Daughter of Fortune by Carla Kelly Page B

recognized us. Things can
change so quickly, Erlinda.”
    Erlinda grasped Maria suddenly by the shoulders and
pulled her close, whispering, “How well I know. How well I
know!”
    “Erlinda, I did not mean to cause you pain,” Maria
said.
    Erlinda shook her head, silent until her voice was
under control again. “It is nothing, Maria.” She smiled, the tears
shining in her eyes but not falling. “Probably no people in this
whole New World know better than we how swiftly life can change.
Let us talk of other things.”
    They worked on through the day, Erlinda talking of
mundane matters, her voice light, her eyes filled with private
pain.
    Shadows were long across the yard before they
finished the last candle. Erlinda extinguished the fire under the
tallow vat and surveyed the day’s work. “As much as I dread
candlemaking, Maria, it was not so bad this time. Only think how
well we will work together next year. ”
    The candles, white and gleaming, hung from the
drying racks. Maria ran a finger gently over the nearest one. “Do
you know, Erlinda,” she said suddenly, “I enjoyed it.”
    Erlinda stared. “We spend an entire day bent over a
tallow vat, we smell like farm animals, our clothes are soaked with
sweat, and you tell me that you enjoyed it? Maria, the heat from
the tallow has deranged you!”
    “No, no, you do not understand,” protested Maria,
laughing. “This is the first time in my life that I have engaged in
a useful task. You could not count the varas of lace I have
made and the altar cloths I have embroidered. They were lovely but
not essential.”
    Erlinda shook her head in amazement. “Truly, Maria,
you have come to us from a different world.”
    “I have,” Maria agreed.
    As the sun sank in the west and the bell of Tesuque
rang, Maria looked at Erlinda. “It is the signal to end labor in
the fields. The Indians of Tesuque will return to the pueblo, and
soon Diego’s Indians who live here will go to their huts. We had
better look to dinner.” They were joined in the kitchen by Luz and
Catarina. “And what have you done this day, my sisters?” Erlinda
asked.
    Catarina rolled her eyes. “Oh, Erlinda, Mama made us
recite catechism all day!”
    “Oh, no, Catarina,” contradicted Luz. “Not all day.
Only until Diego rescued us.”
    Maria knelt by the young child. “You have a caballero muy elegante on your side? And what did he
do?”
    “He took us to the fields,” said Luz. “We got to
play by the river. It has been so long since we did that.”
    Erlinda noted the puzzlement on Maria’s face. “They
cannot leave the hacienda and grounds without guards to accompany.
We must always be ready for Apaches.” Erlinda turned to her little
sister. “And where is Diego now?”
    “Talking with Mama,” replied the child as she set
the table for dinner. “He and Cristóbal quarreled awfully. Oh,
Erlinda, they were shouting.”
    Erlinda looked at Maria, her lips set in a tight
line. “Do you know what it was about?”
    Catarina sat down on the end of the bench and
stuffed napkins in the rings. “Diego struck one of the Indians who
would not work.”
    Erlinda sat next to her sister, her hands tightly
folded in her lap. “A year ago that would not have bothered
Cristóbal, but now he is changing. He was always a man divided ...
now he is torn.”
    She said no more. Diego came into the kitchen with
his mother leaning on his arm.
    “Mother will eat with us, my sisters,” Diego said.
“Let us begin soon.”
    “Do we not wait for Cristóbal?” Erlinda rose and led
her mother to the head of the table.
    “No,” said Diego and nothing more.
    Dinner was eaten in silence. Cristóbal came into the
kitchen halfway through the meal, and Erlinda prepared him a bowl
of meat and chilis, which he ate, sitting next to Diego. When the
brothers’ shoulders touched, they moved away from each other, the
space between them pronounced, uncomfortable.
    Diego rose first. “I will write in my journal, then
we