Page 40 of Working the Lode

What in god’s name… “I can only gain stability through loving another”? Bowmaker had not even known he was capable of a romantic idea of love until he’d met Zelnora. He was convinced he had not “loved” his Cherokee wife, not in the typical flowery heart-fluttering sense of the word. Their marriage was based on sense, practicality, what they could do for each other. Nothing wrong with that. It was a satisfactory arrangement that had lasted until her death. Every mountaineer needed a wife! But with Zelnora had come that heart-stopping, unbounded sentimental outpouring of emotion he could only categorize as “love.”

Now, so soon after beginning to acknowledge this new emotion, yet another person was referring to it? Maybe Joaquin referred to that brotherly love that comrades shared, that must be it. Maybe it was the only way Spaniards expressed strong emotion—though Bowmaker had never heard upstanding gente de razon speak this way. Maybe it was just an odd thing that he would strive to forget.

“I do not wish…” Valenzuela huffed, a drip of sweat teetering at the tip of his nose. “…to continue this idiocy, this robbing of people. Before long I will be caught and hung, and I wish to live. To be an old man, si? Let those other anuses have their heads shaved and their ears cut off. I wish to live in dignity, like General Vallejo.”

They laughed, their slick foreheads bobbing together. Bowmaker leaned back against the wall and said, “I’ve seen a petrified forest, Joaquin, sure as my rifle’s got hindsights and she shoots center. I’ve lived on my moccasins for six weeks, and poor doings that feeding is. Given my druthers, and my advancing age, I’d rather have a woman’s face around my palatial abode for the balance of my days.” He paused. “I’m just like you.”

Joaquin too leaned back on his palms and smiled genuinely, the crotch of his calzoneras full to bursting. For the first time ever Bowmaker saw him relaxed and at ease, his handsome face open and inviting. “Your winemaking idea is a good one. I have met thousands of people who loathe this bad expensive Boston wine. Before long, the Spanish government will not be able to control whether Californians plant good vines or not.”

Bowmaker had thought about this already. “It would be good to have a partner with a lot of capital to invest in the vines. Especially if Spain sends men to burn down the new vines. Someone like you’d have men to protect the property.”

This idea seemed to make Valenzuela hot. “Spain is losing influence—how dare they dictate what Californians do?”

The idea they were both now “Californians” stoked Bowmaker’s zeal. “Shall I ask Zelnora if she accepts you as a partner in the vineyard?”

Joaquin smiled widely. “Yes. Señorita Sparks is a good, hard-working woman. But I shall also ask that you take in Antonia. She needs a good house, protection from the weather, and the stability of a family.”

“Of course. Yes, Señorita Sparks is a good woman.”

Tremaine popped his head behind the curtain that served as a doorway. “Zelnora is awake, and asking for you.”

The two men stood casually, arranging their clothing as though they had just had a gold claim parley.