Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  One rainy day during the fall, Memo drove the delivery wagon to Mercedes bringing the news that a family of four, with a sickly mother ready to deliver a child, was found in an ox-cart several miles east of Spanish Acres, having traveled clear from Arkansas. The father was looking for work in the Valley and had gotten lost. The vaqueros had found them distressed and starving, and had brought them to Spanish Acres.

  Victoria immediately rushed to Spanish Acres and found a family by the name of Anderson, with the mother close to delivering her baby. Very shortly, the mother, with the help of Soledad, Ophelia, Elena, and Olivia gave birth to a little boy. The following day, the woman died and left the husband devastated and having to care for his remaining children. The baby boy was named Aaron Anderson.

  Don Federico and James had returned from Mexico City, having been with the ostensibly gracious and charming President Carranza, who had given Don Federico a commemorative plaque denoting goodwill relations. They had been his guests for several days and had even been taken on a two-seater bi-plane ride around the high Sierra Madre Mountains surrounding Mexico City, viewing two active volcanoes—a truly fascinating excursion.

  But Carranza's conversation was not exactly telling the whole truth, for he avoided mentioning his relations with the Germans and Japanese. Carranza's plans revolved around crushing the United States, but he needed the support of more powerful allies—the Germans and Japanese, who already controlled the seas. Carranza was cynically manipulating the weaker groups, the ignorant and the illiterate, controlling the border with hatred and propaganda. His orders were to kill, derail trains, rob stores, and steal horses and cattle, causing confusion and disorder inside the Texas border.

  Carranza's greed was causing the Mexican-Americans to suffer in Texas, by carrying on his international policies with the Germans and Japanese. Farms close to the border on the Mexican side were being used by the Japanese to make bombs from bolts and other bits of metal, all being wrapped in wet cowhide.

  Don Federico rode with James to Spanish Acres after hearing the news of the mysterious stranded couple and their newborn child. He was introduced to Mr. Clovis Anderson, a small, thin, man with reddish-brown hair. Anderson, in his grief, spoke very little of his wife or where he was going to bury her. He was incoherent, unsure of what to do with his children, thinking maybe he should return to Arkansas, where his relatives lived.

  "The baby needs nourishment and will need a wet nurse, which we can furnish for you," Don Federico reassured him. "We have women here with children all the time delivering babies. I don't know if we can take care of the two little girls, but they are welcome to stay, until you have made plans for them."

  Clovis Anderson was poor as any person could be. Homeless and destitute, except for the ox-cart he possessed, and with another mouth to feed, he had a problem. The soles of his shoes had holes, and his pants were patched and re-patched. Both he and his clothes were dirty; he stank; he had few teeth in his upper gums, and the lower were a rotten brown. He spoke with a drawl, similar to Roy's language. Up to this time he had never said, "Thank you, for helping us." In spite of his deplorable condition, his background was that of hating any nationality different from his. He was biased and hated foreigners.

  "I don't believe in having any Mes'kins nursing my boy. I don't want any greaser feeding my child," he said flatly.

  "Well, all right! Everything is not all fine, but—" retorted Don Federico, clearing his throat and trying to control his temper, for he was ready to send this rude, uneducated person away after his bigoted remarks. "What do you suggest? The problem is, your baby needs nourishment, and how are you going to provide that?"

  They could hear the newborn crying inside. One of the women had made a nipple out of cotton cloth, attached it to a small, glass bottle gave the child manzanilla tea with sugar, to relax and settled the baby's stomach, but the baby's bawling continued for lack of milk.

  After hours of listening to the agonized crying of the newborn, and with the women in the household ready to pull their hair, Clovis Anderson decided that perhaps the Don had sense in what he was saying. Whether it was a white or brown woman feeding him, the newborn only wanted to nurse and bond with the woman. Hunger was a terrible thing. Anderson had once seen a mother dog nursing a baby cat, which was not surprising. Within an hour, they found a woman living in the encampment of the cotton pickers. She worked out in the fields and was nursing a month-old child. Señora Guadalupe volunteered since she had more milk than her child required. Instantly the baby became content, and the ladies from Spanish Acres were relieved.

  After a month of continuous griping and not being able to do any work except blacksmithing at Spanish Acres, the ungrateful, warped-minded Clovis Anderson decided to return to his hometown in the Ozarks with his two young daughters, having no choice but to leave young Aaron at Spanish Acres in the care of the resident women. Anderson had been given clean clothes to wear and shoes that fit. Don Federico had even given him money to take care of the two little girls. While the Don was gone to Mexico for a governmental meeting, Anderson told Roy that he would return several months later and claim little Aaron and visit his wife's grave in the Juelson's cemetery.

  *****

  Because of the war with Germany and the raids coming from the border, several laws were being enforced among the border towns. The German population in Mercedes was getting out of control and becoming what was considered a serious threat. Secret agents were not only investigating Mexican-American families but citizens of German descent living near the border.

  Many times after school, when not playing football, Fred would walk over to Howard and Emma's house and visit with John and Jamie. The twin's father Howard always seemed to have an excuse to visit with his friend, a German by the name of Otto Foster, a strange man who lived several miles northwest of Mercedes. Foster by trade was a horticulturist and entomologist, and lived on a forty-acre secluded farm encircled by mesquite, cactus, and chaparral. Two huge greenhouses were attached to his barn, one full of plants, and the other full of insects.

  Once a month, Uncle Howard would drive Fred, John, and Jaime to Otto Foster's place, where they would spend time riding Foster's special breed of horses, which were Peruvians imported from South America. To Fred, this was always a special occasion, to be invited and to be with Howard and the twins, and especially to ride the magnificent horses, which he loved. Mexican workers helped train the Peruvians, which were beautiful animals that trotted and galloped gracefully, and were known for their sideways movements.

  Foster had bought the land several years ago while it was cheap. He was a widower and spoke with a thick accent, small in build and balding, and he wore thick lens eyeglasses. He had two married daughters, Heidi Coffman, who lived in Mercedes and had children going to Fred's school, and the other married daughter, Mary Ferguson, who lived on a ranch close to La Feria.

  While the boys were riding, Howard and Foster would automatically disappear into a dugout that had been used for a cellar. Inside was radio equipment and instruments for sending Morse code messages. Foster's last name was an alias; his real last name was Füeir. For years, he had been exchanging information received from foreign intelligence across Mexico. He was being highly paid by the Germans to research the use of different insects to sabotage the cotton crops, which were the largest moneymaking industry, next to cattle, in the Rio Grande Valley. Howard Ale became aware of Otto's intentions and illegal activities, and with his greedy mind, befriended Otto, wanting to get part of the ill-gotten money that Otto had been secretly receiving since early 1911.

  On one occasion, Fred's horse lost a shoe, and he returned to Foster's so one of the blacksmiths could attend to the animal. There was no one outside the residence as he unsaddled the horse and called out for the two older men. The Mexican workers were all either working in the barn or in the greenhouses. He went inside the house and called for his Uncle Howard, but no one answered. He stood in the messy, cluttered kitchen and looked aroun
d. On top of a counter, the inquisitive young man found several busy insects inside a glass container. Fred looked closely. Curious, he picked one up and looked at it, then put it inside his shirt pocket. He wanted to show his Army friend Dr. Hedrick, and ask him if he could inspect it under the microscope, since he had never seen this type of insect and found it interesting and unusual.

  Immediately, from out of the cellar, Howard and Otto appeared behind him. One cleared his throat, startling Fred. Otto stood numb, staring through his thick spectacles with suspicion. His Uncle Howard looked shaken and nervous, as if being caught doing something he shouldn't. "Back from your ride so soon?" he grumbled.

  Fred felt as if draggers had attacked his body. "My horse lost a shoe, so I had to bring him back," he replied innocently.

  Howard and Otto glanced at each other and both sighed with relief.

  That evening, Fred walked toward the military grounds and found Dr. Hedrick, who was busy attending two wounded soldiers. As always, the doctor smiled and the nurses and other soldiers who were already acquainted with Fred greeted him. Fred headed for the microscope area. He brought the already dead grayish insect and placed it on the dry glass plate. Dr. Hedrick joined him. "What kind of insect is that?" he said, examining it more closely. He called out to one of his assistants, "Max, take a look at this. What do you think?"

  Max, a husky, dark-bearded assistant, had studied agriculture before going into the medical profession. He put an eye to the microscope and studied the creature for a little while. "Hmm," he mused. "I believe you're either looking at Anthonomus grandis or the pink boll weevil—it's one or the other. Both are pests and dangerous as hell."

  "Anth—what?" asked Dr. Hedrick.

  "What you're looking at is the dangerous boll weevil," replied Max, "and I'm sure glad it's dead."

  "Where did you get this?" questioned Dr. Hedrick, looking seriously at Fred.

  "There are millions in a greenhouse north of here, being used for experimental research."

  "Good heavens, boy! How in the world did you get a hold of one of these?" Dr. Hedrick said in alarm. He quickly put the insect in alcohol in a glass container with a lid.

  "A man by the name of Otto Foster has a greenhouse where he does scientific research," answered Fred feeling the pressure of having done something wrong. He was always getting himself into trouble because of his curiosity.

  Dr. Hedrick glanced at Max. "Better contact the head of agriculture and tell them the story. I don't believe they are aware of what's happening or know of the experiments being conducted out there." He slapped Fred on the back and said, "Good work, son!"

  *****

  By the end of the long hot summer, the natives were anxious for a cool fall. Don Federico and James had returned from Mexico via Brownsville and spent time in Mercedes, taking some time for leisure. The newspapers were full of news concerning Governor James Ferguson being indicted on nine charges of misappropriation of public funds, and suspicious income and financial ties. He was being impeached and removed from office, to be succeeded by William Pettus Hobby, who became the youngest governor of the State of Texas.

  The plague of the roots of evil showed its face everywhere, and corruption flourished in every department of the Texas state government, where greed and the love of money thrived. By taking advantage of a bad situation and chaotic circumstances, judges, sheriffs, deputies, law officers, and Texas Rangers were all on the take and often being paid under the table, giving them the opportunity to enrich themselves.

  Meanwhile, the killing of innocent Mexicans-American continued. "Shot to death while resisting arrest," was a common phrase and was becoming routine as lynching. Most of the reports were falsely written by the law enforcement officers. Each patted the other on the back for any incident blaming the Mexican-American individual. Many stories were kept hush-hush among themselves, honoring their own code of silence. The Corpus Christi Caller and the San Antonio Express had a few reporters that felt sympathy for the Mexican-American families and put in writing the truth of what was really happening. The finding of dead Mexicans created no interest; however, if a white American was killed, the people immediately wanted revenge.

  CHAPTER 33

  In the late fall, a tall, muscular man in his forties, wearing a khaki uniform, approached the Juelson residence and knocked on the door. Victoria, who was expecting her second child, greeted him at the door and led him into the parlor. It was Major Morris McCormach from San Antonio, Josie's husband, who had been sent to the Valley to help the battalion of the First Illinois Cavalry. He stood looking around the house almost in a daze but not saying a word. Victoria found him strange acting and asked if she could get him something to drink. He asked for a glass of water and asked if he could talk to Don Federico. He needed to discuss something with him regarding his wife.

  "Is Aunt Josie all right? How is she feeling?" Victoria frowned while questioning him. She ordered one of the servants to bring in some lemonade and sat down heavily in one of the sofa chairs. She turned to face her uncle and said, "Father is not here, but will return by train later this afternoon. He spends most of his time in Brownsville and in Matamoros with the Mexican and German consuls."

  "I see!" McCormach said. He lowered his head, looking serious, while his fingers nervously folded his military cap. His eyes were concentrated on the floor as if he were afraid to look up at Victoria.

  In the long, tense silence, Victoria asked, "Is something wrong with Aunt Josie? We have not heard from her in several years, not even after she had her child."

  "That's what I have to speak with your father about," he said, rather rudely, as though it were none of her business.

  "Is something wrong with Aunt Josie or your child?" asked Victoria, becoming concerned with her uncle's strangely reticent attitude.

  "Very much so," he said bluntly. "That's the reason I have to discuss your Aunt Josie's problem with your father. Josie has committed to an insane asylum about a year ago. I have been kept so busy with the troops, and the German war, that I have not had time to write anyone."

  "A nut house!" retorted Victoria. "Impossible!" She stood up and watched his facial expressions.

  Morris McCormach swallowed his lemonade in haste, put the glass down on the table and stood up. "I'll return tonight and speak with your father on this subject. It is best that I speak to him and explain what has been happening with his sister." Putting his cap on, he walked out of the house and disappeared in the direction of the military camp.

  That evening, Morris McCormach met with Don Federico in his private library. Victoria and the servants could feel that something was seriously wrong by the major's attitude and actions. From outside the library, loud voices could be heard.

  James was reading a book, became uneasy, and excused himself to exercise in the nearby park.

  Victoria paced nervously up and down the corridors of the big house, knowing that something unusual was going to take place. She was getting proficient in card reading and foretelling events that came about as she had predicted. Before her father had returned home that evening, she had read cards indicating that her father was going on a long trip; however, it was concerning a relative, not politics. In the cards, she saw her father upset concerning additional responsibilities. What more responsibilities could Don Federico have?

  It wasn't long before the door to the library opened, and Morris McCormach stormed out the entrance door without saying goodbye. The servants and Victoria had waited for an eternity, glancing at each other nervously, wondering what eventful thing was coming. Before long Don Federico walked out of his library scowling and informed the servants to get his clothes ready, for he would be leaving on the first train to San Antonio.

  Victoria's predictions were coming to pass.

  After he arrived in San Antonio, Don Federico went directly to the San Antonio Mental Hospital, which was a nice name for an insane asylum. The place was located in an isolated area among the undulating hills of the city and look
ed more like a brick prison surrounded by a high cement fence. He requested to talk to the doctor in charge of administration and was escorted into a small, sparsely furnished office. After a while, a thin, balding man wearing glasses and a white coat entered the room and introduced himself as Dr. Adkins. He had brought with him a large envelope of what looked like confidential patient information.

  The Don stood up, holding his hat in his left hand, and shook hands with the doctor. "I'm Federico Juelson. I'm here to see about my sister, Josie McCormach."

  The doctor sat down at the table and glanced over the papers for several minutes. "We are talking about a very serious condition that Mrs. McCormach has," he said finally.

  "Which is what?" Don Federico interrupted. "Josie has never been sick, and there has never been any kind of craziness in our family."

  "Perhaps not," Dr. Adkins answered, clearing his throat while thinking what to say next, and being put on the spot. "But the mind is difficult, and it is hard to detect what goes on inside our brains. Few know. Many times, generations go by before anything is evident."

  "Why was my sister put in this place, anyway? She has no business being in a place like this!" Don Federico questioned him, his voice rising in frustration.

  Dr. Adkins detected this and frowned, eying him. He spoke calmly and in low tones, a habit formed through long years of dealing with his patients. He continued reading the notes. "According to this report, your sister was brought in sedated about a year ago. She had apparently been given several pills to calm her down. Awakened, Mrs. McCormach became violent, hitting some of the assistants and nurses. They were unable to restrain her, so we were forced to give her several electrical shock treatments to calm her down. She is diagnosed as a psychoneurotic person, called psychotic, with a defective nervous system, and her condition, of course, is incurable. Her condition may become dangerous. She has to be kept in a restraint area and watched around the clock."