Salvador rushed with his pitchfork full of manure to the truck. He could hardly keep from falling down with laughter. That poor little burro was racing wildly around the corral, kicking and bucking, and Lupe’s poor old father was still spitting in disgust.
That night after work, Salvador was once again invited to stay for dinner. During dinner, Don Victor told everyone about the burro’s terrible fart. Salvador had a hard time keeping a straight face.
After dinner, Salvador offered to do the dishes so that he could be close to Lupe, but Doña Guadalupe didn’t let him. No, she sat him down right after they’d finished eating and started in on him again.
Sipping from his cup, Salvador got an idea. He spilled his tea on his lap and jumped to his feet, excusing himself, and rushed into the kitchen to clean himself off. And there was Lupe, with a rag in hand. They both started laughing. Carlota looked at them, wondering how her sister could like such a clumsy man.
For the rest of the week, Salvador worked with Lupe’s father and brother and two brothers-in-law. They had a fine time talking and laughing and sweating together, moving tons and tons of manure. Each night Salvador was asked to stay for dinner, and after dinner Doña Guadalupe would corner him, asking him about cards and liquor and all the other vices that endangered a good marriage. But each evening, Salvador would spill tea on himself and excuse himself, rushing into the kitchen.
Finally, by the third evening, Carlota became so indignant that she left the kitchen to go and tell her parents.
“Mama!” she said, “he’s doing it on purpose! You got to stop him!”
“Quiet!” said her mother under her breath.
“But, Mama!” continued Carlota, still not realizing that her parents already knew, “don’t you see? He’s spilling his tea on himself on purpose so he can be with Lupe!”
Doña Guadalupe rolled her eyes to the heavens and Don Victor went out the front door, shaking his head.
In the kitchen, Salvador and Lupe covered their mouths, trying to hold back their laughter.
The following week, Mr. Whitehead checked their progress and he liked what he saw. Taking Salvador aside, he asked him for another gallon of whiskey and gave them two more weeks of work. Salvador told Victoriano that they’d have to go on without him because he had to go down to Carlsbad to work on some avocado trees.
“Oh, you put manure in avocado orchards, too?” asked Victoriano.
“Sure, all the time,” said Salvador, lying. But he planned to talk to the Germans who owned the Montana Cafe so that they could back him up. Hans and Helen owned several orchards, and he didn’t want to be caught in another lie with his future in-laws.
“Well, so long, Salvador,” said Victoriano. “I’ll tell Lupe you’ll be gone a few days.”
“Please do,” said Salvador, and he took off.
At their distillery in Escondido, Salvador found that Epitacio had done an excellent job. The second fermentation was done, and it was time to start the distilling again.
For five days they worked day and night; then they had a batch of liquor ready. Salvador and Epitacio put the barrels of whiskey in the truck to take them to a hiding place behind Lake Hodges over by the San Pasqual Valley. They were going leisurely up a dirt road when suddenly a sheriff’s car came rushing at them from between two big boulders in a burst of speed.
Epitacio screamed and Salvador smashed down on the gas pedal, racing up the old dirt road as fast as he could. But the cop car was right behind them, gaining quickly.
Salvador didn’t know what to do. Glancing around, he saw an open field and he turned off the road, busting through a barbed wire fence. Crossing the rocky field, Salvador held onto the steering wheel while the old pickup leaped and jerked, bucking wildly. The steering wheel came off in Salvador’s hands.
Epitacio screamed hysterically. “Oh, my God! Now I’m going to get killed, after all those years of dodging bullets!”
Using his huge hand like a wrecking iron, Salvador rammed the steering wheel back on. But the truck was just too loaded down with whiskey for them to get away. The sheriff’s car was gaining on them again.
There was a herd of cattle up ahead by a watering hole. Salvador headed straight for the herd, but it was too late. The lawman’s vehicle caught up with them, coming around on their left, just as they came into the cattle. Epitacio shouted in terror, and Salvador turned and saw the killing end of a double-barrel shotgun poking out the window at them from the sheriff’s car.
Salvador slammed on his brakes. Epitacio flew forward, shattering the windshield with his face. Salvador dropped the truck into reverse and spun backwards, and the sheriff’s car went flying into the muddy water hole, scattering the herd.
“Ha!” said Salvador. “The bastard’s stuck now!” He was in ecstasy. Blood was running down Epitacio’s face, and he was crying in pain. Salvador paid no attention to his brother-in-law as he maneuvered through the cattle and up grassy fields of the long valley, leaving the sheriff’s car far behind.
“Well,” said Salvador, getting to the foothills, “whadda you think, pretty good, eh?” he said. “We lost their ass!”
“My God, I hope so,” said Epitacio, still picking glass out of his hands and face. “Look at me; I got half my face cut off.”
“Better than going to jail,” grinned Salvador, bringing out a cigar.
Coming around a huge outcropping of boulders, there sat the sheriff’s mud-covered car, parked squarely in front of them. Ten Mexican cowboys stood alongside the vehicle, aiming their rifles at Salvador and Epitacio.
Salvador braked and raised his hands. What else could he do? They’d been caught cold. Then, stepping out of the sheriff’s car, lifting up his Stetson, was Archie Freeman.
Salvador’s whole face exploded. “You goddamn bastard!” he screamed, getting out of his truck, too. “You son-of-a-bitch, you almost got us killed!”
“Don’t get your ass in an uproar,” said Archie calmly, swaggering up to Salvador good- naturedly, “we got to talk.”
They went off to a private distance and Archie got down on his haunches Indian-style and pulled up a blade of grass and chewed on it.
“You see,” he said to Salvador as he glanced off at the distant cattle, “they’re pushing on Big John pretty hard again.”
“So?” said Salvador, still angry.
“Well, I need to give him a little something so we ain’t caught empty-handed,” said Archie. “So how about a few of ’em barrels and that guy in your truck.”
Salvador smiled like he hadn’t smiled in years. Oh, this was beautiful! “You mean you want me to give you Epitacio so you can put him in jail?”
Archie nodded. “Yep, that’s it.”
“And he’ll do time—real time—in prison?”
Archie nodded. “Yep, you got it.”
Salvador grinned. Epitacio would now get to know what it had been like to go to jail. This was wonderful!
“And how many barrels?” asked Salvador.
“How many you got?” countered Archie.
“Ten,” said Salvador.
“That sounds about right,” said Archie.
“Why, you bastard!” screamed Salvador.
“Oh, all right,” said Archie, “then I’ll only take five.”
“But how many of ’em are for Big John?” asked Salvador, “and how many are for you?”
Archie only grinned. “You guess,” he said.
“You double-dealing son-of-a-bitch!” said Salvador.
“I’ll shake on that,” said Archie. “So, then, we got a deal, eh?”
Picking up a rock, Salvador tossed it up and down, then stole another quick glance at Epitacio. The frightened little man was standing alongside their truck, surrounded by armed cowboys. “How much time will he do?” asked Salvador.
“Two or three years,” said Archie.
“Oh, that’s beautiful!” said Salvador, laughing, truly enjoying it. But then he threw the rock as far as he could. “Nope, can’t
do it. He belongs to my sister, and I’d never hear the end of it.”
Archie glanced at Epitacio, too. “Tough woman, your sister, eh?”
“The toughest,” said Salvador.
“Well, all right then,” said Archie, standing up. And he whipped out his .44 revolver, firing five shots into the air before Salvador could even move. “They got away, boys!” he yelled. “So we’ll just take their truck and everything!”
“Jesus Christ!” said Salvador, taking off his hat and throwing it on the ground. “I didn’t mean that! Not my truck, too, goddammit!”
“Too late!” said Archie. “A deal ain’t offered twice!”
He drove off in his car with one of the vaqueros driving Salvador’s truck close behind.
Salvador and Epitacio were left there in the middle of nowhere. “Epitacio, you son-of-a-bitch!” yelled Salvador, jumping up and down on his hat, “you cost me over a thousand dollars! I should’ve just let them take you to jail!”
Hearing this, Epitacio passed out. He’d lost a lot of blood, and this was just too much.
It was almost nightfall when the Mexican cowboys came back with a horse and wagon, singing in a happy, liquored stupor, compliments of one of Archie’s barrels of whiskey.
The cowboys attended to Epitacio’s wounds with some horse medicine. They brought out the side of beef that Archie had sent out, then they built a fire and Salvador and Epitacio ate: barbacoa, tortillas, frijoles, chile, tomatoes, onions and lots of nopalitos with them. They washed it down with plenty of whiskey.
The coyotes began to howl, and Salvador and Epitacio joined the cowboys, singing Mexican songs under the stars. Salvador slept that night as he hadn’t slept in years, dreaming that he was back home on their rancho in Los Altos, smelling the cattle and horses and green grass. Oh, he was in love, and his woman was wonderful. She was a miracle of creation made especially for him by God.
That week, while her brother Victoriano and the other men worked at the corrals moving fertilizer without Salvador, Lupe went to the library and studied. She saw Mark almost every day, and they spoke of books. Once, they drove to his uncle’s cool and spacious office; it was much more than she’d ever imagined.
Lupe felt so confused inside. She loved books and education, and especially the idea of working in the office for Mark’s uncle. And yet, deep down inside, she felt closer to Salvador, especially now that he’d helped her family.
Late the next day, Salvador got into Carlsbad and told Kenny what Archie had done to him.
Kenny laughed so hard that he fell down on the garage floor, rolling around, holding his stomach. “Oh, that Archie! That Archie! Ain’t that son-of-a-bitch the best!”
But Salvador didn’t join him. His feet still hurt, and he was pissed. He wasn’t used to walking all day, as he used to do back in Mexico when he’d been a child.
He told Kenny that he’d need another used truck.
“You got it,” said Kenny, still grinning.
For the next week, Salvador and Epitacio busted ass making whiskey. They made back the ten barrels that they’d lost, then they hid the barrels behind Carlsbad, west of San Marcos. Salvador decided that he could now visit Lupe. He drove Epitacio to Corona and dropped him off so he could go to see his truelove by himself. But before Salvador could drive off, Luisa came screaming out of the front house, bellowing like a cow.
“Salvador! Salvador! Don’t go! We need you! Mama’s gone crazy, and she’s gonna get lost and fall off the end of the world!”
“But what are you talking about?”
“Go to the church and see for yourself!” yelled Luisa. “She wants to go to Chee-a-caca, and everyone knows that that’s the end of the world!”
Salvador got out of his new used truck and approached his sister. He really wanted to see Lupe before it became too late, but he couldn’t drive off with his sister going on like this about their mother.
“Luisa,” he said, taking her in his arms, “calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
“Don’t you understand? Our mother is going to get killed! Domingo hasn’t come home to her, so she’s mad at the Virgin Mary and she’s at the church right now, telling God off or she’s going to go to Cheee-a-caca to get Domingo!”
“All right, Luisa, I’ll talk to her,” said Salvador, “but get hold of yourself. Mama has always been very capable.”
“Yes, in Mexico, where people understood her and she was younger!” yelled Luisa. “But not here! And Cheee-a-caca is on the other side of the world. Ask Epitacio, he was there! He even saw the ocean and was told that he was near New England!”
“England?” said Salvador. “But isn’t England near China?”
“Exactly,” said Luisa. “And everyone knows that China is on the edge of the world!”
“All right,” said Salvador, “I’ll drive over to the church and see Mama right now.”
“Good. The boys are with her. I’ll go with you and you got to make her understand!”
“I will,” said Salvador, helping his sister into his truck. He sighed, thinking that he was going to miss Lupe once again.
In front of the church, the two boys were coming down the steps with their grandmother.
“Mama,” said Salvador, going up to her, “Luisa says that you’re going to Chee-a-cago alone.”
“But I’m not going alone,” said the old woman, “I’m going with Our Lord God Almighty!” And she bowed, making the sign of the cross over herself.
“Mama, be reasonable,” said Salvador. “Luisa is right, Cheee-a-cago is so big that even with our Lord God at your side, you could still get lost.”
“That’s blasphemy!” said the old lady harshly. “Our Lord God owns the universe, so what’s Cheee-a-caca to Him? And besides, I ask you, what more do I need, than to take another letter with me like the ones we’ve already sent? Why, the streets of Cheee-a-caca are going to be filled with my friends, waiting to help me!”
“But you don’t speak English, Mama,” said Salvador.
“And, you tell me, what can possibly be foreign in any language in the world that a mother looking for her own flesh and blood cannot say to another mother with her eyes alone?”
“But how, Mama?” asked Luisa, getting out of the truck. “None of us even knows where Cheee-a-caca is.”
“Did I know where Guadalajara was when I went there to save José from his execution? Did we know where the United States was when we left our mountains? No, a person never needs to know where to go. What is needed is the conviction, here inside your soul, that you will overcome whatever it takes to get there!”
“All right, sounds good to me,” said Salvador, seeing his mother’s strength and throwing up his arms. “I didn’t know where California was when I left Montana. All I did was buy a ticket and get on the train and they did the rest.”
“Now stop it!” screamed Luisa. “Don’t encourage her, Salvador!”
“Mama’s right,” said Pedro, speaking for the first time. “Don’t encourage her, Uncle. Because grandmother really can’t go alone. Look at her. She’s so old and ugly that no one will even talk to her.”
“What do you mean, ‘old and ugly,’ you stupid kid!” screamed his mother, grabbing her son by the hair. “She’s our sacred mother! How dare you speak about your grandmother like that! I’ll thrash you!”
Hearing the commotion, the priest came out of the church.
“No, Luisa!” pleaded Doña Margarita, grabbing Luisa by the arm. “Leave the child alone! He’s the only one who’s said anything that makes sense to me. Just look at me; these are rags! I truly do look so old and ugly that people might not talk to me, much less let me inside their homes and help me.
“Salvador,” she continued, turning to her son, “I’ll need some money for new clothes and a little whiskito to take to Cheee-ooo-caca with me.” She winked, putting her arms around Pedro affectionately. “You’d be surprised how handsome you get, mi hijito, after people have a few drinks.”
“A
ll right, you got it, Mama,” said Salvador, feeling relieved that she wouldn’t be going immediately. “But it will be a few weeks.”
Just then the priest came down the steps. They all turned and saw him. Instantly, Salvador was on guard. He didn’t trust priests.
“Excuse me,” said the priest, “but I couldn’t help but overhear you, and I think that I could be of assistance to you. Could you, Doña Margarita,” he added in perfect Spanish, “come inside with your son so we can discuss this privately?”
“Sure,” said the old lady. “Salvador, this is Father Ryan, the good priest that’s helped me so much.”
“Glad to meet you,” said Salvador, looking over the tall, elegant man carefully.
“The pleasure is mine,” said the man of the cloth, extending his hand. Salvador took his hand.
The priest led them down the side of the church, through an enclosed private garden and into the backdoor of the church. It was dark inside, and the floors were made of hardwood and their steps echoed as they went. But Salvador felt no immediate threat until, at the end of the long hallway, they entered an office lined with bookcases, and the priest closed the door behind them. Suddenly, Salvador felt like this could be a trap.
“Well, well,” said the priest, sitting at his desk and putting his hands together like a tent on top of the desk, “I couldn’t help but overhear that you might be going to Chicago, Señora. Well, I happen to know a priest there who might be of service to you. So you just tell me when you decide to go, and I’ll send a letter ahead for you.”
“See?” said Doña Margarita, turning to her son. “Ask and you will receive! Now I have even another friend waiting for me in Cheee-a-caca!”
“Yes, you do, Señora,” said the priest, shifting his weight in his chair. “But, now, the reason that I asked you inside,” he continued, working his two hands together, “is that I understand that you people are from Los Altos de Jalisco and I know that the finest tequila of all Mexico is made in that state. And, well, being perfectly frank, people talk, you see, and so I know what you do, Salvador. So I was wondering if you couldn’t get me some of your… ah, merchandise for me.”
Rain of Gold Page 59