November 22-30, 1775
After another day’s march, the colonists arrived at the junction of the Gila and Colorado Rivers where several hundred Yumas lived. There they would camp for two days while preparing to cross the Colorado. Captain Anza called everyone to the center of camp to discuss the crossing, and Fernanda stood with Feliciana and her two girls, Gloria, and Miguel. Luis had secured a spot near the captain and Nicolas, and Papa, Ignacio, and the rábanos stood with him. As the captain began to speak, a group of Yuma men, led by a tall, large-boned man, strode into camp. Several of the men, including the leader, wore black blankets draped across their shoulders. Others were naked except for red and black paint smeared on their faces and bodies.
Fernanda watched Gloria dart red-faced but curious looks at the naked Indians. Though Fernanda had told Feliciana she was accustomed to their nakedness, she imagined her face was as red as Gloria’s. She looped her arm through Gloria’s and whispered, “Men — funny-looking, aren’t they?”
Gloria blushed again but giggled.
“Captain Palma!” Captain Anza greeted the tall Yuma man.
Captain Palma embraced Captain Anza and then each of the priests.
“What a strange name for an Indian,” Fernanda said.
“The Spanish officials gave him that name,” said Ramona, who stood nearby. She raised her chin and eyed Fernanda down the length of her nose, superior with her knowledge. “He’s the leader of the Yumas and has even traveled to Mexico City with Captain Anza and my father.”
Mexico City! He’s seen more of the world than I, Fernanda thought. Now that they were in Yuma territory, she wondered if they’d meet any more Pimas. But if Captain Palma was an indication of his people, she was sure Miguel would be able to question the friendly Yumas. Perhaps this was one of the tribes a Pima from the mission had joined.
Other Yumas — men, women, and children — came into camp carrying beans, corn, squash, and hundreds of watermelons. The women wore bark skirts similar to the Pimas’. Their breasts were naked, except some wore short capes made of pieces of fur woven together with threads of bark. They had pressed their long hair together with mud so it hung stiff and straight. The men also used mud to form the front of their hair into crowns or horns, and they wore the dried heads of giant beetles around their necks.
“I like the women’s capes,” Feliciana said.
Ramona made a pffff sound without looking at Feliciana.
Just to support Feliciana, Fernanda said, “I like them, too.”
“Me, too,” Gloria said.
Miguel eyed the women, obviously amused with their conversation.
Ramona said to Feliciana, “And I suppose you would also deliberately put mud in your hair?”
“If all the other women did, then I — and you — would, too.”
“Never!” Ramona said.
“We all have our customs,” Feliciana said. “Don’t you think those women are looking at us and saying, How can they possibly wear all those clothes?”
Fernanda and Gloria giggled. Ramona huffed and then walked away.
Feliciana pointed discreetly at the Yuma men. “And our men would pierce their noses like that.”
But Fernanda couldn’t agree. “Never!” she said, and Miguel burst out laughing.
Fernanda ducked her head sheepishly but said to Miguel, “Tell me, can you see my father with the middle cartilage of his nose pierced?”
Miguel laughed again. “No, I guess not.”
Fernanda noticed a few men who mingled with the women also wore skirts.
“Why are those men dressed like the women?” Fernanda said, her voice lowered.
Feliciana glanced between the men and Fernanda, as if deciding how to answer. Finally she said, “It’s possible that they are afeminado — they enjoy dressing as women.” She shrugged. “They also might be men who love other men.”
Fernanda stared at the skirted males, feeling her cheeks burn. “Oh!” was all she could find to say. She noticed other Spaniards, especially men, eyeing them uneasily.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Miguel said. “The Papagos call such men two-spirits. They have the spirit of a man and the spirit of a woman in one body.”
Fernanda had promised herself to learn all she could about the Pimas, and now she was curious. “Do you know if the Pimas have two-spirits?”
“I imagine all peoples, not just Indians, have two spirits,” Miguel said.
Feliciana eyed him with a look of respect. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“In the Papago tribe, they have the honor of giving children lucky names,” Miguel said. “They’re also experts at weaving and making pottery and baskets.”
“You told me the Papagos and Pimas were once a single tribe, so maybe the Pima two-spirits do the same for their people,” Fernanda said.
“That could be,” Miguel said.
Fernanda saw the two-spirits from a fresh perspective, no longer embarrassed. They were simply members of their community, and maybe even a little more special than the others.
The rábanos ran up, and Jorge asked, “Did you see the dead bugs?”
“If only we could wear a pendant like those,” said Antonio.
Marcos stared at the beetle heads. “They would keep the ghosts away.”
Gloria grimaced. “You’d wear one of those?”
“Yes!” the boys said together.
“Hmmm,” said Fernanda, eyeing her brothers and then the Yumas. She was forming a plan, but would Papa be angry? Well, he needn’t know until she could prove she’d caused no trouble. “Perhaps one of the men would be willing to trade their pendant for something of equal value,” she said.
Feliciana tugged her braid. “Potra, what mischief are you up to?”
“I’m going to get my brothers a gift. What’s the harm in that?”
The rábanos, grinning, jabbed each other.
“Wait here,” Fernanda said. “I think I know what I can trade.”
She ran to her tent, rummaged through the trunk, and pulled out the cow-horn comb Luis had carved for her two years ago. The tines were unevenly spaced and different lengths, but she thought the Yumas might find it interesting enough to trade.
She hurried back and held the comb up to Feliciana. “What do you think?”
“See what they think.”
Fernanda curled the end of her braid around her finger. Perhaps it was a foolish idea. Why would they trade for a silly comb? Perhaps she should forget it. Perhaps she should…
Nicolas and three other soldiers strolled over to the Yumas, and they all used hand signals to communicate. Would she have to deal with Nicolas’s disapproval, too?
The rábanos gave her small shoves, saying, “Go on, Nanda!” “You can do it!” “Remember, one beetle for each of us.”
When she still hesitated, Miguel asked, “Why shouldn’t you?”
She swallowed her nervousness and, with raised chin and steady gaze, strode over to the men. “Buenos tardes, Nicolas,” she said and nodded to the other soldiers.
“Good afternoon, señorita,” the soldiers said.
Nicolas stepped close to Fernanda’s side. “Did the Yumas bring you food? If not, I’ll make sure you get some.”
“Yes, vegetables and watermelon. Thank you, though.” She picked at the tines of the comb and then took a silent deep breath and pointed at one of the Yuma’s beetle pendants. “Nice!” She drew her finger around her neck and then tapped her chest. Raising her eyebrows, she held up the comb and gestured between it and the beetle.
The Yuma furrowed his brow, and then nodded and spoke to his companions.
“Fernanda, what do you think you’re doing?” Nicolas asked.
“I-I’m bartering with the Yumas. My brothers wish me to trade for some beetle pendants. Is there any harm in that?”
Nicolas scowled. “Captain Anza doesn’t want the colonists, especially the women, fraternizing with the Indians.”
Another soldier, a sergeant, said to Nicolas, “Leave her alone, Corporal Carrillo. She’s right. There’s no harm. Besides, I’m curious how she does.”
Nicolas gave the sergeant a sharp nod, but his eyes were bright with anger.
The Yuma finally shook his head; he wasn’t interested. Fernanda glanced at Nicolas. Should she stop? No, she couldn’t give up in the middle of a negotiation. Nicolas was already angry, so why not finish what she’d started?
Hmmm, what else could she trade? She studied their pierced noses. The Yuma men’s ornaments appeared to be status symbols. She had noticed Captain Palma’s nose was adorned with a brilliant blue-green stone. Those close to the leader wore a piece of smooth white bone. These men simply poked a small stick through the hole. I wonder, she thought. Yes, this might please him. She clutched the comb with one hand and, straining, snapped off one of the tines. She held the tine horizontally just beneath her nose and raised her eyebrows.
The Yuma reached for the tine, and Fernanda let him examine it. He ran his fingers over its surface, most likely smoother than his twig. Finally, he slipped his pendant from around his neck and gave it to Fernanda. Then he pulled the twig from his nose and stuck in the comb tine.
Looking back at her brothers, Fernanda held up the pendant in triumph. The boys jostled each other, grinning. Miguel was also watching. He caught her eye and nodded with a small smile of approval.
“Well done, señorita,” the sergeant said.
Another soldier nudged her, chuckling. “Now see what you’ve started.”
The other three Yumas were taking off their necklaces. They crowded around Fernanda, holding up the pendants and pointing to the comb. Now she would have one for Ignacio, too!
Miguel came up and said, “Let me help break the tines.”
As Fernanda handed him the comb, Nicolas snatched it from her. “I’ll do it.”
Miguel’s eyes blazed, and his face flushed, causing his scar to stand out, shiny and pale against the darker skin of his face and neck. Fernanda quickly shook her head at him. He hesitated and then strode away, his hands closing into fists at his sides.
Nicolas’s jaw was tight. Fernanda could see the imperceptible grinding of his teeth. He snapped off three more tines. “That boy is becoming a nuisance.” He spoke quietly so only Fernanda could hear. “He’ll try my patience once too often.”
“Whatever you’re talking about, Nicolas, is between you two men.”
The muscles in his jaw pulsed. She was sure he caught her use of the word men versus his boy. As far as she was concerned, they were both acting like boys. “All I wanted to do was trade with the Yumas for my brothers.”
He handed her the tines. “I can’t deny, you do have an obvious talent when it comes to bargaining.” His words should have made her smile, but his disapproval was evident in the tone of his voice: grudging admiration, but also as if he wished it weren’t true she had such a gift, or she at least kept it to herself.
****
Later that afternoon, the Spaniards and Yumas gathered in a field overlooking the river for horse races. Later, they would all share a meal together: a freshly slaughtered cow and the vegetables and watermelons. Fernanda stood with Luis and Gloria, admiring the Yumas’ horses.
“Have you ever seen more handsome horses?” Fernanda asked. The animals snorted and pawed the ground: two bays, a black, a dapple gray, and a chestnut, all with muscular limbs and satiny coats. They wore halters and lead ropes, but no saddles.
Captain Anza strode up to the horses, and Captain Palma strutted alongside him wearing a shirt, trousers, yellow jacket, blue cape edged with gold braid, and a black velvet cap decorated with jewels.
“It looks like Captain Palma has a new uniform,” Luis said.
“He doesn’t look too comfortable, does he?” Fernanda asked.
Gloria giggled as they watched Captain Palma occasionally shake his leg in the trousers or tug at the jacket. Fernanda wondered if he wore the clothes just to please Captain Anza.
Two Yumas swung up onto the horses’ bare backs.
“Look,” Gloria said. “I think they’re ready to race.”
Fernanda noticed Miguel standing nearby. Would he race? But a soldier and another colonist climbed onto two other horses. Captain Anza, standing with Captain Palma, held a gun in the air and fired. The shot, like a crack of a whip, startled the horses, and they were off.
Yumas and Spaniards shouted, waved their arms, and stomped their feet, urging their favorite on. The horses pounded across the sand. The colonist lagged behind one of the Yumas. The other Yuma and the soldier bounded ahead, neck and neck. They rounded some spiny bushes, kicking up dust so the crowd couldn’t see who was ahead. Then they burst through the dust, still even. The crowd yelled louder. Fernanda and Gloria clutched each other’s hands. Luis jumped and yelled, his words lost in the frenzy.
The Yuma pulled ahead of the soldier, and with a final spurt, crossed the finish line first. The Spaniards groaned but shook the Yumas’ hands.
“I bet I, or even you, Nanda, would have beat the Yumas,” Luis said.
Fernanda playfully pushed her brother. “Oh, even I, little brother?”
“Fernanda, look,” Gloria said.
Two Yuma girls, close to Fernanda’s age, were climbing onto horses.
“Are they going to race?” Fernanda asked.
“It looks that way,” Luis said. “But against who?” He nudged his sister. “Fernanda, here’s your chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“It must be a race for girls.” Luis jerked his head toward the Yuma girls. “You can beat them.”
“Yes, Fernanda, race,” Gloria said.
Fernanda eyed the girls. She might win, and to ride such beautiful animals… What would Papa say? And Nicolas?
Captain Anza called, “They want the women to race, too. Are there any skilled female riders among us?”
“’Nanda, go on,” Luis said. “You’re our best chance.”
Fernanda saw no other women coming forward. Oh, she didn’t know. Should she? Shouldn’t she? “Do you think Papa would be angry?”
Luis shook his head impatiently. “We’re not in Tubac, anymore.”
Fernanda took a deep breath and then called, “I’ll race.”
Luis and Gloria cheered, and the crowd joined in. As Fernanda approached, she saw Miguel smiling at her, admiration apparent in his eyes.
Captain Anza said, “So, señorita. Do you know how to handle such a horse?”
Fernanda rubbed her hand over the shiny dark brown coat of a bay horse. It shook its black mane and whinnied. “You’re proud, Beauty, no?” To the Captain she said, “Yes, sir. I can handle this horse.”
Papa, with Nicolas close behind, pushed his way through the crowd. A deep line furrowed between her father’s brows. “Fernanda,” he said quietly, “will you insult your mother’s memory? You know she didn’t approve of this type of riding.”
“I do know, Papa, and I don’t want to hurt you, either. But you encouraged my riding when I was a child. You told me I had a special way with horses. Why did that change simply because I’m older?”
Papa’s lips remained tight, but he glanced at her and then the horse.
She clasped his hand. “Don’t you see, Papa? A new life awaits us in California. All our skills, men and women, will be needed.” Her voice softened. “Things won’t be the same as they were in Tubac. I think Mama would have realized that.”
Papa’s stiff shoulders relaxed. “My little girl has grown into a wise woman.” Then, with a resigned yet respectful look in his eyes, he said, “And a persuasive one.” He nodded toward the horse. “Good luck, mi’ja.”
Fernanda bounced up and kissed Papa’s cheek. She glanced at Nicolas.
He nodded and then said, “Good luck,” though he didn’t look pleased.
She said to Captain Anza, “I’m ready.” She reached up to the two Yuma girls, and they shook her hand. Both wore friendly smiles, though one of the girl’s eyes had a competitive gleam. A soldier offered his bent knee to help Fernanda onto the horse. No one else had volunteered to race, so the three girls lined up their horses. Captain Anza raised his pistol, shot into the air, and the horses burst forward.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Fernanda squeezed her calves into the horse’s side. “Run, Beauty, run!” She leaned closer to the horse, urging it forward with her words and body. She darted glances at the other riders. Both pounded a horse’s head-length ahead of her. Oh, no! Don’t watch them. Concentrate on riding.
She galloped toward the bushes where she’d make the turn. The other two horses rounded the mark, kicking up a cloud of dirt. Fernanda, close behind, blinked the dust from her eyes. She pulled back on the lead rope and sat upright to slow the horse for the turn. Not slow enough! The horse’s shoulder dropped, and Fernanda slid on its back, losing control. They were going down. No! Keeping her inside leg glued to the horse’s side, she pulled the lead rope, her arm muscles straining against the downward slide of the horse. “You can do it, Beauty, you can do it!” The horse flicked its ears as it regained its footing. Fernanda squared her shoulders, and as they came out of the turn, she hunched forward, dug her heels in the horse’s side, and charged down the straightaway.
The other horses were almost a full length ahead. Shouts, like irregular beats on a drum, pounded against her eardrums: “Go — Nan — Fast — Win — No — Lose!”
She gritted her teeth and closed her ears to the voices. Murmuring over and over, “Go, Beauty, we’ll catch them, Beauty. Go, Beauty,” she stretched forward and squinted, the crowd becoming a blur as she raced toward the finish. The memory of riding came back to her. Her love of galloping across the plains in Tubac, her feeling of oneness with the animal. She squeezed her legs tighter against the horse’s sides. The horse responded and charged ahead. Its driving legs pounded against the earth. Fernanda dared to glance to her left. She was gaining on one of the Yuma girls. Darting her eyes to the right, she saw the second girl was falling behind. The race was now between her and the other girl!
She leaned lower, her braid streaming down her back, her skirt plastered to her legs. Go, go. Almost there! She was nearly even with the Yuma. The other horse’s ears lay flat against its head. The sound of eight hooves pummeled Fernanda’s eardrums, deafening her to any other noise.
Then the finish line. She had crossed it! The crowd was cheering. Who won? Who won? Luis was there, grinning, pulling her from the horse. And Gloria, hanging onto her arm, jumping up and down.
“Did I win? Did I win?” Fernanda asked.
Luis shouted above the crowd. “No, second. But what a race, what a ride. Nanda, you were fantastic!”
Fernanda held her hand over her trembling mouth. Her entire body vibrated. She laughed, loudly. Oh, she wanted to scream with joy. It had been a fantastic ride. One of the Yuma girls, the winner, waved. Fernanda waved back, grinning, and then headed toward Papa and Nicolas, pushing through the crowd amid cries of “Bravo, Fernanda!” and pats on the back.
A voice close to her ear said, “You were born to ride. I can see it’s in your blood.” She was forced forward, but she glanced over her shoulder. It was Miguel who had spoken. The cries of the crowd became a buzzing inside her head. She swayed for a moment, dizzy. That look on his face, as if he knew her better than anyone else.
Then she stood before Papa. He squeezed her arm. “Fine riding, mi’ja. You made the family proud in front of the captain—” A roar from the spectators interrupted him. “Another race,” he said. “It looks as if Vicente Feliz will compete. Let’s see if he does as well as you.”
He disappeared into the crowd, and Nicolas stepped forward. Clasping her hands, he said, “I’ve never seen a woman ride with as much passion as you, Fernanda. I have to say, it was an impressive thing to watch.”
“Thank you, Nicolas. Oh, it was glorious to ride again!”
He chuckled and pushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “I was reminded of you as a young girl, always so impulsive, going headlong into any challenge.”
Fernanda warmed to the admiring and proud look in Nicolas’s eyes.
“Look at you now,” he continued. “Grown into a beautiful woman.” Then he chucked her gently under the chin. “Of course, you’ll have to leave this impulsiveness behind once we’re married, so get it out of your system now. You’ll have more important things to do when you have a home and children to care for.”
The smile on her face, the warmth created by Nicolas’s adoring look, and the thrill of the ride all faded with the shock of his words, freezing the happiness inside her as suddenly as if she had jumped into the frigid river.