The Brooch

As Julia sat at the little desk in her room to write her Mother’s obituary, she  felt inadequate to the task.  How, in a short obituary could she summarize her feelings and a life almost legendary in their hometown?  She and her Mother were amongst the leading citizens of the place, but had only moved into town the previous year from the Diamond Deuce ranch. 

“Mary Cortland was born January 14th, 1834 in Dinsburg, GA.  She died of heart failure on April 20, 1907.  Survived only by her loving daughter Julia Cortland, Mary was preceded in death by her loving husband, James who died of Trail Fever in 1879, and three children taken in their youth by accident and disease.  Mary Cortland was noted for her keen interest in stock, horses, and marksmanship.  Mrs. Cortland was one of the County’s oldest pioneers, and owner of the Diamond Deuce, the county’s largest and most successful ranching operation.”

Though all of the important facts were there, Julia was still dissatisfied .  It seemed so impersonal, so devoid of the strength that had characterized her Mother.  She knew that her parents had come west to escape the ruin and loss left in the wake of the Late Unpleasantness.  It seemed wrong not to mention how her Mother never forgot her beloved twins taken by diphtheria when they were only four, or the irreparable loss of Jimmy Junior who fell and broke his neck trying to ride a half-broken stallion.  Julia wondered what her Mother might have written as an obituary for the man who never returned from the long trail up into Kansas.  Julia pushed the stationery aside, until now it was her best effort, and something simply had to be written before the newspaper's 5 o’clock deadline.

Something was still missing to sooth her own raw feelings of being suddenly lost and alone.  Perhaps the contents of her Mother’s keepsake chest would provide whatever it was that was missing from the obituary.  She found the little key in her Mother’s purse, and opened the lid of her Mother’s private world.  The tiny cedar box contained only a diary, and a collection of souvenirs and trinkets whose significance died with their owner.

There weren’t many entries in her Mother’s diary, and most were very short.  Julia flipped quickly through them, but found little of interest until the year 1879. 

“Today James left with the cattle for Kansas, leaving me with no one to help run this miserable little ranch except Mr. Brown and Rubio.  Both are feeble and wouldn’t do anything except play checkers if I didn’t push them off to work.  Julia is a help and comfort, but oh how I wish Jimmy Junior were here.”  The next entry noted that Rubio’s eighteen-year-old nephew, Ramon Beltran, would come up from Mexico to help out while James Cortland was driving cattle to Kansas. 

Ramon.  Julia’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered him riding in on a great chestnut gelding.  He rode tall in the saddle, wearing a suit of soft leather studded with silver conchos.  She remembered his twinkling eyes half hidden beneath long lashes and shadowed by the broad brim of his hat.  Ramon - a man so different from the men on neighboring ranches, or in the little town thirty miles to the southwest. 

“I’ve hired Rubio’s nephew for a dollar a week, but don’t expect much.  He’s a peacock and probably will bear watching.”  Then a week later: “I’ve seen Julia following R. with her eyes.  He follows orders well enough, but has an impertinence about him.  I don’t believe he knows his place.”  Julia remembered following Ramon with more than her eyes.  After supper she liked to conceal herself in the deep shadows outside the bunkhouse to listen as he softly strummed a guitar and sang sweet lullabies into the cool night air.  He helped her carry water from the well, and told her little jokes that made her smile.    She remembered dreaming of Ramon, and some of those dreams were scandalous.  She wondered what dreams Ramon had lying on his bunk as the nights gave way to new hot days.

Julia liked to walk up the little round hill behind the ranch house to watch the sunsets.  It wasn’t long before Ramon joined her and they sat commenting on the beauty of nature’s unfolding colors.  They searched together to discover the first star of the evening. Their evening walks weren’t exactly secret, but they were something that the young people were reluctant to share.  They were careful to not to leave or to return from their walks together.  Ramon gave her a bracelet woven from the mane of his horse; Julia returned his affection with the gift of a pearl brooch that had belonged to her Great-grandmother.  Ramon pinned the brooch over his heart, and swore he would never part with it.

“Saw Julia sneaking back after dark, and that scoundrel Ramon came skulking back not ten minutes later.  I think this has gone too far.  If James were here, he’d whip the skin right off that greaser’s back and run him off the place.  I’ll have to take measures.  Send the SOB to mend fences out along the Whiskey Range for a week.”

Julia had never forgot that day.  She remembered watching Ramon swing into his saddle, her broach winking in the morning sunlight, and ride away. The time came and gone when the work on the fences should have been completed, but Ramon didn’t return.  Mr. Brown and Rubio afraid that Ramon had lost his mount, or had some accident began a search.  Rubio and Mr. Brown spent three fruitless days searching for him, and Julia hardly slept at all.  The neighboring ranches were asked to keep a watch, but Ramon had vanished. 

Each day Julia scanned the southern horizon hoping that Ramon would appear.  Her Mother joined her on the hill top one evening and said, almost flippantly, “He’s just gone back to chasing those senoritas.  You should just forget him.”  Mary looked off into the distant north.  “I wonder when your Father will return?”  Julia cried then, but her Mother seemed not to notice.

The day that Ramon rode out of her life remained burned into her memory.  That same  day her Mother had went into town for supplies.  During the four days it took, Julia was left in the care of Mr. Brown and Rubio.  There hadn't been any real danger of an Indian outbreak for over a year, so her Mother needed no more escort than that provided by "Mr. Winchester".  Did we really need supplies just at that time, Julia wondered?  Startled at her own thoughts, she began sorting through the keepsake box. There, amongst the trinkets and old buttons, lay the antique pearl brooch.

Horrified, Julia picked up the brooch and examined it carefully. It was indeed the very brooch she had given Ramon. As so many details fell into place Julia was struck by the realization that her Mother was not the woman everyone thought she was. She slipped the brooch into her purse and went for a walk to clear her mind. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly through questions she would never have answered, but her feet were on a mission, carrying her to the office of the banker handling all of her family’s affairs.

Julia sat comfortably across from the young man who handled the family’s affairs. “I believe the Diamond Deuce is worth around $80,000, is that right Henry?"

“Yes, and in just a few more years it will probably be worth far more than that.”

“Just as I thought.  I want it sold for whatever it will bring. Can you do that for me Henry? Oh, and I'll be wanting a letter of credit for $30,000 at once."

“Certainly, Miss Julia, but I’d advise against it.  If you want to sell, at least take your time so we can get the best price.  Why are you in such a hurry, and what do you propose to do, if I might ask?”

“If anyone asks, just tell them I’ve gone to Los Angeles to seek my fortune." Julia stood, and noticed that she still carried the obituary balled up in her fist.  "And, Henry please throw this into the trash.”  She left the bank and never looking back, walked down to the train depot her antique pearl brooch catching a touch of the scarlet sunset.