Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  "Who is she?" Victoria questioned Ricardo.

  "Her name is Maria Conesa," whispered Ricardo, "a professional singer from Spain. She has been performing and visiting the capital city. When my father was getting his orders from President Díaz, and Huerta, the head commander of the Mexican military, he was so impressed with her that he invited her to stay with us for a month."

  "Is she staying in one of the guest cottages?" she asked innocently.

  Ricardo remained still as if avoiding the question and squeezed her hand hard.

  "Is she staying at the cottages?" she whispered again.

  Annoyed, Ricardo turned and whispered in her ear. "It's best not to talk while Maria is singing. It's impolite and not proper. I will tell you later."

  Maria Conesa was very attractive and extremely talented. Her voice echoed throughout the grand sala like a sweet violin singing Cielito Lindo. Using her fan, and the language of love, her sparkling eyes were directed toward El General. And when she finished her performance of Granada, El General stormed up to the singer, clapping boisterously, and displaying her with pride to Von Schmidt and Bruno Pue, both of whom also stood and clapped. El General hugged her and then presented her with a black velvet box.

  "That reminds me," said Ricardo seriously addressing Victoria, his face flushed from the embarrassing situation. "Let's go outside in the moonlight. I also have a present for you. I have been waiting for the right moment, and this seems to be the right time." He stretched his hand out, and Victoria took it and followed him through the high French doors out into the night, where the flames of twenty torches reflected in the mirroring ponds in the courtyards. He handed her a small velvet box. And when she opened it, she could not believe her eyes. It was a diamond bracelet.

  "Let me put it on for you," Ricardo said, with his flamboyant charm and grace. "It has a certain clamp that is difficult to put on. And guarantee not to come off!"

  "Ricardo!" said Victoria, ecstatic with delight. "It so beautiful!" She kissed his cheek.

  "There will be much more gifts once we are married," he said. "I want my wife to be the prettiest and most elegant in all of Monterrey. I want everyone to be envious of my fortune, being the General's son and having a beautiful wife."

  "Is this what your father gave Maria Conesa also," she said without thinking, admiring her bracelet and being impressed with the singer's performance and her beautiful voice.

  Ricardo’s eyes narrowed and, in the light of the flaming torches, his brown eyes turned to blazing topaz. "The women in this country never ask questions, especially of their husbands. Women are supposed to keep quiet and keep to themselves. They have no rights and do what their husband tells them. Whatever my father gave Maria Conesa is his business, and in this household, we never question, much less ask him, what his activities are. My father is a good provider and very generous with his guests. Did you not have a good time tonight?" He said it in a disappointing tone. Her asking questions at the Castle of Del Calderóne were not the genteel thing to do.

  Victoria stood somber and shocked, not knowing whether to cry or apologize. She felt mortified by her innocent remarks. "I was just curious,” she answered lamely, knowing she had hit a nerve. "I'm not used to the customs in Mexico!" But she was too rebellious and was not going to back off. Instead of being glad about the diamond bracelet, she was more concerned about a woman's status in the household. "If they're married, women have every right to speak and ask questions of their husbands about what he does!" Her speech became louder, and her eyes narrowed, becoming like cold steel.

  Ricardo felt the tension building. He could see that Victoria was like an explosive ready to blow, and he realized she was unfamiliar with the Mexican customs, especially the rich landowners, hacendados like his father, who could afford to have several mistresses, any kind, and any age. "Now, now," he said soothingly, then grinned, trying to stem the tide of her anger. "Here we are, my love, just getting acquainted, and already we are fighting about unimportant things. Calm yourself!" he said, then added, "Let's change the subject to more pleasant things. Did I tell how extraordinarily stunning you look tonight? Your Aunt Emma did a beautiful job on your dress. She must have spent many hours and days completing it. And the earrings and necklace do fit your costume perfectly. I know Mother was very pleased."

  He looked away for a moment. "Tomorrow is another day, and maybe we can go riding. You'll love the horse I picked for you to ride, an Arabian, bought from an owner in Cuba. My father paid a ransom price, but he was well worth it."

  "You're right," Victoria said, calming down. "Tomorrow is another day, and I have a lot to think about, especially in our relationship!" She said it very seriously, giving him something to contemplate also. "We will go riding." Her instincts were calculating and difficult to control, and she was not going to be disciplined. "I must tell my father goodbye, for he is leaving very early in the morning to see about my mother, who is not feeling well."

  Ricardo changed expressions, displaying his facade of congeniality, and replied, "Come, you're right. You've had a long day and need your rest. I will escort you back to the grand ballroom to see your father and then bring you back to your cottage, where you can retire for the evening. I think your father and the other men are engaged in a game of poker in father's private library. The gambling will be high stakes tonight, especially with Von Schmidt and Señor Pue."

  *****

  Many hours had passed. Although in her sleeping chambers, Victoria was restless and unable to sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, thinking about her marriage to Ricardo and trying to analyze her situation. Things were happening too fast. Her feelings were caught in a whirlpool of emotions that was dragging her under. Her parents wanted her to spend time with Ricardo so she could get to know him better. They knew how easily her temper could be sparked. She was a rebel by nature and would fight anything that stood in her way. She thought of the ridiculous customs of the old days when rich families promised to marry their sons to other rich couples' daughters. Dim-witted ways, she thought, feeling uncomfortable with the manners in the Castle del Calderóne. What if you weren't compatible with the other individual? Life would undoubtedly be hell, and you couldn't divorce them, being Catholic. So the woman suffers, regardless of the conditions or situation. Women were only used for the convenience of the men. This was truly a man's world. But times are changing, she thought. Things are going to be different. She wondered about her father, who had little to say to her since he returned from his trip. Perhaps he was still in a state of shock after his terrible ordeal in the Sierras. And there was still the mystery about Juan. What in God's name had happened to him?

  Little by little, Victoria had tried to understand her father's and Juan's ideas in liberating the poor, giving them their freedom and land, giving the poor Indian people an education, so they could read and write. She was wild with thoughts as the brilliant light of the moon shone its luminous beam upon her face.

  Suddenly, she thought she heard sounds of shuffling feet outside her cottage. She lay motionless, holding her breath, as she heard several voices coming from behind the cottage. Victoria grabbed her robe and opened the door quietly. She walked outdoors barefooted and peeked through the trees and flowering bushes into the darkness. She caught sight of a couple talking; one of them was the attractive Indian girl she had seen earlier serving in the dining room. Her hair was no longer in braids, but combed out, flowing loose. She was wearing a white transparent gown and through the dim light, Victoria could see there was nothing underneath. With her was a young Indian boy she had seen working in the kitchen. They stood talking softly in the dark in a conflicting conversation. Victoria listened carefully, for the wind was in her favor.

  "Go, Amparo!" the young Indian boy said desperately. "Go! You must go to the guest's bedroom. You have been ordered to go! You must obey El General's orders. If not, you and I will be punished. You know what will happen! Remember the last time?" the Indian boy spoke in anguish, pushing Amparo
toward the guest cottage.

  "It happens every time El General brings guests into his castle," cried Amparo, suffering in a state of sorrow. "I hate to sleep with his guests!" she sobbed. "It's not normal, but what can I do?" She put her head on the young boy's shoulder and cried bitterly. Minutes passed before Amparo straightened herself and looked into the Indian boy's eyes. "And you?" she said. "What are you going to do? Please don't do anything foolish!"

  "I can take care of myself. I'll be all right. Don't worry about me, Amparo, it's you I worry about. You have to please the guests, or tomorrow we'll have hell to pay. You must go! Go, quickly!"

  Victoria saw Amparo put her rebozo around her head and hurry toward the guest cottage. The Indian boy stood watching until she disappeared around the corner. He then sat quietly on a stone step and put his head in his hands, clearly worried sick about his sister.

  Slowly, and with much interest, Victoria stepped forward. The night had become darker, with a heavy chill, for the moon was behind a cloud.

  "Psst!" whispered Victoria softly, as she gently walked to where the Indian boy sat.

  Startled by her presence, he immediately jumped up, and with much respect bowed to her, saying nothing. His eyes were big and in shock, and he was taking in deep breaths.

  "Did you say her name was Amparo? Where is she going?" questioned Victoria to the boy.

  The Indian boy could not look Victoria straight in the eye. He was nervous and fidgety. He kept

  looking down toward the stone steps and would not speak.

  "Tell me!" demanded Victoria again. "I heard most of your conversation already."

  "To one of the guest bedrooms," the boy struggled to answer, obviously feeling much shame.

  "Amparo has been El General's mistress since we were brought here to live. When he brings

  guests, she is supposed to please them, too. She is supposed to do what he tells her to do."

  "What happens if she doesn't?"

  "I'm her brother, Señorita, and El General will have me killed if she doesn't do what he tells her. El General uses me to persuade Amparo not to resist his commands. She will be sent away to other haciendas, and we will be separated. I don't want that for her, we are the only ones left in our family. El General and his soldiers came, killed our parents, and took us from our village and brought us here to live. We will do anything to stay alive. I must go, too. I'm supposed to go to the German man's quarters." After telling his story, he looked up at Victoria with misty eyes.

  "You're—you're sleeping with the German man—Von Schmidt?" gasped Victoria.

  "Yes, Señorita, but I will survive. It's Amparo that I'm worried about. If she becomes pregnant, it will be too bad for her. I must go!"

  Victoria stood in shock, not believing her ears, as the young Indian boy quickly disappeared. Was this what power and money brought? What kinds of things were going on in Castle Del Calderóne? People with money are forcefully using these poor Indian people as slaves. El General sleeps with whomever he desires since his wife has no say. Here in Mexico, the husband who has money has a wife and several mistresses. What happened to their Catholic religious vows?

  At sixteen she was starting to realize that life was more complicated than she thought. She stood outside for how long, she didn't remember. She pulled her robe about her more snugly, feeling a chill that had overtaken her, forgetting that she was barefooted. Ricardo knew all these things and was keeping it from her. She wondered if that was the main reason he didn't want her to ask questions. Women are supposed to keep their mouth shut and not question anything! The words crowded everything else out of her mind. She slowly walked inside her cottage, removed her robe, and fell into bed.

  *****

  The following day, Victoria rode with Ricardo out into the countryside on the handsome Arabian horse, all the while admiring the beautiful morning and the view of the high Sierras. She was partial to the twilight colors that overlaid the purple mountains surrounding the spectacular Castle Del Calderóne.

  For riding, Ricardo wore light brown riding pants, a beautiful white shirt with lace on the cuffs, high alligator boots, and his Yancey Derringer hat, looking very French and very charming. He wanted to show her the sugar cane fields, in which hundreds of peóns, in their loose white cotton shirts and trousers and large sombreros, were cutting the cane with razor-sharp machetes and loading the long stalks into flat-bed mule wagons.

  Ricardo pointed out the process. "The cane is taken to the grinding mill, where hundreds of gallons of syrup are put into silver cases, set into hot ovens, then put out into the hot sun, with light cotton tarps over them, and dried for days, turning the white sugar into piloncillo. Father has taken pounds of it to President Díaz, General Huerta, and the rest of the cabinet members who requested it, and they loved it. We have taken many pounds during Las Posadas to your grandfather and grandmother as our gift to them. We use it quite frequently for making many of the Mexican pastries and to dip fruit into the boiling syrup. Come, I'll show you how to eat one of the purple stalks. The clear white meat is coarse but delicious," he said, sitting proudly on his horse. "Señor Mendoza!" Ricardo yelled and ordered the foreman of the crew to cut a cane stalk and bring it over to him.

  Victoria impatiently decided to get off her horse to view the workers from the ground. After handing a large stalk to Ricardo, Señor Mendoza kindly began helping Victoria off her horse. Being in a hurry, she slipped, and the hem of her long skirt got caught and snagged on the edge of her saddle. She fell, landing on top of Señor Mendoza, and ripping part of her skirt into a long shred.

  Ricardo became furious and blamed Señor Mendoza. He jumped from his horse and lashed him with his horsewhip without stopping while the old man lay on the ground. The whip slashed his cotton shirt and cut his skin, as blood spattered from his back, shoulders, and arms. The old man yelled in terror and begged for mercy. The rest of the peóns stopped working and watched the torturing with intense fear. They stood with fists clenched, sweat on their foreheads, and hatred in their eyes, glaring at Ricardo with all the stoic patience of their race, but unable to do anything.

  Victoria, mortified, began shouting in the midst of the chaos. "Stop!" she shrieked, and held her hands up in the air, getting in between the old man and Ricardo. "You can't do this, Ricardo! It was my fault, not the old man's!" Her face reflected her despair and horror. She squatted over the old man, seeing to his wounds. "This is cruel and unkind! People shouldn't be treated this way! This is worse than the Negro people were being treated before the Civil War in the United States. And it took a horrible war to stop this kind of torture." She was incensed at the treatment of poor peóns, who were treated worse than slaves, more like animals. She began to realize that they had no rights or any status of any kind and were completely ruled by landowner rules and laws. Freedom was a dream for them, and she started to understand more of what Juan had told her about the Mexican peóns and their sufferings.

  "Victoria!" commanded Ricardo, infuriated. "Get on your horse!"

  "I'm going to see about this poor old man!" she replied indignantly. She stood up and looked at Ricardo with hate in her eyes, her hands clenched in anger. "You can't leave him like this! He needs treatment!" With supreme self-control and confidence, she maintained her courage and disregarded Ricardo's orders. She knelt over the wounded man. Ricardo stormed toward her, grabbing her by the arm. She pulled away and stood there glaring at him with all the hate she possessed. "Don't touch me," she said angrily. "Leave me alone!"

  Ricardo grabbed Victoria's hands. "What's come over you? Get on your horse, before trouble starts." He glanced toward the sugar cane workers and said: "Get back to work! Immediately! Do what I tell you!" he shouted, striking his whip hard against his open palm. There was a strong murmur among the workers, as they took several steps forward and then stopped as if wanting to help Victoria. Ricardo aggressively reached for Victoria's arm and insisted she get on her horse immediately. He felt an uneasy sense of danger here among t
he peóns. They were too many, and with sharp machetes, they could overpower him with no trouble. He grabbed Victoria's wrist roughly, and as he stepped back, the clasp on the diamond bracelet broke, and it flew into the grass.

  *****

  An hour later, they reached the Castle Del Calderóne’s stables. Neither had said a word the entire way back. They dismounted, as several peóns took the reins of their horses. They began walking back to the guest cottage when Ricardo spoke. "I'll get the diamond bracelet fixed and bring it to you at the convent. I'm sorry for that unfortunate scene. But with the Indian workers, you have to tell them what to do, or nothing ever gets done. They all need discipline. The majority of them are all worked up about rumors of an upcoming revolution. They are dangerous and ready to fight at any provocation. It's a good thing they don't have guns and ammunition, or they would have killed us both. It was very foolish of you to disobey my orders, making me look like a fool. Don't ever do that again!" He ordered.

  "The peóns don't look like they are dangerous to me. They are just poor laborers wanting to survive," said Victoria harshly, taking off her gloves, and dragging her torn skirt on the ground as she turned her back on Ricardo and walked away. Her pace was fast and furious and the tone of her voice was escalating. "They are just illiterate! They just need to be educated! If they knew how to read and write, it would be so much better for everyone, and much better for Mexico!"

  "That goes to show you how little you know about Mexico and its people, my love," Ricardo countered, trying to match her pace. He caught up to Victoria as she reached her cottage door. "This is your last day here in our home, and we'll have a special dinner tonight for you, my love," he said, in a sarcastic dominating manner, almost as though she had been an imposition to his family. "We have a band of mariachis that are going to entertain this evening. We'll see if you enjoy it! We will probably have dinner out on the patio. Try to wear something warm. Wear something beautiful, but cover yourself," he ordered. "We'll get your skirt fixed."