Carmen Navarro
By VKS & MJRod
This "High Chaparral" fan fiction piece by VKS & MJRod honors our favorite western and continues to round out season four. It is dedicated to Henry and Lauren Darrow who, we hope, may see a bit of themselves in Mano and Carmen.
Carmen Navarro Chapter One: Once upon an Evening
"Nephew, if I were younger, that is the woman I would pursue," Don Domingo de Montoya whispered to Don Manolo Montoya as their eyes joined the gilded ballroom full of eyes to watch the entrance of Don Carlos de Vargas, his wife, and his sister. The portly, balding Don Carlos escorted both women on his arms: his plump wife, the Doña Maria, and his slender sister, the widowed Carmen Vargas y Padilla de Navarro.
Carmen Navarro, in her late twenties, was among the most eligible and desirable young women in Mexico City. Her young husband, killed in a military campaign years before, had left her childless and in possession of lands, a fine hacienda southwest of Cajeme, and a comfortable income. She lived with her brother and his family in Mexico City more out of a wish not to be alone than from any economic necessity. She adored her nieces and nephews, tolerated her sister-in-law and brother. And she was beautiful: with large brown eyes, full lips, and almond skin the texture of silk...or so it appeared to those who admired her.
Carmen smiled at their hosts as the family was announced upon their entry. Her raven hair, braided and coiled atop her head to support a black mantilla, shone as a crown, making her seem taller than she was. But then, compared to her brother and sister-in-law, anyone might seem tall, Mano concluded, appraising. Accustomed to sizing up women, he estimated her height to be the same as that of his sister, Victoria. He knew that Carmen Navarro had refused all suitors, older, established men foisted upon her by her family. He had wondered why, and now that he had seen her, he was intrigued.
This was his first trip to Mexico City since he had gone to search for his Tío Domingo in the days following the death of his father, Don Sebastian. Mano much preferred the open range to the city, but one did not refuse an invitation to a ball at the presidential palace honoring the governor of Sonora. His uncle had insisted they come. In his black dress suit and ruffled white shirt, Mano knew he cut a handsome, rakish figure. I must attempt to dance with this woman, he mused...if she will have me. He hardly felt it as his uncle nudged him toward the Vargas family, now surrounded by friends offering their greetings.
"Good evening, my friends," Don Domingo interrupted, insinuating himself into the center of the milling crowd. Carlos Vargas had once owed him a large sum of money, a gambling debt which Domingo had forgiven after his own windfall—when his brother bequeathed him the Rancho Montoya. Domingo could thus interrupt with impunity. "Señoras y señor, may I present my nephew, Don Manolo de Montoya," he announced. Mano nodded, kissed the proffered hand of Doña Maria in a polite, perfunctory manner, and lingered longer than necessary when taking the hand of Carmen Navarro. Her eyes met his and she, too, was intrigued. She had heard of this one.
"I hope the señoras will save a dance for me this evening," Mano said with a smile.
He looks like a prince, Carmen thought. Mid-thirties. Never married, from what she had heard. Good-looking. No stranger to the ladies, she also knew. Not too picky about women when he was younger. Indiscriminate, in fact. However, we all grow up. She had found no one to interest her since the death of her husband. But this one...well, we shall see, she thought. She smiled in return as he kissed her hand...and a spark flared between them which startled them both.
And thus it began.
Carmen was a practical woman. She knew she could not live with her brother and his family forever. She was not in a position to have to marry, nor to marry for anything save love. She desired passion and fidelity. Looking at Manolo Montoya, she was certain he could supply at least one of these.
"They call me Manolito," he smiled, cheeks dimpling and dark eyes twinkling. Carmen again smiled in return. The orchestra obliged at this moment by striking up a waltz. "May I?" he asked. She nodded her agreement. Off he swept her to the dance floor. He was polite, charming, and graceful…all that she was herself. They kept up a light banter, and his eyes never left hers. She enjoyed the dance as she had enjoyed no dance in a very long time.
"Some wine, señora?" Mano inquired as the music ended and a waiter drifted by bearing a platter of goblets.
"Gracias," she replied, inclining her head, and he lifted two crystal glasses from the waiter's tray and presented her with one. He nodded to her and raised a glass.
"To the loveliest woman here."
She smiled her reply.
She was elegant and beautiful, Mano thought. And gracious and graceful.
"You are here with your uncle? He seems to know my brother," Carmen opened, fingering her glass.
"Yes. I divide my time between the Rancho Montoya in Sonora, my sister's ranch in Arizona, and my own small place," Mano explained. "At present I am assisting my uncle to, ah, understand the workings of my late father's ranch."
"It is not your rancho?"
"No. Papá knew I did not want the…" he paused. "The responsibility."
"Oh? You seem to have changed your mind."
"No. But I do seem to be acquiring responsibility whether I want it or not," he chuckled.
"My husband was one such as you. He chose the military, I think, partly to avoid having to make too many decisions. He was killed."
"I am sorry to hear that," Mano said. He meant this, for he understood the pain of loss, but in truth he was not altogether sorry, as his eyes revealed. Carmen saw and comprehended all. The music began again as they finished their wine. "Permiso?" Mano asked as he took her glass with his and gave both to a passing waiter. "Another dance?"
"All right."
Afterward, Carmen was promised to another and then another, but Mano watched her all night as she negotiated clumsy young men and hopeful old men as partners. He danced with none other except for an obligatory waltz with the Doña Maria. As the orchestra signaled its final selection, he saw his chance to cut in by touching the shoulder of a very old man who had begun to wheeze and cough.
"Señor y señora? May I?" The old man smiled his gratitude and Mano whirled Carmen around the floor again. This time the two danced with more animation than before, as he twirled her about. The orchestra leader noticed and obliged by quickening the tempo to a tango. Mano and Carmen laughed when each realized the other knew the dance. Other dancers made room and watched them as they performed, given the formal occasion, a rather sedate yet graceful tango till the music ended. Then they laughed, bowed and curtsied to applause, the center of attention that comes so naturally to any attractive couple.
Don Carlos also watched and scowled.
After this, the talk was that the son of Don Sebastian de Montoya and the nephew of Don Domingo de Montoya was captivated by Carmen Navarro.
And so he was.
He asked permission to call upon Carmen at the home of her brother.
And so he did.
And thus the courtship of Carmen Navarro by Manolo Montoya began in earnest.
None can copyright the characters of "The High Chaparral," for that has been done, but the authors do claim the creation of others, especially Carmen Navarro (whose first name comes from a David Dortort script proposal), Rancho Navarro, the entire Vargas and Santos clans, Valencio Ruiz, Teresa Lauder, and Delgado, whose appearance, we trust, may remind our readers of an older Henry Darrow.