Could it be that I should ever come to love them, and the
pungent smell of the arrow-weed which covered them to the water's
edge?
The huge mosquitoes swarmed over us in the nights from those
thick clumps of arrow-weed and willow, and the nets with which
Captain Mellon provided us did not afford much protection.
The June heat was bad enough, though not quite so stifling as the
August heat. I was becoming accustomed to climates, and had
learned to endure discomfort. The salt beef and the Chinaman's
peach pies were no longer offensive to me. Indeed, I had a good
appetite for them, though they were not exactly the sort of food
prescribed by the modern doctor, for a young mother. Of course,
milk, eggs, and all fresh food were not to be had on the river
boats. Ice was still a thing unknown on the Colorado.
When, after a week, the "Gila" pushed her nose up to the bank at
Ehrenberg, there stood the Quartermaster. He jumped aboard, and
did not seem in the least surprised to see me. "I knew you'd come
back," said he. I laughed, of course, and we both laughed.
"I hadn't the courage to go on," I replied
"Oh, well, we can make things comfortable here and get through
the summer some way," he said. "I'll build some rooms on, and a
kitchen, and we can surely get along. It's the healthiest place
in the world for children, they tell me."
So after a hearty handshake with Captain Mellon, who had taken
such good care of me on my week's voyage up river, I being
almost the only passenger, I put my foot once more on the shores
of old Ehrenberg, and we wended our way towards the blank white
walls of the Government house. I was glad to be back, and content
to wait.
So work was begun immediately on the kitchen. My first
stipulation was, that the new rooms were to have wooden floors;
for, although the Cocopah Charley kept the adobe floors in
perfect condition, by sprinkling them down and sweeping them out
every morning, they were quite impossible, especially where it
concerned white dresses and children, and the little sharp rocks
in them seemed to be so tiring to the feet.
Life as we Americans live it was difficult in Ehrenberg. I often
said: "Oh! if we could only live as the Mexicans live, how easy
it would be!" For they had their fire built between some stones
piled up in their yard, a piece of sheet iron laid over the top:
this was the cooking-stove. A pot of coffee was made in the
morning early, and the family sat on the low porch and drank it,
and ate a biscuit. Then a kettle of frijoles* was put over to
boil. These were boiled slowly for some hours, then lard and salt
were added, and they simmered down until they were deliciously
fit to eat, and had a thick red gravy.
*Mexican brown bean.
Then the young matron, or daughter of the house, would mix the
peculiar paste of flour and salt and water, for tortillas, a
species of unleavened bread. These tortillas were patted out
until they were as large as a dinner plate, and very thin; then
thrown onto the hot sheet-iron, where they baked. Each one of the
family then got a tortilla, the spoonful of beans was laid upon
it, and so they managed without the paraphernalia of silver and
china and napery.
How I envied them the simplicity of their lives! Besides, the
tortillas were delicious to eat, and as for the frijoles, they
were beyond anything I had ever eaten in the shape of beans. I
took lessons in the making of tortillas. A woman was paid to come
and teach me; but I never mastered the art. It is in the blood of
the Mexican, and a girl begins at a very early age to make the
tortilla. It is the most graceful thing to see a pretty Mexican
toss the wafer-like disc over her bare arm, and pat it out until
transparent.
This was their supper; for, like nearly all people in the
tropics, they ate only twice a day. Their fare was varied
sometimes by a little carni seca, pounded up and stewed with
chile verde or chile colorado.
Now if you could hear the soft, exquisite, affectionate drawl
with which the Mexican woman says chile verde you could perhaps
come to realize what an important part the delicious green pepper
plays in the cookery of these countries. They do not use it in
its raw state, but generally roast it whole, stripping off the
thin skin and throwing away the seeds, leaving only the pulp,
which acquires a fine flavor by having been roasted or toasted
over the hot coals.
The women were scrupulously clean and modest, and always wore,
when in their casa, a low-necked and short-sleeved white linen
camisa, fitting neatly, with bands around neck and arms. Over
this they wore a calico skirt; always white stockings and black
slippers. When they ventured out, the younger women put on
muslin gowns, and carried parasols. The older women wore a linen
towel thrown over their heads, or, in cool weather, the black
riboso. I often cried: "Oh! if I could only dress as the Mexicans
do! Their necks and arms do look so cool and clean."
I have always been sorry I did not adopt their fashion of house
apparel. Instead of that, I yielded to the prejudices of my
conservative partner, and sweltered during the day in high-necked
and long-sleeved white dresses, kept up the table in American
fashion, ate American food in so far as we could get it, and all
at the expense of strength; for our soldier cooks, who were
loaned us by Captain Ernest from his company at Fort Yuma, were
constantly being changed, and I was often left with the Indian
and the indolent Patrocina.
