"I'm here to stay, mí Chula," he said, "to stay forever with you." He hugged her and kissed her cheeks. "Mí Vida! We will live together—forever."
Victoria sat down and cried. She remembered Doña Adela telling her in her last meditation, which was yesterday, Juan will return. He will come back to live with you. Remember he is on the run from the Mexican government and needs a safe haven. He will find it with you. Victoria also remembered telling Doña Adela, It's impossible!
CHAPTER 42
On an early June morning in 1942, at the Mercedes train depot, Fred stood frazzled from a two day trip from Tampico with his two little girls, each now holding onto a leg, waiting for the Juelson car to pick them up. When Victoria arrived, she hugged Fred for the longest time, with tears in her eyes. Juan, looking older and even grayer, joyfully hugged him, happy to see him again. Don Federico, looking thinner, more bald, and pale, was not able to contain his own tears of wonderment. He also embraced his son, not wanting to let him go.
Victoria glanced apprehensively at the two little girls, trying to decide whether to hold them or not. They reminded her of two, just-hatched, orphan birds—helpless. She was not pleased in seeing them and wondered what the rest of society was going to say. Fred had been the golden boy, and so much had been expected of him, and now this.
Victoria remained aloof and toyed with the thought of pretending, but they were her nieces, and there was nothing she could do about it. Any unkind words coming from her mouth would only hurt Fred. She and the family would have to put up with them, and she had to watch what she said. She finally picked up two-year-old Ana Maria, who was snotty nosed and crying, afraid of all the commotion and all the strange people. She only bawled louder, prompted by the brusqueness of Victoria's attitude. "Easy with her," said Fred. "Be careful, those are my two little girls. They are tired and hungry. They have come a long way, and they miss their mother." And Fred added, "It's little Ana Maria who is more attached and cries more for Dolores."
Victoria came to her senses and realized her abruptness and reached for five-year-old Maria Venus, who was shy and nervous. But the child recoiled, rejecting her, as if she felt something strange about Victoria, and she hugged her father's leg ever more tightly. Fred reassured Maria Venus and led her to the car. He held Ana Maria, patting her back, and calmed her down while the driver drove them home. And where was Dolores? That was the big question. Come to find out, Dolores was unable to come to the United States until her visa was cleared, and that would perhaps take a couple of years. And it was a good thing since the hen-house wagging tongue society was ready to start slinging mud. "You should have smuggled her into the country," remarked Victoria, halfway serious. "Since the closing of the borders and the new immigration law, the Mexican coyotes are busy reaping hundreds of dollars by crossing Mexicans over illegally."
"Oh, no, things must be done legally, according to the law," commented Don Federico.
For the next two months, hundreds of Fred's previous patients and friends came to the mansion and welcomed him back with great respect. Fred's heart conflicted; he was happy being home with his father and Victoria, but his life was at a crossroads. He had changed so much. He wanted to be in Tampico-Alto with Dolores and his clinic, where he was needed, and where people appreciated him for his integrity.
Weeks afterward, Fred brought himself to ask questions about things that had happened since he had left. With his heart broken over Carlos's death, he asked again how he had died and wondered why? He eventually would go to Spanish Acres and meet Mary and Carlos's lovely children. Fred also questioned the health of Don Federico, who was getting forgetful and would swear a lot and often repeated the same story over and over again. He was also concerned about Aunt Josie, who was still creating a ruckus within the household.
Fred saw how the town of Mercedes had been transformed with so many new shops and businesses exploding along the highway. However, the white downtown businessmen had not changed in their prejudices. They were still bold and certain in their usual double-standard ways. The Mexicans-American still did business in the Mexican barrios, and the whites stayed in their section. He was deeply hurt when he walked into the downtown, among the white neighborhood shops, wanting to greet people, and found himself completely shunned, with most turning their backs on him. It profoundly hurt and dismayed him.
Fred and Victoria spent many hours catching up on different subjects; so much had altered in his absence. Aaron, after his schooling, got a job with an accounting firm and married a beautiful girl from Monterrey and were now living in Houston. Fred mentioned to Victoria one main reason he'd returned after war was declared was that a week before, he had sewn up several wounded German soldiers. With a gun being pointed at his head, he had no other choice. The Germans had submarines all along the shores of Tampico. He was frightened for his children and thought it best to bring them to the United States. He also saw how happy Victoria was with Juan and how she had finally fulfilled her dream of their being together. After hearing Juan's story, Fred understood his having to flee Mexico; it brought back his own ugly memories.
The country was at war, and realizing, with his shady background, no medical profession would hire him, he was deeply saddened. He had to come up with some form of employment if he were going to support his family. His two little girls would have to stay at the mansion and would have Victoria and the rest of his family raise them until Dolores was able to join him later.
In a short time, Fred found himself feeling disillusioned at having returned home to Mercedes, and he became restless and did not stay in the town for very long. With the toss of the dice, he was fortunate to have found work in Brownsville, doing bookkeeping and keeping account ledgers for a large shipping company. He stayed five days a week in a lodging area and returned home on the weekends. It was a rat-shit salary, but it was a job. Saturday and Sunday were the only days he was able to spend time with little Ana and Maria.
Victoria and Don Federico bought him a new car that gave him the opportunity to travel back and forth to work. His vehicle also gave him the freedom to roam. On several occasions, with his restless mind and loneliness, he would drive to Spanish Acres with his two little girls to spend time with the older vaqueros, Roy, Soledad, Mary, and her two children. It was fun for the two girls seeing the many animals at the ranch.
One particular Saturday, he drove the winding curves of the paved road, and before coming to La Villa, he stopped the car and listened to the sounds of the wind, and with his usual curiously, studied the changes in the landscape. The area was now called Sunrise Hill, where thousands of acres of citrus trees had been planted in an area that years ago had belonged to a Ranchero friend of Don Federico.
Fred marveled at the beautiful scenery and all the changes that had come about since he had left this area. It had stormed and drizzled rain the night before, and throughout the countryside, there were puddles of water on the ground and on the gravel road.
After driving through the town of La Villa, within half an hour, he was into Juelson territory, the area he was most accustomed to, and where he had grown up. As he was getting closer to Spanish Acres, along with the old La Sal Road, he became aware that his two children were quieter and had fallen asleep on the back seat. Up ahead he noticed a medium-sized, dark lump next to the road, but the object, upon seeing him, rapidly disappeared into the undergrowth in the area that was once Doña Adela's abode.
Fred slowed down and rolled the window down. He was curious, and, on impulse, he turned into La Bruja's old place. The road was a lonely dirt trail that perhaps only the vaqueros, cotton field workers, or the riggers from the oil field occasionally used. Both sides of the road were impenetrable, with mesquite, thick undergrowth, chaparral, tall cottonwood trees, and many dried, tangled bushes had lived and died and had revitalized the following year in the same spot again. There were a hundred different varieties of the unwanted cacti that persisted to this day.
As he was about to circle into the tra
ck where Doña Adela once lived, he noticed an old, faded blue Ford pickup parked inside the lot. He turned the engine off and sat in his car and watched to see if there was any movement. Only silence. Among the trees was only the chirping of the mockingbirds, and the wind that consistently blew, and the angry echoing cries of the black birds flying and circling around.
Finally, after several minutes went by, and since this was their land, Fred decided to step out of his car and check on the whereabouts of the driver of the Ford truck. He felt the truck's hood, and it was still warm. He walked onto the property, stepping on wet, soggy stones, broken glass, and burned wooden boards still scattered about from the explosion that had wrecked the house. Tall grass and sprawling weeds had taken over. The area had been cleared from the old house, but there was still plenty of debris lying on the ground, and there still remained parts of a tumbled-down chimney and the sagging remnants of the dilapidated barn and shed.
Getting closer, he heard a noise coming from yards outside the old barn. He walked over and peered through a crack in the rotted boards of the only wall left intact. A large, brawny man wearing overalls and a straw hat was using a wooden-handled metal pick to dig through the rich, dark ground. Fred frowned and wondered for a moment what the man was doing and what business he had digging in this area that was spiritually forbidden by the Mexican people, who would not think of coming close to this spot. It was considered haunted. And what was the fleeting dark shape that he had seen on the road? Did it have anything to do with this scene before him?
He kept a close watch through the hole, trying to recognize the person, hoping to view his facial features. From that distance, Fred could not tell. Suddenly, the large man stopped and knelt down. He had found something, which he began pulling from the earth. The hombre seemed overjoyed with the large object in his hands and was unaware of anyone else's presence. Fred was hesitant to make himself known and kept straining his eyes to determine what the object was that held the attention of the stranger. He was ready to come forward and ask questions— when he was distracted by a sudden movement in the nearby west undergrowth.
From the dense growth of cactus, mesquite, and brushy undergrowth, a small dwarf figure appeared and stood silently over the big man, who was kneeling down, brushing the dirt off of a small tin trunk.
Fred eyed the small figure and instantly recognized him, his eyes growing wide. It was Roberto! He was alive! Everyone around Spanish Acres thought Roberto had died sometimes out in the brasada. But, this was his home, and deformed and disfigured as he was, Roberto still claimed his grounds, haunted or not. Fred stood petrified with horror as he watched the scene before he unfolds.
Roberto gripped in one hand a large, dried mesquite limb ripped to a sharp point, and he quickly plunged it into the side of the large man's neck. The enormous man jumped to his feet, growling in pain and cursing, his epithets echoing throughout the brasada. He turned to face Roberto in surprise, and terror in his eyes. His face twisted in pain, and he wrapped his beefy hands around his throat as blood spurted higher and higher. He was still standing, but became wobbly, then fell to his knees. Roberto circled around him, grabbed the pick from the ground, and plunged it into the man's back. The big man let out another strangled cry, but he was not giving up easily. He reached into his pants with one bloody hand, pulled out a pistol, and began shooting randomly—one shot, two shots, three—the last one hitting Roberto in the stomach. Eventually, the man dropped the gun and rolled over onto the ground.
Roberto, holding his stomach, fell to his knees groaning.
Without thinking, Fred ran toward Roberto. He was still alive but gravely wounded. The burly, strapping man lay sprawled and moaning on the damp ground. Fred kneeled and felt the pulse on the man as blood kept spurting from the punctured artery in his neck. The injured man was fighting back death and struggling to speak. "…I should have known," he muttered, glaring at Fred, "…gaw'd…damn! …Trying to kill Juelson…had a trap for me!" Gasping and breathing hard, he gurgled, "…the son-of-a-bitch, Juelson…he finally won!" His body went into spasms; he rolled his eyes and died.
Fred's instincts told him it was the ex-Texas Ranger Hanson. Apparently, he had been planning to kill his father, waiting for the chance, hiding around Doña Adela's place, with nobody aware of his plans. Next to the body of Hanson was a corroded tin chest covered with damp clay—he never had a chance to open and enjoy his pirate's hoard.
Fred leaned over to examine Roberto, who was lying on the ground holding his bloody stomach. The bullet had penetrated the lower part of his abdomen and was still lodged there. The bullet had to be taken out. Fred panicked. He had forgotten about his two girls sleeping in the car, and he needed to check on them. When he turned to go, he was surprised to find Maria Venus standing there wide-awake and white as a sheet. She had gotten out of the car and perhaps had witnessed the whole scene. She started to cry hysterically when Fred picked her up.
Dear God! Fred prayed, I have to help Roberto! His first thought was to get Maria Venus calmed and back inside the car and then try and get Roberto into the front seat and drive him to Spanish Acres, only a couple of miles away.
Half an hour later, Roberto was taken inside by Roy and several other vaqueros, who saw Fred driving madly up the road and honking wildly—he had not taken his hand off the horn since he had entered the long Spanish Acres driveway.
Fred did not have to explain—everything was bloody from the car seat to his white shirt and pants. The hero Roberto was taken to a cot close to the kitchen. Soledad and Mary comforted Maria Venus, who was still in shock and continued crying and took care of Ana Maria, who had just woken up from all the noise.
With the help of Roy, the vaqueros, and the usual chloroform, alcohol, cotton, and a sharp knife, Fred extracted the bullet from Roberto, who could only moan; he had never talked in his life. The stink coming from his hideous body made a maggot want to barf, but the filthy little man was a hero.
There were no phones at Spanish Acres. Fred handed Mary the keys to his car and asked her to drive to La Villa, where there was a phone in the office of the train station, and call Victoria in Mercedes. "Have Victoria bring Dad and Juan," Fred frantically insisted. "But be careful what you say to her. Don't mention anything about this incident. Don't say anymore, since everybody and their dog is listening on the phone. Tell Victoria to get here as soon as possible. She is going to start asking you questions, but tell her to just get over here, quickly! I will explain later. She will understand."
Within the next three hours, Don Federico, Victoria, and Juan were at Spanish Acres. Fred had explained everything and had gone over the whole story while holding Maria Venus to his shoulder and rocking her after Soledad had given her some manzanilla tea. Several of the vaqueros had brought the body of the dead man in the back of their flatbed truck. One of the vaqueros drove the old Ford pickup and hid it behind the barn.
Outdoors in the late afternoon as the twilight was touching earth; Don Federico shivered in shock as he took one look at the burly man lying on the flatbed truck and gasped. "It's Goddamn Hanson! The mother of Satan," he said, almost out of breath. "It's him! He's heavier, grayer and uglier than I remember, but it's him, all right, and the murderous, master Diablo has finally gotten his due. I can now rest in peace. I cannot believe it!" Don Federico was relieved. He knew that Hanson was trying to kill him, plotting all along, and waiting for the chance. "All these years and all it took was one little-deformed man, so insignificant, but yet so heroic," he said, shaking his head. "Roberto has got to live, and I will reward him a hundred times over. He will need taking care of— his teeth, clothes, and food." He paused and reflected on the gruesome event. "Of course, it all makes sense now. He probably witnessed his mother's death and was protecting his property and his mother's possessions."
"It's hard to believe," said Juan. "Sometimes that's the way it happens. So now, what are we going to do with the body? We need to call the sheriff."
"No!" exclaimed Vict
oria frantically. "They must never know of Hanson's death. If we call the sheriff, they are going to think we killed him. It will look very suspicious. Remember, Los Rinches never did anything about Hanson's evilness. Think!" Victoria suggested to everyone listening. "Hanson framed Fred because of Dad. Now Fred's back, and all of a sudden Hanson shows up dead on our property? Yes, it was circumstantial, but nobody is going to believe that story. And what about Roberto? We cannot explain about Roberto. Roberto is part of Spanish Acres, and we are part of Roberto."
Her words were truer than she knew. "Victoria is right," agreed Don Federico. He did not want to tell them what la bruja, Doña Adela, had told him in confidence so many years ago. It would be too painful. The secret that he had carried with him with agonizing understanding and finally compromised, coming to terms with the reality that Roberto was his half-brother. All along, Roberto probably knew this too and understood, in his own little brasada world. Doña Adela, sometime while he was growing up, had told him the truth to make him feel he was part of the Spanish Acres family. That was the reason Roberto had saved Don Federico's life when he had the buggy accident out in the brasada. And the main reason he would roam around protecting the land, because it was his land, and all along had been his.
Don Federico still could not come to terms with telling Fred and Victoria the other secret, the one about their ancestry. Not at this time. It was too shocking. He would tell them later.
The corroded tin trunk was full of coins; five, ten and twenty-dollar gold pieces that Doña Adela had been saving, perhaps for a rainy day. There were many rainy days in this part of the country, and Don Federico would see that Roberto received the money.
He went to check on Roberto where he was lying on the cot. He got a chair and sat close to him. "Roberto, you are home now," he told him. "You will be safe here. This is your home for as long as you want it to be," the Don said sincerely. He smiled at the outcast little man and patted his gnarled hand.
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