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person.”
    Bernardo nodded.
    â€œBut would she be comfortable at our table? Would Papá or Mamá be comfortable with her?”
    They rode on for a time, listening to the deep rumble of the surf, feeling they had each been unkind to Trinidad. On the beach ahead of them, waves broke steeply into the shore. Indian children rode the waves into the shallows, swimming like otters.
    â€œThis isn’t Barcelona. This is the edge of the world,” Diego said. “We’ve got Spaniards, Indians, Yankees, and even Russians. Every kind and mix. I can’t complain about people like Rafael Moncada if I sort people into categories, can I? I should have invited her.”
    Bernardo rode up beside him and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder. Yes, they might act differently next time.
    They rode the beach, crossing streams and rivers that met it, shallowed and curled into sandbars. It was April and the sun would set early, but they were close enough to the hacienda to see its kitchen smoke. Estafina would be making a meal for all of them.
    They rode on, hoping that the pottery rode easily behind them.

5
T HE C IRCLE G AME
    D ON A LEJANDRO ENJOYED MAKING a grand entertainment for his guests. Beyond a mere dinner, he had planned a Californio spectacle. The vaqueros who had accompanied Carter and Stackpole to the hacienda would play one of their rowdy, frenzied games for the guests.
    Padre Mendoza arrived as wine and cakes were being passed around the veranda. Estafina’s husband, Montez, tended a barbecue fire. Estafina and her helpers mopped sauce on great slabs of beef sizzling on iron grates above the fire. A pot of beans bubbled at the side.
    Diego and Bernardo saddled horses and joined a dozen vaqueros as they swung their mounts into a circle, the horses’ heads inward.
    Stackpole translated Carter’s question: “The captain asks if this is the way you begin your polo games.”
    Padre Mendoza laughed, and Don Alejandro said, “No, friends, this isn’t polo. That’s a game from the ancient world. This is the Circle Game, one of our Californio diversions. It’s a bit faster, there are fewer rules, and it’s rougher.”
    Scar walked out to the ring of horses and called to Juan Three-fingers, one of his crew bosses. Juan backed out of the circle doubtfully, and Scar gave him a long bamboo rod, whippy but stiff. He said, “Good luck, caballero.”
    The other vaqueros chuckled and called out to Juan: “You’ll need some goose grease on your back tonight, caballero!” and “Are you ready to weave and duck, brother?”
    Juan called back, “We’ll see whose back is raw by midnight.”
    The vaqueros began to whoop and holler as they all faced inward. Each had his good hand open behind his back. Juan walked his big bay stallion around and around the circle, then spurred it into a slow trot. More whooping. Pedro Maduro called, “Come on, Juan, give that soft little feather duster to me!”
    But quick as a flash, Juan leaned in and thrust thebamboo into Bernardo’s hand. Then the rowdy part of the game began.
    Juan Three-fingers kicked his stallion into a gallop. Bernardo pulled his reins, and his horse danced back out of the circle. The pony whirled and charged after Juan. Bernardo almost caught him, and Captain Carter let out a squeal of dread as the bamboo whistled toward Juan’s back.
    But Juan slid off to one side of his horse. At a full gallop, he held on in some way Carter couldn’t imagine. The bamboo struck the saddle with a sharp thwack !
    All the vaqueros were sitting sideways on their saddles now, watching the fun and the incredible riding skill. These vaqueros loved to show off, but Carter winced at the heavy price they might pay for fancy horsemanship.
    Bernardo brought the bamboo up again, but Juan had already righted himself and wheeled his stallion, riding past Bernardo on the other side, heading for the empty