The year also brought in the women's vote, ratifying the Nineteenth Amendment granting suffrage to American women. Women could now participate in politics, and the world would never be the same. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) began as social reformers.
For several months Don Federico had not felt well, experiencing dizzy spells and shortness of breath. This happened when he got up from his bed or from his reading chair. He decided to see Dr. Hedrick, who had opened his practice in Mercedes after the Army had left the area and was using his home to receive patients. After a complete examination, Dr. Hedrick suspected heart problems.
"There could be a possibility of having too much fat in your arteries, causing a blockage of oxygen to the brain. Better start exercising and eating less red meat," suggested the doctor. "You have probably gained weight sitting and writing classified documents. Eat small portions several times during the day. Start eating more fruits and vegetables, which is best for your body, and begin walking more. Take a long stroll around the park during the evening hours. It would do you the world of good. Take a spoonful of cider vinegar with honey in water every morning. Vinegar thins the blood."
It was hard to believe that he was having heart problems, but yes, he had gained considerably over twenty pounds since he started his job as Ambassador of Goodwill. The Don was often eating on the run, sitting for long periods, and writing documents for hours, not being as active as when he was living full-time at Spanish Acres, riding horses and roping calves.
Perhaps the doctor was right in having him curb his eating habits, but that was like dying, too. He would have to give up the golden, rich butter, cold glasses of milk, and those thick steaks, not to mention the delicious Mexican meals, full of rich sauces and thick cheeses. Eating fruits and vegetables would turn him into a rabbit.
In the early part of 1921, the Don decided to resign his appointed ambassadorship. The raids had ended, and Mexico's new president was restoring peace along the border; there was little paperwork that needed to be documented.
For the time being, he would rest and take care of his health and his property. James returned to the federal courts in Brownsville and informed Canalo of Don Federico's decision. Tomas Canalo, upon learning of Don Federico's resignation, immediately wired him, asking him to consider the senatorial position in his district coming up in the fall. Canalo had retired from public office and was spending his time on his ranch. He had been threatened by several Texas Rangers, especially one Frank Horner. "It's the only way you can help the Mexican-American people and voice your opinion," he suggested.
With the support and encouragement of the Mexican-American citizens around the county, the Don could not resist the temptation. He decided to place his name into the hat in the race for State Senator that was coming up in the fall. It took long and arduous hours of planning speeches and talking to people in the small towns of Hidalgo County. Many prosperous Mexican-American citizens contributed money and valuable time, including members of his extended family and many people from the Catholic Church. All the children began helping him with posters and arranging meetings with new Mexican-American social clubs that were beginning to form.
Thanks to his standing in the community, Don Federico won by a landslide and began his elected job by traveling to Austin and meeting with many of the other newly elected Senators. He would spend many days and weeks at the state capital developing new laws that were beneficial for the Mexican citizens throughout the state of Texas. He was even more interested in the educational process and in improving the quality of learning in the schools. His proposal was opposed by the other Senators, who thought the idea was not relevant at that particular time since the Jim Crow Laws were still strong. He offered many other ideas for reducing property taxes, and for removal of poll taxes, and for allowing Mexican-American citizens to vote who did not own property. Traveling home, he would take the train to Houston first and spend some time with Fred.
Coming home to Mercedes was always a comfortable feeling, after staying in hotels and boarding houses. Seeing his boy Carlos growing into a man and watching the grandchildren playing and growing around him provided him with much satisfaction. He would spend weeks at Spanish Acres, supervising the clearing of ever more land, seeing the cotton growing and the two oil wells producing crude oil, and his cattle, which had become large herds. His vaqueros were growing older and their families were leaving the nest. His life was comfortable and good.
A year had come and was almost gone. Another hot summer had passed and in late fall, the Don decided to drive to Spanish Acres in his one-horse buggy. He was excited to check on the special breed of Brahma cattle he had gotten the previous year. He had bought five cows and a bull from a German breeder north of Austin. The cattle's color was different from his reddish-brown Santa Gertrudis and Hereford breeds. The Brahmas were gray, humped, heat-resistant and tick-resistant cattle imported from the east, and they were showing good results so far. He had decided to interbreed and see what kind of results it would bring in the coming years.
It was a cool morning, and he decided to wear his white, poplin hat and a dark wool jacket that was the style in Austin and Houston. After leaving La Villa, the Don made a turn onto the road that once led to Doña Adela's property. The area had been cleared, except for some mesquite and jangled scrubs, the broken bricks of the chimney, and part of the old barn. Weeds and grass had taken over. As he drove by the old place, he wondered why the kindly old woman had been killed. He was saddened by her loss since Doña Adela had always meant well to all of the people who patronized her. He slowed down, gazing at the area, remembering all the good memories he had of being a little boy, and his mother bringing him to visit Doña Adela.
He expelled a deep breath and turned his buggy north and headed for Spanish Acres. The seldom-used path had become thick with impenetrable underbrush on both sides of the road, interspersed with towering cottonwood trees and mesquite, sage, Mexican pine, and chaparral. Many dry bushes had died and had piled up from year to year, falling into a bulky thick tangle of vines and brambles.
As the horse pushed forward, Don Federico kept wondering about Hanson. He knew he was still alive and was sneaking across the border occasionally. He also knew that he was probably working on a scheme of some kind, trying to find some way of getting back at him. It had been several years now, since the gold mine incident, but a man like Hanson would never give up.
Don Federico did not remember what happened next. When he woke up, he was on a cot at Spanish Acres with a terrible headache, a large gash on the side of his head, his legs were on fire, and his back hurt terribly. He was being taken care of by the two kindly old ladies, Ophelia and Olivia. Soledad, with a concerned look on her face, kept putting a cold towel on his forehead. Memo was sent to Mercedes to inform Victoria of the accident.
"What happened?" The moaning Don questioned.
"Ya' tell us!" Roy answered, with a puzzled look. "All we know is dat we found ya' dis mornin' fainted a' sittin' in yore buggy inside o' the gate entrance. It was pretty damn queer, ya' sittin' thar, all slumped over. The vaqueros brought ya' inside."
"What day is it?"
"Da day is Wednesda', why? When did ya' leave Mercedes?"
"Monday!" he said with a bewildered concern. "Monday morning." He repeated himself like a drunken parrot. "Wednesday, you said. And it took me two days to get here when it's only a half day's drive?" He frowned, obviously shaken. "The horse and the buggy—are they all right?"
"Git sev'al scrat'hes on his right, back leg and a big pur'pull bump up high'r on the same side.
W'en we git him, he was preettee spooked. He's gonna be all right after some bag balm is put on 'em. It'll take a couple o' days, but he'll be okay. "
"Something hit us!" The Don narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his brow, trying to remember, trying to grasp reality. "It threw me out of the buggy, and my head landed against a tree. I remember the sounds of the horse, snorting, rearing, and his hooves pounding. I
can vaguely remember a bad smell, a stink. And someone picked me up and put me in the buggy, but I must have been there for a long time—it was later—hours later. I can't remember any more."
"Bet'er rest!" commented Roy interrupting his patrón. He shook his head, and then signaled to Soledad to meet him in the kitchen.
"Somethin' strange, somethin' odd's goin' on," Roy told Soledad. "Whut ya' think, Querida?" They both looked at each other, at a loss to explain it. "He mentioned a smell. What kinda smell? Thar's all kinds o' stinks 'round here."
Soledad agreed and felt the strangeness all around her, causing her to become more worried. "There is something strange. Having someone pick up Don Federico and just leave him hurt at the entrance of the gate is odd. Was someone afraid to bring him inside the grounds of Spanish Acres?"
"Yon have a point, but… who?"
Like a wild wind, Victoria entered from the kitchen side and interrupted the two. "What happened to Papá?" she asked nervously, dropping her shawl, a package, and her pocketbook on the dining room table. "Is he going to be all right?"
"We do not know yet," answered Soledad. "He's hurt and must have broken some bones the way he's moaning. He must have been out for a whole day and a half. He's in the bedroom from the kitchen."
Frantically, she hurried to find her father lying in bed groaning, with a white linen cloth over his forehead.
"We had no choice but to put him close to the kitchen, where we could attend to him," said Soledad, who trailed behind Victoria, with Roy behind Soledad. "We were afraid to move him."
"I s'pect it could have been dat giant javelina boar dat's been roamin' 'round the brasada," Roy suggested, not finding any other explanation for what had happened to Don Federico. "Dat beast musta hit 'em straight on!" Roy said, but in the confusion of everyone talking, no one paid any attention.
It was two days before Dr. Hedrick was able to travel to Spanish Acres and attend Don Federico; he had been notified the day before but got busy with his clientele. After his diagnosis, he informed Victoria that Don Federico was going to have trouble walking, for he was paralyzed from his waist down. He suspected that a disc had pinched his spine, and though surgery might bring his feeling back, for the moment there was nothing he could do but give him syrup containing the drug cocaine to relieve the pain. Dr. Hedrick informed Victoria that he was only a family doctor and did not have the skill to operate, that her father needed a specialist that performed delicate spinal operations. The Mercedes Surgical and Obstetrical Hospital was the only hospital around, and it was only used for emergencies, a white women having babies.
The dire news sent waves of helplessness through everyone who knew Don Federico. Victoria was beside herself. She was going to need help figuring out what to do now with the hired help, and with the huge herd of cattle that needed to be shipped north.
With the new women's rights, she was able to take control of her father's business and run it her own way. First, she would have to change the banking deposits, especially the oil company account, from Brownsville's Yturria Bank into the bank in Mercedes. It was simple, for instead of viewing the ledgers every month, she would be able to review them and pay the workers weekly. In her empowerment, Victoria began using her head to become a businesswoman, regardless of what others thought.
What hit her father in the buggy and left him so distressed and helpless? And who had picked him up and put him back in the buggy? Who? Someone must have brought the horse and him to the entrance gate of Spanish Acres. Someone must have known who he was. Victoria began using her fortune-telling expertise and went into a trance-like Doña Adela had taught her. What she visualized was—Roberto! Well, yes! It has to be Roberto, she thought. Roberto is alive? He has to be. Who else knew her father and knew where to bring him? He is still roaming the brasada like he always did. But what hit her father and the buggy? She began visualizing again, seeing a dark, blunt figure, only a blur, and she could not bring into focus the exact cause.
"Roy!" she said out loud. "Has anyone seen any sign of Roberto around? His body was never found, remember? He must still be living in the brasada and pretended he was an animal. I believe he is still alive and found my father and put him in the buggy. Dad recalled a stink! Who else would stink that bad—only someone who hadn't had a bath in years!"
"Waal, Lardy al bee gawddamn!" Roy sputtered, knowing that Victoria was right in her deduction of what had happened. "Waal, yo're gettin' as good as la bruja was in predictin' thangs. Yes sirree, jus' as good!"
Don Federico was convinced after hearing what Victoria had said, and it seemed correct and obvious. In a gesture of kindness, he ordered the household to put food outside the gate every day, no matter what day it was. He was grateful to Roberto for saving his life and wanted to repay him. Roberto and Don Federico had a secret they shared in common, and Roberto was aware of it. Putting out food for him every single day would symbolize the Don's kindness and appreciation toward him. He knew he was still alive and lived among the wild animals in the brasada.
Victoria's estimations were correct. On an early morning, one of the vaqueros who took a large plate of food to the entrance gate brought back the missing white poplin hat which he found sitting on the empty plate.
Victoria also got the impression that a large wild animal had hit the buggy. Roy agreed and was positive that a razorback javelina had hit it, by the holes punched in the side. The following morning, he ordered two of the vaqueros to hunt down the wild boar. Over a year ago, one of his hired hands had been bucked down and was sliced by a wild javalina's tucks. On another occasion, an oilrig worker had encountered several of the wild pigs and, though hurt, climbed a mesquite tree, which was the only thing that saved his life.
Victoria sent a telegram to Fred in Houston and advised him of their father's ill-fated accident and indicated in the telegram that Don Federico needed special attention on his back and for him to check on doctors who specialized in back surgeries as soon as possible.
Within two weeks, Fred arrived by train, surprising everyone, with two different doctors who were willing to check Don Federico and give a diagnosis on what could be done for him to walk again. They were Dr. Benjamin Burr from Galveston, who was teaching at the University of Houston, and his assistant, a young Indian by the name of White Eagle, who came from Oklahoma to study medicine; the two had taken time off to examine Fred's father.
Dr. Burr was Italian, a burly, heavyset man in his sixties with dark brown hair mixed with white, including his beard. He wore spectacles and was meticulous about everything, and he talked with his hands. White Eagle was from the Cherokee tribe in Oklahoma and was tall and athletic looking, with golden-olive skin, and black hair in a single braid down his back. His family had inherited several oil wells and had sent him to study medicine to help save his people from so many infectious diseases. Fred and White Eagle had hit it off from the very start of their studies. Both had come from the same background, except different nationalities, and had the same sentiments on people wanting to help heal their own kind. White Eagle was quite and reserved and would merely nod or frown when answering a direct question.
Fred and the two doctors were welcomed like gods in the household, with banquets of food and wine and servants to assist them with everything. Dr. Burr, a widower, fell in love with the Rio Grande Valley and its people. He ended up being smitten by Emma and her wonderful cooking and stated to her that his retirement was coming soon, and he would come to Mercedes to live. Emma was beside herself.
After visiting Don Federico at Spanish Acres with all the gracious formalities, it was agreed that the delicate operation would have to be done in Houston where they had the facilities to operate on his spine. Arrangements were made to bring Don Federico on a flat wagon to the train station east of his hacienda. The train would take him to the town of Alice, and he would then be transported to Houston. All of this would take some maneuvering and the assistance of everyone at Spanish Acres.
Victoria began making th
e arrangements with Fred, Dan Land, and Roy to accompany her father to Houston. The busybody but good-hearted Mrs. McCray decided to volunteer her services by going with them and would take care of Don Federico during his recovery. She was a retired nurse, and nobody took care of people like a woman, she kept repeating.
At their departure, Victoria whispered to Fred as they embraced, "Let me know as soon as the operation is over and how it went. As soon as the father begins recovering from the surgery, please send me a telegram as quickly as possible, so I won't be worrying so much. I'll be praying! I have to stay and take care of things, my children, Aunt Josie, our grandmother Gloria, the books, and payroll." In other words, Victoria would be doing some hot voodooing, just like Doña Adela had taught her was needed in time of trouble, especially burning candles, going into trance, and reading the cards.
"Don't worry, Manita," he said, using the endearing word for sister. "In the hands of these doctors, Father will be fine. And as soon as he is better, I'll bring him back home."
CHAPTER 35
The operation was successful. The return trip by train was slow and painful as Fred and the rest brought Don Federico back to Mercedes to be greeted by his family and many loyal friends. It took many months of recovery, and Mrs. McCray, so willing and so congenial and so busy talking, moved into the house and was there to please his every whim to the point of annoyance. When the Don began walking again, he had to use a cane, a special silver cane ordered from the finest retail store in Dallas. At other times, he would sit for hours in a wheelchair at his desk writing documents and corresponding with the Texas State Senate and Representatives.
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