“I’m sorry for making everyone wait,” Nora said in a small voice, eyes downcast. “I hope dinner isn’t spoiled.”
“Och, colleen, nothin’ could spoil a feast such as this,” Grandda Seamus said in his thick Irish brogue. He spread his old, age-spotted hands as if blessing all the food.
“Aye, and in the spirit of Christmas, we’ll forgive ye this once,” her mother said. Her brogue was lighter and musical sounding. “Now let’s give thanks for the day and for the bounty set before us.”
Bowing her head, Nora closed her eyes while Mama said grace. Then a long procession of bowls and platters made their way around the table. Everything looked and smelled delicious, yet Nora had little appetite. Still upset over her father’s refusal to let her eat with Vittorio and his family, she picked at her food, listening with half an ear to the men’s talk about cattle prices and how barbed wire was changing the business of ranching, cattle drives in particular.
“With Kansas banning Texas cattle entirely because of the tick fever our steers carry, I dunno how we’ll get our cattle to market next year,” Del Crawford said between mouthfuls. “Most trail contractors will go out of business.”
“There’s the far western trail some contractors and cattlemen want Congress to designate as a National Trail,” Daddy said. “That route would veer west just south of the Kansas border, run westward across the Indian Territory and head up through Colorado, Nebraska and on north.”
Del shook his head. “It’s a mighty long trail with no guarantee we’d find a buyer in Wyoming or Montana. And with nesters moving farther west all the time, it won’t be long before they block off that route too, with their damn – excuse me, ladies – darn barbed wire. You know that as well as I do, David.”
Nora watched her father frown grimly and nod. He opened his mouth to say something but Uncle Tye beat him to it.
“We’re behind the times,” he said around a bite of venison. “We ought to be driving our beeves to the railroad in Fort Worth and shipping them east from there.”
“So you keep saying, Irish, and I still say it costs too much.”
“It does cost more than trailing a herd to market,” Daddy said, “but I’m inclined to agree with Tye on this, Del.” The time is coming when we won’t have much choice. Like you said yourself, we’ll soon be boxed in by farmers and barbed wire. Even here in Texas, some cattlemen are starting to fence their land to keep their stock from straying and to curb rustling.”
Mr. Crawford scowled, looking like he wanted to argue.
“Gentlemen, let me remind ye ’tis Christmas day,” Mama interrupted with a pointed glance at each man. “I’ll thank ye to save your talk of cattle and barbed wire for another time. Please.”
“Amen to that,” Auntie Lil agreed, elbowing Uncle Tye.
“Ow! Don’t be jabbing me in the ribs with that sharp wing of yours, wife!” He retaliated by tickling her, making her giggle and slap his hand away.
Nora laughed along with the others. Feeling suddenly hungry, she dived into her dinner with gusto.
“You heard the ladies, men,” Daddy said, grinning down the table at Mama. “No more discussion of business at the table.”
With that, talk turned to other, happier subjects and the meal passed in peace. Well, except for the noisy antics of four bothersome boys at the nearby children’s table, who Daddy ordered to quiet down and eat more than once. Nora sighed, very glad she wasn’t sitting with the little heathens.
Chapter Four
Dinner finally ended, much to Nora’s relief. The four boys were allowed to go out and play. The menfolk headed for the front porch to watch over the young’uns and talk cattle to their hearts’ content. Nora started to follow them out, eager to dash over to the Medinas’ house and find Vittorio. She was almost to the front door when Mama called from the dining room entrance.
“Where d’ye think you’re going, young lady? Come back here and help clear the tables while I start washing dishes.”
Nora whirled to face her. “But, Mama, I want –”
“I know exactly what it is ye want, my child, or rather who ye want to spend the afternoon with, and I’ve no objection.” Hands on her hips, Mama added, “But you’ll go nowhere until ye help clean up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Steps dragging, Nora returned to the dining room and began stacking dirty plates on the table. When she tried to pick up the heavy stack, her aunt stopped her, touching her shoulder.
“That looks mighty heavy, sweetie. How about you take half and I take half?”
“Okay. Thank you, Auntie Lil.” She managed a smile despite wanting to cry. Following Lil into the kitchen with her share of the plates, all she could think of was breaking away and running to be with Vito for the few hours left before he would have to leave. If only her folks could understand how much she missed him!
Mama stood with her hands in a tub of soapy water, washing glasses and setting them on the drain board. Seeing her pause to brush strands of hair from her damp cheek and sigh tiredly, Nora felt a twinge of guilt for her resentment over having to help clear up. Her mother must be exhausted. She had been working since dawn with Maria and later with Lil to prepare a fine meal for their families and all the ranch hands.
However, when Nora thought of not seeing her best friend again for weeks, maybe even months, her guilty feeling faded. Anxious to finish her chore and dash out the door, she set her stack of plates down in the dry sink beside her mother’s wash basin, pivoted and hurried back to the dining room. She and her aunt made several trips back and forth, carrying flatware and various serving dishes to the kitchen, while Mrs. Crawford scraped leftovers into tins and crocks for storage, and began drying dishes.
When Auntie Lil reported the tables all cleared, Mama smiled and said to Nora, “That didn’t take so very long, now did it?”
“Guess not,” Nora admitted.
Mama nodded. “All right then, be off with ye. Just remember to come back in time for opening the gifs, aye?”
“I will, I promise!” Spinning on her heel, she darted out to the dining room one last time. She was about to run into the front hall when a glitter caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She knew perfectly well where it came from, but something made her glance at the sideboard in the far corner of the room, where her mother’s porcelain Christmas angel stood. Nora loved the beautiful figurine and looked forward to seeing it each year when her mother set it out for the family to enjoy at Christmastime.
Mama always made a ceremony of the occasion, telling the story of how Nora’s grandmother, for whom she was named, had carefully wrapped the delicate angel and brought it all the way across the ocean from Ireland, hidden among her meager belongings. She had also promised Nora the lovely keepsake would be hers someday.
At the moment, she noticed a serving bowl tucked halfway behind the angel in its place of honor. She and Lil had failed to see it. She wanted to ignore it and rush over to Vittorio’s house immediately, but her conscience overruled the urge.
Sighing in resignation, she crossed quickly to the sideboard and picked up the bowl which held a last little bit of cranberry compote. In a hurry, she accidently struck one of the angel’s golden wings with the bowl. The precious figurine started to tip over. Shrieking, Nora tried to catch it but wasn’t fast enough. It tumbled off the sideboard, shattering on impact with the hard wood floor.
“Noooo!” Nora moaned, aghast at what she had done.
Her mother pushed open the kitchen door and ran into the dining room. She stopped short when she saw the pieces of broken porcelain scattered around the floor. Making a choked sound, she pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at Nora with mournful eyes.
“I-I’m sorry, Mama! It was an accident, I swear.” She pointed at the serving bowl still held in her shaking hand. “This bowl was sitting by the angel. I picked it up and –”
The front door slammed open, making her jump, and Daddy rushed in with Uncle Tye close behind. They must have heard th
e angel crash and her cry out, Nora realized. Both men halted inside the dining room entrance, glancing around to see what had happened.
“Damnu!” her uncle swore, spotting the breakage.
Daddy looked at Mama and the smashed angel then scowled at Nora, nearly making her drop the stupid bowl. She set it on the table to keep from doing more damage.
“Nora Gabrielle, your mother treasured that angel. How could you do this to her?” He flung out his hand toward the mess on the floor, causing her to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears
“I d-didn’t mean t-to break it,” she stammered, beginning to weep.
“Go to your room!” Daddy ordered, face red with anger.
Nora shook her head, weeping harder. “P-please no!” she begged, hugging herself and sending a pleading look to her mother even though she knew she didn’t deserve her pity. Seeing Auntie Lil and her mother in the kitchen doorway, she avoided their eyes. Nor did she dare glance at Uncle Tye or Grandda Seamus and Mr. Crawford, who’d come in from the porch by now. With all of them watching her -- accusingly, she was certain – she wanted to sink into the floor.
“David, don’t,” Mama said in a tired voice, surprising her. “Nora said it ’twas an accident and I believe her. Let her go to the Medinas’, aye? This is the only time she’ll have with Vittorio for the Lord only knows how long.”
Nora hiccupped and held her breath, waiting for Daddy’s reaction.
He stared at Mama as if she’d gone loco. “Jessie, the girl just destroyed the only thing you had left from your mother.”
“Nay, she didn’t.” Mama stepped to his side and laid her hand on his chest. “I did treasure the angel to be sure, but ’twas only a thing, a pretty object. Nora is our daughter and my mother’s granddaughter and namesake. She even looks a lot like Mam, doesn’t she, Da?”
“Aye, that she does. I’m sure the colleen didna break the wee angel on purpose,” Grandda said gruffly, giving Nora the courage to meet his gaze. He sent her a sympathetic smile.
“Don’t punish her, David. Let her go, for my sake,” Mama pleaded.
Daddy circled his arm around her. “Fine, if that’s what you want.” He turned his eyes to Nora. “You heard your mother. Go visit with Vittorio and his family, but make sure you’re back here in time to open gifts.” He cast a questioning glance down at Mama. “Say in an hour or so?”
“Yes, that should give us time enough to clear off the tables out back and finish up in the kitchen.”
“All right, Nora, go ahead. Just remember what I said. Don’t make us wait on you, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She gave her mother a grateful smile. “I’m really sorry for breaking the angel,” she said, voice wobbling. Fighting back more tears, she darted past them and the others and out the door. Afraid her father might yet change his mind and call her back, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her to the Medinas’ house. It stood to the left, off a ways from the much larger main house.
She paused on the porch Vittorio and his father had built. Sniffling, she took a breath and knocked on the door. Vittorio opened it, greeting her with a big smile.
“Come in, paquena,” he invited. Glancing over his shoulder, he called, “Madrecita, Nora has come to visit.”
“Bueno,” Maria replied from somewhere within. “Now you can stop watching out the window for her.”
Nora stepped inside, spirits lifting at Maria’s teasing comment and the sound of high-pitched giggles from Vito’s younger sisters. But then he caught her arm and turned her toward the light.
“Your face is red and your eyes are puffy. Why have you been crying?”
Attacked by guilt once again, she hung her head and stared at the toes of her shoes. Wringing her hands, she confessed, “I-I broke Mama’s Christmas angel that my grandmother brought all the way from Ireland.”
“Ah, pequena, I am sorry.” Vito folded his hands around hers to still their twisting. “How did this happen?”
“Auntie Lil and I missed one bowl when we were clearing up the dining room. It was sitting by the angel on the sideboard. Over in the corner, you know?”
“Sí, I remember.”
“I spotted the bowl when I was about to leave, to come here.” She swallowed hard past the painful, growing lump in her throat. It made her hoarse. “I went to get the doggone thing and take it to the kitchen for Mama to wash.” Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “But I-I hurried t-too much and kn-knocked over the angel.” She bit her trembling bottom lip, holding back a howl of grief.
“Caramba!” He gathered her in his arms and she rested her head against his chest – much broader than it used to be – taking comfort from his warmth and nearness. “So it happened because of me. I am to blame as much as you, chica.”
Sniffling, she raised her head. “No you’re not! I sh-should have been m-more careful.”
“What is wrong?” Maria asked, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she walked out of her kitchen, from where came the sounds of clattering dishes and the high-pitched voices of Vittorio’s two sisters. “Why is la niña crying, mijo?” his mother demanded to know, her round face creased in a frown.
Vittorio removed his arms from around Nora and pivoted to face his mother. “She is upset because she broke Señora Jessie’s pretty Christmas angel, Madrecita.”
“Ah no!” Crossing quickly to Nora, Maria wiped her teary cheeks with the hem of her ruffled red-checked apron, the one she only wore on Christmas Day. “This is terrible. Your mama loved that angel. Is she very angry with you, niña?”
“N-no, she just looked so s-sad.” Sniffling louder, Nora added, “Daddy was mad as a hornet, though. At first, he ordered me to my room but Mama talked him out of it. She got him to let me come over here.”
“I am not surprised. Your mama loves you very much.” Curving an arm around Nora’s shoulders, the woman who was like her second mother led her to the homemade sofa – built by her husband and covered with a bright sarape – that took up a large portion of the small front room. Pulling a hankie from her apron pocket, she handed it to Nora. “Sit and blow your nose, niña. Then you can tell me how the accident happened.”
Turning to Vittorio, she said, “Mijo, your padre is out back smoking one of his smelly cigars. The little ones are with him. Go keep them company for a few minutes.”
He frowned and hesitated to obey, but at Nora’s wobbly smile, he headed out the back door.
“Good. Now tell me all about it,” Maria said, settling on the sofa next to Nora. She listened patiently to the tale, offering an encouraging word now and then. “I can see you did not mean to for this to happen, and your mama knows this too, or she would not have taken your side against your father.”
“I guess, but I feel so bad about smashing the keepsake my grandmother brought all the way from Ireland.”
“As you should, niña.” Maria patted her shoulder. “Maybe there is something you can do to make it up to your mama, hmm?”
“Like what?”
“I do not know. That is for you to decide.”
Considering her words, Nora nodded absently. A moment later, Luis walked in with Vittorio and his two younger brothers.
“Hola, Noracita,” the head wrangler said with a smile that curled his droopy black mustache up at the corners.
“Hola, Luis.” She returned his smile, feeling somewhat better. Then she noticed the girls, Elena and Sofia, peeking around the corner from the kitchen. Elena was two years older than her, Sofia only a few months. Meeting curious stares from them and the boys, Alfredo and Mateo, she grew self-conscious. She wished Vittorio would say or do something.
As if reading her mind, he spoke up. “If it is all right with you, Popi and Madre, I will go for a walk with Nora along the creek.”
“Of course,” Luis said.
Maria nodded. “Sí, that is a good idea. Go, enjoy each other’s company while you can.”
Chapter Five
Nora kicked at pebbles as they strolle
d along the creek bank hand in hand. The afternoon had grown mildly warm, although a westerly breeze kept it from becoming too warm. The wind also kicked up dry brown leaves fallen from the surrounding trees. They crinkled underfoot and rustled in clumps of bunch grass.
“You are very quiet, pequeña,” Vittorio said, interrupting her brooding thoughts. “Do you still fret over the broken angel?”
She glanced at him and shrugged. “No, not really. I was just wondering if you . . . if you have a girl.”
“A girl!” He gave a bark of laughter. “How would I have a girl?”
“Don’t you go into Clifton with the other C bar D hands now and then?”
“Sí, of course, but I –”
“Well then, you could have met a girl there. I know there are ladies who work in the saloons and, and houses where they entertain cowboys.” She had no idea exactly how they entertained the men but really wanted to find out. Eyeing Vittorio intently, she watched him turn beet red beneath his natural tan.
“Those ladies are not the kind I would call my girl.” He drew her to a halt, pulled her around to face him and scowled angrily. “What do you know of such women? How did you learn about them?”
She blinked, wondering why the subject bothered him so much. “I heard some of our hands talking in the barn one day about their favorite girls in the saloons and those, um . . . fancy houses, I think they called them. They didn’t know I was there. Why am I not supposed to know about the women? Are they a big secret?”
Rubbing his neck and muttering in Spanish, Vittorio turned partially away. After a moment, he faced her again. “Sí, they are supposed to be a secret from nice ladies, especially innocents like you, niña. Those women are not good. They are paid to pleasure men. Do you understand what that means?”
Nora gulped and stared at him wide-eyed with shock. “You . . . you mean like when a stallion mounts a mare?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, muttering more Spanish. “Yes! No! Not like animals but, but the same thing only different. Much different.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Madre de Dios! Has your mama not explained these matters to you?”
Silver Belles and Stetsons Page 40
