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having a deep misgiving about my father and this search.
    "Handsome young men of good character do not grow upon trees. Yet I will look throughout California, from one end to the other. If I do not find him here I will look elsewhere, even in faraway Spain."
    My hand hurt and that made things worse. But I was fortunate. I could have been back there on the rotting deck of the galleon, in the grip of the giant burro clam. I could be lying drowned beneath the waves. Or I could be at home, like Yris, getting ready to marry Don Roberto.

6
    The weather was fine and the wedding guests came from all directions. They came in
carretas
drawn by oxen, on horseback with dogs at their heels, young and old, dressed in silver and brocades. The women smelled of perfume and the men's hair shone with bear grease.
    By noon the hitching rack outside the big gate was full and we built another. Carts fanned out across the mesa. We had room in the house for thirty-two, about a fourth of the guests. The others raised colored tents around the house. In all, Dona Dolores had invited one hundred and twenty. All came, and many besides who were not invited.
    Yris wore a dress of fine white muslin with knots of pink flowers around the hem. Her skin was pale because she never went out without a parasol when the sun was shining. She also wore a lot of white powder, which she had bought from a gringo trading ship. In her pale skin and white powder and pink and white dress, she looked like a delicious dessert, like one of the sugary
buñelos
that Anita, the cook, made.
    Yris said to me, "I hope you aren't put out because I am marrying first. He is a fine and wonderful man."
    "He is, and he is also the best horseman in the countryside," I said, thinking about a white gelding he owned, which I would like to trade a brood mare for when the wedding was over and he was my brother-in-law. Thinking, too, how fortunate it was that I would not need to wait on him as his obedient wife. "No, Yris, I am only envious of you."
    "I am glad you do not mind," said Yris, looking at her hands. "It will be good to be mistress in my own household." She raised her eyes to the spot where Doña Dolores sat welcoming the guests, and it struck me stronger than ever how difficult it must have been for her, being, as she was, the daughter of my father's unlucky second wife.
    Don Roberto wore his hair in
the furioso
style, pushed up in front and long on the sides. His jacket was made of black velvet tricked out with silver braid and large silver buttons. His trousers were split up the sides, and when he walked you could see flashes of red. I crossed myself. I thanked the Virgin Mary that it was Yris, and not I, Don Roberto was marrying.
    Our chapel would hold only half of those who wanted to see the wedding, so it was held outside, by the corral. Father Barones came from Santa Ysabel to read the service. He was an old man and spoke in a quavering voice that no one could hear.
    "Just as well," my grandmother hissed in my ear. "It is likely the wrong passage that he is reading, from the Bible. When you are married, I will send to San Gabriel for Father Justo."
    The musicians played many tunes during the wedding. There were five men and they played three guitars and two violas. When the wedding was over and one of the barrels of
aguardiente
was empty, everyone hurried down to the pits, where the cooks had uncovered the slabs of meat and placed them upon trestles.
    My grandmother poured herself a handful of salt and dipped her meat into it. She always seemed to like the salt better than the beef. I think she ate the meat to enjoy the salt. Father Barones took some of the beans, some tortillas, and a scoop of chile and a slice of the beef. Then with his knife he stirred all the food together, round and round, before he spooned it up.
    "He is very religious," my grandmother said. "He thinks it is a sin to eat good food, so he makes it look like something else."
    I heaped my platter and ate