with Amelia. The companion is customary when a young man and a young woman spend time together. When Edward still didn’t understand, don José told him frankly that the companion was there to protect Amelia’s virtue and Edward’s honor. When Edward protested that he certainly wouldn’t compromise Amelia’s virtue, don José said, You don’t think that you are the first young man to court my daughter, do you?

Of course not! Edward answered. Amelia is a beautiful young woman.

Thank you, don José acknowledged. The rules are the same for everyone.

Even for El Gato? Edward asked.

For everyone, don José repeated. Edward told Don José that he intended no harm to Amelia and that he would obey the rules. Good, don José said, genuinely pleased.

Edward returned to the party. The next time he danced with Amelia, he recounted the conversation with her father. Amelia smiled, pleased with Edward’s offer to take her horseback riding. The view from the top of the mesa was spectacular. When Amelia suggested Saturday morning—the next day—Edward was elated. Amelia pointed to an empty table close to where don José and his wife were receiving and greeting guests. Amelia would get Pilar and meet Edward at the table.

When Amelia got to the table, she had Pilar with her, but Edward noticed that El Gato had stepped behind Pilar.

We should make a plan. Do you have a horse, senor? Amelia asked.

Please, call me Edward. And I can get a horse from the consulate stable.

No, no, protested Amelia. You can use a horse from our stable.

It wouldn’t be a wild horse that would buck until I fell to the ground and broke my neck?

Why would you think that? asked Amelia, astonished.

Oh, that happened to me once.

You broke your neck? Amelia squeaked in apparent concern.

No, corrected Edward. But the horse assigned to me was not saddle broken and delighted in throwing new riders. I, of course, didn’t know this. My friends thought it a grand joke!

Both Amelia and Pilar were so enjoying Edward’s story that they didn’t notice Ramon as he stood behind Amelia and next to El Gato who was laughing loudly. Ramon also enjoyed the story but hastened to calm Edward’s fear. I assure you, Eduardo that we have no such horse, and if we did, we certainly wouldn’t have you ride him.

But did you get thrown? asked Amelia who wanted to hear the end of the story.

Actually, no, Edward confessed. When the horse started to jump and buck, I sang to him. I think he liked it because he stopped jumping and broke into a steady trot. We became great friends that very day, and the joke was on my friends!

You are a storyteller, commented Amelia as she gave Edward a dazzling smile.

Did you just make up that story? El Gato asked.

Edward held up both hands in surrender. I assure you, senor, senorita, it is true. Horses don’t like to fight. They’d rather flee.

So, Amelia continued to badger, the jumping horse was not afraid of your singing?

Oh, I think not. Edward hastened to convince Amelia. He was enjoying the banter and thought he’d try for another smile. I’m a good singer, said Edward. Should I sing now?

Why would you sing, senor? There is no horse here, remarked El Gato. Never-the-less. I can sing, insisted Edward. Oh, I think not, Amelia parodied Edward’s earlier exclamation. She, too, was enjoying the game. We’ll wait until tomorrow to see what our horse thinks.

That is not necessary, Amelia, Ramon cut in. Our horses are well-trained. They are very respectful. They would have no reason to jump and buck unless, of course, Eduardo does not know how to ride, and Ramon leaned forward and smiled largely at Edward.

Enough! Edward raised his voice more than intended. I certainly know how to ride any horse, except a wild, jumping one!

Oh, but, Amelia reminded him, You can easily tame the horse by singing! And, this time, Amelia laughed. It was a reaction Edward had not expected, but he found it extremely pleasant, even though Amelia was laughing at her own joke.

Still, Edward couldn’t resist trying for one more reaction from Amelia.

Please, Senorita! Edward gasped. Then he clapped both hands over his heart, and moaned.

Oh, you’ve done it now, he said, breathing loudly. What? exclaimed Amelia, as Edward let his eyelids fall to half-mast, and slumped onto the table. You have wounded me here, said Edward, pressing his hands over his heart. Your words are daggers!

But, you are telling a story, again, and this time, for an audience, Amelia was not at all fooled.

Such cruelty, Edward whimpered. Your joking is unpleasant and cruel!"

But, laughed Amelia, Your stories are outrageous. Bravo, Senorita! El Gato exclaimed loudly, and bowing slightly. I was not addressing you, Senor, Amelia told El Gato, pleasantly but seriously. I was telling Eduardo that his stories are outrageous.

But true, Edward protested. Do you think it would help if we danced, again, Eduardo? It was more than Edward hoped for, but just as Edward was about to reply, don José and his wife were standing at the table. Edward stood immediately to greet them.

Is everything set? asked don José. Amelia nodded, but Ramon explained, Eduardo will come to our stable at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. He will borrow one of our tame horses. Eduardo will escort the ladies to the top of the mesa to admire the view.

Good, responded don José. You will return in time for comida, Eduardo?

Yes, Edward promised as don José and his wife turned to greet approaching guests. El Gato stepped to Amelia’s elbow as the music started, but Amelia smiled at Edward who offered his arm. Then, to El Gato’s chagrin, Amelia began to waltz with Edward as Ramon held out his hand to Pilar.

Laughing, doña Maria Alvera turned to her husband, I think I like this Hogan. Yes, responded don José with a laugh. He’s a bit dramatic, but knows just how to command Amelia’s attention. I think, my husband, they call that love."

You really think so?

Definitely.

Well, don José nodded. El Gato does not appear to be giving up, and there have been suitors very much in love before."

But this one is different, my husband. When don José raised his eyebrows, his wife continued. This one likes the banter. Amelia does not intimidate him.

And what about El Gato, Maria?

I’m not so sure that Amelia is as fond of him as he is of her. And then, don José and his regal wife waltzed away like newlyweds

Chapter 4

AFTER THE PARTY, EDWARD SLOWLY walked back to the consulate building. He wanted to think about Amelia. She was certainly a great beauty. As he had guessed, she stood about six inches above five feet. She was also lissome and graceful, and her mind was as nimble and fluid as her body. Edward loved dancing with her for she had a regal and courtly bearing, obviously inherited from her mother. Amelia’s dark hair, dark eyes, and creamy complexion radiated health and vigor, and Edward loved her teasing humor. She didn’t seem offended by repartee either. And she wasn’t fooled by his antics. Edward loved to see her smile and hear her laugh, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. He suspected that he was in love and decided that he liked it.

Suddenly, and without warning, a man stepped from an alleyway into Edward’s path. So, you think you can steal my woman? The man shouted as he gestured angrily in Edward’s face. Stunned, Edward backed away, but stopped as he realized that the man was El Gato. What are you doing? Edward shouted back. Will you accost me on the street like a common criminal? YOU are the criminal! Amelia de los Santos is mine, and you may NOT have her! Unfazed, Edward smiled, We do not have to fight about this, senor. It can easily be settled by asking Amelia to make a choice. Amelia is a spoiled and wilful girl. Defend yourself, senor! and El Gato stepped deftly into Edward’s space and landed a vicious punch to Edward’s midsection. Taken off-guard, Edward slumped forward and fell to his knees. Get up! El Gato commanded. Edward struggled to his feet, took a deep breath, leaned against a building, and steadied himself. It took only a moment for Edward’s street-fighting instincts to propel him into defensive mode. Edward side-stepped neatly as El Gato charged and ran, headlong, into the building. With a thud, El Gato fell, then scrambled to his feet brandishing his fists. Edward also assumed a fighting position and danced around El Gato until recognizing his opportunity, Edward landed a punch to El Gato’s waist. When the matador doubled over, Edward swung his left and then his right fist into El Gato’s jaw. The matador stumbled backward, fell, and lay still. Edward advanced toward the eagle-spread El Gato as a man approached. I am Rafael Monsanto. I am a witness that you were attacked. My compadres and I know El Gato. We will take him to his hotel room. I’m Edward Hogan. This was an unfortunate misunderstanding.

It must have been serious. El Gato is not a street-fighter.

He was very angry, Edward confessed. I appreciate your help. And, as Edward watched, Rafael Monsanto and his two friends revived El Gato, helped him to stand, and escorted him away.

When Edward got to his room, he wrote a letter to his father and sister. The letter was full of details about Amelia and his feelings. The next morning, Edward mailed the letter on his way to desayuno—his usual early light breakfast. Then, when he arrived at the stable behind the house at number eight, the ladies were already mounted, and Ramon was holding the reins of a sleek-looking black.

"An Arabian, thought Edward. Amelia looked radiant in a riding costume featuring shades of pink; Pilar was in a lovely mauve costume. Edward greeted the trio, It’s a beautiful morning for a ride!"

Yes, answered Amelia as she graced Edward with a smile. Won’t you mount, Eduardo?

Of course, replied Edward as he gave the horse a pat and climbed aboard.

See? Amelia laughed. No need for you to sing!

Perhaps not immediately, quipped Edward. But we shall see.

When asked the horse’s name, Amelia told Edward that his horse is known as Numero Uno, the best horse in the stable.