Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  Don Federico and James spent most of their time in Brownsville's federal courts and at the Mexican Consulate in Matamoros, keeping them away for days at a time. Don Federico had advised Victoria earlier, while at Spanish Acres, to pick up the bookkeeping ledger books from the oil wells, and Victoria had spent part of this morning traveling to retrieve the books. One of the oil wells had stopped producing, and fewer workmen remained. A geologist had been hired to prospect for another drill. Dan Land was now in charge and ran the company as best he could. Those who were not working on the oil wells were put to work in the fields and helped with the weeding and irrigating of the land. Hundreds of acres had been cleared in preparation for planting cotton, but the majority of the land in Spanish Acres was still the domain of hundreds of cattle.

  Returning to Spanish Acres after retrieving the bookkeeping ledgers, Victoria's instincts drove her toward Doña Adela's home. She wanted to see the old bruja for her advice and had not seen her in several weeks. About a mile out, on the dirt path to Doña Adela's place, Victoria was startled by a loud explosion but was unable to tell where it came from. Up ahead and above the mesquite and undergrowth, she soon saw smoke rising high up into the sky. She rushed in fear as fast as her one-horse buggy would take her to approach la Bruja's place, but it still took over thirty minutes before she came close to the jacale. She could see black smoke circling up from beyond the trees. When she got close enough to tie her horse on the side of the road, she stood watching the unbelievable scene. There was nobody around, only silence. Doña Adela's hut had been blown to pieces. The explosion had killed her three dogs that lived under the porch and protected her shack—gruesome body parts were scattered about—but Doña Adela was nowhere to be found.

  Victoria shouted for her several times, knowing she often roamed the woods gathering special weeds. Who could have done this terrible thing? She stood there, unbelieving, then began inspecting pieces of the smoldering debris. The burnt smell was unbearable. Apparently, dynamite had been thrown into Doña Adela's wooden heating stove. Where was her son Roberto? He was always hiding; he was always shy.

  She walked toward the barn, which was still standing and opened the door. It was dark, except for the light coming through the cracks between the boards. Thick cobwebs clung to boards and rafters, and thick smoke from the explosion tainted the muggy atmosphere. There were harness and ropes hanging along the walls, and Doña Adela's dry weeds hanging from the rafters. Victoria yelled, "Doña Adela!" and then, "Roberto!" She stood for several minutes assessing the situation, caught her breath, and glanced toward a small room on the other side of the barn. It looked like sleeping quarters—perhaps it was Roberto's room.

  She moved closer and opened the door. The tiny alcove was dark and smelly. There was a small window, but the little light shone through the murky glass. Next to the wall was a spring cot, and on top of the cot was—what looked like a person—a dead body! Victoria jumped and wanted to scream. Was it a dead person whose body had dehydrated and perhaps lay on this cot for several years and had deteriorated into that condition? She was confused and horrified, but thinking back, she recollected Felicia saying something about an unexplainable odor around the barn, even before they left for school in Monterrey.

  She hesitated, then cautiously leaned over and viewed the desiccated corpse in the dim light. She could see that it was that of a woman, wearing a dress with ruffles and lace that was discolored and rotted with age. Her body fluids had drained around the old cot, dried, and decayed. Her skin was mummified, like dry parchment over bone. There was a decomposed mildew smell—the familiar smell of death. Long, tangled, red hair framed the skull on the pillow. Red hair! Oh, my God! Victoria was horror-stricken. Her skin crawled. Could this be the missing red-haired woman that was murdered in the brasada and her body lost for all these years? It's no wonder she was never found—no one would have thought to look here! The vaqueros could have looked out in the bushes until kingdom come and would never have found her. But what is the body doing here? And why hadn't Doña Adela said anything about her? Suddenly, Victoria remembered. She uses dead bodies for her rituals!

  She stood petrified, as a cold chill crept over her body. The barn door squeaked. She spun around and glanced toward the shaft of sunlight coming through the open door. In the light there appeared the figure of a wolf! An illusion! Victoria squinted and called out, "Doña Adela! Is that you? Roberto?" She was confused and awestruck and thought her fears must be playing games with her emotions. She looked again and there was nothing, only the bright sunlight and the door squeaking in the wind. She felt nauseated and lightheaded and fled for the door before she fainted.

  Outside, she took in a deep breath and stood for a time to compose herself. She heard galloping horses coming her way from the direction of Spanish Acres. Unsure who the riders might be, she hurried back inside the barn and looked through the cracks. With great relief, she recognized Roy, Miguel, and the other vaqueros from Spanish Acres.

  "Whut da Hell? Whut da shit happen here?" exclaimed Roy, looking around in amazement. "Boy, oh man!" He removed his hat and scratched his head, viewing the destruction. "Wunder where dat ol' bruja is at?"

  "Did she blow herself to pieces?" answered Miguel, who was just as baffled. Just as they spied the horse and buggy hitched out on the road, Victoria approached them from the direction of the barn.

  "Roy! Miguel!" Victoria shouted, her right hand against her forehead. She was almost in a state of collapse. "There's a body in there!" she said, pointing toward the barn.

  "Is it la bruja?" questioned Miguel, concerned. He got off his horse and rushed to help Victoria, who was obviously in distress.

  "No," answered Victoria, looking pale and feeling faint.

  Miguel grabbed her by the waist and helped her over to the waiting horse and buggy.

  Roy and the vaqueros dismounted and cautiously stepped inside the old barn. One was already holding his bandana up to his nose, for fear of what they were going to find.

  Victoria rushed back to Spanish Acres, all the while feeling dizzy and nauseated. Perhaps it had been the smoke, or maybe she needed something to eat. Mystified, she kept thinking of Doña Adela and wondering what could have happened to her. Where was she? Where was Roberto?

  It took two days before Doña Adela was found, deep in the brasada. Several vaqueros discovered her by following the mournful call of lechuzas roosting overhead in a tall cottonwood tree. Owls and large ravens guarded the tree where she was hanging. It presented a chilling scene, causing every hair on the backs of their necks to stand straight up. The blackbirds had eaten her eyes out. The vaqueros who took her down reported that her tongue and ears were cut off, and her arthritic hands had been crushed. It appeared she had been tortured while trying to get information out of her. To console her grieving followers, they pointed out that she had probably died before she was hung.

  Several families in the area, who had been watching for any strange activities on their property, remarked they had seen two gringos on horseback riding toward Doña Adela's home. One of the men said he had recognized the ex-Texas Ranger, Hanson. He was older, uglier, and heavier, but it was him. He recognized him from years back when the family's older boy had a run-in with the Los Rinches in Harlingen.

  Victoria was inconsolable over la Bruja's death, and so were hundreds of people around the area. The old woman was her friend since childhood, and she had taught her so much. What were they going to do without her healings and consultations?

  For many days after the death of Doña Adela, Victoria felt ill, and not knowing why, until the discovery that she was actually pregnant—a child from Ricardo. How could she forget the time he had come home from one of his escapades in the bordellos of Reynosa? He had stormed into her bedroom, drunk and angry, and torn her nightgown off, then forced her to have sex. She was married; she had no other choice but to comply, for fear of waking the whole household in the middle of the night.

  The body of the red-haired gringa
found in Doña Adela's barn was quickly buried in the Juelson's family cemetery in a handmade wooden casket. Only those who remembered that certain day and the many months that had followed the mysterious event attended. All the wondering and searching had finally come to an end. They considered the case closed, although the mystery remained—how had she ended up at Doña Adela's place?

  Doña Adela's funeral was held in the small chapel at Spanish Acres. Hundreds of humble Mexican people attended from all over the region. She was buried in the Juelson family cemetery exactly a week after the gringa was found in her barn. She had lived in Spanish Acres all her life and was considered part of the family. Roberto still had not been located. The land where Doña Adela lived was cleared of debris, leaving only part of the dilapidated barn and the old chimney. The area was considered a sacred ground by so many of the natives.

  Months later, several robbers who were discovered looking for the "pot of gold coins" she was thought to have hidden, were frightened away with shotguns. The vaqueros from Spanish Acres started to patrol the land with guns and rifles. Roy had hired twenty more vaqueros to work the cattle and protect the area. Many swore they had seen a black wolf and heard la bruja cackle as they followed a burning flame they saw on her land, thinking that it was Doña Adela's spirit.

  As the circling lechuzas were still being heard, and since the superstitious natives said death came in threes, everyone held their breath in anticipation. No, less than six months later, Mamá Maria died, apparently from a heart attack, while sitting in a rocking chair crocheting a baby garment for Victoria's child. She was also buried in the Juelson's family plot. Victoria, distressed and with child, going into her seventh month, was grief-stricken and swore if she had a girl, she would name her Maria. Manuel was inconsolable, and with his failing health, felt poorly and drank more heavily than usual. He had not long to live, and he did not care. Yo-Yo's sons, Memo and José, were given the morning duties of delivering milk, cheese, and butter to Lozano's in Harlingen, Garcia's in La Feria and to Don Antonio's local grocery store in Mercedes.

  Victoria was delighted when Felicia informed her that she was also expecting a child in the following year. No word was heard from Juan, except for several letters mailed to Don Federico and Magdalena, telling them that he had finished his studies, but was now doing residency work in nearby hospitals and would soon return to Mercedes.

  Life in the Rio Grande Valley continued.

  Over a thousand U.S. Army, soldiers were quartered and stationed in Mercedes Park, called Camp Mercedes. Other soldiers were camped on the west end of town close to a small lake where soldiers built footbridges over a canal. Tents pitched among the mesquite and undergrowth included a small hospital for the sick soldiers.

  There were several activities to keep the soldiers occupied; however, the dances that took place at the Mercedes Hotel were segregated. Written signs inside stated "White Only" and "Mexicans Only," for people to use the toilets and their services. Social activities for the Army were also being conducted in the white school, including dancing, but it would stop at midnight, as the electric plant turned the electricity off at twelve o'clock and back on the following morning at six. Mixed-racial couples on picnics, especially at the Campacuas Lake, would cause an ethnic uproar. Many of the Mexican-American girls fell in love with the handsome blond, blue-eyed gringo soldiers, in spite of protests from their Mexican-American parents. Those young girls often found out they were pregnant, months later after the solders left. Luckily, some did get married, but most had hell to pay and raised their children without a father. Many soldiers left the area before becoming committed because of the national tensions, and many Mexican-American children grew up having an English last name but no father.

  Many changes were coming about between the two ethnic groups. The Mexican-American citizens were integrating into the Texas-American culture and laws and slowly adapting to the gringo ways.

  During this time Don Federico received news of varying degrees—some good, some bad. He was heartbroken to learn that the old educator, H. Marsh, whom he considered a wonderful mentor and a good friend, had died and was buried in Edinburg.

  The most shocking and disturbing news came when he heard that the Esquibel family had found Don Esquibel swinging from a tall cottonwood tree several miles south of their property. There was evidence of several horses' tracks in the soft earth, and Mexican families living nearby had seen Rangers riding around earlier. The Esquibel family was devastated.

  The only good news was a wedding invitation from General Nafarrate. He was marrying an aristocrat from Ciudad Victoria, La Señorita Maria Luisa.

  Fred and the twins would hurry home from school and then walk over to the depot, five blocks away, where the train came whistling in at four o'clock. They would stand close to the tracks and wave, watching the people getting on and off the train. The big attraction, though, was next to the depot, where the boys would spend time watching the military soldiers at their encampment, where the echoing resonance of bugles would startle the residents of the town in the early morning dawn like a habitual sounding alarm clock.

  The Mexican raids had caused the coming of the North Dakota Infantry and later the First Illinois Cavalry to Mercedes. This created excitement in the youth, especially for young boys who had once played with tin soldiers and dreamed of one day being in the military. Fascination was the word; seeing the soldiers in their sharp uniforms doing their afternoon maneuvers or traveling with caissons down the main street was stimulating. Since both schools let out at the same time in the afternoon, Mexican-American boys from the North School would also join in the excitement. Poor, scrawny boys with bare, dirty feet and torn and faded threadbare clothes would watch the soldiers and dream, hoping that someday they could perhaps live that life.

  From outside the wire fence, the two racial groups stood separated and nudged each other, mimicked the soldiers, and all joined in their ceremony with their salutes, especially when raising the flag. The marching of the soldiers was spellbinding, with every boy stomping their feet, cheering and pantomiming each step.

  But when the reverberating sound of the cannon boomed, everyone trembled, and then cheered.

  After the soldiers finished their maneuvers, the Mexican-American boys would leave with sad faces, heads down, and walk back across the tracks. The isolated Mexican-American children learned early in life the feeling of banishment and castigation and always were aware of the ill feeling against them. They never had their dreams fulfilled, always had to tolerate the dislike, the hatred, and the intimidation from the white world. Bigotry was so prevalent that even small children, not knowing much of life, felt ostracized. The facts of life were this: growing up was going to be hard and cruel.

  *****

  Those were exciting times, in the warmth of the sultry nights, when mischievous young boys found the darkness of the shadows intriguing. Fred and the twins would sneak out when nobody was looking and hide among the bushes behind Stoler's warehouse, which sold caskets and observe the corpses of dead soldiers. Soldiers were dying away from their homes, torn from their families and loved ones, to protect the American citizens from foreign invaders in this strange land of summer's tormenting heat. Sometimes the boys would get close enough to inspect the bodies, without the proprietor knowing, giving them chills and a frightening kind of excitement.

  John, who had a weaker stomach than the other twin, decided that viewing dead soldiers was not for him and was keeping him from sleeping at night. He was also experiencing terrible nightmares that would make him wet the bed, so he refused to join the daredevils on their thrill-seeking adventure. Besides, if mother Emma found out, he would have a nightmare of a different kind. John's hormones were beginning to stir, and he was more interested in girls—and what was underneath their clothing.

  On a dark night in the middle of summer, while hiding among the palms at the Mercedes Park, the boys heard horses. Fred and the twins watched a band of thirty desperadoes heading in
their direction, speaking in rough Spanish. The three glanced at each other and all of them froze. The riders were obviously drunk and cussed and bellowed loudly, proclaiming their loyalty to Mexico. Several began to urinate on the street while still on their horses, and they all guffawed at this. One of the riders had an extra horse, which had a blanket wrapped around its middle with words emblazoned upon it. Leaving the animal in the park, the marauders took off across the railroads tracks, traveling north. The boys stood quietly, and after a while, they went over to the horse and read the inscription: "Liberator Army of the Mexico-Texans." The scared boys ran home and vowed to each other not to say a word to any of their parents. The horse was found the following day, turned over to the Army, and pictures were taken.

  Jamie and John, who were in their last year of school that only went to the eleventh grade, and Fred, who was a year behind, began socializing with the military camp soldiers after school. One of the young officers, a Dr. David Hedrick, would take the boys aside and show them how to use the microscope. Fred, who was the most curious, spent many hours observing the different bacteria that caused the different illnesses in the human body. His mentor, Juan Alvarez, and now Dr. Hedrick, had increased his desire to become a doctor more than ever.

  Wounded soldiers, who were suffering from fevers, gunshot wounds, malaria, insect and snakebites, pneumonia, and some with consumption, lay on cots, attended by nurses who had come from all parts of the nation. Fred had become very popular with the nurses and with the wounded soldiers, and they would expect him on a daily basis. He would spend hours at their side, observing and listening to every word the doctor and nurses would say. He learned to take blood pressure and temperature readings, and was already being called the "young doctor."