“Oh, me, too!” said Salvador. “I love it around Carlsbad and Oceanside!”
“You, too?”
“Oh, yes! The sea always gives me such a feeling of peace inside, just like I always felt back home in our mountains.”
“Why, that’s what the sea does for me, too!” she said excitedly. “The canyon we lived in in Mexico was so high in the mountains, you could see forever. And I’d been feeling so lonely, so homesick ever since we left, until I met the sea.”
“I’ll be,” he said, “that’s the same for me!”
“No, really?”
“Oh, yes!”
They looked at each other, truly seeing each other for the first time, and their eyes shone, scared and nervous, and yet full of hope.
“Tell me more about your mother,” said Lupe.
“Gladly,” he said. “She was born in Mexico City, and she went to school all the way to fifteen years old, studying French as well as Spanish.”
“My God!” said Lupe, feeling very impressed.
“But then she and my grandparents moved to the mountains of Jalisco,” continued Salvador. “That’s where I was born, four days ride by horse to Guadalajara, our nearest city.”
“But why did your grandparents decide to move to such a desolate place?” asked Lupe. “Especially after going to the trouble of having their daughter educated.”
“Those were difficult times, my mother tells me. Mexico was as torn apart by the war with the French as it is now by the Revolution. People were hungry. Families were scattered to the winds, trying to find new lands, new hopes, a place to call home. But my grandfather on my mother’s side, the great Don Pío Castro, was a man of vision,” said Salvador.
Lupe smiled. “Go on, please.”
“Well, my grandfather was poor, uneducated, from the most humble of Indian peasants,” said Salvador, “but he had this dream, this vision to establish a town high in the mountains away from all the rich hacendados, a place where men could raise their families in peace. He was uneducated but determined that his children would all go to school and be free men!”
Salvador continued and told Lupe the story of Don Pío and his two brothers riding north from Mexico City after the French wars. Lupe was spellbound. Why, this was one of the most beautiful stories that she’d ever heard.
But then Salvador’s eyes filled with tears, and he couldn’t go on.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s all gone,” he said.
“You mean the town Don Pío built and everything?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Everything. The cattle and horses and goat herds, all the orchards of peaches and apples and pears. Everything. The buildings and barns and corrals . . . the whole community!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” said Lupe, tears coming to her own eyes. “The very same thing happened to our town, La Lluvia de Oro. The gold mine closed down and the whole settlement returned to the jungles.”
“Exactly,” said Salvador, “the last time I climbed back up the mountain to look for my father, who’d abandoned us, it looked almost as if no settlement had ever been there.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, gripping her chest. “Why, I saw that very same thing from our cathedral rocks the last time I climbed up to say goodbye to my Colonel.”
“Your Colonel?” he said.
Lupe froze. She’d never mentioned her Colonel to any human being outside her own immediate family. And, here, she’d just blurted it out to an almost complete stranger.
“Yes,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes, “a fine, wonderful soldier who came to stay at our home with his wife when I was very small.”
“And you cared a lot for him?” asked Salvador.
Lupe searched his eyes, trying to guess what was going on inside his mind. But then she just nodded. “Yes, very much,” she said, hiding nothing.
“I see,” he said, breathing deeply. “Love is very powerful. It stays with us all the days of our lives. But myself, my only love has been my mother. Until now.”
“Until now?”
“Why, yes,” he said. “Don’t you know, Lupita, you’re the one.” His whole chest came up. “Ever since the first day I saw you . . . I’ve known . . . completely without a doubt . . . that you’re the one that I’ve been searching for all my life.”
Lupe felt herself going faint. Why, there were just no higher words that she’d ever dreamed of hearing from a man in all her life. She was suddenly filled with terror. What if he was real, her truelove come true? A part of her felt like running away, not wanting to hear another word. But no, she didn’t run. She stood still, ready to see this through.
He looked at her and she returned his gaze. They sat there silently. The moment was so fragile, so delicate; they were almost afraid to breathe.
Then Salvador said, “Give me your hand, querida.”
Without hesitation, Lupe gave him her hand.
“Lupe,” he said, trembling, “tell me, what are your dreams? My mother has always told me that we never know another human being until we know their dreams. So, please, tell me yours.”
“My dreams?” she asked, feeling her mind go reeling. What a beautiful thing to be asked. Oh, she was flying.
“Yes, your dreams,” he said. “Mine are easy. I’m going to be rich. I don’t know how, but I am. And I don’t care if I have to work for twenty hours every day, seven days a week, but I’m not going to work for nobody but myself ever again. And I’m going to buy a ranch. A big one! And, in the middle of it, on a hill, I’m going to build my home like my grandfather built, and my children will go to school and they’ll never suffer like I suffered, I swear to God!”
And saying this, Salvador’s whole chest came up and his eyes filled with tears. Lupe felt his power, his strength, his conviction of mind, and she believed in him. She was overwhelmed by his presence.
“And now, tell me, what are your dreams, querida?” he asked.
How he’d said the word, “querida,” so softly, so gently, sent shivers up and down Lupe’s spine. She, the quietest of all her family, began to speak as she’d never spoken before. She was suddenly a flood of words, telling him of all the hidden feelings she’d never known existed inside herself.
And as she spoke, she knew that she was ready to follow this man to the ends of the earth. Why, he was her Colonel all over again. And no, he wasn’t tall and handsome this time; he was short and wide, the most beautiful man Lupe had ever seen on earth.
Lupe continued talking, telling him about everything and anything that came into her mind. And as she spoke, she couldn’t help but wonder about this man’s mother and if she’d know how to behave in front of such a grand, educated, fine lady.
“So to conclude,” she said, “my dream is no longer for me to be educated or be a fine lady myself, but . . . for my children to be,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “And like you, I also want my children not to have to suffer what I suffered.”
Her eyes overflowed with tears, but she wasn’t crying; no, she was just that happy. Salvador had touched her very soul.
Salvador brought out his red, silk handkerchief and handed it to her. “I’d like you to meet my mother,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the handkerchief. “The honor would be mine.”
“Oh, no, mine,” he said, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her fingertips gently, softly, as tenderly as butterflies kissing the breeze. And they would have drawn close and truly kissed, if Carlota hadn’t come bursting into the room at that moment.
Seeing Salvador, Carlota yelled to everyone coming in behind her. “Mama, the one that you thought you’d chased away has returned! And he’s with Lupe on the couch!”
Lupe could’ve died and Salvador could’ve shot Carlota a thousand times, but they both started laughing. Salvador remembered that every rose has its thorns and Lupe’s was this big-mouthed sister of hers. He was going to have to learn how to put up with her, if h
e and Lupe were going to make a life together.
Then, Lupe’s mother, father and brother came in. Don Victor came straight up to Salvador with open arms. “I’m glad to see you back!” he said. “I was getting worried! Because I have a business proposition for you.”
The old man took Salvador and led him away. Salvador glanced over his shoulder, shrugging to Lupe. Lupe smiled, watching her father take Salvador out the door to the back.
“Look,” said the old man once they were alone, “how about you and me getting rich, eh? Just the two of us.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Salvador.
“Good,” said Don Victor, “then you get some money together and you and me, we’ll go back to Mexico and reopen the gold mine that the Americans abandoned. Eh, how’s that? Oh, I tell you, I’d like to be so rich once in my life that I can go out gambling and have money to burn so I’m not afraid of every little pair of duces on the table! And I’d love to tell my old wife just once, ‘Here’s the money, choke on it, you old so-and-so!’ That would be heaven!” he added.
“Well,” said Salvador, “let’s do it.”
“Really, you mean it? I told my vieja that you’re the kind of man who’d jump on it but, no, she kept saying that I’d scare you away! So when do we go? Mexico is still in ruins, so American businessmen haven’t returned yet. I know. I’ve been asking around and listening to the news. So right now is the perfect time for us to go back and do it, and we’ll be rich! Kings of our own lives!”
“Good,” said Salvador, starting to truly consider the idea. “But it will take me, oh, maybe a few months to get the money together. How much do you think we’ll need?”
Don Victor’s eyes narrowed. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’ll have to discuss it with my son, Victoriano. I’ll get back to you. But please, in the meantime, say nothing to the women. It frightens them.”
“All right,” said Salvador, truly liking the old man’s spark. Salvador was sure that if this old man had had a little success in life, he would have been a man to reckon with in a game of cards. Being dirt poor all life long ruined a lot of good men.
Coming back inside, Salvador could hear the women in the kitchen. Don Victor asked Salvador to stay for dinner. He introduced him to Francisco and Andrés. The men were talking about work, labor contractors, and trucks. Then the conversation changed to Mexico, their homeland, and the men all told Salvador wonderful stories of opportunities that they’d left behind but as soon as they got on their feet financially, they’d go back and start where they’d left off.
Salvador said nothing. He just listened to Don Victor and Andrés and Francisco and their neighbor from across the street, knowing that they’d never go through with these grand plans. Romanticizing Mexico now that they weren’t there, and talking about their great plans did make their daily existence here in the United States easier.
Twice he caught a glimpse of Lupe in the kitchen as he listened to the men talking, and he truly felt like he was at home. Why, these people were all so happy to see him, treating him so well. They weren’t mad at him for having busted that crate; no, in fact, maybe it had impressed them, reminding them of how he’d dropped the big foreman.
At last it was dinner time, and they all sat down at the table made of boards. Victoriano told Salvador about their immediate situation. Victoriano was the only one who never spoke of the past. He told Salvador that he and his two brothers-in-law now had a truck, but they were still low on work.
“You see,” he said, “ever since we pulled that strike here, we’ve been having trouble finding work. So I was wondering,” Victoriano added, “if you have anything for us to do in your fertilizer-moving business for the next few weeks.”
“What fertilizer business?” said Salvador, having forgotten that that’s what he’d told them he did for a living.
“Your contracts with the big ranches,” said Victoriano, slightly taken aback.
“Oh, those!” said Salvador, suddenly remembering. “Oh, yeah, sure!” he added, his heart pounding, realizing he made a bad liar when he wasn’t on his toes.
“Well,” continued Victoriano, “do you have work for us?”
Salvador’s mind went reeling. Everyone was staring at him. Even Lupe and all the women. “Sure,” he said, smiling at Lupe. “Lots of work. I’ll stop by here for you at daybreak tomorrow, if you like.”
“Good,” said Don Victor. “I’ll come, too!”
“Great,” said Salvador, not having the slightest idea what to do, but fully realizing that he’d have to come up with something, and fast.
Driving home that night, Salvador couldn’t stop singing; he was flying, sailing through the heavens, feeling God’s breath. Oh, he was an eagle soaring through the star-filled night! And his Moon automobile was flying down the road at the neck-breaking speed of thirty miles an hour, gliding over the ruts with its fantastic suspension!
By the time he arrived at their two, little rundown houses in Corona, everyone was asleep, and so he wasn’t able to tell his mother the wonderful news. Lupe’s family liked him, they really did, and tomorrow he’d be going to work with the men of Lupe’s household like a real future son-in-law. But, still, he had absolutely no idea what he’d do when he picked up Don Victor and the other men at daybreak.
Finally, Salvador went to sleep, but he was so restless that he awoke a few hours later. He had to figure out what he was going to do to find work for them.
He went out and relieved himself, washed up, got dressed in his work clothes, and started a little fire in his mother’s wood-burning stove. Watching the flames, he concentrated, realizing how vital it was for him to show Lupe and her family that he did, in fact, make his living moving fertilizer. Oh, he’d lose them all for sure if they ever found out that he was a bootlegger.
He made the sign of the cross over himself. “Oh, please, dear God,” he said, “I know I’ve hardly spoken to You ever since we crossed the Rio Grande, and I haven’t been to church, either, but I’m in love for the first time in my life, and I need Your help. So, please, help me; don’t let me down now.”
The light of the fire brightened, and he felt a warmth come into him, traveling to the center of his being. The warmth grew and grew, until he felt he was on fire. He stared at the glowing coals, feeling mesmerized, then it hit him like a cannonball between the eyes, and he saw everything.
He glanced at his old mother sleeping on her mattress across the room and he knew that God had spoken to him. Why, one second he’d absolutely had no idea what to do, and the next he’d seen the answer so clearly inside his mind’s eye. It was like a miracle sent to him by heaven.
He breathed deeply and watched the flames dancing inside the little stove, feeling better than he’d felt in years. He wondered if this was how it had been for his grandfather, Don Pío, when he’d spoken to God on that knoll. He thought of Lupe and wondered if she was the woman that he’d finally be able to tell his most secret thoughts to. To tell her about Duel, about the two FBI agents. To tell her everything, especially about his bootlegging, but he couldn’t do that now, not while she still thought that gambling and liquor were destructive to the survival of a family. Oh, he longed for the day that Lupe and he were married and she got to see how well he did at cards and liquor, so that he could then tell her the truth about everything.
It was time to go. Salvador finished his coffee, kissed his sleeping mother goodbye, went outside and got in his truck. He was in Santa Ana just before daybreak. Don Victor and the others were waiting for him.
“Buenos días,” he said. “We have to hurry. One of you come with me, and the rest of you go in your own truck.”
“I’ll ride with you,” said Don Victor. “I need to talk to you.”
“Good,” said Salvador.
They took off.
“I asked Victoriano,” said the old man, “and he thinks we’ll need about five hundred dollars just to get started.”
“For what?”
“For the
gold mine.”
“Oh, yes, the mine,” said Salvador. “Five hundred, eh? That’s a lot of money.”
“Then we’re not going to do it?”
“No, I didn’t say that,” said Salvador. “It’s just going to take a little more time.”
“Good!” said Don Victor. “I knew you wouldn’t back out! You’re a real macho! A man who steps in when other men run!”
Salvador grinned. He really liked this worn-out, old man.
Getting to the Irvine Ranch office, Salvador went inside alone. He slipped the foreman, Mr. Whitehead, a pint bottle and told him that he’d give him a gallon of his finest whiskey if he hired him and his men to move fertilizer for a week.
Being a drinking man, Mr. Whitehead said, “You got it, Sal.” Archie had introduced them, so he knew that Salvador was a good man.
Coming out of the office, Salvador had a big smile. It had gone just like he’d seen it inside his mind’s eye this morning. Talking to God was damned good business.
They went to work just as the sun was coming up over the distant hills. Andrés and Francisco worked on one truck while Victoriano, Don Victor and Salvador worked on the other. It was hard, back-breaking work and Salvador was out of shape, so he had to grunt and put his whole body into it so he wouldn’t look bad in front of Lupe’s family. After all, he had to show these men that he was a good worker so they’d know that he’d be able to provide for Lupe when they got married.
The sun was two fists off the horizon and Salvador was pouring with sweat when he suddenly felt a huge fart coming. Quickly, he tried getting away from Don Victor, but it was too late. Don Victor, who was bent down behind Salvador scooping up a pitchfork of manure, took Salvador’s huge, roaring fart right in the ear.
Don Victor jerked up and saw a little burro standing alongside Salvador. “My God, Salvador!” he yelled. “Why, this little burro just farted on us!” He poked the poor innocent animal in the ass with his pitchfork. The startled burro leaped five feet in the air, farting an enormous fart, and took off running.
“That filthy little beast!” screamed Don Victor, spitting on the ground. “Why, I can actually taste that fart, it was so foul!” he said, wiping his mouth.
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