Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  "He sounds like a very interesting man. And so good-looking," swooned Rosalinda, with her mouth slightly agape. "Maybe we will be seeing your friend in Monterrey. Maybe you'll introduce us. I can hardly wait to see him again." She giggled out loud, showing her enormous, bizarre teeth.

  "Thank you so much for inviting us to this great fiesta," said Rosa. "Our family has all enjoyed it, especially the food and music. This place is so beautiful. Everything is so elegant and wonderful. And you are so beautiful. How exciting for you to have danced with such a handsome man." She obviously had an interest in Juan and persisted in bringing him into her conversation.

  "Thank you. My cousin and I look forward to seeing you at the school in January. And thank you for coming—I'm glad you enjoyed the fiesta. Please enjoy the rest of evening."

  For Victoria, the rest of evening was like an eternity. There was more food and dancing and meeting new people and making friends. But between each dance, she kept thinking, What happened to Juan? Why did he leave without saying goodbye? What happened in the library with my father?

  The final song was the La Golondrina, the Mexican sad farewell song, indicating that the celebration was over and the fiesta had come to an end. Many of the guests had left the celebration early, mostly because of fear and the uncertainty of the turmoil that existed in the area, not knowing who could be next. The remaining guests now gathered up children and belongings and left in their carriages that same night, after sharing sad tales and so many joyous moments. All embraced with mutual blessings, saying their goodbyes and wondering what the future held in store for them.

  CHAPTER 12

  The fiesta was over. The families had seen many friendly faces and important people from both sides of the border. It had been both a joyous and a sad occasion. With a cloudy, dreary, chilly day that brought sporadic light sprinkles, the funeral of José Esquibel had been extremely sad, especially for the two families whose ranches adjoined. At José's wake, Señor Esquibel, in his rage, swore to get revenge for his murdered son. It was another sad moment to see Doña Francisca leave with her parents. Miss Belle was given her wages, and with it, an extra token gift for her contribution to the fiesta. She then departed, leaving by carriage the following morning for her home.

  Tía Emma stayed for several days afterward, giving her maids and servants orders to gather all of the material and accessories for their trip back to Mercedes City. She had been at Spanish Acres close to a month and needed to get back to her active social life. Howard Ale, who had come alone in his own coach, pleaded with Felicia to come home with him, but she refused. He returned with only the twins and a carriage full of supplies, disgruntled at the Juelson's for encouraging Felicia to stay on.

  He left feeling uncomfortable about his time at Spanish Acres. He belonged to a special group of elite society people and had never liked Don Federico, always referring to him as a "greaser cow man" behind his back. His hatred toward the Don grew worse, especially after their confrontation the night before, regarding his involvement with Don Federico's father and the gold mine.

  In his mind, he relived the heated conversation with Don Federico that had put him on the spot.

  "How was it that you became so interested in my father's property and money?" Don Federico had asked him.

  "It was your father's idea, to begin with since we played cards all the time," Howard Ale had replied seriously. "He bragged about all the money he had made in the mine and decided for the three of us to celebrate with his money."

  "Out of the goodness of his heart," Don Federico had snapped at him with anger. "That wasn't what Hanson said. He said that it was your idea, to begin with. Hanson said to me when I went to visit him several months ago, that you put the seed in motion. And that you knew a way to get some of my father's money. Does the word 'blackmail' mean anything to you—and its consequences?"

  "Hanson said that? Why, that bastard! He was clear up to his neck involved with this mess. It was Hanson who came up with the idea, not me!" His voice had risen in anger.

  "Who killed my father?" Don Federico had blurted, banging his fist on his desk. "I don't know of any killing," Howard Ale had replied, startled. “It's a figment of your imagination."

  *****

  "Ungrateful girl!" Emma snarled, as she prepared to leave, dressed in her big, fancy, peacock-feather hat, gloves, shoes, and matching parasol. "We've tried to give Felicia everything, but she's getting a mind of her own. She's getting too big for her britches. Maybe by attending the convent for the next couple of years, she'll miss her home, and she'll learn to appreciate and respect us." With the help of her servants, she was lifted into her carriage full of several cases of champagne, along with a quarter of pork and pounds of beef. "I know what it is—it's that Victoria getting back at me, for bringing out the truth about her," she ranted. "Giving Felicia crazy ideas! And from a spoiled girl who gets everything she wants! All she has to do is ask, and everyone runs to her service. Felicia's attitude has taken a different turn, especially when she spends time with that ungrateful Victoria, doing what she pleases, and one day it's going to backfire on the two of them."

  Don Federico paid no attention to Emma's remarks. There was a cold-as-ice attitude between the families. The entire household was relieved that she was going, all giving a real sigh of relief as she departed. "A real pain in the ass," the Don summed her up. "If it weren't for her mouth, she could be tolerable." He stood with his hands in both pockets watching her depart with her maids, then turned and disappeared inside his home.

  Getting ready for the big trip to Monterrey, the Don got busy giving orders to Roy and his vaqueros in caring for the hacienda, the cattle, and their needs. First was the clearing and cleaning up of the area around the hacienda, with all of the debris that had been left, with so many people attending the fiesta. There was much branding to do, milking, and blacksmithing, as well as the repair of one of the barn's roofs. On the east side of his land, the fences needed to be fixed and other buildings too. Inside, the women were busy cleaning and changing linens, with the pot-bellied stoves outside boiling tablecloths, bath towels, and everything that had been used during the festivities. North of the kitchen, lines were strung for drying all the material goods.

  Don Federico was generous to his workers, especially during the Christmas holidays. However, this year, he was going to be away for two months, so he decided to be charitable early. He handed Roy a large envelope full of money, for his end of the year gift, and a dozen envelopes for Miguel to distribute to the others since he was in charge of the working vaqueros out in the brasada.

  During the short, rainy, winter season, there would be less to do outside, except keeping the cattle in check and being watchful that they didn't get onto other ranchers' property. Another order was given to start vigilance again around the area of the hacienda, by having two vaqueros spend the night in the south brasada, taking turns watching. "Everyone knows I'm going to be gone for a while, and with all of the activities happening lately," he told Roy, "I sure don't want to return to find my hacienda burned, cattle stampeded and killed, or the women harmed in any way."

  Don Federico took solitude in his library in his favorite swivel chair and occasionally drifted into a state of nostalgia about the past year. Hardly a day had gone by that it had not brought exciting surprises, along with some good and some bad memories. He was still haunted by the body of the woman, never found in the dense cacti jungle. His mind struggled with it. There were just too many unanswered questions. He was still worried about his sister. Josie's condition and her marital problems were so serious that she never seemed to find the time to answer his letters. He wondered if Tom White had ever made it back to San Antonio. He also had a deep longing for his wife, to see her again. He missed Francisca and was sincerely hoping she would recover and get better in Monterrey. He was concerned about the trip to the gold mine. He wondered about Soledad, who couldn't seem to remember anything about her ordeal. Was it because she was embarrassed that
she pretended not to know anything about the incident as if her mind were closed on the delicate issue?

  It had been a year with new words being added to the vocabulary: airplane, automobile, gasoline, black gold. It was the coming of the genius age, where everyone believed the new conditions and technologies would change human life for the better. How would this affect the Mexican-American people along the Rio Grande Valley of Texas? Already, there were evil forces at work—greedy land investors, buying the land and promoting it to the hungry hoards wanting to settle in a place that was cheap to buy. The white natives were calling it "The Magic Valley," using the slogan for advertising promotions, enticing rich people from the northern states to invest their money and settle in a paradise. It was all about money, rich schemes— greed— evilness!!

  The Mexicans, who were by nature superstitious, had seen the sign in the skies and were constantly repeating stories about evil omens, leaving them all apprehensive. They would whisper to one another: "Look at the difference in the weather! Look at the signs in the sky! Something bad is coming—it's in the wind!" These pronouncements were usually followed by a long, sad sigh.

  Gory sagas being repeated along the border were starting to take their toll. Much brutality had perpetrated between the two groups of people. The Texas Rangers were given full authority in the South Texas counties to suppress any trouble along the border. They took advantage of their supremacy, blaming the Mexican people for any incident that occurred. "Goddamn Mexicans! Greasers!" they would shout. All they had to do was get suspicious of any Mexican individual. If they disliked him, he was taken outside and lynched in a tall mesquite tree, without any explanation to anyone.

  The Mexican people from both sides of the border hated the Rangers. It was always the Ranger's word against the ignorant soul who, in the first place, had trouble understanding English. There was no justice! But this did not stop the stream of refugees wanting to leave the hungry conditions in Mexico and cross over onto Texas soil to better themselves in Anglo country. They could find work in Texas, even if they had to work in the fields or work in white men's homes; they would become servants and vaqueros and clear the brasada—whatever it took to survive.

  Several problems began to arise. Not only was the influx coming into Texas, but Mexican bandits were continuing to infest the Rio Grande River area. Other problems began emerging regarding contraband, guns, ammunition, and corruption.

  Before long, the whole American border, from the mouth of the Boca Chica to El Paso, flared up. The middle-class revolted, touching off strong sentiments, and this was not going to stop until a new government was set up in Mexico. The imminent liberator of Mexico, Francisco Madero, had tried to cross over into the Rio Grande, but communications within his own circle had gone wrong and thwarted his efforts.

  The whole countryside was like a dry bush, and any spark would cause the situation to erupt into a flaming inferno. Everyone, Mexican or white, was now experiencing a constant state of the "jitters."

  Already, the corrupt government of Díaz had affected his own army. Soldiers were supplied with inadequate guns and equipment, and inferior ammunition, leading to a breakdown in discipline. Yet Madero, with very few men and supplies, and faced with deplorable conditions, began showing astonishing results in the rapid triumph of the Revolution. All throughout the border, the common people were now joining the cause and saying, "Viva Madero! Abajo Díaz!"

  Victoria had become full of anxiety over concern about what lay on her horizons. The more she thought about Juan, the worse it got, not knowing why he had left without saying a word. How she missed him! Only God knew how long it would be before she saw him again. There were nights she had not been able to sleep and walked the floor out onto her balcony, thinking of the amorous Juan. When she slept, she would dream about him, and her days were filled with daydreams.

  *****

  Already in the second week of December, the weather had gotten cold and brisk. Waiting for their long journey to Monterrey to begin, Victoria and Felicia were enjoying a midday horseback ride that would take them deep into the jungle brasada. "I'll race you to the fork in the road," challenged Victoria.

  "You think it will be all right? Remember what you father told us. Nobody is to ride out unescorted. Especially, with the terrible death of the Esquibel man. Everyone's nerves are showing."

  "Oh! For crying out loud, Felicia! Horse feathers! Come now. I have my rifle with me. Who in the world is going to bother us during the day? There are vaqueros all over the brasada. No one will get close to us. No one will touch us with a ten-foot pole." She laughed abruptly. "How silly you are! And we are not unescorted. We have each other, so stop being afraid of everything!" A sly look came over her face.

  "I don't like the look on your face," remarked the spiritless, timid Felicia. "What's on your mind? You don't do anything without a reason."

  "What do you say if you and I go visiting?" she said enthusiastically. "Visiting? Who? For heaven sakes! Who would you want to visit in this desolate, remote area?"

  "Doña Adela lives right down this path! Do you remember the mute? Roberto Eagle, the one who saw José Esquibel getting killed, the night of my birthday? Doña Adela is his mother. Come! I'll show you. You have never met Doña Adela, have you? She tells fortunes, and I feel like having my fortune told. I need to know what is happening with Juan. Maybe she'll read for you, too!"

  "We mustn't go any further," remarked Felicia apprehensively. "Remember what your father advised—not to go any further than the fork in the road."

  "Well, it's only two miles straight from here. And I'm going. What is there to fear? It will only take us minutes to ride to her house. Are you coming with me?" retorted Victoria, becoming angry. Felicia really was testing the limits of her patience! "You can go home, if you want, or come with me! Stop being so frightened of everything!"

  Felicia did not answer. She felt trapped and reluctant, undecided as to what she should do. She reined her horse into slow its pace and sat patiently waiting for Victoria to make the next move.

  A cold breeze flared up, warmed only momentarily by the occasional rays of the sun. Low clouds hung oppressively in the heavens. Felicia's horse followed Victoria's white filly at a slow trot through the soundless, dreary country. Shades of winter-gray cottonwood and mesquite trees were absorbed into the gray environment of the brasada and seemed to have eyes watching them pass. Branches of the grayish, tangled, twisted trees were like arms ready to reach out and snatch them.

  They trekked on until Victoria reined her horse in and stopped momentarily. Straightening up in the saddle, she pointed up ahead to a weathered hut, called a jacale, adjoining a homemade ramada kitchen amid the dense thicket jungle. There was a barn next to an old jacale, and other little adobe buildings of plastered mud with thatched roofs of tule. A fence of upright dry mesquite surrounded the shabby little complex.

  Felicia hesitated, not knowing what they were getting themselves into. She had heard stories of la Bruja and what she had done for so many people. She felt a cold chill pass through her body, like a sense of insufferable gloom. She tightened her woolen cape around her arms while holding the reins with her gloved hands. Her eyes were wide and she looked scared as she surveyed the well-traveled dirt path.

  Around the bend, as they got closer, they viewed a dark shadow standing amidst the undergrowth on the edge of the dirt path. It stood for a moment among the shadows and watched them. Then the animal spun around and immediately disappeared into the dense jungle thicket.

  "What was that?" said Felicia, sucking in her breath. Pulling her horse to a stop, she did not let the animal step any further. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she was gripped by a chilling fear. From out of nowhere, there came a wild, spinning, whirlwind that made both horses whinny and snort at its eerie sound.

  "It was probably a javelina, or a coyote. Could be a wolf. We have many black panthers in the area, too," answered Victoria with nerves of steel, trying to co
ntrol her horse. "It looked like a dog from a distance," she said. Minutes later, the wind calmed and both horses settled down. "Come!"

  Several yards from the jacale, they dismounted, leaving their horses tied to nearby mesquite tree yards away from the entrance to the place. Dogs began barking from underneath Doña Adela's hut as they got closer. Felicia was nervous dragging her feet, taking one slow step at a time. She gazed around the area with caution and clutched her cape more closely about her chest and head. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she felt that she and Victoria were intruding into a forbidden, haunted area.

  Suddenly and without warning, Doña Adela appeared behind them, as if she had come from the same area where the grayish chaparral bush stood and they had seen the strange beast disappear. Both girls screamed at the same time in a chilling paralyzed action, and turned around and confronted la Bruja. The dogs' barking became louder and more insistent.

  "Who goes there? And what do you want?" demanded la Bruja. Holding onto her cane, she stood with a basketful of weeds and dry herbs, eerily eyeing the two frightened girls. A black rebozo was wrapped around her head that blended with her long, dark attire.

  "It's me, Doña Adela, Victoria!" she answered, feeling the blood come back to her face.

  "Bah," replied la Bruja. "Victoria, I didn't recognize you with all that get-up you have on, your cape and all, and from a distance. My eyes are going bad. I need glasses to see far away. What a coincidence! I was just thinking about you. Maybe our minds are starting to communicate with one another on a subconscious level. How did the fiesta go? Did it go well? I'm sorry I couldn't attend—with my old age, getting around is very hard for me."