Page 34 of A Good Prospect

Chapter Thirteen

Sal Palomares paced around the kitchen agitatedly, finally breaking down and pouring himself a glass of champagne. Let me draw you a bath, Tamasin had whispered to Ophir. Why, how absurd! Ophir could bathe in the river along with everyone else! The only bath tub they had belonged to Doña Carmen, and Tamasin had even forced some men to carry it down to Ophir’s apartments! This was a ridiculous show to put on for a fellow who had just knocked out a bully with one punch. How difficult had that been, anyway—one punch, that was all it took? How much effort was that? One punch. Sal could have done that himself.

Sal fumed, supervising the boiling of the water for Ophir’s grand bath. He counted how many kettles of hot water the housemaids carried down to Ophir’s outbuilding. Would the bath be full enough by now for Ophir to step into? Salvador could not allow activities such as that to occur without his presence! Ophir could not win Tamasin simply because he had stuck a fist in the right place at the right time.

Gulping his second glass of champagne, an idea struck Salvador. He left the house, going around back to ascend the staircase to the second story. He knocked only briefly on his mother’s door before entering. Carmen had heavy cloths over the windows and the room was sooty black as her empty shell of a body slumbered. She slept about eighteen hours a day, normally. So Sal knew he didn’t have to be quiet as he went to her dressing table and opened an ornately carved and inlaid box.

Some of her jewelry had been handed down from her antecedents, the colonists of the DeAnza expedition who had first located the sites where San Francisco and San José would be established. Those colonists, for all their hardships and deprivation, certainly had some valuable jewelry. All of it was set in the fine Mexican silver from Taxco.

Salvador fingered past many necklaces and bracelets boasting turquoise, coral, topaz, and amethyst, but the one Sal sought was an opal necklace. He found it in its own rectangular wooden box lined with velvet. He had to take it out onto the verandah to verify it was the same one Carmen had shown him. Yes, these stones were cut with a convex surface, and when he turned it in the bright shade of the awning above, it exhibited the red and yellow hyacinth and fire-red reflections. About twenty of these gemstones were set into flowery, filigreed silver, and the largest opal of all would sit high on Tamasin’s chest, right between her round uplifted breasts.

Placing the box into his vest pocket, Salvador stamped down the stairs, on a mission.

This necklace will be for your bride, Carmen had told him.

And Sal had to claim his bride before his partner, that pendejo Ophir, swayed her with his own charm. And impressed her with his sculpted, muscular, and nude body.

* * * *

Tamasin had no thoughts of actually assisting Ophir to bathe. He was obviously capable of doing that himself, though already some deep green bruising had appeared on his abdomen and chest. Tamasin was familiar with bruising, and after poking her fingers into the affected areas, had determined there was nothing broken. She had been up to the kitchen to pound some chilies into powder in the mortar, mixed it with manteca and was carrying it back down to the outbuilding when she heard boots stepping quickly behind her.

“Buenas tardes, Señor Salvador!” she said brightly. She was always glad to see him.

He walked abreast of her, the first knuckles of his fingers embedded in his vest pockets. “Miss Tamasin.” His sombrero hung by its string down his back, and she was glad for that. He had such a beautiful head of thick glossy curls, night black but for streaks of gold and chestnut. Tamasin noted that ever since their journey to Hornitos, Sal had somehow managed to maintain a beard that consistently looked about three days old. It gave him the look of a very bandido, the way she imagined Joaquin Murieta must look, but on Sal it was not intimidating. “And what is that you’re carrying?”

“It’s a poultice for bruises. I tested our pugilist for broken bones and I don’t think he has any.”

“Hah. Maybe you should have been the second. I’m accomplished at creating broken bones, but not at fixing them.”

“That was an exciting bout, was it not? I thought Tyke McCarthy would have an apoplectic fit.” They stepped into the shade of the outbuilding’s verandah and approached Ophir’s door. Tamasin hesitated instinctively, then remembered that Ophir would not be embarrassed for Sal to see him naked. However, when she raised her free hand to the door handle, Sal reached out and stayed her.

“Wait, Tamasin. I have…I have something to give you.”

Her curiosity was further piqued by his serious manner. He took the mortar from her and placed it on the ground. Whatever could it be? Some food item, no doubt, as he and Ophir had constantly remarked how they needed to fatten her up. But he didn’t appear to have any food secreted about his person, merely emanating the perfume of cow hides and sweet grass, those manly scents that stirred her lower abdomen and moistened her pussy lips. She had petted her clitoris until she reached that ecstatic realm many a night just breathing deeply and imagining Sal’s scent wafting over her.

Bouncing a little on her toes, she folded her hands before her lap and looked down to his vest pocket. “What is it?” she couldn’t resist inquiring.

He even seemed shy, although she’d never seen that emotion in his face before, as he withdrew a box from the pocket. “If you accept this, Tamasin,” he said awkwardly, “it means you agree to allow me to court you.”

Court? Tamasin had a vague notion of what that meant. Niall had not courted her, merely shown up at the asylum looking for a suitable wife. The nuns had pointed out that she was an excellent laundress, and she obviously tolerated quite vicious beatings without a word. Tamasin had been surprised, though, that they had recommended her—no one knew if she was not barren yet, since she hadn’t allowed any priests to copulate with her. “Court?” she asked cheerfully.

Sal paused with the box in hand, maybe unsure now. He tilted his head, tendrils of his long mop of hair snaking over his brow. “Yes, court.” He shook the box a bit, but didn’t take his intent fixed eyes from her. “I’ve decided on you. You’re a…” Now he looked to the heavens for assistance, obviously inexperienced with giving voice to his thoughts. “A very suitable choice for a wife. You’re beautiful, a hard worker, you’re intelligent, a good companion. You’re—”

“A wife?”Tamasin’s jaw dropped. She gathered her blouse front in her fist, appalled at such a notion. “I? Am suitable? In what way am I suitable?”

Sal frowned. “Didn’t I just tell you?”

“I mean…What about these other possible mates?” Tamasin spread her arm to encompass the entire rancho. “The daughters of these grand old Dons, such as Esmeralda Nuñez. Would you not prefer to marry your estate to another? Isn’t that what’s done, in Californio society?”

“Usually,” Sal said shortly, and he seemed angry. “But I don’t need another eleven leagues of land. I have a hard enough time holding onto what I have. And I don’t wish to marry for anything short of love. Call me a romantic, call me stupid, call me whatever you wish. But I’ve made my decision.” Now his look was pleading, and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him, to protect him, as he looked like a sad lost dog. “Please, Tamasin. Allow me to court you. Then you can make up your mind.”

“Yes, but…I? Salvador, I am hardly good wife material. Look at what a mess I made of my first marriage.”

Salvador pointed the box at the ground. “You made a mess? Tamasin, it was that cowardly reptile you wed who made a mess of it! Not you. You tried to fix what couldn’t be fixed, and you would have stayed by his side until he beat you to death. You’re faithful and loyal, that’s another characteristic I admire about you, but sometimes perhaps you are too faithful where it’s not warranted—loyal to a lowdown violent cur like he was.” He exhaled his anger, and closed his eyes to gain patience. “It is up to me to decide who would make a good wife, is it not, Tamasin? If I say it is you, then it is you!”

He practically shoved the box at her. Her heart raced with trepidation, even as she felt her hands rise to accept the box. If she opened the box, whatever it contained, it meant she was accepting his proposal to court her! What would that entail? Did she want that? Of course she wanted it—she adored Salvador! But what would he expect from her? And wouldn’t she disappoint him, as she’d continuously disappointed Niall? Would he wind up beating her as well? No, he’d made it clear in conversations with Niall that Californio men did not hold with beating women. So maybe he’d do something worse if she displeased him. What was worse? Dump her in a gorge somewhere?

Without forethought, her hands grabbed the box. Was she so materialistic all she wanted was the unknown object in the box? But Sal’s dazzling smile was enough to encourage her, and she opened it. Oh, my. “Lordy,” she whispered. “What sort of stones are these?”