Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  He finally met with Ricardo at Spanish Acres and had asked him point blank what he was doing with the money coming in from the oil wells. Ricardo told him that he had used it for his mother and sister who needed help from him in Mexico, as they were now considered destitute and needed money from him to survive. They were not receiving any income from El General and had not heard from him in months. With the money, they could move to Mercedes City, where Ricardo told them he would build them a house.

  Don Federico informed Ricardo that he was not responsible for the support of other families and that arrangement was being made to appoint another man to be in charge of the finances of his oil company. He told Ricardo that he was not to be trusted with other people's money and also brought up his lack of responsibility toward Victoria. Ricardo got angry and accused Don Federico and Doña Francisca of concealing the fact that Victoria was already with child and not a virgin when he took on the responsibility of marrying her. The fact that Victoria was not a virgin was a dark matter in their relationship, and he felt he had been taken for a fool. He knew now, why the urgency in their marriage had been so imperative. He wanted no bastard child. If it weren't for the fact of the Mexican Revolution, he would leave and return to Monterrey, where he preferred to live. Ironically, he would have never known the truth about Victoria's heartbreaking story if Yolanda had not told him.

  Don Federico then asked him sharply, "Nobody pointed a gun to your head to marry Victoria. You were very willing and in a hurry also to join her in marriage. How much money will it take for you to leave and never return?"

  Ricardo bristled up and responded in his cocky attitude, "Don't be silly, hombre! Why should I leave? Do you take me for a fool? I have already married your daughter. I will not leave this area, at least not for a while. This area is not to my liking, but it's convenient for me to stay. I will not be forced to leave, and I will shout it out to the world. I will tell everyone how you and your wife conned me for the main purpose of naming the child. I don't think you want me repeating Victoria's little secret of the upcoming bastard child and embarrassing your whole family."

  Don Federico, being an honest and fair man, was caught between a rock and a hard place. He decided to make a compromise with Ricardo and changed his attitude. He did not want his name or Victoria's name tarnished among the so-called wagging-tongue socialites of Mercedes City or the praying ladies of the Lady of Mercy Church. It would be a family disgrace and shameful for his two sons later to explain. Victoria was already unhappy with their marriage and hated his presence. "All right," he replied. "I'll make a compromise with you. The profits coming from the yearly cotton sale will be divided half and half with you. I want no trouble between the families, and I do not want our family name trashed in this community. Leave Victoria alone, we will take care of her. It's too late for an annulment and we cannot think of a divorce. That would be too scandalous, and trying to explain to all who knows my family—that's too shameful."

  Ricardo glared at him with guilt, knowing what he had done—stolen the money, a common thief.

  The Don fumbled for the right words but soon continued, "I know now that we made a mistake in having you marry our daughter. Victoria is unhappy and it shows. We have accepted Victoria's tragedy and have tried to make things right." The Don paused and then went on, his voice steely. "I will ask that you leave Yolanda alone, too. She is just an infatuated girl helping in the kitchen and becomes enamored with every man who comes to the hacienda." He noticed Ricardo raise an eyebrow in doubt and surprise, acting like he didn't know what Federico was saying. "Yes, I know all about you and Yolanda," stated the Don. "I will confront Yolanda, and also have a talk with her father."

  "She's a grown woman, and she does as she pleases," countered Ricardo. "Yolanda has been more than kind to me in taking care of me. She washes and even irons my clothes, things that Victoria was never taught!"

  "No, Yolanda does not do as she pleases. She takes orders just like the rest of the workers in my hacienda. She has taken advantage of the circumstances, while we're gone. Victoria has never been taught because she doesn't have to. We have paid servants who are willing to do any household job."

  "Yolanda, a servant? When she has valid legal documents to prove that she's entitled to part of Spanish Acres?" Ricardo replied arrogantly.

  "What documents?" Don Federico questioned, in total amazement.

  "Your father apparently had papers made up that were legally recorded at the Cameron County Courts several years before he died, leaving Yolanda part of the land in Spanish Acres. Those papers were transferred to the new Edinburg County Court House, now Hidalgo County, where she went and got the evidence. She went to see an attorney on the matter," said Ricardo.

  "That's the first I've heard of my father giving anything away, especially the land, and to a woman, who doesn't have any legal rights in owning any land. I'll have to talk to Yolanda and with her father Miguel about this. I'll have to see the documents for myself. If Yolanda and her family want part of the land, I will give them a small portion where they live now. Miguel has been very reliable and has been on the payroll for many years, and probably deserves a section. Lord knows, he worked hard enough for it. I do not want to lose Miguel as a worker. When did you get wind of this, if I may ask?"

  "Yolanda showed me the documents."

  "When?" Don Federico questioned, adding testily, "Why did she feel that she had to show you the documents?"

  "Yolanda wanted my opinion. She wanted to know what I thought of the documents. And when you ask? When I started to work on the oil wells. Apparently, she had done all the research when you began building your new home in Mercedes City."

  "How convenient for the two of you," replied the Don, holding Ricardo in a rigid stare. "The two of you, it seems, have been plotting this together. You saw the opportunity that if Yolanda gets part of the land, she would share it with you—that's real convenient!"

  "I had nothing to do with the documents, and if you're suggesting that I'm plotting anything with Yolanda, sir, you are wrong."

  "And as for you, I will not say it again. It would be wise, to stay away from Yolanda, or there will be serious consequences to follow. This is not a threat, but a promise. You need to be responsible. You need to be a husband or leave this area. Victoria will probably shoot you if she gets a wind of your infidelities. As for the upcoming baby, it will be taken care of. We will not need any of your suggestions or consultations. You are welcome to stay at Spanish Acres and work if you like. You'll be paid just like the rest of workers."

  *****

  It was one of the days that Don Federico had spent quietly soul-searching on Doña Francisca's peaceful grave, as he had done so many days after her death. He found it comforting, as he tried to find answers to her passing into another world. She had left him devastated; he had gone mad, not wanting to come to the realization of her dying. His mind descended into Hell. He would call out Doña Francisca's name in vain, something so uncharacteristic of his personality. He felt guilt-ridden for not having taken her to a tuberculosis hospital, as had been suggested. Perhaps it would have given her several more years to live. His mind had gone void and he had forgotten about his Spanish Acres responsibilities, his children, his home in Mercedes City, or any of the many projects he had going. He did not care to live anymore. He wanted to die and be with his wife. He was a man who did not believe in spirits but found comfort in speaking her name out loud while he cried. He had worn out many handkerchiefs as he sat in the quiet environment of the grave, immersed in deep thought about the brevity of life, and listening to the chatter of the mischievous mockingbirds in the nearby mesquites.

  A loud voice from out of nowhere called to him from behind, "Ah, hombre why do you punish yourself, spending such a waste of time in this cold graveyard!"

  Don Federico, rudely startled, jumped several inches into the air! Swiftly, he yanked his pistol and spun around. He was confronted by the shriveled, hunched Doña Adela, who had been picki
ng fresh quelite, chickweed, which she used as a blood cleaner. "Doña Francisca's spirit appeared before me early this morning," she grumbled. "She told me to tell you not to be worrying about her. She is at peace but was concerned about you and the children and your wasting of your time. You have neglected the responsibilities of taking care of your sons by spending your time in a senseless graveyard. They need your love and guidance." She clucked her tongue, pointing her twisted finger at him, as her depthless, light-colored eyes held his gaze.

  Don Federico's neck hairs bristled. With furrowed brow, he stood immobile, and then took a deep breath in a soul-stirring moan. "You have talked to my wife?" he replied. He gulped as his body shook and his eyes widened with astonishment as he faced the old bruja.

  "Ay, hombre, I speak to many spirits of the families that need my help. The spirits come to me from the other side and tell me things of importance to relay and tell their families what to do." The old woman persisted in telling him several stories from the past, and the final conclusion that had transpired with the assistance of the spirits. What the old bruja was not telling the Don, was that Mamá Maria had become so concerned with Don Federico's actions, especially not eating, that she made Manuel take her to visit the witch and ask for her help. Everyone in Spanish Acres knew where they could find the Don, spending most of his time at the gravesite. The two women plotted the confrontation, so that Doña Adela would pretend to be picking up herbs at the cemetery, and would snap the Don out of his misery and bring him back to reality.

  After several hours of animated conversation about dead spirits and ghosts, Don Federico brought up the subject of the body of the murdered redheaded woman, who had never been found, and to this day was still a mystery to all of the residents of Spanish Acres. He asked the old witch if she had seen anything or knew anything about her since she roamed the brasada for her herbs.

  La bruja disclaimed any knowledge.

  They were surprised to see the figure of Martin approach the cemetery. He was riding his horse fast, looking for Don Federico to tell him about an accident involving Roy. His face was drained.

  "Roy is hurt!" exclaimed Martin. "One of the barbed wires cut loose while he was stretching it and hammering the posts, and it cut Roy's stomach in half—his intestines are hanging out! They are taking him over to your house, Doña Adela." He addressed the old woman nervously. "The vaqueros went and got the flat wagon, loaded Roy, and are on their way to your jacale, right now."

  It seemed that something snapped in Don Federico's mind; a surge of energy and fear overwhelmed him. "I'll get my horse and meet all of you at Doña Adela's house," he said. He turned stern-faced to the bent old bruja. "If you want to ride with me, Doña Adela, I'll take you back to your house. It will be faster on the horse, than in your wagon. We will all be thankful for your help." The Don suggested to Martin to tie his horse behind Doña Adela's wagon and return it to her house.

  They rode fast and furious, through the rough brasada, with Doña Adela behind him, holding on to his waist, hoping they would get there in time. The horror of losing Roy overwhelmed Don Federico; never once did he complain of the hunched old woman's fetid smell, or that something might jump on his body. He never thought of it, for his priority at the time was Roy's health, for it was Roy who truly ran his cattle kingdom. Losing his foreman would be the final blow.

  The wagon with Roy was already waiting at Doña Adela's hut for her expertise in healing. Immediately, several vaqueros took the wailing Roy inside, while one held onto his bleeding stomach that had been wrapped in some of the men's cotton shirts. Bright red blood seeped through the cloth.

  There was another surprise waiting for Doña Adela at her domain. Martin’s younger brother, José Trevino, needed her help as soon as possible. He too was panicky, beaten and hurt. Outside the hut, the vaqueros and José waited around for half an hour, when Martin finally rode up with Doña Adela's wagon.

  "Martin," said the young José, "you need to come home! Something terrible has happened at our house. Our thirteen-year-old sister, Juana, is pregnant! She finally confessed to a mother who the father is—our own father! Mother is in agony. She was severely beaten when she confronted father about Juana's condition. I tried to stop him from hitting mother, but he is too strong for me. He whipped me while mother was trying to explain how, shamelessly, he was taking Juana out into the barn, with the excuse of showing her how to milk the cow and goats. I broke away from him, ran out of the house, and saddled my horse in haste, while he was whipping her. Mother has several broken ribs and she has been beaten around her face. She may not make it. I had no choice and decided to seek the help of Doña Adela. I cannot go home without getting help and telling him." The young José kept repeating the words, "He will kill me!" over and over again.

  "I'll kill him!" yelled Martin, out of control, adjusting his gunbelt. "El desgraciado!" he kept muttering. "He forced me out of the house after the last thrashing he gave me, and he knew what he was doing all the time. Juana was his favorite, and he showed it."

  Don Federico, who had heard everything, stood stunned like the rest of the men; the atmosphere frothed with tension while waiting for Roy, who had been given whiskey to drink, had his intestines washed with warm water and placed back into his stomach. It was as simple as that. He was being sewed up with a common needle and thread. His hollering could be heard for miles around the vast brasada, as the waiting vaquero’s sipped mescal from a bottle to calm each other's nerves. All were waiting to return him back to the hacienda and have him rest, restoring his health.

  "Any of you men want to come with me over to Martin's house and take care of this little problem?" commanded Don Federico in anger, adjusting his gunbelt. "We will wait until Doña Adela is finished with her operation and take her with us."

  The majority of the men agreed and strapped on their gunbelts. They pulled out double-barreled shotguns that were in the wagon and began loading their ammunition as if going to the border and joining in fighting the Mexican War.

  Don Federico ordered Martin and José to stay at Doña Adela's place until the bruja had finished sewing Roy up. Then they were to put the foreman in the wagon and take him back to Spanish Acres. It was safer and better for the two of them to stay at the hacienda at the moment and not to do anything foolish. The rest of them would escort Doña Adela to see about Señora Trevino.

  One of the vaqueros commented, "Old man Trevino is a tough son-of-a-bitch. It's terrible how a father would abuse his own daughter—a terrible sin. It's going to be interesting how this is going to turn out, especially for poor Martin, who is getting the short stick of this." Another replied, "It's going to be sad walking and sad singing after Don Federico gets through with him." These were the comments from the vaqueros, as they traveled through the hostile brasada toward the Trevino home.

  Old man Trevino lived southwest of Spanish Acres, close to Don Federico's land and several miles west of La Villa. There was a strip of land between them that no one had claimed and nobody wanted since it was full of alkali and salt. It was a true fact that Trevino was a cruel man, not only to his own family but also to his animals. He was surly and disliked by his neighbors for being aloof, ungracious, and not having anything to do with the rest of the families living close by. He lived by his own rules, regardless of any other laws. He used his own children as pawns, especially his boys. He used them like slaves, and threatened and whipped them to do his will, and denied them nourishment as punishment.

  It was getting toward evening, and shadows were getting long. During the winter season, the days were shorter, and the sun was vermillion in color and setting toward the west. There was an eerie feeling as Don Federico, la bruja, and his vaqueros approached the Trevino's property, not knowing what to expect. Few entered onto Trevino's unwelcoming territory; he was known to be a man of few words and considered to be unreasonable and vindictive. All were nervous, even Doña Adela, who rode next to the Don, all bundled up. Who knew when a wild animal might jump them a
t any moment, or when gunshots would come from any direction from either side of the harsh brasada?

  The trail ahead disappeared between the dark walls of hanging branches. Brambles cracked and shattered as they rode the lonely route, avoiding the prickly cactus, tasajillo, and the agarita on the side of the rutted road. A flock of birds erupted from the silence of the trees and fled and circled and broke the utter stillness, making the men all jumpy. One of the vaqueros passed gas in his excitement; others chuckled in their nervousness and offered him some whiskey. Dogs barked loudly in the distance, howling as if the angel of death crept among them sweeping around over and through the huisache, cactus, and mesquite. As they approached the open gate made of mesquite and wires, they rode close together, watching each step the horses took, expecting the unexpected to happen. The air became full of awe and mystery, almost threatening, in their invasion of another man's property. They entered the muddy road leading toward the small hut, seeing white wood smoke curl from the chimney of the adobe jacale. The quiet was broken by the spinning of the old, rusty windmill, and yapping dogs that ran out to meet them, surrounding the nervous horses' legs.

  Jumping off his horse and holding onto his reins, Don Federico used the animal as a shield as he eased his way closer to the door of the Trevino's house. The other men did the same. He called out. "Don Trevino, I need to talk to you!" He shouted again. "Don Trevino, we have Doña Adela with us. We hear that Señora Trevino is sick and needs help."

  A bullet came from one of the side windows of the hut, hurtling toward the men hunched behind their horses with Doña Adela. They all scrambled with their animals toward the windmill's water tank, including la bruja with her large herb bag. Squatting down with rifles and guns in their hands, they watched the front door of the jacale for several minutes to see if there was any movement. The door of the hut opened slightly to reveal a small, thin figure of a pregnant girl. It was Juana.