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mining boom in the Batopilas Canyon; the La Bufa veins, already of world fame by the time of the wedding, belonged to him.
    It was an arranged marriage even though Flavio had fallen in love with Velia Carmelita when he had first seen her three years earlier, at a ball in honor of her coming out. At the time, she had hardly taken notice of the tall, blond man, but when her father told her of his plans, she agreed to marry. Her mother and father admired Flavio’s aristocratic bearing, his ability in politics and war, and even though his holdings were dwarfed by the Urrutia wealth, he was suited for her.

Chapter 4
    On the day of the wedding, garlanded carriages filed from the Urrutia mansion, heading for the church of Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, the mission church for the Samachique Rarámuri town that marked the beginning of the road to Batopilas. A long line of coaches accompanied the bride; they were filled with laughing girls feeling the thrill that one of their own age was about to be married. The young men of the surrounding families followed on purebred mounts. These men did their best to attract the attention of the girls, knowing that one of them more than likely would be his bride.
    Flavio rode among these men. He was dressed in the northern fashion: black riding suit, fine boots, white tie and gloves, and a black Stetson hat. He felt tense but happy. He was marrying into a notable family, and he had the good fortune that the woman to be his wife was beautiful and, he told himself, he was luckier yet to be in love. This did not happen to many men.
    Flavio’s and Velia Carmelita’s wedding day was the culminating point of days of celebration which had taken place at both residences:
rodeos, coleaderos, barbacoas, fandangos, verbenas.
Flavio had provided dozens of calves, chickens, venison, ducks, pigs and sheep for the meals of his ranch hands, and especially for
la indiada,
the Rarámuri people. He had held back nothing, giving his people days off and providing everyone with enough
mescal
and
cerveza
to last days. He had put up money for musicians and singers to entertain the throngs of men, women, and children who had come down from the sierras to help him celebrate his wedding. Long-distance foot racing, betting, and gambling drew dozens of Rarámuri to the hacienda. Singing and dancing in the surroundingfields preceded the wedding mass by days, and Flavio participated as much as he could by sitting by the bonfires at night, drinking
mescal,
and eating roasted lamb or pork wrapped in corn tortillas.
    In charge of all of this was Celestino Santiago, the Rarámuri who had once been Flavio’s friend but who now was the
caporal
, the head ranch hand. He had differed from many of the Rarámuri men by becoming a skilled horsebreaker, usually the job of mestizos. He was one of the few natives in those parts who was not a runner; he preferred horses, and it was chiefly because of his abilities that Flavio had made him his main overseer. Nor had he forgotten that Celestino had stood by his side when he won the hacienda in the card game.
    Celestino had since married and usually lived with his wife and sons in the caves of the Copper Canyon, la Barranca del Cobre, but he bunked at the hacienda when he was most needed. The wedding was one of those occasions. On one of the nights of celebration Flavio noticed that Celestino had brought his children.
    â€œThese are your sons?”
    The two boys hid behind their father. Flavio made faces, trying to tease them, but they shrank even further behind Celestino.
    â€œSí, patrón,
and there’s another one up in
la barranca
with his mother. We baptized him the other day.”
    As the two men spoke, shadows and light flickered from the campfire, casting Celestino’s features into a mask. Flavio studied that face again, as he had done the night of the card game. He made a point of looking at the prominent cheekbones, slanted eyes, wide mouth