"That's very odd!" the Don replied, mystified and rubbing his chin. "It's been several weeks since I last talked to him, and he gave me the information I needed from the investigation that he was doing. And as for retiring in the Valley—I don't think so! By the tone of his voice, he was planning to leave that same night, on the next train back to San Antonio. He said he was leaving. Well, anyway, tell him I said hello and that his services are paid."
"We will, sir! And your name is?" she cautiously asked.
"Señor Federico Juelson, at your service," he said proudly.
"Why, of course." She stood at her desk and looked inside the envelope and counted the money, handing him a written receipt for his payment. "We surely will. And thank you very much for the money. I will put a message in his locker drawer. Thanks again."
Don Federico and Fred walked downstairs and headed for the hotel. Stunned by the information, he wondered what had happened to Tom White. Thinking back, Tom was planning to leave as soon as possible because he had felt his life was in danger in the Lower Valley. Perhaps he had decided to stay longer and finish more of his work. That's it! That must be it. Why would he have stayed? Did something happen to him when he returned to Harlingen? The Don's mind wandered. He was also surprised to see a woman running an office, and so efficiently. For the moment, he decided he would not let anything interfere with his vacation and especially, spending time with his son. He was going to enjoy every minute of it with Fred in the beautiful city of San Antonio.
Taking advantage of being in the big city, Don Federico went to visit his sister, Josie, whom he had not seen in several years. In the beginning, when she first had gotten married to Morris McCormach, her letters were prompt, full of joy and happiness. He had received one every week. As the years passed, the letters that were so regular were now non-existent. His sister had not responded to any of his correspondence in almost two years; not even when she received the news of her father's death. Don Federico had written her many letters, and even after the death telegram, she had never replied.
Renting a one-horse buggy with a driver from the San Antonio Hotel, he and Fred rode across the city of San Antonio, seeing the beautiful views and the quaint old Spanish hacienda-style houses. At Grayson Street and North Brounfels Avenue was the military post called Fort Sam Houston. There stood a ninety-foot clock tower, and Fred, being so young and impressionable, was in complete awe. He had never seen anything so tall and beautiful.
They approached an area that looked like barracks quarters—rows and rows, side by side, each against the other. They were all painted in a greenish-gray paint and unpleasant to the eye, as a matter of fact, depressing, in alphabetical rows. Looking at his notebook and checking the last address he had, Don Federico began tapping gently on the door at number L-125. Nobody answered, and the place looked like it was vacant. As Don Federico peeked in one of the open windows, a young couple was coming into the apartment next door, arms full of packages. They stopped and stared. "Are you looking for the people who lived there? They have moved five doors up to L-130. It's the one on the corner." The man said, "Are you related?"
"Why, yes!" Don Federico answered. "Josie is my sister. But, I have not heard from her in years. While we are visiting San Antonio, I wanted to see her."
"Well! I hope she's still alive!" stated the young man harshly. "The military police have been at their apartment many times. Some of the neighbors on both sides of the quarters have complained. Apparently, her husband beats her up all the time."
Don Federico was shocked and at a complete loss. "Thank you very much for your information." He slowly put the address book in his pocket. "I will see if I can find her," he answered, walking away and getting into the buggy. His face was puckered, concealing his anger, as his blood was boiling.
"What it is? Papá," Fred replied, already looking tired and weary sitting in the buggy. "Is Aunt Josie gone?"
"No, son, she is just around the corner," he said, advising the driver to drive up several doors away. Tapping gently again on the number L-130's door, Don Federico knocked again. No one answered. He tapped again and stood for a moment, stupefied. Finally, he saw the door knob turn.
"Josie!"
From the inside darkness, a woman appeared, then, "Lico!" she cried, using the name she called him when they were growing up. She hugged his neck and held him for a very long time. Letting go of his shoulders, she gently said, "What brings you to San Antonio?"
"I'm here on political business and to do some trading and some shopping. And because I haven't heard from you in so long, I was worried. You have never responded to my letters or messages, not even to Dad's death. I was expecting you at Dad's funeral! Did you get my telegram? What's wrong? What has happened to you?" he questioned. By looking at her, he could see that she was troubled. Her body was thin and fragile, she was hollow-eyed, and her hair, which had been intense black, was now disheveled and turning gray at her young age. Her face reflected joy at seeing him, but it was not hard to see a sad, spiritually depressed woman. Her appearance was a woman who had lived through many hours of almost certain death.
In her younger years, she was perhaps the prettiest, next to Francisca, that he had ever seen in a woman. Her life, as well as her childhood, would have been called "romantic." She was always falling in love with every stranger their father brought to the hacienda as a guest. His father's friends were people involved in military strategy. She was drawn to them because they were important and related stories about battles and war. She was married at fifteen to Morris McCormach, the son of her father's friend, and moved away to San Antonio, where her life took a different turn. He could understand because Josie was a baby when their mother died, and never received the bonding love of a mother.
"Tell me what's happening with you?" he repeated again, not wanting to reveal what the couple who lived next door had told him. He waited.
"I don't know!" she answered in dismay, but irritably. She moved inside the cluttered, dark living room, her hands over her face, and sat down on a couch and began to cry and shake. "I have not felt good for many months. I don't feel good about myself. Look at me!" she exclaimed, standing up and opening up her robe, displaying her distended stomach. "I've gotten fat and ugly."
It wasn't hard for Don Federico to recognize his sister was with child. "Why, I think it's beautiful! I think it's wonderful! And you have always been beautiful. Women are the prettiest when they are with child, and what a blessing it is to have children," he responded, smiling. "Josie! By the way and speaking of children," he said enthusiastically. "I have a surprise for you. I have Fred with me. He is out in the buggy, let me go and get him. He is now ten years old and is growing like a weed."
Closing her robe, wiping her face and blowing her nose into a handkerchief, Josie followed her brother to the door and pulled her hair back, where the light reflected on her face. Don Federico walked outdoors and called to Fred. Returning with his son, he noticed one of her eyes was blackened. "Look! Can you believe he's that tall?" he said as Josie hugged Fred.
She stood for a moment looking at the young lad. "I can't believe he's so tall. He's going to be a handsome and very tall man. All the women better watch out," she said jokingly, turning to face her brother. "Come in. Let me make you some coffee. Can I get you some cold water to drink?" she said nervously, as they entered the narrow hallway.
"I would like some water," Fred answered, surprised at all of the crammed and messy conditions in which his aunt was living. He had heard so many stories about her, and he thought she had many of the same characteristics as Victoria in looks and in actions.
"The kitchen is down the hall. I have a pitcher of water on the counter. There's a glass on top of the shelf," she said, pointing as Fred hurried down the hall.
"Where is McCormach?" Don Federico questioned, looking straight into Josie's eyes."He's gone. He's always gone and never tells me anything. Never tells me his official duties. He leaves for days, sometimes weeks, and I never kn
ow when he is supposed to come back. He always surprises me when he returns."
"What happened to your eye?" questioned the Don with great concern.
"It's nothing! It looks worse than it feels," she said, placing her hand over her right eye, trying to hide her abused face. "I lost my balance and stumbled against the corner of the door going into the kitchen," she responded nervously, with a little laugh.
"I don't believe you, Josie!" He could tell when his sister was not telling the truth by her actions and her giddy remarks.
"I did fall," she remarked sullenly.
"Yes! But at who's hands?"
"Lico!" She turned cautiously to face him. "What are you implying?"
"Face it, Josie! You married a man that's not worth your name and heritage. He's a military man that cares only about himself and the Army. In one of your old letters, you talked about your concern about his drinking all the time, making you unhappy. The situation is getting worse. Is that it? McCormach is drinking all the time and has become a drunk? And when he comes home, he takes it out on you. Beats you, and you make excuses for his actions. Am I correct? You better tell me now, since you're coming home with me. You'll need help when the baby comes." His voice got progressively louder.
"No! No!" cried Josie hysterically. "I can't go anywhere!" she begged. "I'll be all right. I need to stay here. I don't want to face anyone at Spanish Acres. I don't want anyone to see me like this, especially Mamá Maria who raised me. That's the reason I couldn't come home for Dad's funeral. I was with child then and had a miscarriage." She began sobbing uncontrollably.
"Spanish Acres is your home." Don Federico was overcome with a deep, profound, compassion for his sister. "And everyone in the hacienda would love to see you. Everyone would love to see a new baby in the household. Nobody is going to mistreat you there. Get your clothes ready!" he ordered. "You're coming home with me. I will not have my sister being mistreated and beaten up, especially in your condition. You don't need McCormach. All he needs you for is to clean up after him and have his meals ready, and someone to warm his bed. He's using you. Can't you see that?"
"It's not McCormach's fault," she retorted, blaming herself, trying hard to protect her husband's image. Her hands cuddled her face. She then looked up at her brother who was standing over her, and she sighed resignedly. "It's my fault. I was lonely. He's away all the time, and I needed some comfort and affection. I needed someone I could talk with. McCormach will not let me have or make friends. He does not want them to be influencing me. He's afraid that friends would give me ideas." She paused, and then came the final shock. "The baby does not belong to McCormach."
"What are you saying?" Don Federico stormed. "Well, whose is it?" He tried to curb his temper. "For hell's fire sakes! Tell me!" He blurted out the words, gasping in disbelief.
There was a long discreet pause. "It belongs to a man who has been good to me and would help me fix things inside the house. The windows always needed fixing and the hinges on the door. The pipes that the military installs for the kitchen sinks leak all the time and he would fix them, especially the pump. The nails on this floor needed pounding. I had no way of doing things. I have no tools. McCormach would not allow me to have any money. I was never taught anything when I was growing up, especially when it comes to doing a man's work. He works here at the base as a handyman, fixing things up. He's a very good man and occasionally he would bring me flowers, a box of chocolates, and listen to what I had to say. He is very patient with me, and I look forward to seeing him."
"A good fixer-upper, huh, and he fixed you up good!" said Don Federico. "And now what are you going to do? Does McCormach want the baby? Do you? These are things that you are going to be confronted with in the near future. Does the man you have been sleeping with know you're pregnant? And is he ready to take on the responsibility?"
"No!"
"No! To which question? What's all the mystery?"
Josie began sobbing again, making no comment to the questions. "No, I made a big mistake," she replied miserably. "And now I'll have to pay for it, by myself. I can't go home with you, Lico. I need to stay here and confront my mistake, regardless of the cost."
"When is the baby due, Josie?" Don Federico took a deep breath, trying to cool down and control his temper while confronting her predicament. There had to be a solution to her problems.
"In April of next year," she said soberly, with a grim look. "I don't know if I'll keep the child or not. I will probably have to give the child away."
"Have you gone crazy? You are not making any sense!"
"If I stay with McCormach, I'll have to give the child away."
"You can come home with me, where you'll be taken care of. Be with Mamá Maria and Manuel who raised you and loved you. I'll see that greedy McCormach does not touch you and hurt you anymore. If you decide to stay, I'll leave you some money, and please hide it in a safe place, for an emergency so that when you need to leave, you'll have it. My train leaves early in the morning if you want to come with us. It's full of items we bought for Victoria's fiesta, coming up in November. We want you to come and enjoy the festivities with us."
While she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, Josie asked. "How is Victoria? She must be getting real big, by now," she questioned in her strident voice, "and pretty, too!"
"Victoria is getting too big for her boots if that's what you mean. She'll be leaving for Monterrey in January." His tone of voice became calmer and he became more patient. "She is going to get an education, attending the same school that Francisca attended when she was growing up."
Fred had remained quiet, listening, fascinated by the exciting news and problems.
"Oh! My! Before you know it, Victoria will be getting married." Josie's bloodshot eyes lowered while she talked, and there was a despairing sadness in them.
"Not for a while," remarked Don Federico, glancing at his pocket watch. "She needs schooling and a good education first. Josie!" he announced. "I'm afraid time is against us. We are going to have to go. Please! Promise me to take care of yourself." And while talking, he reached his right hand inside of his vest and brought out five one hundred dollar bills. "Take this and put it where McCormach will not see it. Use it when you think it is necessary. C'mon Fred! We had better go. It's getting late and we still have packing to do at the hotel. The driver must think we have forgotten him."
"Lico!" said Josie, getting up, holding onto the money, and hugging Don Federico's neck. "I hate to see you and Fred leave, but you must. I will write to you. I promise to let you know what I plan to do. I love you," she said and kissed his cheek.
"Remember," he told her seriously. "Telegraph me if you find yourself in danger."
After climbing into the buggy he and Fred were silent. An empty feeling engulfed both of them. What a pity, thought Don Federico. Josie was a woman who had deserved the best. She had been as lovely as a picture and could have had any young man with education and money, but she chose otherwise. It was truly a shame, he kept thinking, for the glamour and splendor that once was hers had been taken away forever. She was now a thin, confused, grieving person, instead of the beauty that she had been. Marriage was a sacred thing, yet in some cases, when men abused their privileges, taking advantages of their rights, the holy sacrament had to be dissolved.
In the early hours of the morning, Don Federico and Fred departed San Antonio by train on the first route south to the Rio Grande Valley. Sprinkles of a light rain had developed, making it difficult to carry their baggage and load the two wagonloads of supplies.
The long drive home would give the great Don time to think. His new worries about his sister had complicated his life and plans. He had a disquieting feeling about her, and he hoped his sister would not do anything drastic to herself. Other things were on Don Federico’s mind as well; he was concerned about Tom White and what had happened to him in not returning to his station in San Antonio; the planning of Victoria's birthday party and her future. Her schooling in Monterrey was mor
e reassuring with the prospect that Madero would become president. And had they found the body of the gringa? The thoughts kept haunting him. He had not had time to think of his wife's illness, and ashamedly had enjoyed the break from the hacienda. He anxiously waited to see her and his young son, Carlos, and Victoria again. He was excited about the accomplishment and the contribution that he had given at the famous meeting in San Antonio. It would be a historical event. The light drizzle of rain had increased, making the weather uncomfortable and sticky as the train rolled south toward the Rio Grande Valley.
It was during this long ride home on the train, that Don Federico was able to talk to his son about the complications of marriage, profession, and life, giving Fred direction and advice that was best for him to take. "See why it's so important to become a lawyer?" he asked Fred. "You get to know the laws of the land. Know your rights. This way nobody can make a fool of you because you have learned and studied and given advice to others. You can advance in your career later by becoming a politician and helping your community and country. Make a name for yourself!"
"But Papá, I want to become a doctor. Like, Juan! I want to help people, too. I want Mamá to get better and to find out what her illness is. I can help people and heal them with medicine. I want to learn and study." He began yawning, turning his head to the window.
"All right, my son!" Don Federico smiled and sighed, pleased with his oldest son so full of dreams and so full of "I want." He was still a child and had so much to learn about the cruelty of society, especially in the Rio Grande Valley, which was so full of bias and hatred toward the Mexican-American people. He would have to learn it the hard way like everyone else did—the harsh reality and the terrible hurt that festers deep inside your soul from rejection.
Roots of Indifferences Page 18