The Blackmailed Wife
                             By Peter Jensen
                                Chapter 5


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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, and
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 replied. "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, after she had found out that 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 her.

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 get into trouble. The picadors followed behind them. They rode
horses that were padded on the sides 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 that 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 now 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 that Ann had ever seen. He was tall, and moved with the grace of
a ballet dancer. He wasn't 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 the old silent films that 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 that 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 her. Their eyes had locked for just a moment, but she felt something
stir inside of 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 to regain 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. With 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 greatest 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 that 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.