Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

"So tell me, you talked about Otto. How are you and Otto related?" asked Fred becoming curious and more concerned, trying to grasp the whole detailed picture of the plot.

  "Otto is my step-grandfather. I was adopted by his daughter, Mary Ferguson, and then given to one of Mary's cousins. That's why I go by the last name of Ferguson. So what were you saying about Mr. Hanson?"

  "Hanson is a murderer, a greedy ass. He has no feelings. He will kill anyone who gets in his way. All he thinks of is money, and how he is going to get it. He was supposed to be my grandfather's friend, but he killed him for his gold mine in Monterrey. He's a Mexican-hater and probably involved now with the Klan."

  "Yes! I've heard Mr. Hanson talking about the men in white robes and how he disguises himself," explained Emily, still shivering and wiping her eyes with a towel. "There are many Klan members in the Valley and many in Harlingen, especially the Rangers. I've heard Mr. Hanson talk about them many times."

  "Hanson has killed so many Mexicans here in the Valley, and even a Pinkerton detective, but nobody can prove anything, so he's gotten away with it so far. My father turned him into the authorities in Mexico for killing a Mexican man there, and he thought he had put Hanson in a Mexican jail for good, but apparently the devil got lucky. He deserves to be locked up, with the keys thrown away, and he should not be here in Texas. So, what do your stepfather and Hanson have to do with me?"

  "Mr. Hanson is manipulating Bill, who is supposedly his friend, while they drink together." Emily rambled on. "Hanson took a liking to me and offered my stepfather money to have me sleep with him. My stepfather went right along, seeing the opportunity for easy money since he thinks women are only for sex. Mr. Hanson, of course, is sexually different. I never got used to it and I hated it, but it was better sleeping with him, in his dirty rundown shack, than with Bill—he's been sexually abusing me since I came of age. I do not know what happened to my adopted mother, but she's not around anymore. She used to protect me from him, but he beat her all the time. After she left, it became a nightmare for me and real convenient for Bill—he would not leave me alone sexually. When I refused, he took pleasure in beating me with his horsewhip and, while I was still hurting, crying and weak, he would rape me anyway. I had no other choice but to go along with his desires. It was easier that way since I had no other person to turn to."

  Fred kept eyeing her and knew, from Victoria's investigation, that she was telling the truth. He felt that Emily was in danger and that was the reason she was afraid. He remembered seeing bruises on her body, which only gave more credit to her story. A feeling of compassion overtook him, knowing that it must have been horrible for a child not to be loved, and to be given away and then abused. And no doubt, such treatment would have a terrible impact on a child when they became an adult.

  Emily wiped her eyes and continued, "Hanson convinced my stepfather, since I was such a hot piece of ass, as he put it, to use me as a backdoor arrangement to get to you. Hanson saw the opportunity in me and offered my adopted father plenty of money to have me do their dirty plan. It was then that my stepfather ordered me to seduce you or he'd kill me. Mr. Hanson told my stepfather that you were going to suffer like he did. He said he was going to enjoy watching your father suffer in agony by destroying you and your profession and bringing you and your family down to the dirt, where all Mexicans should be." She talked fast and nervously, wiping her eyes.

  "The Mexican-hater, Hanson, killed my grandfather in his greed. What happened to him in Mexico was his fault and he got caught! It exposed him for what he really is—a murderer!" Fred was livid.

  Emily continued, "Mr. Hanson said he hates you and your father because of losing his Texas Rangers job and rotting in the Mexican jail, living like a beggar in the border towns, and sleeping in the dirty streets. He said he was going to make you pay and see how your rich, arrogant, SOB father liked it. He said that I had to do what he said or else—"

  "Which was—?"

  "To have me steal the .38 special revolver with your name on it, the one that was in your holster on top of those shelves." She pointed to the shelf above Fred's head. "I was ordered by my stepfather, who was told by Mr. Hanson, to steal it when you were not looking. At first, I thought it would be fun, but after you caught me in the lie, and you didn't want any part of me anymore, I got worried and began thinking."

  "My gun, the one that Dad gave me when I graduated from high school? Did you take my .38 revolver? For what reason?" Fred was furious. He got up from his desk and reached for the holster on the top shelf and found it empty. He wanted to lash out at the girl, forgetting that he felt sorry for her and wanted to help her. He felt betrayed. Controlling his temper, he asked instead, "Why?"

  "I'm afraid now," Emily said, starting to cry again. "They are going to kill me. I'm sorry, Fred. I did wrong and I've hurt you. I've felt so guilty about what I said to you. What I did was wrong." She sobbed and sobbed, with tears running down her cheeks. "I had to come over and tell you the truth before it was too late before my stepfather finds out I'm here, blabbing my guts out and confessing to you their plans."

  "So where's my gun now—who has it?" Fred snapped. "What the hell do they want with my gun? What are they going to do with it?"

  Emily answered hysterically, "I don't know!" She was shaking with fear and wailing. "What are guns for," she exclaimed, "if not to kill someone? They are planning something terrible!" Emily continued sobbing, burying her face in her hands. "I should have killed my stepfather with the gun, while I had the chance."

  Overcome by guilt and remorse, Fred's thoughts went haywire. This was the stupid, ignorant girl he was having sex with, the woman he had desired and lusted over, having wet dreams. This was the trashy girl sleeping with her stepfather and the hated Hanson, while he was having seconds. His blood boiled. What was he thinking? He should have realized the consequences it would bring. He thought of Victoria and how right she always was, telling him, there is more than one. Who was Hanson going to kill? Then it hit him like a ton of bricks—Father!

  Fred, shaken and vexed, kept his thoughts to himself. He got up from his desk and began dialing the phone to speak to Victoria. He had to be careful with his words, for the whole gossiping community that was always picking up the phone lines would be listening.

  "Manita," he said. "Can you come over to my office? I have something I need to show you."

  Victoria came quickly, recognizing the urgency in Fred's voice. She left her dripping wet umbrella outside on the porch, entered, and shook the rain from her clothes and pulled the scarf from her head. "What did you want to show me?" she asked Fred, whose face was ashen. She turned and viewed a shivering Emily sitting with the blanket around her. "What the hell is she doing here?" She caught the drift from Fred's expression and said, "What's going on?" Recalling what she had read in the fortune cards earlier, she became instantly concerned.

  Emily told her story while Victoria listened intently. Fred sat nervously doodling on a piece of paper on his desk and knew that his sister, like a keg of dynamite, was getting ready to explode.

  "Why you dirty, bitch!" Victoria shouted in Emily's face, quelling a maddening urge to hit her. "What was your reward? What were you trying to get from us?"

  "Manita," said Fred, getting up from his chair and addressing Victoria. "Please, let's not make this any worse than it already is. Emily is sorry for what she did, what she was forced to do. She's full of guilt and has already confessed. She's in extreme danger for coming all the way here and telling us the truth."

  "I cannot believe that you are defending her, Fred." Victoria stormed, turning toward her brother in a tantrum. "She was forced to—my butt! Did someone put a gun to her head? Hell no! Did she enjoy the sex with you? Hell yes!" She paced the floor, her hands flailing. "After all, they got your gun with your name, and Father is the target. I hope you enjoyed your sexual behavior for the price of our father's head!"

  "Wait a minute, Manita!" Fred thundered. "I remembered you having your little secrets
, too. Who's calling the kettle black? And guess who's kept quiet all these years regarding your nasty little skeleton in the closet!"

  "All right," Victoria conceded. She rubbed her forehead and paced the floor again in total disgust. "Let's not bring out all our dirty laundry. We have to think this thing out. If Emily is in danger, then she better stay here, until we find a way of getting your gun back. And Father has to be notified. We cannot go to the sheriff, and Lord knows we can't tell the Texas Rangers that your gun was stolen. We'd have to explain the whole sordid story, and it would definitely bring scandal to our family, once everyone found out."

  "I'm not wanted here," said Emily in between a whimpering fit of sobs, feeling sorry for herself and fearing the vengeful look that had settled on Victoria's face.

  "That's right! You are not wanted in our house," stated Victoria, having no sympathy for the lame-brained girl who could not think for herself, being controlled by two abusers. "But for this night you're stuck with us. You're going to stay here in the office until we figure out what we are going to do."

  That night, arrangements were made for clean, dry clothes, a cot, linens, pillows and blankets to be brought from the main house so Emily could sleep in one of Fred's medical examination rooms.

  The following morning, breakfast was prepared and taken to Emily, but the servant returned with the food tray, saying the bed was empty and the gringa was gone.

  *****

  Don Federico returned from Spanish Acres that evening and was shocked to hear that Bernard Hanson was living in the Valley, and he reacted nervously to the news about Fred's gun. Later, after he and Victoria had engaged in a full-fledged ruckus with Fred that had disturbed the entire household, all had gone to bed with frayed nerves. It was getting close to midnight and the mansion finally seemed quiet and peaceful, with the children and servants asleep and dotty Aunt Josie sedated.

  After drinking a glass of red wine, Victoria, still unable to sleep, decided to crochet some doilies, hoping it would calm her nerves. She had brought her basket of needlework and put her feet up on a velvet ottoman in the main living room of the house. Before long, she became sleepy and dozed off, with a needle hook still in her hand on her lap.

  She was asleep for how long, she didn't remember, but she heard the large clock out in the foyer striking twelve. A different sound down the long hall startled her, and in her imagination, she thought she saw a hulking shadow in the dimness of the soft light. She cleared her eyes, but something was still there. Did it seem to be the dark figure of a large dog resembling—a black wolf? It was standing in the murky light of the hallway, its large bright eyes staring at her. The animal stalked slowly into the living room and drew closer.

  Victoria thought she was dreaming but quickly realized that it was real. She stiffened with fright, stupefied and afraid to move. She kept her eyes on the black wolf now coming toward her. She felt the needle in her hand and decided she would use it if the creature got too close. She saw its eyes, bright like two lit lanterns, and a full mouth of sharp white teeth. She felt her blood run cold and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Her eyes blinked nervously, and her heart nearly pounded out of her chest in fear. The animal was huge and kept coming toward her, and then circled around her. As it did so, she could feel it breathing and suddenly sensed a benevolent presence. The wolf sniffed her and then licked her cheek as if it were a sign of approval. Then, something startling happened.

  It spoke: "Victoria! Don't you remember me?"

  "Doña Adela!" Victoria answered in a cold sweat and staring into the wolf's eyes. "You're not dead?" Letting out a ragged sigh of relief, she placed both hands on her chest as if to contain her pounding heart. She stood up, dropping the needle to the floor. "Dios mío!"

  "Did you think I was going to live forever? Death is only a moment. It's only the passing into a different dimension. I'm a spirit now. I have no pain, I have no sorrow. I have wished it that way and was granted to be the spirit of the wolf because of all the good deeds I performed while in the flesh."

  "Doña Adela, please tell me how you died and who killed you! All of the families at Spanish Acres and I mourned your loss and have missed you so terribly."

  "Who killed me? The same white men who killed your grandfather! The ex-Texas Ranger, El Rinche, and his murderous sidekick friend surprised me in my home and dragged me outside. They thought I had silver and gold coins stashed away. They wanted it. Thank goodness, Roberto was hiding in the brasada."

  "Hanson! Why, of course," gasped Victoria, horrified. "Who else would it have been?"

  "He used another friend to help him with the stolen dynamite from the oil wells. Hanson killed his partner too, later in Mexico, to keep him quiet," replied the large wolf. "It's the same man who wants to get to your brother, Fred. I know that you have thought of me and wanted answers, especially about your brother. Yes, I'm afraid he is in danger. He needs guidance from the unseen spirit world. Fred has done good deeds, especially for the poor."

  "What do you mean, Fred is in danger?" Victoria begged her.

  "Because of things your grandfather did, your father and now Fred is going to pay for those deeds. There is a terrible plot that several white men have your father, and Fred is going to be blamed for those actions. You must light three white candles and say the prayer that I once taught you for a miracle for seven days straight. You cannot break the cycle, or you'll have to start all over again for another seven days. You need to make a figure of el Rinche and then burn it during the full moon, and also a black candle to get rid of him."

  "Fred is going to get married soon. Nothing can happen to him to now," Victoria cried. "He has his career and is happy. Nobody can harm him or my father. I’ll see to that! However, I'll burn the candles and do what I have to do."

  "We will see!" Doña Adela answered. "He will never marry this girl! The fortune cards should give you many of the answers you need. If you need my special help, when the clock strikes twelve at midnight, call for me, and I will come to you in the spirit. Until then, I must go into the night and help others, appearing in their dreams."

  "Doña Adela," Victoria called out, wanting to ask more questions, but the wolf had vanished. She stood alone in the darkness talking to herself and thinking that perhaps it had been a wild nightmarish dream. Was she going out of her mind? After all, madness did run in the family! There was the lingering smell of death, which finally convinced her of what had occurred was real. She would keep the secret to herself, her own special secret since nobody would believe her anyway, and she could call upon Doña Adela on any given midnight for help. She would burn the candles and say the prayers, but make a figure of Hanson? She didn't think that was necessary.

  Soon, arrangements were being made for Fred and Catalina's marriage, and the guest list of important people was being prepared. Both families had relatives on either side of the river, so invitations, as a custom, were to be mailed out two months early for families having to travel long distances. Don Federico was getting an architect ready to build Fred and his bride a fancy new home, the finest in the land, regardless of cost. The couple could choose any plot from five to twenty acres, any place they would prefer to live. Don Federico was going to see that Fred and Catalina had the very best in their married life.

  On that same evening, as the rainy season had started and the rain pummeled the roof of the house, the doorbell rang. There was a commotion in the foyer with the servants and loud inflamed talk could be heard. Strange men in uniforms with badges on their chests and guns in their holsters, stood there dripping wet, demanding to see Fred.

  "What is this all about?" questioned Don Federico, coming out of his library, where he had taken refuge from the ladies and all the wedding plans. "What do you want with my son, Fred?"

  Pat Marshall, the head of Texas Rangers located in Weslaco, answered, "Senator, we found your son's gun. Is this it?" He showed Don Federico the .38 Smith and Wesson handgun with Fred's name inscribed on the grip.

&
nbsp; "Why, yes, that's my son's gun. I personally gave it to him when he graduated from high school."

  "How touching!" answered one of the officers in a sarcastic tone of voice.

  "Where was it?" inquired the Don, becoming disturbed by their rude attitude, "and what is this all about?"

  "That's why we need to talk to your son. Where is he? We need some answers." The Texas Ranger's piercing eyes darted around the interior of the house in all directions.

  "What does all this have to do with Fred?" the Don repeated bluntly.

  "It was found next to the body of one Martha Emily Ferguson," Marshall went on. "We want to ask him some questions, bring him down to headquarters. Where is Dr. Juelson now?"

  Don Federico was totally confused. "A body, you said? Found dead, with Fred's gun nearby? Impossible!"

  "Hardly," replied a smug rookie officer. "When you find a dead girl's body and a gun with the name of the owner on it, it's hard to miss the obvious," he said curtly, so cocky and sure of himself. They had Fred already convicted of the murder.

  Don Federico was momentarily speechless and felt the blood drain from his face. He touched his chest as he felt a sudden pressure erupt as if kerosene had been thrown into burning ashes, and his left arm was going numb. His heart felt as if was being crushed. The Don needed to sit down. Instead, he calmly replied, "Fred is out on a call. He's delivering a baby at one of the ranchitos west of Weslaco. If you men want to wait in the living room until he returns, you can do so."

  "I don't think so, Senator," replied the head, Texas Ranger, adjusting his jacket and donning his gloves. "We will leave for now and come back later. We need to talk to Fred about this girl. We got word that your son was courting her. Lots of people saw them together, you know," he said, clearing his throat. "This girl had repeatedly told everybody that Fred was going to marry her. We'll keep the gun for evidence, and we'll be back in a few hours."

  Attracted by the uproar intrusion, Victoria, and the others had stood and listened from the side hall. They all heard what the Ranger had said. Catalina began crying, and her mother tried to comfort her. Emma, Felicia, and Grandmother Gloria all embraced Catalina and her mother.