by J. L. Jarvis
Eduardo’s voice boomed from the kitchen up through the back stairwell. Ana crept down the hallway to hear, filled with dread that something had happened to Carlos. Shouts and curses flew from his lips as he stormed into the parlor. She went down to the kitchen and stepped silently into the hallway.
Graciela set down her tea cup. Cold eyes met Eduardo’s.
“Must you ruin every vestige of happiness?” Eduardo asked her.
“I warned your friend. But some people don’t listen to warnings.”
“First Ana, now me! Who’s next? Whose life will you ruin next, you scheming witch?”
“Eduardo!”
“Where is she?”
“Ana is upstairs—and taking it better than you, I might add.”
Eduardo grabbed Graciela’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. Her mouth hung loosely between her blanched cheeks.
“Not Ana, Su Ling!”
“Su Ling?”
“What have you done with her?”
“You mean the cook’s helper? That little Chinese girl?”
“You know very well that’s who I mean.”
“I’ve done nothing. I don’t—”
Eduardo pushed her, leaving her to land with an ungraceful plop on the chair.
“—know. I swear it.”
It was rare, but his aunt looked sincere. Rarer still, he believed her.
His face relaxed, but his eyes showed his agitation. “She’s gone. She has left, with no word.”
“I had no idea you took such an interest in domestic affairs, but I see this is another affair altogether.” She grinned coolly.
Eduardo flashed a look that might have scathed anyone else, but Graciela was impervious. “So she’s left me without a cook’s helper. That little sneak. She’s on that train. If I find her I’ll make her regret it. If one thing is missing from that Pullman car—”
“Why would she?”
Graciela said, “For the money, of course.”
Eduardo glared. “Not steal—and she wouldn’t, by the way. I mean, why would she leave?”
“Who can understand those people?”
“I thought I understood her.”
“You can’t tell what they’re thinking—”
Eduardo gazed through the window. Two gardeners swung scythes back and forth, cutting a small grassy patch of the garden. He said, “What was she thinking—leaving like that?”
“You can’t trust her kind,” Graciela told him.
Eduardo turned. “What?”
“Oh, she worked hard enough, I suppose, but she was so quiet. Those are the ones you have to watch most of all. It’s not easy for me, with all this: running a household, entertaining, and now with a wedding to—Oh! Oh no! Don Limón! We’re announcing the engagement at dinner tonight and now I’m short of help. How could she do this to me! When I find her I’ll—”
“Shut up,” said Eduardo.
Nonplused, Graciela complied.
He turned and looked about as if lost, and stormed out to the kitchen to question the workers. Ana was there.
Eduardo finished packing a small bag with a day’s change of clothing. “I’ll catch up.”
“With a train? On horseback?” said Ana.
“They’ll have to stop in Gómez Palacio. It may take three or four hours, but I’ll get there and find her—and Carlos, too.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Eduardo put his hands on her shoulders. “No.”
“I can’t stay here. They’re announcing my engagement.”
“You must stay.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe.”
“But you’re going.”
“Ana, you must let me handle this.”
“Stop protecting me!”
Eduardo leaned back. He had never heard Ana shout. “You’re so young and so sweet, and this land can be harsh.”
“I’m a grown woman.”
“I know that.”
“Then please treat me as one.”
“Ana, even if I let you come with me, they’d be after you within minutes. If I go alone, there’s no reason to bother.”
He had a good point, but she would not admit it.
Eduardo put his hands on her shoulders. “Just stay here. I’ll find him.”
“What if he’s in danger?”
“I’ll find him, don’t worry. Look, I have to leave now or I’ll never get there in time.”
He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” he said as he lifted her chin. With one last hug, he rushed out the door.
Minutes later, he emerged from the stable and rode out of view.
Two dozen guests remained the day after the charreada, Don Limón among them. The rest had vanished as if they had never been there. The talk at the long dining table was lively when don Felipe stood and silenced them with a gesture.
“My friends, as godfather to the only daughter of my departed brother, may he rest in peace, I am pleased to announce the upcoming wedding of my niece, Ana Luisa Martínez Soto to señor Alfonso Limón Ruiz.”
The guests sighed and murmured their pleasure.
Felipe grinned proudly and held out his hand. “It should have been her father here and not I.”
Ana’s throat thickened.
“But I know how he would feel at this moment.”
Do you? Ana wondered. He went on presuming. Ana could not listen. Would her father be pleased to find her so unhappy? She tried to imagine him watching her promise her life to a man she did not love. And in that moment she knew that her father would never want this—not even for family. Every impediment vanished. Duty did not apply under duress. The only duty she owed was to Carlos. She would not live without him.
Don Limón sat proudly, his eyes darting from Felipe to Ana. His mouth spread to a smile that made his eyes wrinkle.
The guests chuckled over something her uncle had said. Ana looked up, not having heard him. The dining room was a blend of dull noise peppered with affected smiles. They held no great affection for don Limón. A tedious man, they clung to his friendship because of what he could do for them, or to them. Murmurs of best wishes swelled like a chorus of shrieking cicadas, as Ana found herself surrounded by distorted expressions of people now eager to win her favor as the future señora Limón.
“Señora Limón, how does that sound?”
Ana looked at her, puzzled. A friend of Graciela’s, she had barely spoken to Ana before this. Now she could not get close enough.
A man’s voice soared over the others. “Alfonso, what are you doing with such a beautiful girl?”
The men laughed.
“The question is, what will he do with her?” More laughter erupted.
“Come, ladies. Let’s leave these men to their cigars and their talk.” Women glanced with rolled eyes and smiles at the men as they left.
Don Limón walked over to Ana. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for a drink later—with your uncle and aunt, of course.” He lifted her hand to his lips.
Ana stared at his bowed head and softly said, “No, I’m sorry.”
“Señorita?”
“I can’t.”
Don Limón was taken aback, but recovered. “You are tired.”
“No. I’m wide awake.”
He started to speak, but she did not give him a chance.
“I’m sorry.” She looked at her uncle. “I am—very sorry.” To don Limón she said, “I cannot marry you.”
When he lifted his face and looked into her eyes, Ana said, “I cannot.”
With a puzzled expression, he said, “Señorita?”
She slipped her hand from his and glanced about. She avoided the guests and ran out to the kitchen and on outside. On she ran to Carlos’s home.
“Abuelita. Please help me,” she whispered as she tapped on the door. It slowly swung open. The room was empty and in disarray. They must have sent Abuelita and Jaime away, along with Carlos.
She sat on C
arlos’s cot. She bunched the blanket up to her chest, more for comfort than warmth. She breathed in his scent.
“What if you can’t come back?” she whispered. She got up and looked about, thinking quickly. There was only one way to get there now.
She looked at her pale silk dress and delicate shoes. Then she saw, across the room, on a peg, Carlos’s work clothes were there. Abuelita must have packed quickly. She had managed to take Carlos’s fine charro outfits, but his work clothes were here, and a pair of beruchis for her feet. She cursed her corset as she struggled to free herself from it. At last, she pulled on Carlos’s trousers, rolled up at the ankle, and donned his shirt. A vaquero hat hung on the wall by the door. She ripped a strip from the hem of her dress and tied her hair up. She was stuffing it under a hat when the door opened wide.
“Ana.”
“Padre?”
He stepped inside and closed the door carefully behind him. “What are you doing?” he asked too calmly.
“I was out walking.”
“Dressed like that?”
“I like pants. They’re comfortable. You should try them.”
He gave her a wry look. “Let’s go back to the house.”
“I’m not done with my walk.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can’t marry that man.”
“But what else can you do?”
“I don’t know. But I think better when I’m walking. Excuse me.” She tried to step around him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.
Ana looked him in the eye. “Don’t do this. Don’t ruin my life.”
“There’s more at stake than just you. I wish I could help you.” He gazed at her with eyes full of regret. “It’s a shame to see your beauty wasted on such a man.”
“Then why take me back?”
“We must all do our duty.”
Hopeless frustration roiled up inside Ana.
“First we’ll have to make you presentable.”
Ana stared at him sharply. “Get out, then.”
“I can’t leave you alone.”
“I won’t get away. There’s no other way out.”
The priest shook his head. “Change your clothes.”
“I can change back in my room.”
“You’ll change your clothes here, or I’ll change them for you.”
Ana stared. “All right. As soon as you step outside, I will change.” Fragmented thoughts flew through her mind.
“Go on. Hurry!” said the padre, making no move to leave.
“Not with you here.”
Ana closed the curtain in front of Abuelita’s bed. It was quiet. She put her hands on the buttons of her shirt, but stopped.
“Here, I’ll help you,” he whispered, sliding open the curtain. She pulled it down, rope and all, and threw it over him. She grabbed a clay pot and slammed it down on him. He snarled and fought with the sheet. He stood up, but his foot pinned his robe down, and he lost his balance. As he tripped and fell, Ana ran. She had gained a lead, but not a good one. She heard him behind her. She would never get a horse saddled before he caught up. She only hoped he did not bring others.
Padre Galvan arrived at the stable alone. He walked inside with caution. The horses were stirring and restless. He spotted a horse that was saddled and grinned to himself. He went inside the stall. The dark shadows would easily hide her from view, but he knew she was there. The horse did not make his way easy, but he made his way around the perimeter of the stall. He could not see her, but she had to be near. He heard a rustle. As he turned, Ana rose from the hay with a shovel in both hands. She swung at the padre and struck him in the head. He grunted and fell.
“God forgive me, I’ve just knocked out a priest,” Ana gasped. The shovel fell from her hand as she bent over him. What if she had killed him? But he was breathing. She crossed herself and looked up as she sent up a quick prayer.
She looked about for a moment and spotted some rope coiled and hanging nearby. She wound it about his hands and feet, then tied the remaining rope to the stall. Stuffing the corner of a horse blanket into his mouth, she said, “Sweet dreams, Padre,” and draped the rest of the blanket over his body. “Please don’t wake up until morning.”
She checked the girth as she said to the horse, “There, Blancita. If you’ll put up with me, I’ll take you to Carlos.”
Ana winced from the noise as she pushed open the stable door and led the horse out. She closed the door. It had never seemed so loud before.
She glanced about. No one was coming yet. “I’ll need your help, Blancita. You’re much better at this than I.” With that introduction, Ana hesitated, half expecting to be thrown, and then mounted Blancita. The mare fidgeted a bit. She could hear Carlos saying, “Keep a light touch on the reins.” A light touch, she repeated in her mind.
The horse calmed down and they went, slowly at first. When they got past the edge of the grounds, Ana urged Blancita onward. At a canter, rider and horse disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 11
The gibbous moon was high by the time she dared get onto the road. While the moon lit her way, it could also betray her. With the hacienda now but a shadow behind her, Ana’s heartbeat slowed down nearly to normal.
It was a chill autumn night to be out alone riding. Ana was weary and unaccustomed to road travel. After a life of being guided and ordered by others, independence settled upon her with unnerving weight. She went through the elation of sudden freedom, to fearfully wishing to go back where it was safe, but she kept going. Hours later, slumped over in the saddle, Ana rode forward until fatigue overtook her and she drifted to sleep. Blancita strayed from the road while Ana slept in the saddle.
Lapping sounds and the absence of motion woke Ana, as the gray haze of morning suffused itself into the darkness.
A promise of sun lit the river from which Blancita drank eagerly. Ana opened her eyes, then jerked upright in the saddle. She looked about frantically, but there was no one nearby. The events of last night settled back into order. She dismounted slowly, feeling stiff from a night in the saddle. She should have been in town hours before. While she slept, Blancita must have wandered until she found the river. It had to be the Nazas, which ran alongside Gómez Palacio, dividing it from its sister city, Torreón. Unless the horse had crossed the river while she slept, Gómez Palacio would be to her left. By dawn, she would be able to see it.
Ana knelt and splashed water on her road weary face. A faint hum of activity drew her notice. She was closer than she had imagined.
“Good girl,” she said to Blancita as she patted and stroked her. Ana exhaled with determination and mounted the mare. She adjusted her weight, but there was no comfortable position to relieve her stiff back and sore legs. Her heart stirred with excitement as she thought of finding Carlos. She set aside thoughts of discomfort and rode on.
Just past dawn, Ana rode into the city. It crackled with chaos and firing guns. People ran in the market, dropping their wares. Federal soldiers on horses galloped past, stirring up clouds of dust. Ana moved from their path as rebels on foot and on horseback charged through the streets in unorganized packs of a dozen or so. Some brandished rifles, pistols, and machetes. Others wielded scythes and other farm implements. They cried “Viva Madero!” In the chaos, something nicked Blancita’s leg, and she reared, throwing Ana.
A young man, a boy really, broke her fall. The two landed on the ground. Ana rolled off and tried to stand. The young man lay there, the wind knocked out of him. Ana helped him to his feet. The boy grabbed the reins and led Ana and her horse to an alley between the buildings.
“What is happening?” Ana asked him, still clutching his hand.
“The revolution!” he answered, the light of youthful ideals in his eyes. He gripped Ana’s shoulders. “Señorita, find yourself somewhere safe to hide until it is over,” he told her, then ran to rejoin his compañeros.
Ana led Blancita into the alley as far she could
, and waited. In the street before her, Federales and rebels were shot and trampled. Some fought hand to hand. Revolution. There had been talk, of course. She had read Eduardo’s writings. Eduardo! He, too, was here somewhere. Ana had been to Gómez Palacio twice, once briefly to change trains, and once to go shopping. She had paid little attention to where anything was. Where would she even begin to find Eduardo or Carlos?
A stray bullet ricocheted off the walls in the alley. Ana crouched down and waited. Her hand felt wet. She examined it. Blood? She touched her arm near her elbow, which she had been holding. She saw her sleeve, now soaked in blood. I’ve been shot? No, it could not be real. Ana trembled as she stood up and leaned against the wall for support. She looked again. There it was. She was wounded.
She did not see him arrive. A government soldier stood in the alley, his pistol pointed and ready to shoot, but he drew back his weapon and peered at Ana. She stared back at him, frozen in panic. The only way out was past him. Still pointing the pistol, he advanced toward her. Ana gripped the wall and edged back. He moved slowly, or perhaps it was she. Each move felt magnified, each expression more menacing as he opened his lips and spread them into a smile.
“Señorita, I want only the horse.” His eyes crawled over her body, too womanly to be hidden beneath the men’s clothing she wore. “Perhaps that is not the whole truth, but I will take only the horse.”
Relief struck her, then faded as she looked at the horse—Carlos’s horse. “No.” She looked at the soldier. “No, I can’t.”
His look became brittle. “You will give it, or I will take it. It’s all up to you,” he said, now advancing toward her.
The odor of sweat and gunpowder assailed her, sickening her as he grabbed her wrists and struggled for the reins. As she struggled, he hurled her to the ground and turned to mount the horse. As he did, Ana jumped on his back, pulling him to the ground. He swatted at her with the back of his hand. The blow threw her off balance, but she pulled herself up and leapt at him.