He thought of his own life and of the lives of prominent men and women he had known in Mexico. What would become of Francisca's parents? "Things have to change all right, but it will be a terrible, bloody revolution. Those who are secure and comfortable are going to fight for those privileges they have had for so many years." He sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid there have been signs. Haley's Comet, which scared the people of my ranch and some of my cattle, brought rumors of an unforeseen future, wars, and great famine. What concerns me now, is that I will be contributing to the Mexican Revolution. Many lives will be lost. My wife's parents are getting old and have lived very comfortably on their land and have plenty of money to live the rest of their lives in Mexico. What will happen to them if war is declared?"
Juan stared at Don Federico and answered with much uncertainty, "I do not know, but we need a new government and everything needs to change!"
"Any money that I give out after this meeting must be kept confidential." Tapping his finger on his desk, he looked Juan straight in his eyes. "This meeting is not to be disclosed to anyone. Understand? I want you to give me your solemn oath that this conversation never took place—the money or talk of Revolution. If word gets out that I was contributing to the war in Mexico, my name in this part of the country would be dishonored. I will be called a traitor and run out of the area. I would never be able to face my family or friends."
"You have my word, Don Federico," replied Juan, leaning forward from his chair and shaking the great Don's hand. "I'm also taking a big risk with my family and my life, coming into the state of Texas and demanding money from total strangers for the cause of war in Mexico!"
"You are doing what you think is right and just. I would probably be doing the same thing if I were in your shoes. I hate aggression, but sometimes a person has to do what is right and take the first step. Just the thought of you leaving the medical profession and risking your life is very noble."
Juan kept talking convincingly, for he was a true Mexican and a true Mestizo like he had said. "On April the fifteenth of this year, Francisco Madero was nominated for president by the Anti-Reelections party. Some of the members should be with us in San Antonio, including Madero's two brothers. Madero has been a regular reader of Ricardo Magón who spoke against the tyranny of the Díaz's administration and has been an earlier contributor to Magón's liberal party. Madero is our man to bring us out of these conditions. When he becomes president, he will be the answer to all of our prayers and give the Indians back their land."
"I have known the Madero family for a long time. Francisco went to school with me at the Military College at Chapultepec. He was sent later to Paris to learn about bookkeeping and become a banker. His father, Don Evaristo Madero, traded in Texas with my father in cattle, bulls, and fine wines. His is considered one of the most important families in Mexico. Don Evaristo later went into banking and years later became the governor of the state of Coahulila. Madero's wife, Sara, was a Pérez before she married Madero. They have married recently. My wife Doña Francisca knows her family very well."
"Madero spoke very highly of your family. That's the main reason he wants you to join us in San Antonio. He mentioned that if there was one person he could rely on, it was you." Juan was a classical Mexican—a Mexican actor when playing the game of salesmanship and intrigue, and he reached the height of ideal Latin originality. He spoke very sincerely, with tears in his eyes, of human suffering. Becoming serious, Juan radiated his well-bred, gallant nature and was eager to explain the Revolution to Don Federico. "Gustavo and Raoul, Madero's older brothers, are busy trying to collect as much money as possible. They need your support to buy ammunition and rifles. We got word that a shipment of American rifles has already been transported from a village of Rio Rico to Reynosa."
"Rio Rico!" snapped Don Federico, his mind triggered by the named village. Angry, he frowned and got up from his desk. "There was a massacre in that town, several days ago. There's a young girl from Rio Rico staying here, who was brought to my hacienda after being savagely raped and beaten." The conversation took a different twist. "Who sold the rifles?"
"To tell the truth, I don't know!" answered Juan, much surprised. "All I know is that some Texans are becoming very rich in selling us the goods from this side of the border. Contraband! We were pleased with the merchandise, but we do not know anything about the incident you mentioned."
"That's a real mystery!" Don Federico retorted. "I wonder who would have access to guns and would sell them for a better profit?" He questioned seriously while rubbing his chin and pacing the floor. He related the incident concerning Soledad and the missing gringa and gave him detailed information on what had happened until now. "With your medical knowledge, I wondered if tomorrow you'd be so kind as to see the young injured girl. I know she needs medical attention. As for the money to give to Madero, I'll have to wait until Manuel returns back from shipping and selling my cattle in San Antonio."
"I'll be more than happy to check on the girl," commented Juan. "I did not bring my medical supplies with me. But I'll see what I can do to help. I find the story very strange. And the body of the gringa has never been found? That’s very bizarre indeed!" He got up, yawned and stretched. No longer puzzled, he understood Victoria's reluctance about strangers in their land.
"Come!" Don Federico said, getting up from his chair and then pointing to the hallway. "We have said enough for one night. I know you must be tired. Let me get one of our girls to show you to your room." Moving out into the corridor, Don Federico yelled, "Yolanda! Please, show Juan to his room." He turned and addressed the young Alvarez, who was already showing signs of weariness. "We will talk some more tomorrow. You're tired and need some rest, and with the weather like it is, I don't think we are going to San Antonio for at least a week. The wagon and mules cannot travel in the mud."
Juan kept eyeing Yolanda with delight. She had appeared like a ghost from the long passageway. Yolanda, who normally moved slowly and required a large dose of cayenne pepper to coerce any productivity from her, was standing out in the hall with her hands full of clean towels and a pitcher of water. Her eyes locked on Juan's face, but she quickly shifted them to the floor when she noticed the Don watching her. She had never persuaded herself to shuffle her feet so quickly and with so much delight. She turned around with a smile, mocking the other captivated girls who were glued in place, watching her disappear upstairs with the handsome Juan Alvarez.
As slow as she was, she was known for her unvirtuous actions. At eighteen, Yolanda had already conquered many of the workers' hearts on several ranches on different joyous feast occasions, gratifying each and every one of the cowhands in pleasurable measures. She was also known for her steady patience. She spoke very little, only listened and kept her thoughts to herself, but she knew and heard everything that was happening. She was a chameleon; she was here, and she was there, spiteful, like a black widow spider, with four eyes on the back and front of her head, trapping her victims in her coiled web.
Juan was pleased. His mission had been a successful one. He would stay in Spanish Acres until the storm passed, feeling a warm comforting bond of union with the family. Then, Don Federico would go with him to the great city of San Antonio to see the "Apostle Madero," the liberator of Mexico, the founder of the great reform movement. Gran Hombre!
Don Federico returned to his leather chair in the library, contemplating what Juan had just brought to his attention. He began to collect his thoughts. And in the back of his hidden memory, the thoughts of Doña Adela kept rolling back and her words were becoming more vivid, more real. The girl is here for a reason! She was sent here. The connection is with your father! He remembered her also saying something about guns, ammunition. What does all this mean? This was insane! Could it be possible that a group of men from this side of the border was smuggling weapons across the river into Mexico? Anything was possible! And a large amount of profit on smuggled goods was also feasible. The border was known for corruption and everything that
was evil—liquor, prostitution, slavery, and murders. Even small children from Mexico were being sold to families in the United States who could not have children. But, who had access to government things?
His mind was being overloaded with questions: the matter of the gold mine; the death of the gringa woman; his father's mysterious death; the cattle and his ranch; his wife's persistent cough. And then there was Soledad—what was her destiny? Victoria's schooling in Mexico was becoming questionable. And yet, as his mind was heavy with worry, he thought of himself giving money to fight the Revolution. Was this any different from the people who were buying and selling goods in a clandestine way and doing things illegally? The main thing was that he knew Madero was honest, wanting to change a country that for centuries had known terrible injustices. He would ponder on this all night long, as he tossed and turned in his bedchambers.
The weather kept getting worse. The rain had become a gully-washer and gradually soaked the earth and ran from the bottom of every ravine, as the range animals began drifting toward higher ground. The resaca and the arroyos that were usually dry carried torrents of water as the heavy downpour continued all night.
The windmills whirled and rattled, lacking the oil that sustained them. The cattle out in the jungle brasada and pastures bawled, while the bullfrogs croaked, and the crickets chirped. A nightmarish glow hovered above the land, and alarm had touched every human face: some with joy because of the prior lack of water, and others for the unforeseen future. But all through the night the foul weather persisted and hammered the skies with luminous colors. Lightning strikes flashed across the heavens with an uncanny persistence as if King Lucifer were being turned loose from the pit of Hell to continue his destructive force, as a million demons screamed in the depth of the night.
The storm kept getting worse.
CHAPTER 7
When morning came, the sun struggled to peek through several dull gray, scattered clouds that still remained hanging low in the sky. The rain had eased, and although the storm was gone, a heavy fog lingered. Only a soft breeze coming from the east blew steadily.
For the first time in months, Juan had slept in a comfortable bed with all the amenities fit for a king. He had been sleeping soundly until awakened by noises coming from the hall outside his bedroom. The ride from Laredo had been long and dangerous while hiding and sleeping outdoors and in unwelcome places. For the moment, he didn't know what to expect. All he knew was to follow orders and go by the instructions he had been given a week ago. While gazing at the ceiling and the beautiful furniture and accommodations, he heard a hard knock on the door that startled him.
"Yes! Who is it?" he answered.
"Yolanda, Señor!"
"Ah! Yolanda, please come in," he replied, pulling up the sheet and hiding part of his face, playing with Yolanda and revealing only his shining green eyes.
Yolanda peeked in slowly. "Buenos días," she said, exposing a forced grin in spite of her haughty nature. In her hands was a wooden tray with freshly brewed coffee, sugar, and a small pitcher of cream. "La Señora asked me to bring you some coffee."
"Ah! Muchas gracias, I can sure use some," he answered, as he straightened himself up in bed and gazed toward Yolanda with a cheerful smile.
Yolanda put the tray on the table next to the bed and walked over to the window. A brilliant light dispersed as she pulled the velvet drapes and opened them.
Juan brought his hands over his face protecting his eyes from the bright light and then spoke. "The storm must have left since the sun is out!"
"Sí, Señor, it brought much water. The vaqueros have been out early this morning fixing fences and the part of the barn roof that was torn off and repairing some of the roofs on the homes in the Spanish Quarters. Many of the cattle got frightened by the lightning last night, stampeded, and tore down fences and one windmill."
"Is El Señor out with the vaqueros also?" Juan questioned while pouring cream into his coffee and staring at Yolanda's figure intensely.
"Si, Señor, he left very early this morning with Roy and the other vaqueros. They are checking on his cattle and other livestock in the west pasture."
"What time is it? I must have slept late!"
"Everyone has been up for a long time and had their breakfast early. La Señora was worried about you."
He answered surprisingly, "Worried about me?"
"She thought maybe you weren't feeling well. You have traveled a great distance and with the rain and all, getting wet last night you might have gotten a resfrío," she said.
"No, gracias!" I feel rested. Thank you! I'll be fine as soon as I get up." He was sensing her emotional reactions and acting curious about her age and if she were married. May I call you Señorita or Señora?"
"No, I am not married," she replied. Her face reflected a glow and a small grin as she moved her body in a rhythmic motion toward him and rolled her crafty, dark eyes. "La Señora, wants to know what you want for breakfast, eh?"
"I'll be down as soon as I get up, shave, and clean myself," he replied, glancing at the washbasin where the white porcelain pitcher stood. He brushed his chin with his left hand, still gazing at her with admiration. "Anything is fine with me."
"Ah! You are a guest in this house, Señor. You can have anything you want! All you have to do is just order it!" She said it with her low, enticing voice, moving her large, firm hips side to side, like a snake in heat.
Juan raised an eyebrow. Their eyes locked, almost bonding, and then he reacted to her obvious, blunt invitation. "Anything?" he answered, electrified, catching his breath, not believing what he had just heard. He placed the cup on the stand. He lifted the bed cover up and held onto it with his left hand and patted the mattress. He moved over, making space for her to come to him. His green eyes bored into her, sizing her up and down, a wolfish smile on his face.
Yolanda paused, breathless. She was mesmerized by his eyes, while her face set in a coquettish, luring smile. She flushed as she came forward and bent down deliberately in his direction, exposing her firm, full bosom from the low-cut peasant blouse she was wearing—and picked up the urinal. Unhurried, and knowing that Juan was already aroused, giving him time to fantasize about what he would be missing, she turned toward him with a seductive look and said, "La Señora and everyone is waiting for you downstairs."
"But wait. When will I see you?" he asked. "When will you be coming to my room?"
"Soon, very soon," Yolanda said, as she opened the door and moved on down the hall.
"Ay! Caramba!" voiced Juan with glee, overwhelmed by the hospitality. This was indeed a lovely place out in the heart of a desert and in the middle of nowhere. He got up and slowly walked to the iron window balcony. Viewing the sky, he saw the storm was gone, with only a few clouds adorning the heavens above the rain-soaked landscape. Puddles of water were in all directions, while elsewhere it looked like a lake, with lonely mesquite, cactus, and undergrowth bushes reflected in the water. The hacienda was large, and the area that had been cleared for it was huge. There must have been at least twenty or more vaqueros working on the south side of the range. He could hear several of the cows bellowing in protest since they stood up to their knees in mud. A rooster crowed with astounding clarity. The dogs would occasionally bark. Violin music was coming from downstairs.
He wondered what everyone was doing so early in the hacienda. He tried to picture in his mind where everyone fit in the large mansion. He wondered what Victoria was doing. A lovely creature with such beautiful eyes and yet, so very young, he kept thinking. She was probably going to get more beautiful as she got older. But oh, what a temper she had! She had spirit, the kind of a sudden ardor of youth he liked. It was amazing what could be achieved with wealth, influence, and power. Perhaps one day, he would have it all. He kept hearing the constant pounding coming from all sides of the hacienda. His mind also wondered about the dead gringa—not being able to find her body was strange. He kept thinking about the young girl who had been savagely raped and ha
ving to examine her and see about her condition. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, and he was developing an appetite.
Yolanda tiptoed downstairs quickly. She had been gone too long from her kitchen duties, and her mind was also full of thoughts as she circled around the long tile corridors, headed toward the outhouse to empty the urinal. Her heart pounded with excitement at the thought of Juan being interested in her enough to arouse the man. It only proved to herself that men were all the same. The asses! Bastards! She thought. She hated everyone of them, except for her father and her two brothers. She wanted to destroy every single man who walked the earth. She was a man-hater. Men, she thought, are evil—they would screw a snake if it stood up to them.
Her mind raced back to when she was eleven years old and just starting to develop into adulthood, when a cowhand, who no longer worked at Spanish Acres, violated her. He would force her to have sex with him in the barn, while she was milking the cows, or would catch her, raping her out in the dense jungle undergrowth, while she was gathering wood for the earthen stoves. He would violate her every chance he got, catching her alone. He would force her to have sex in different positions, also orally and anally, introducing her to a world of shame and guilt.
Being so young and innocent, she was unable to tell her parents because of the embarrassment and the scandal that it would bring to her mother and father. Working with el patrón was difficult because of his strict rules with his workers, not tolerating any trouble, and work was hard to come by, especially in this area. That vaquero, in a lustful passion, would also sneak into the kitchen quarters while she was sleeping alone, covering her mouth so she couldn’t scream. He sodomized her many times, and for three years satisfied his desires. By then, she knew all there was to know about satisfying a man. Luckily, by the good grace of Doña Adela, who knew her problem and had kept it a secret, she was given a vinegar potion that kept her from getting pregnant.
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