Read Online California Bloodstock by Terry McDonell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry McDonell
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spinosity, however, did not stop him from enjoying the ambience of Cargo West or taking pleasure at his peepholes. He turned nasty only with the arrival of fresh Worm Eaters. He couldn’t resist peeking, of course, and their initiation into brothel life, with Wild Emma giving stern advice, always took something out of him. And the worst part was who some of the Worm Eaters reminded him of.
EIGHT
34
Taya’s Map
Time to look at the map. Not the map that T. D. Jr. bought from Larkin when they passed back through Monterey, rather the map that Tanya was charting for herself.
It surveyed no single region, this map, and was useless to look at for truth of area. It was linear, like a map of a road from here to there with no borders except its own width. A map to follow like a tunnel toward a light that, in Taya’s case, illuminated Sewey and the Burgetts pleading hopelessly for mercy in the various twisting fates she conjured for them.
Following both maps, they rode south along the coast, day to day from rancho to rancho, through San Simeon and Esteros, over the green hills to San Luis Obispo and on to Santa Inez. Then down into Santa Barbara where the cannon of the old presidio pokedseaward over the whitewashed porticos of a small convent.
Taya had seen it all before on trips with old T. D. and was anxious to keep moving, but T. D. Jr. insisted on frequent stops to make daguerreotypes. He had made them all along the coast, pointing his lens off cliffs in all directions, looking for the widest angle, recording landscapes so distant that line and form fell into abstraction, yet catching the tiniest detail on his silver plates. Taya was growing impatient with him and his pumice powder and his mercury vapor and the long waits.
I thought you were going to help me.
He was unloading his camera and coating box from the packhorse on a bluff below the convent. He told her of course he was, but that he also had his work.
Some work.
You don’t understand.
You don’t.
She threw her face away from him and stared out over the ocean. He shrugged and went about arranging his equipment, engrossed in his work. Several minutes passed before he realized that she was speaking to him again, telling him the story of Concepcion.
35
Dona Concepcion de Arguello
The story of Concepcion was not yet embalmed in legend and Taya had no reverence for it. She simplyknew it. As a young girl she had heard it often. She told it to T. D. Jr. like old gossip.
Concepcion was fifteen years old and her father was the commandante then at the presidio near Yerba Buena. They were an important family and many young men liked her and wanted her because she was very beautiful. But she didn’t like any of them. Then the count came and she fell in love with him. It was almost fifty years ago.
The count’s name was Rezanov and he was a Russian, but he was handsome anyway. He came to trade for food because his people were starving in Sitka. Concepcion’s father couldn’t trade with him because he didn’t think it was right to trade with Russians. Concepcion begged her father to help the count because she was in love with him. When the count found out, he fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. Then there was a lot of trouble because her father was very strict about things and because the count wasn’t Catholic.
Concepcion pleaded with her father. She went to her room and would not come out or have anything to eat. The padres came and scolded her but she didn’t care. Then the count told her father that he would get permission from the pope and become a Catholic. The padres said that would be fine and her father let them become betrothed and also traded the count what he needed for his people. Then they all had a big fiesta and Concepcion was very happy.
But the count had to go and get permission from the pope like he promised. When he sailed away, Concepcion stood on the beach and blew him kisses. The count promised to write to her from every
EIGHT
34
Taya’s Map
Time to look at the map. Not the map that T. D. Jr. bought from Larkin when they passed back through Monterey, rather the map that Tanya was charting for herself.
It surveyed no single region, this map, and was useless to look at for truth of area. It was linear, like a map of a road from here to there with no borders except its own width. A map to follow like a tunnel toward a light that, in Taya’s case, illuminated Sewey and the Burgetts pleading hopelessly for mercy in the various twisting fates she conjured for them.
Following both maps, they rode south along the coast, day to day from rancho to rancho, through San Simeon and Esteros, over the green hills to San Luis Obispo and on to Santa Inez. Then down into Santa Barbara where the cannon of the old presidio pokedseaward over the whitewashed porticos of a small convent.
Taya had seen it all before on trips with old T. D. and was anxious to keep moving, but T. D. Jr. insisted on frequent stops to make daguerreotypes. He had made them all along the coast, pointing his lens off cliffs in all directions, looking for the widest angle, recording landscapes so distant that line and form fell into abstraction, yet catching the tiniest detail on his silver plates. Taya was growing impatient with him and his pumice powder and his mercury vapor and the long waits.
I thought you were going to help me.
He was unloading his camera and coating box from the packhorse on a bluff below the convent. He told her of course he was, but that he also had his work.
Some work.
You don’t understand.
You don’t.
She threw her face away from him and stared out over the ocean. He shrugged and went about arranging his equipment, engrossed in his work. Several minutes passed before he realized that she was speaking to him again, telling him the story of Concepcion.
35
Dona Concepcion de Arguello
The story of Concepcion was not yet embalmed in legend and Taya had no reverence for it. She simplyknew it. As a young girl she had heard it often. She told it to T. D. Jr. like old gossip.
Concepcion was fifteen years old and her father was the commandante then at the presidio near Yerba Buena. They were an important family and many young men liked her and wanted her because she was very beautiful. But she didn’t like any of them. Then the count came and she fell in love with him. It was almost fifty years ago.
The count’s name was Rezanov and he was a Russian, but he was handsome anyway. He came to trade for food because his people were starving in Sitka. Concepcion’s father couldn’t trade with him because he didn’t think it was right to trade with Russians. Concepcion begged her father to help the count because she was in love with him. When the count found out, he fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. Then there was a lot of trouble because her father was very strict about things and because the count wasn’t Catholic.
Concepcion pleaded with her father. She went to her room and would not come out or have anything to eat. The padres came and scolded her but she didn’t care. Then the count told her father that he would get permission from the pope and become a Catholic. The padres said that would be fine and her father let them become betrothed and also traded the count what he needed for his people. Then they all had a big fiesta and Concepcion was very happy.
But the count had to go and get permission from the pope like he promised. When he sailed away, Concepcion stood on the beach and blew him kisses. The count promised to write to her from every
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