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his time hanging around the saddlerystore or lingering on the stoop of the small hotel on State Street, hoping for a glimpse of Rosalia. When he finally saw her again, he plucked up courage to pass the time of day and she surprised him by inviting him to a picnic she was giving with some young friends out at the beach. Rosalia’s bubbling warmth made up for Nik’s shyness; she seemed to talk enough for the two of them. And a few weeks later, when he finally kissed her in the shade of a grove of sycamores, they knew they were in love.
    Don Jose was a very rich man and he viewed the romance with suspicion, but after investigating the young Russian and hearing nothing but praise for his hard work and the prospering Rancho Santa Vittoria, he gave the union his blessing.
    The wedding, with Jeb as the handsome best-man breaking countless feminine hearts, was the occasion of a grand fiesta, but afterward Nik was unable to take his bride home to the Rancho Santa Vittoria because her father refused to allow Rosalia to begin her married life in a two-room adobe hut. Instead, they rented a suite of rooms at the Arlington Hotel, where Nik joined her as often as he could escape work on the ranch. Meanwhile, two new ranch houses were being built on the property, one on the site of the old Indian house for Jeb; and the other around an old adobe house in the middle of the extra two thousand acres of land, running concurrently with the ranch, given by Jose Abrego to his daughter as a wedding gift.
    When it was finished the Konstant House at the Rancho Santa Vittoria was one of the finest homes in the Lompoc valley, but Nik’s proudest possession of all was the partnership document, written on the old saloon card, now framed in gilt and hanging in the front hall for everyone to see. His joy was dimmed by the news of the death of his mother; but he still continued to send his sisters money regularly. The Konstantinovs of Arkhangelsk were no longer poor.
    Rosalia often rode the ranch with Nik, sitting astride and wearing suede chaps like the vaqueros and helping with the new calves and lambs, but she also supervised her new home carefully. There was now a good cook in the kitchen and fine meals were served at their table and Nik lost his shyness and became an affable host to Rosalia’s friends and family. Nik Konstant was a happy man—except for just one thing. He’d hoped for a child to be born quickly—a son to bear his name. But two years passed and still Rosalia did not become pregnant, and though she said nothing, there was a worried look in her eyes.
    The Mallory House on the Rancho Santa Vittoria remained empty for most of the time—though there was now a grand piano in the parlor and fine dark mahogany furniture in its many rooms, just the way Jeb had said there would be. But Nik knew that, as usual, by achieving his dreams Jeb had lost interest in them. Occasionally he would arrive from San Francisco with several carriage-loads of people and the big house would be lit up like a Christmas tree. Great banquets of food would be served at all hours while the wine flowed and singers—imported from the Italian opera or French revue companies appearing in San Francisco—would entertain. None of the local gentry would attend these dinners because it was said there were women at the Mallory House whose morals could only be described as loose—and who made no attempt to hide it.
    Nik began to buy even more cattle for Rancho Santa Vittoria’s ever-increasing acres and they were becoming richer, earning “leather dollars” by selling the hides to merchants in New England to make boots and shoes, and selling the horn for buttons, and the tallow for candles and soap.
    By 1873—seventeen years after Jeb had won them their stake in the ranch—Nik Konstant and Jeb Mallory owned a hundred and forty thousand acres of land and more than eighty thousand cattle, as well as seventy thousand sheep. Nik worked hard on the ranch, and Jeb lived the