by Horst, John
“Now, my turn.” She took the brush and worked on the child’s hair, glorying in the many shades of gold. It was the most beautiful and exotic thing Maria had ever seen. She patted the girl and kissed her on top of the head. “You ride with me, my little one.”
The child beamed and looked at her mother for approval. Soon she’d be in the saddle with the beautiful schutzengel.
As Maria rode, she taught her new charge many words. The little one was a sponge and Maria was determined to give the child as much of a head start as she could in her new homeland.
Maria learned from Ulla of the hatred for Catholics in these peoples’ home country and marveled at that. She could not understand how, if they were all of the same purpose, especially as they were all Christians, it could be that one group of believers in Jesus could hate and persecute another.
She regarded these new people. They were so queer. They were intelligent and resourceful and always working. They were so serious, especially to Maria, and they treated her as the peons used to treat the padre, as if she were some superior creature. She was simultaneously flattered and put off by this. Maria did not want to be treated as a superior creature. She was happy to use her gifts in battle and happy to have saved the people but she didn’t want special treatment for this.
Ulla told her, as they rode along, about how the family had to leave their homes in Prussia and at first they were very excited to come to America, to try their hand at making a good life in Texas, where there were many of their kind. It was all working; slowly they were making headway, amassing some manner of wealth and success—much more than they could have ever achieved at home—but it was constant labor. Many of them missed their homes: the climate, the camaraderie, the familiarity of the food and the kinds of food the land produced. It was a bittersweet immigration.
And then her uncle, her father’s brother, who’d left Germany many years before and made his way, first to Texas and then, finally, to Mexico, called them south. He’d taken advantage of Porfirio Díaz’s call to foreigners to help modernize Mexico. He had a growing coffee plantation and they were all to meet him down there to help make it a success, live as a German community on the Mexico/Guatemalan border. It was a great and wonderful adventure, until they were attacked by the bandits.
They had a big meeting about it. They knew so little of Mexico. They knew it would be good to be Catholic in Mexico, as the overwhelming faith was Catholic, and they might enjoy continued freedom there. But Texas was not a bad place to be Catholic, either. There were many Mexican Catholics in Texas, and the non-Catholic Texans left them alone. They were, as Germans, left alone as well. No one bothered them and it was a good life. Ulla cried a little at the thought. She looked over at Maria and shrugged. “There was really no reason to leave Texas.”
But they had left and now they were partway to their new homes, with Maria as their protector and guide. Ulla, as if she were somehow clairvoyant, in her shy, German way gently suggested that Maria stay once she’d gotten them to their new home. “You would be welcome in my home, Maria. You would be welcome by us all.”
Maria blushed and held onto her tiny charge a little more tightly. The child looked up and smiled and patted Maria on the hands as if she understood everything her aunt was saying.
Maria entertained the idea of staying with this group of hard working, kind people. Perhaps she could. She’d never been so far south but she’d met a few Guatemalans in her time. They were very poor people, but they were kind and decent. They spoke in a strange dialect but were nice enough. Maria thought about all the Germans. They might be fun to live amongst for a while.
She’d been so content lately, wandering, not worrying over any of it. She was not ready to settle down, yet the little child in her arms felt so good and natural and she knew, deep in her heart, that one day she’d be a mother. She wanted to have a baby but the thought of finding a man, someone who could match her in intellect and nerve and zest for life seemed a daunting, perhaps even, an insurmountable task.
Would she find a nice German man? That might be interesting. She had not yet met a German man, but the women were lovely and she liked them. She liked the way they liked to work, as Maria liked to work. She’d enjoy making a home and keeping things in order, providing for her family and clan. She’d fit in with Germans. She thought about the vaqueros on Uncle Alejandro’s ranch. So many of them ogled her. They weren’t bad, there wasn’t anything bad in it, and any one of them would likely be pleased to marry her, but she just did not know. She could not see herself living as a vaquero’s wife. She could not see herself spending all her days in a kitchen making tortillas and preparing food and constantly washing and cleaning while her man was out on the open desert, having all the fun. She smiled at that thought. That was the problem. Maria liked to wander and none of that seemed compatible with having a baby and a husband.
She thought that she might do some more marauding and some gambling and turn this into a nest egg and buy her own place. Why not? She was a good gambler, the old man had taught her well and she had a good memory for numbers and counting cards. Most of the men she gambled with were very stupid or left everything to chance and she always beat them.
Uncle Alejandro had done it. He was a bandit and saved up his booty from the bandit life and turned it into a nice ranch. Why could she not do this? She could then hire women to help with the chores and the babies. She could be like the wealthy hacendadas who even had wet nurses so that they didn’t have to feed their babies. Her womb contracted at the thought and her nipples ached. She might just as well not have wet nurses, she’d like to feed her own babies, but she could have cooks and women to clean. She could have a family and still be free to go and roam when she wanted. That would all work well.
But what kind of man would have this? So many men were weak and proud. They would not let a woman pay the way, or let a woman go off and roam when she wanted. This was a conundrum. Maybe she would have a man, keep him like a bull for breeding. She could have him as an employee and use him like a stud horse when she needed to become pregnant. She smiled at that thought. She remembered the old man telling her about the Arabs, the people of the desert all the way over on the other side of the world and the old woman got mad at him for telling Maria about the harems of the old sheiks. She could be the same way, except the other way around. She could have a harem of men, and she’d have them impregnate her as she saw fit. If any of them gave her any grief, she’d just fire him, send him packing.
She chuckled at her naughty thoughts. It would really make God angry, at least the God of the padre. She thought on that a bit. The Arabs had their God, and they had a harem, and they didn’t anger their God with the harem, so perhaps she could do this without angering God.
By the third day and with little progress made, Ulla approached her new trail boss. “Maria?”
Maria looked up at Ulla and smiled. “They have decided that they want to take the rest of the journey by rail. Will you take us?”
Maria stopped and had Ulla bring them all together. They’d eat at this spot and make a plan. Maria dismounted and held the little one who’d fallen asleep. She kissed her and put her down in the grass. They were upon her immediately and Maria smiled as she was never able to do any work. The Germans had it all under control and this brought her back to her memory of mimicking Uncle Alejandro’s past. She thought that she would pursue this dream. She’d amass a fortune and have servants. Perhaps she’d hire only German women as they were perfect in this way.
She looked up at the sun and remembered that the main rail line ran, like a spine, right down the middle of Mexico. If they turned hard west they’d hit it likely by midday next.
She told Ulla of this and she conferred with the others. They agreed upon the plan and in another day were on a train from San Luis Potosi heading south to Vera Cruz. After that, they’d wire for someone to fetch them from the plantation.
Maria was sad now. There was no reason for her to go with them
on the train. Her work was finished but she didn’t want to leave her new friends. She actually wanted to travel overland, escort them, get them to the plantation, even if it took the better part of a year. She wanted to see what it was like down there near Guatemala, see what a coffee plantation was all about. She remembered Ulla’s offer and it didn’t seem so difficult when she was going to ride Alanza all the way down there, but a train? She didn’t need to ride along on the train; it would be safe enough without her.
She felt anxious about this and was giving herself a headache over it. She held her little charge in her arms and kissed her often on her pale cheeks and neck. The child was just too precious to resist.
Ulla read her mind again. “Maria, you must come with us. We will pay the passage for you and your pony. We must have you with us until we get there.”
Maria smiled self-consciously. Ulla was sweet to her. She didn’t know what to say, had nowhere in particular to go. “I…, okay, as you wish, Ulla.”
Chapter XV: Tapachula
When they finally arrived they were surrounded by Germans. They all had heard of the attack and the brave bandida who’d come to the rescue. They took turns shaking her hand and bowing formally to Maria. It was all overwhelming and her head was fairly swimming when a familiar voice called out.
“Are you still good at throwing rocks?”
It was Juana and Maria thought she would fall over from the shock. Juana saw this and was upon her, grabbed her in her big arms and held Maria tightly, nearly suffocating her. She pushed Maria back, at arm’s length and looked her over. “You have gotten beautiful, just as I expected you would.”
Juana had gotten bigger. She was near three hundred pounds now and sported yellow hair, like the whore back at Nuevo Casas Grandes, but Maria could see her, recognize her little bandit friend. “I know. You thought I was dead.” She took Maria by the hand and led her to her home. She was the mistress of the plantation, Ulla’s uncle’s bride and Maria was somehow not surprised.
They sat and had American whiskey and Juana produced some good cigars. The parlor was magnificent and looked like no other place that Maria had ever seen. It was decorated in the German style, as was the entire house. It was what one would expect to see in the Bavarian Alps rather than the southernmost tip of Mexico. It exuded wealth and Juana did not actually look out of place sitting there.
Maria had a good look at her. Juana now dressed like the Germans and kept her hair in the German fashion, parted neatly down the middle, the ends curled tightly underneath. She looked so odd with her dark Indian skin and blonde hair, but from a distance she looked no different than her Teutonic family.
Maria drank the first whiskey down and Juana refilled her glass.
“I, I, Juana, that day, your burro came back covered in blood.”
“Yes. Well, Maria, first, I am sorry that I never found you. I am sorry for that, Maria. I’ve known all these years that you thought I was dead but I could do nothing about it. I’m sorry, Maria.”
Maria waved her off. “How did you…, how did it happen, Juana?”
“Well, that day, I was riding along and the man who attacked us, remember the one with the thing on his face? He was after me again. He grabbed me and I scratched that big ugly growth on his face. I don’t know what that was, but he bled like a stuck pig when I did that.” She laughed. “But he got really mean with me then and beat me. I kept running around and around the burro, and he’d reach over and take swipes at me. It was kind of funny, really.”
She took a puff from her cigar. “Not at the time, but now it seems funny. And he bled everywhere. The burro was bloody, he was bloody, and I was bloody. Then the burro ran off and he finally got me and knocked me senseless.”
She poured for them both again. “And then he took me way south, down beyond Vera Cruz and just kept me.” She laughed. “He used to want me to do things for him, wash, make him food. You remember me, Maria, I am not the working type.” She grinned broadly. “I used to do everything wrong, I’d scorch his shirts with an iron, I’d burn his food, mix shells in his eggs. Not cook meat all the way. I swear, I fed him more raw pork than anything. Bet he had worms.” She laughed and continued. “I’d break things, piss in his coffee.” She smiled at Maria’s reaction. “I did, Maria, I used to piss in everything he drank. He always wondered at how I could ruin all the food, it tasted horrible. I’d even mix shit in his food. One time I made a stew and used chicken guts and didn’t even clean them out. It was a mess. He got angry about that.” She laughed.
“How long were you with him?”
“Not really that long, about a year. He just died one day. I came in, and I swear, I didn’t poison him, at least on purpose, Maria. But, he was stone dead in his bed. So, I took everything and went farther south. I found the Germans and they liked me. I’m a terrible worker, Maria, you know, and these people are like you, always working, like back at the cave. But I am entertaining and I taught them Spanish and soon got a job in the house, taking care of the children.” She smoked again, “Well, not really. I just played with the children, everyone else took care of them, did all the work.”
“And how did you get to this?” Maria held out her hand and waved it across the room.
“Gerhard.” She smiled. “He’s Ulla’s uncle and he’s the partner of the people who employed me. He’s a monster, Maria. I mean to look at. He is hideous: big, fat, old, and he is just the ugliest man in the world and he is madly in love with me, Maria. He, well, you’ll see.”
She stood up and took Maria by the arm. “I’m so pleased you are here, Maria.” She kissed her cheek. “When we got the wire, I knew it was you. I knew it was my friend, Maria. Just felt it in my bones.”
They were interrupted by a booming voice. “Schatzi! Where is my darling Schatzi?”
Gerhard Falkstein burst through the door and nearly ran them over. Maria regarded him and Juana had not exaggerated. He was a phenomenon of ugliness. He was heavier than Juana by a hundred pounds; he was old, red faced and pock marked. He had an enormous nose under which hung a gigantic, full-lipped mouth.
He looked at the two women and smiled broadly. “There’s my darling.” He kissed her sloppily on the cheek and regarded Maria. “Oh, you are the famous lady.” He bowed at the waist and held out his hand. Maria extended hers and it was engulfed by his giant fist. He shook her hand energetically.
He suddenly began tearing at the tie around his neck, “Come, come, ladies, we must get ready. Go get ready, we are to have a great celebration.” And he was gone.
Maria smiled and watched Juana watch her husband march out. There was love and care in her eyes and Maria was happy for it. “You see, I told you he was a beast.”
“And babies, Juana?”
She shrugged. “Not yet, but it’s not for lack of trying.” She winked at Maria. “He is a good lover, and his sausage is very strong!” She smiled and led Maria into a guest room. “You get cleaned up and ready. Gerhard has a big party planned for you.”
And the party was like nothing that Maria had ever seen and was exclusively in her honor. She could not keep her seat as one after another, the people of the community were compelled to honor her with a bow and a firm handshake. She was overwhelmed and, finally, Ulla came to her rescue. They sat together and watched the spectacle unfold. There was food Maria had never seen before: bread rolls and potatoes made in many different ways, noodles, sausages, pig, lamb, rabbit, and everyone continued to offer it to her.
She watched Ulla take it all in and the widow’s eyes were wet with tears. Maria, distracted by all this hero worship nearly forgot that most of Ulla’s family were now gone. She looked at Ulla solemnly and patted her gently on the shoulder. “I am sorry, Ulla.”
“I have my little one.” She watched as a band had started playing and several guests began dancing. Over on the other side of the room, bachelors milled about. They were too shy or reserved to approach Maria and not certain if the appropriate time had passed for Ulla. “Look at
them, Maria. They all want to be with you.”
“And you.” Maria regarded them. “This is not like my land, Ulla. Peons and landowners and hacendados do not mix.”
Ulla nodded knowingly. “It is the same in our land, Maria. That is why we are here. We were, as you say, peons, in our land. Now Uncle Gerhard is a plantation owner. It is,” she swept her hand around, as if to take them all in, “not this way with our family. We treat everyone with respect and they are all welcome.”
“And no one was concerned about him marrying Juana?”
Ulla grinned. “Juana is a force of her own, Maria. No one can not love Juana. She is the opposite of us, we Germans. She is dark, she has a, how do I say this, she has no inhibitions.” She looked at Maria. “I cannot say there was not some murmuring, but that was because of the difference in age, not the difference in race or social position. Uncle Gerhard is nearly fifty and Juana, well, much younger. But anyone with a heart can see how happy she makes him, and how, at least we hope, Juana is happy as well.”
And, as if on cue, the lord and lady of the manor entered. Juana spotted Maria immediately and grabbed her by the arm, “Come on, I’ve got some nice sausages for you to meet.”
Chapter XVI: El Norte
Maria finally took leave of the Mexican Germans, despite Juana and Ulla’s protests. She remembered Ulla crying and Juana with her little impish grin standing by, waving, as she rode off. She also waved to another new friend, a tall skinny Irish woman named Bronagh. She stood proud and gave Maria a resolute look as she rode off. It was Bronagh who did not try to keep Maria from leaving. Maria thought about Bronagh as she rode along.
Bronagh had married one of Ulla’s cousins and, as with so many marriages between the Germans and the Irish, it was a complimentary union. It seemed unlikely, like mixing water with oil, but the resolute, hardworking, serious Germans and the wistful, dreaming, wandering Irish often made for good marriages.