[Jennifer Cloud 01.0] The Shoes Come First

by Janet Leigh

  “I might know a few recipes,” I said.

  “Oh, Jen’s mom is a…” I stopped Gertie in midsentence with a quick elbow to the ribs.

  “Your ma is a what?” Opal asked, looking curious.

  “She is a really good cook, and I might remember some of her recipes.”

  “Well, isn’t that special. The Mexican women are the only ones who can cook for Mr. Villa, but we still need fixin’s for everyone else. We’re gonna have a good ole time tonight with Johnny bein’ home an’ all. In case you girls were wonderin’, he’s single,” Mrs. Opal said with a gleam in her eye. “He ain’t had nobody special since that Lowry girl, but she wasn’t no good for him.”

  “I doubt she was the one that wasn’t good,” Gertie said with a giggle.

  Mrs. Opal continued chatting as we walked back to the house. “Johnny’s considered a good catch, if you know what I mean. Especially now that he’s makin’ good money.” Her chins jiggled as she spoke, and her voice heightened with excitement. “He makes twenty dollars for each mule he sells.”

  Gertie and I looked at each other. I could tell she was doing the math in her head. I just smiled politely and followed Mrs. Opal into the kitchen to see what I could invent without a microwave.

  Chapter 12

  The Mexican women were busy preparing Pancho Villa’s favorite dishes. Homemade tortillas and something with corn were being hand rolled and wrapped in husks. Mrs. Opal told us they had slaughtered a few heads of beef, and they were hanging in the smokehouse. She explained we would be having the beef and the chickens for the barbeque. My knees started to go weak. I was all for getting some protein in my diet, but I liked it processed and formed into patties.

  Gertie was assigned to the chickens since she had lived on a farm once. Mrs. Opal told me I needed to make something sweet. If I needed anything, I should just let her know, and she would see about it. I looked in the cupboards. There were the basics: flour, sugar, butter, and something in a ceramic jar that looked like real lard. Good grief, no wonder people died young in this decade—all this saturated fat. In the bottom cupboard, I found a few bags of beans, a big tin can of cocoa, and a bottle of pure vanilla. I decided maybe some cookies or brownies would be good.

  I realized Gertie and I were separated, and Paco couldn’t keep an eye on both of us. I turned and slipped out the back door to check out the situation. Paco was at the back door. Damn. I went back inside and tried the front door. I was almost to the bottom step when I heard from behind, “Where are you going, senorita?”

  I turned to see Mr. Villa sitting on one of the rocking chairs. He was drinking a glass of lemonade and staring at me with those dark, sinister-looking eyes.

  Double damn. “I was going to the garden to look for herbs,” I replied and held my chin up in a defiant manner.

  “The garden is that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction. Then he sat back and twirled the end of his dark mustache.

  “Oh, my bad,” I said and started in the direction he indicated.

  “Senorita, I have men scouting this entire farm; if you try to leave, I promise you will not get very far. I will make sure Paco reminds you how close you need to stay.” A shiver went down my spine. I followed the path to the garden.

  I found it tucked to the left of a small barn. There was ample sunlight, and several rows were set out for various vegetables. The herbs were planted toward the back, in a spot that took some shade. Lots of lavender, I assumed for Mrs. Opal’s soaps. There was some mint, rosemary, and other herbs I wasn’t quite sure of the names of. In the very back row of the garden stood tall green plants with leaves shaped like stars. Now, that looks familiar. I recalled seeing this same plant grown in pots in Zane Miller’s greenhouse. Zane Miller was a total stoner in tenth grade. We would hang out sometimes after school. He would tell his mom I was there to tutor him. I would do his geometry homework, and he would teach me how to harvest the cannabis plant. Afterward we would light up a doobie and eat a box of Twinkies.

  The summer after tenth grade, I heard there was a raid at his house and his greenhouse went up in flames. Firemen from three counties came to help put out the fire. Zane’s greenhouse was about the size of a small tool shed. Go figure.

  As I was examining the plant, I heard glass break in the small barn. I looked in the door and discovered the barn was more of a potting shed. It was used for drying the herbs and storing flowerpots, compost, and other gardening materials. I found Johnny surrounded by glass from the Coke bottle he had been drinking.

  “Hey,” I said as I entered the shed.

  “Oh, hi, J-J-Jennifer,” he stammered. His face was beet red from embarrassment that I had heard the glass break.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you clean up?” I said, grabbing a broom that was leaning against the wall.

  “I guess so. Sometimes I’m a little clumsy.” He bent down to pick up the big pieces. There were several bushes of herbs hanging from the rafters of the small shed. The mixture of all the herbs smelled incredible, masking the remaining skunk stink emanating from my body. Then I noticed the cannabis drying.

  “What do you use this plant for?” I asked.

  He eyed me curiously, then said, “We give it to the mules when we get ready to put them on the train. It helps calm them down a bit.”

  “The train?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Mr. Villa transports all his animals in the train ‘cause animals are more valuable than people.” That made me feel swell.

  I heard Mrs. Opal calling for Johnny. “You go ahead; I’ll get this cleaned up,” I told him. He hurried off to find his ma.

  After I finished cleaning up the broken glass, I found a burlap sack and filled it with the dried cannabis.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I noticed four large semisweet chocolate bars on the counter. Mrs. Opal was stirring something on the stove and keeping an eye on the Mexican girls.

  “Mrs. Opal, what are you gonna do with all that chocolate?” I asked.

  “My Johnny always brings me chocolate from Dallas. There is a big factory up there. It’s harder to find down here.”

  “Do you mind if I use it for a dessert?”

  “Help yourself; I never can eat all he brings, and I could stand to lose a few pounds,” she replied, patting her round tummy.

  I needed eggs.

  “Mrs. Opal, do you have any eggs?” I asked, looking for the familiar carton.

  “Sure, honey, the basket’s there by the door.” I looked in the basket. No eggs.

  “Mrs. Opal, there’s not any eggs in this basket.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, girl. You have to go get them out of the hen house. Better to get ‘em fresh daily—I don’t like the taste of the ones we keep overnight in the icebox.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said with my mouth hanging open.

  “Go on now, and tell Gertie that Slim is ready for the chickens. We need to get the feathers off and take them out by the roasting pit.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I answered back, grabbing the basket on my way out the back door. I gave Paco a salute as I passed by and decided I was getting more than a little irritated that Caiyan and Brodie had left us. Wasn’t he supposed to know how to reach me? He was probably shacked up with Ms. Motorcycle Slut, not concerned with me at all.

  I found Gertie in the chicken coop chasing a big white chicken.

  “Come ‘ere, you dad-burned bird,” she yelled. The bird was running around clucking, then ducked under her legs. She twisted around and caught the bird by the neck.

  “I gotcha now, bird.” Then she started to swing it around like a yo-yo.

  I stepped back a few feet from her. “Gertie, what are you doing?”

  “I’m wringing this chicken’s neck.” At that moment the body of the chicken separated from its skinny little neck. Blood squirted up in the air. I screamed, and the headless chicken body went running around the pen, flopped over on one side, had a few convulsions, then settled. “Haven’t you e
ver seen a chicken get slaughtered?”

  “No. I usually see chicken lying in a Styrofoam container covered in cellophane with the weight and expiration date stamped on it.”

  “How do you think it got there?”

  “I try not to think about it.” I shuddered as Gertie laid the chicken down next to its decapitated friends.

  “Gertie, we need to get out of here. I have a bad feeling if we don’t escape, we might find ourselves in Mexico. We only have a couple of days left.”

  “Are you feeling…uncomfortable?” Gertie asked.

  “No, I’m fine, but I don’t want to find out what Caiyan meant by feeling uncomfortable. Mr. Villa said he has men everywhere, but I was thinking maybe tonight. I have a plan.” Before I could make my plan known to Gert, Mrs. Opal was hollering at us.

  “C’mon, girls, Slim needs those chickens.”

  I took the basket and walked back past the pile of lifeless chicken bodies to the wire mesh fence that surrounded the chicken coop. I could hear loud clucking noises coming from inside the little chicken house. I guess if my friends were going to be dinner, I would be a little riled up too. The latch was left hanging open. Good grief, what if all the chickens got out? If Gertie thought catching one was hard, several would be a real workout.

  The hen house was a brown little building with a slanted roof. It had a slatted wood door that opened to the inside. To the left of the door was a short square opening with a long board that extended from the base of the opening down to the ground. One of the big white chickens was strutting her way down the board to the coop, volunteering to be the next victim. Lucky for her, Gertie was done wringing necks for the day. I opened the door and ducked under the short doorway. As I entered, I had twenty sets of eyes daring me to take their precious possessions. The chickens were in two rows on each side of the hen house. They were stacked like bunk beds, each hen having her own little nest.

  “OK, now you girls gotta give it up for Jen,” I coaxed, moving a little closer to the hens. The clucking grew a little louder, like the birds were becoming nervous with my presence. I heard a rustle, and the door swung shut. It wasn’t my presence the chicks were nervous about; someone was behind the door. Please, God, don’t let it be Paco.

  I got ready to throw my basket at the intruder when I heard, “What about me, lassie, can I give it up for you?”

  Shit…Caiyan. Now there’s a neck I’d like to wring. “How did you get in here?” I asked, trying to control my temper.

  “I have my ways. Are you not happy to see me, love?” Even though I was still a little pissed, I wanted to throw my arms around him with gratitude that he didn’t leave us behind.

  “Did you know we were taken by Pancho Villa?” I asked, expecting him to be at least a little worried.

  “Yes, we learned of the deal at the saloon and figured we needed to infiltrate his camp, so good work.”

  “Good work!” I demanded, my voice rising an octave. “You mean to tell me I have been here, scared to death that we would be killed or raped, and you were delighted I was here?”

  “Now, dinna fash yerself,” he said gesturing with his hands out, palms toward me in a “calm down” motion.

  I raised an eyebrow at his words.

  “I mean, don’t worry yerself. This is exactly where we need to be. Brodie is an excellent tracker, and he followed you here. We have been watching you the whole time. I woudnae let anything bad happen to you.”

  “You wouldn’t?” My knees went a little weak, but based on the intensity of his accent, I wasn’t sure he was as confident as he suggested.

  “No, I woudnae.” He came forward, ran his hand around the back of my neck, and brought his lips down to meet mine. I felt heat flood my body and my big toes curl.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked, turning his nose away from me.

  “I have no idea what you are referring to,” I responded, stiffening up.

  He took a step back from me. “Tonight they are going to make contact with the Mafusos.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I have my ways.”

  I bet he did. She was tall and drove a Harley. My inner voice started whispering subliminal messages to keep me calm.

  “Pancho Villa is known for hoarding treasure in a cave in Mexico. He may have come across your key.”

  “How did the Mafusos find out Villa has the key?”

  “The youngest of the Mafuso defenders came across a picture of Villa’s wife in a textbook at school. She was wearing your key.”

  “How is this possible? I would have known if I were related to Pancho Villa. Things like that are bragging rights in my family tree.”

  “I don’t think she has the gift. I think he took it from someone, but I don’t have the details.”

  I raised an eyebrow, suggesting maybe he was lacking in some capacity. Caiyan gave me a slight scowl.

  “The Mafusos were here last full moon to set up the trade. Villa is hard to find, but somehow they figured out Johnny was trading mules with Villa.” He ran his finger down my arm, and his green eyes turned dark with lust.

  “Maybe we could get to know each other better this go-around.” My subconscious looked around for a place to get busy, and I slammed the door in her face.

  “No you don’t,” I said, knocking his arm down. “Next time won’t be so easy.”

  “Promise?” The corners of his mouth turned up in a mischievous smile. I moved away from him in case my defense system fell short. He converted back to serious mode.

  “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might be useful. See if you can make some conversation with Pancho Villa.”

  I shuddered.

  “Don’t worry, he needs you and Gertie for something, or he wouldn’t have taken you.”

  Yeah, I thought to myself, to entertain his troops with my body. I heard the gate on the chicken yard open. Caiyan ducked behind the door just as Mr. Hawkins stuck his head in.

  “What’s keepin’ you, girl?” he asked. “Mrs. Opal sent me to check on ya.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Hawkins, I’ll just get the eggs and be right out.”

  “You can call me Slim—everyone does.” Mr. Hawkins stood there and watched me fill the basket with eggs. The chickens didn’t seem to mind me sticking my hand under their asses and confiscating the eggs. I guess it’s all in a day’s work. As we left the hen house, I avoided looking in Caiyan’s direction. I was afraid I might give him away, but as the door swung shut, he was already gone.

  I entered the house to find Gertie and all the Mexican women plucking the chickens. Geesh, I didn’t want to do that, so I gave Mrs. Opal the eggs, keeping a few for myself. I mixed together the flour, sugar, eggs, cocoa, and butter. I added bits of the chocolate and the special ingredient I had found in the drying shed. I hoped the pointed plant had the same effect as it had in the back of Zane Miller’s greenhouse. I coated the pans with the lard. Since I didn’t have a KitchenAid mixer, my arms burned from stirring until the batter was smooth and creamy. I carefully poured the mixture into a pan and looked around for an oven. I didn’t think about the oven thing. What if Mrs. Opal didn’t have one? Jeez, I could just smack myself. The lack of modern conveniences was starting to wear on me. To my right was the stove Mrs. Opal had used earlier. It was a huge black thing with a large pipe coming out the top and shooting up through the roof. There were two doors on the front.

  “Mrs. Opal, do you have an oven?” I asked.

  She stopped plucking the chicken and eyed me curiously. “Girl, it’s right there in front of you—open your eyes.” I stood staring at the large appliance. I reached down and unlatched one of the doors. It resembled an oven, but I couldn’t see any heating elements. How did it cook the food? The walls were warm, but not hot enough to cook my brownies.

  “Um, Mrs. Opal, I don’t think it’s hot enough,” I said as I slid my brownie pan inside.

  “Well, land sakes, girl, don’t you know anything about cooking? Y
ou have to put the wood in first.” She waddled over to where I was standing in front of the metal beast. She bent over, bumping me back a few steps, and grabbed some kindling from a basket on the floor. After she added the wood to an area on the side of the contraption, it heated up immediately. The first batch burned right away, but once I got the hang of the oven, the brownies came out picture-perfect. I made four large batches. Martha Stewart would have been proud. I was surprised at how delectable they turned out. Even on my best day, I hadn’t made such perfect brownies. Maybe it was the pure ingredients, not polluted with the preservatives of the future.

  Mrs. Opal rounded the corner. “What smells so good?” she asked, breathing in deeply.

  “It’s my secret recipe,” I said.

  “Oh, that looks to die for. Let me try one.” She reached for a pan.

  Red alert rang in my head. “Now, Mrs. Opal, they are for the party tonight. We wouldn’t want to run out before the guests had some.”

  “Absolutely, dear,” she said with some trepidation. I put the brownies up on top of the big silver box Mrs. Opal had proudly announced was her brand new icebox to cool.

  Chapter 13

  Mrs. Opal let us know she was going to tidy up because there was a man coming to take a picture. I passed out some sweet tea to the men on the front porch, and then I sat down not too far from Mr. Villa. Get your nerve up, I told myself.

  “So, Mr. Villa, how long are you planning to stay at the Hawkinses’ ranch?” I asked.

  “Until the mules arrive tonight,” he answered. “Then we will go by train to Mexico and return to my people.”

  “Well, I hope you have a safe trip,” I said positively.

  He laughed. “You and your friend will be coming too.”

  My skin crawled. I was pretty sure we were going not to Cancun to hang out at Carlos and Charlie’s Bar but to the poor towns Villa was so famous for defending. Transporter or not, there was no way I was going to Mexico with this criminal. Gertie and I would be leaving tonight, come hell or high water.

  A buggy pulled by a raggedy-looking mule was coming up the lane, with a man in a bowler-style hat and a brown suit driving the poor thing. The buggy bounced along, slinging the occasional rock here and there. The Villistas drew their guns.