"The blackmailed wife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jensen Peter)

CHAPTER FIVE

The stands were completely jammed by the time Ann and Julia arrived at the bull ring. Fortunately they already had their tickets so didn't have to stand in the long lines outside the ticket booths.

The crush of the people in the long corridors was maddening. Ann held tightly to Julia's hand as they were jostled along the passageway.

Suddenly they emerged from the darkness into the stands and Ann gasped in surprise. She hadn't expected the colorful spectacle that suddenly burst upon them. Two Mexican bands were playing on each side of the arena and they were surrounded by the most colorful costumes she had ever seen.

This was a special Fiesta and all of Tijuana had turned out in typical old Spanish dress. The women wore lovely white and black lace mantillas draped over their shoulders. The crowd overflowed the stands with their multi-colored gaiety. The men wore the black, tight-fitting gaucho pants, short jackets, flat-brimmed Vaquero hats with small tassels dangling down from brims.

"Why, it's like another world!" Ann exclaimed to Julia. "I didn't imagine it would be quite so beautiful."

"This is one heritage the Spanish left the Mexicans that I'm really thankful for," Julia said. "Wait until the fight begins, then you'll really see something."

Their seats were on the shady side of the ring and in the first row below the Presidente's box.

"We can get a good look at the matadors here," Julia explained while they were getting settled. "They all have to come to the Presidente and request permission to kill the bull. They'll be right in front of us."

Ann didn't tell Julia, but she had read Hemingway's "Death in the Afternoon" last week when she had found they had won the contest. It was about the bullfights in Spain and had stimulated her interest in seeing one. She was just a bit nervous about how she would react to seeing an animal killed in cold blood but Hemingway had explained it in such poetic terms that she had succeeded in justifying it to herself. It certainly would not be more cruel than the methods used in the slaughter houses. From his descriptions she gathered that if they were really good bulls, the matador was in almost as much danger as the bull.

Ann was snapped back to the present by the sudden blast of trumpets. The noise from the crowd slowly subsided. The trumpet's piercing notes reverberating across the arena sent chills of anticipation running through Ann.

The gates on the other side of the ring swung open, and the opening procession began. The three matadors, dressed in their magnificent "Suits of Light", led the parade. They were followed by their assistants, who later would be stationed around the ring to draw the bull away in case the principal matador happened to be in trouble. The picadors followed behind. They rode horses that were padded on the side and in front and carried long spear-like poles that had short sharp points on the ends. These pics would later be stuck into the bull's shoulders to weaken him for the kill.

The bull fighter proceeded directly across the ring and stopped immediately in front of where Julia and Ann were sitting. From this position, the girls could get a good look at the beautiful suits the matadors were wearing.

The matadors bowed gracefully to the presidential box which was high up behind the girls on the top row of the stand.

Julia pointed out a slender, graceful-looking boy on the right side, saying he was Paco Camino, one of Spain's greatest fighters. He was dressed in a white silk costume with brilliant gold designs embroidered beautifully onto the material. Ann remembered reading that these suits cost at least five hundred dollars each. She could understand why, after getting a close look at them.

The matador in the center, Julia told her, was Curro Giron from Columbia. He was short and moved with a proud walk like a cocky bantam rooster. His suit was blue and had the same type of gold designs set into it as Paco Camino's. He looked older, though not by much.

The third fighter, Jose Rascon, according to the program, was one of the most handsome men Ann had ever seen. He was tall and moved with the grace of a ballet dancer. He was not as dark as some Mexicans but had a light bronze skin that made him appear like a well tanned and healthy Norteamericano. He had jet black hair smoothed back from a narrow forehead and a straight classical nose, that reminded her of old silent films she had seen of Rudolph Valentino. He was built in the classic style of bullfighters, with strong, broad shoulders that tapered down to thin graceful hips. It seemed to Ann that he hardly touched the sand of the bullring when he walked. He carried himself with a fatalistic pride, knowing he might die today but resigned to it if he must.

Ann caught an admiring glance from him as he bowed to the presidential box above. Their eyes had locked for just a moment, but she felt something stir in her that she hadn't felt since the first time Dave had kissed her. It was a delightful yet frightening feeling and she was ashamed that it could happen. She shook her head slightly and regained her composure.

How stupid, she thought of course I'm going to have feelings like that, every woman does, particularly when her husband has been away for six months and she has been accustomed to having him in bed with her every night. Some men just bring the feeling on, she mused, but decided she had better watch herself – temptation can be a difficult thing to fight sometimes. The opening ceremonies being over, the fight began.

Paco Camino had drawn the first bull and made some beautiful passes with his cape. The crowd was enthusiastic over seeing one of Spain's great matadors in action and shouted "Ole!" each time the bull made a pass.

Ann was glued to her seat with anxiety; she couldn't remember when anything had affected her so much emotionally. When he had taken several passes at the bull with his red cape, he turned and faced the Presidente and requested permission to pass the bull over to the new matador for the kill. This is when the alternativa ceremony is performed. Julia explained to her. An old established bullfighter takes his turn with the bull and then donates it to the new matador for the kill. The new matador then dedicates the bull to someone in the crowd.

Jose Rascon chose to dedicate his first bull he killed as a matador to Ann. He walked up to the barrero behind which she was sitting and bowed, then turned his back and threw his hat over his shoulder to her. She caught it. This is supposed to be good luck for him and, as it turned out, it was. He gave one of the best performances of the afternoon. The crowd shouted and applauded after the kill until the Presidente had awarded him two ears and a tail. This was the greatest honor that could be bestowed on a matador. Ann was proud. She could feel the whole crowd staring at her as Rascon was being carried around the ring on the shoulders of some enthusiastic fans who had jumped into the ring after he had made the most beautiful kill they had seen in years.

"You've made a hit, dear," Julia kidded Ann. "Just watch yourself and don't get caught outside the ring with one of these bull fighters, he might get your tail, too!"

"Oh, Julia!" Ann laughed, "I'm an old married woman – and a faithful one too – he wouldn't even look twice at me if he knew that."

"You don't know men, my dear girl," Julia replied. "With a body like yours he wouldn't care if you had six husbands!"

"Oh! Be quiet! You've got plenty to offer too, Mrs. Taylor, so you had better watch yourself and stop worrying about me."

Ann was warming up to Julia now and felt she could talk frankly. Julia seemed so worldly wise. Ann was sorry now that she hadn't been more friendly with Julia before – perhaps she wouldn't have been so lonely and Dave's not writing wouldn't have upset her so much.