Rain of Gold

by Victor Villaseñor

  “Excellent,” said Juan. “Excellent!” He hugged both of them, kissing them. “Good boys. I’m proud of you. Now I’m giving you each five dollars for the work you did. But, of course, you’ll give three dollars each to your mother because . . . tell me.”

  “Because we’re machos with big tanates!” said Pedro.

  Juan burst out laughing. “Exactly,” he said, “exactly!”

  “Hey, now we can get a real baseball bat,” said José.

  For two weeks Juan and Julio worked around the clock, doing the distilling day and night. But it was a very dangerous process. The sour mash boiled inside the big kettle and if they didn’t keep alert and watch it constantly, it could blow up like a bomb. By the eighteenth day, they were both so tired that they were beginning to make mistakes. Once, the kettle almost blew.

  “Okay,” said Juan, “I think we both need a break. Let’s count out how much liquor we’ve made and take a few days off. I’ll take the first two days off, then you and your family take off the next two days. But, while I’m gone, don’t leave the house for nothing, not even for ten minutes.”

  “Yes, mi general!” said Julio. “Hell, we already got thirty barrels!”

  Juan gave Julio a big abrazo. “We’ve done good, amigo. And I’m only going to have to sell five of these barrels so we got the money to get the rest of the supplies to finish the job. We’re on our way!”

  Juan fixed them each a good-sized drink and they toasted. Then he showered and put on his best suit, whistling as he dressed.

  It was Cinco de Mayo, and Archie had a dance going on in Santa Ana. Juan figured that he’d deliver two barrels of whiskey to Archie for the dance, then he’d begin his official courtship of Lupe. Hell, it had been nearly a year since he’d first seen her, and he was ready.

  He got his .38, checked to see if it was loaded, put it under his vest inside his pants, and he had Julio help him load the two barrels of whiskey in the trunk of his big, Dodge convertible.

  Pulling up to Archie’s house, Juan saw that the front door was open. He glanced around, wondering if everything was okay.

  Archie kept a house in Santa Ana and kept his wife and kids in another house just south in Tustin. He’d once told Juan that the secret to a successful marriage was never to live with your wife, except on Sundays when you took your kids to church.

  “Hello?” called Juan, walking up cautiously to the open door. “Are you in, Archie?”

  “Yeah, come right in,” said the huge lawman, coming down the hallway with shaving cream all over his face. “The door ain’t locked. Just get your ass in here and get the whiskey and a couple glasses from the kitchen,” he said. “And hurry up! We ain’t got much time! I’m leading the parade!”

  “What parade?” asked Juan, going into the kitchen and finding a sink full of dirty dishes.

  “Don’t you know?” said Archie, shaving himself with a straight razor. “The barrio is putting on a big shebang and I’m officiating it for the sheriff’s department.”

  “But I thought you were a deputy for San Diego County, not up here in Orange County,” said Juan, rinsing the dead flies out of a couple of glasses.

  “I’m a deputy in both counties,” said Archie, finishing his shave.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Same as I’m a registered Republican and Democrat,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his face. “Man, I sure wish I would’ve been born rich instead of so damned good-looking!” he said, pouring some whiskey into his hand and slapping it on his face.

  Juan laughed. He just couldn’t believe that Archie really thought he was good-looking. Hell, Juan couldn’t remember when he’d seen a more homely-looking man. Why, Archie was damn-right ugly with his ears sticking out and his long, cow face with thick, liver-colored, loose-flapping lips.

  They tipped their glasses together and drank, then went out the door. They had to get the two barrels of liquor to the big place that Archie had rented for the dance before going to the parade.

  “Did you find out anything on that hotel in San Bernardino?” asked Juan, getting in his car.

  “Nope,” said Archie, “ever since those two FBI agents got killed over in San Bernardino, nobody is talking too much.”

  Juan felt his heart leap, but he showed nothing, holding as calm as a reptile in the noon-day sun. The word in the barrio had it that Juan was the one who’d killed the two agents, and Juan had done nothing to contradict the rumors. Hell, it was helping his business. Men gave him a wider berth.

  “Oh, I see,” said Juan, “nobody talking, eh?”

  “Nope,” said Archie, searching Juan’s eyes.

  But Juan still showed him nothing. He could well see that Archie was fishing.

  They both got in their cars and drove off. Juan breathed deeply, feeling very wary. Archie had been one hundred percent lawman when he’d stared at him.

  After unloading the barrels, Juan drove over to see the parade. The people were lined up five deep on both sides of the tree-shaded street. Killing the motor, Juan got up on the driver’s seat of his Dodge convertible so he could look from above the crowd. He spotted Archie in his black Hudson, coming real slowly down the street. There were half a dozen horsemen dressed in complete charro outfits right behind him.

  Juan thought of his grandfather’s great sorrel stallion and he remembered the day that he’d seen Don Pío go down the mountain with his old compadres to see Don Porfirio in Mexico City.

  A dozen mariachis followed behind the horseman on foot, playing loudly. Juan listened to their music and his eyes turned toward the finely-dressed horsemen in their Mexican attire. He felt his heart swell with pride. Oh, how he wished that he’d known about this parade so he could’ve brought his mother and sister and, especially, his two nephews. This was Mexico to him: dancing horses, glittering conchos on the riders’ clothes, loud music, and happy laughter.

  One rider, on a dappled, white horse, stopped his mount in the middle of the intersection and stood up on his saddle, doing a series of rope tricks. Everyone cheered. The young horseman brought out his long rawhide rope and made a large loop. He was going to attempt to do the devil’s cut by trying to get his horse to jump through the loop as he whirled the lariat from on top of the saddle.

  Juan grinned. The last time he’d seen this trick successfully done had been by his brother, José the great, way back before the Revolution. Oh, there had been a horseman!

  Whirling the lariat around and around, the circle got bigger and bigger, and the young horseman jumped through it on foot on top of his saddle and then took the rope over his head, making the loop larger and larger so he could pass his horse through it, too. The crowd fell silent. The young man had an enormous loop going horizontally around him, large enough to encircle both him and his horse. Then came the moment of truth, the exact moment for him to throw out the whirling loop, then bring it in vertically so both could pass through. But the horse just stepped in too quickly, and the whirling loop collapsed.

  Everyone sighed with disappointment, but applauded the effort anyway. The young horseman laughed, showing a mouthful of beautiful white teeth, and he pushed back his big sombrero, exposing a lock of shocking red hair.

  Seeing his reddish hair, Juan immediately thought of his father’s side of the family and wondered if this boy was from Los Altos de Jalisco. He could even be a distant relative.

  The six horsemen and the band of loud mariachis passed by, followed by a flatbed truck decorated with a mountain of flowers. There were four, beautifully dressed young ladies sitting on the flatbed nestled among the flowers. One was dressed in a long, pink dress, another in green, another in orange, and the last one in red. Their large, full dresses blended into the white-capped mountain of flowers. The girls smiled and waved to the people enthusiastically.

  Then, Juan was just going to get back down in his car and drive off, when he saw Lupe. There she was, sitting motionlessly in the middle of the flatbed truck, on th
e floral mountain’s peak. She was dressed in white and surrounded by a sea of snow-white lilies.

  Juan’s heart exploded. “My God, she’s the queen of the parade,” he said swallowing, going dizzy, fully realizing that the stars above were smiling down on them. This was, indeed, the perfect day for them to start their courtship.

  Then she saw him, too. Their eyes met. He smiled to her, raking back the brim of his white panama with his right hand. Lupe saw his smile, his eyes, the hat, his clean-shaven face, and the flashy convertible. She admired his suit, a navy blue pin-stripe, white shirt, and polka-dot tie. Realizing she was staring, she blushed and quickly glanced away.

  Juan took a big breath and watched the flatbed truck continue up the street. The mayor came next in a grand car, but Juan paid no attention to him and got back down in his Dodge.

  Oh, he was flying so high that he could hardly breathe. The sight of the queen of his life had sent him soaring to the heavens. He was in love. There was no doubt about it. He started the motor, backed up, and drove off.

  That same afternoon, Juan drove over to the Anglo part of town where Archie was having the dance. There was already a long line of Mexicans and a few Anglos waiting to get in. Over to one side was a little stand where tamales and tacos were sold. The four princesses were at the front door selling the tickets.

  Juan parked across the street and brought out a piece of gum. He was sure that Lupe was already inside. He chewed his gum, trying to decide how to best start his courtship. Then he spotted Lupe’s tall, thin brother in the crowd, and he got an idea.

  Juan started up the motor of his big Dodge and made a U-turn, pulling up next to the crowd. He honked his horn, waving at Victoriano.

  “Me?” said Victoriano, pointing at himself as he looked at the big beautiful car.

  “Yeah, you,” said Juan.

  Quickly, Victoriano came over to the sleek convertible.

  “Look,” said Juan, “I don’t know much about cars but someone told me you do, so I was wondering if you’d drive with me and listen to this noise I got.”

  “Sure,” said Victoriano, soothing the door of the grand automobile.

  “Good,” said Juan, feeling good that his scheme was working so far.

  Victoriano started around the car to the passenger’s side.

  “No, you drive,” said Juan.

  “Me drive?” repeated Victoriano.

  “Sure,” said Juan. “So you can feel the car.”

  “All right!” said Victoriano, rushing to the driver’s side. “My God, it’s beautiful,” he said, getting in and taking the wheel. He’d never been in such a car. He put it in gear, let out the clutch, and they were off. Everyone watched after them. No one knew who Juan was. They assumed he was some rich friend of Victoriano’s.

  Driving up the street, Victoriano said, “It sounds fine to me.”

  “Give it the gas,” said Juan. “Sometimes it doesn’t make the noise until I gas it hard!”

  Victoriano stomped down on the gas pedal, and they flew up the street in a blur of speed. Victoriano was in ecstasy, grinning ear-to-ear. By the time they got back to the dance, Victoriano was talking to Juan like an old friend. Juan knew he’d won the first round. Not only had he managed to slip past one of the guards of Lupe’s castle, he’d made friends with the man who could help him win her over.

  Oh, it was war! Juan was determined to use every trick he could to get the woman of his dreams!

  “Well,” said Victoriano, parking the Dodge and handing Juan his keys, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you, but I never heard any noise.”

  “It’s okay,” said Juan, putting the keys in his pocket, “maybe after the dance I can drive you home and you can listen to it again.”

  “Oh, I’d like that,” said Victoriano, “but I’d have to take my sisters, too.”

  Juan only smiled. “Sure,” he said, “why not? How many sisters you got?”

  “Two still at home,” said Victoriano, walking across the street with Juan, “the others are all married.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Juan.

  And they would’ve continued making small talk and getting to know each other better, but at that very moment, Juan spotted the Filipino. He was with the crowd that was going into the dance.

  Juan started to go for his .38, but he stopped himself. Was he crazy? He couldn’t very well just gun down the son-of-a-bitch right here in front of Lupe’s brother. He took his hand off his .38 and breathed deeply, trying to calm down as he got in line with Victoriano to go into the dance. But, oh, he was raging mad. Those two bastards had stolen his money and cut his throat. They had to pay.

  At the door, Carlota wasn’t selling tickets anymore. Archie had replaced the princesses with some other girls. Juan paid for both of their tickets, a dollar each. Inside the huge hall, Juan glanced around and saw Lupe sitting across the room. She was with Carlota and the other princesses. They were surrounded by a crowd of anxious-looking young men. The Anglo that Juan had seen Lupe driving with was by her side.

  “Those are my sisters,” said Victoriano, pointing across the room.

  “Hey, wasn’t the one in white the queen of the parade?” asked Juan.

  “Yes, that’s Lupe, my youngest sister,” said Victoriano proudly. “She didn’t even enter the contest, but they came to the house to ask her to be the queen.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t like dances or parties or anything.”

  “She doesn’t?”

  “No. Carlota, my other sister, in red, she’s the one who loves the dances. Come on, I’ll introduce you and tell them that you’ll drive us home.”

  Juan grinned. It was working out just perfectly. “Sounds good; let’s go.”

  They were just starting across the room when Juan saw the Italian. Their eyes locked and the big man smiled, lifting his glass to Juan. Juan felt the rage burst inside him. He went for his gun, wanting to rush across the room and kill the bastard, but then he stopped himself, again.

  “Wait,” he said to Victoriano, lowering his face so his future brother-in-law wouldn’t see the murder in his eyes, “I can’t right now. I have some business to take care of. But I’ll see you after the dance.”

  “All right, then see you later,” said Victoriano, continuing across the room.

  Juan watched after him, his heart was filled with envy. There was Lupe, the woman of his dreams, only a few feet away but, in truth, it was more like ten million miles. She would run in fear if she saw his eyes right now. He turned back around to where he had last seen the Italian, but the man was gone. Instantly, Juan felt the hair come up on the back of his neck. He whirled about to see the quick-eyed Filipino no more than ten feet away. There were five people between them. Without hesitation, Juan marched straight for him but the man ducked and cut through the crowd, disappearing before Juan could get to him.

  Glancing around, not knowing where either man was now, Juan decided that this just wasn’t the day for him to begin his official courtship of Lupe. Hell, he couldn’t keep his mind on Lupe and these two bastards at the same time.

  He went out the front door and crossed the street, looked around to make sure that no one was behind him before he approached his car. He didn’t want any son-of-a-bitch jumping out from behind a parked car to cut his throat once he got behind the wheel.

  But then, opening the door of his Dodge, Juan leaped back in terror as the headless body of a big rooster rolled out on his feet. He kicked the bloody carcass with his boot, his heart pounding with rage. There was a trail of blood across the entire length of his front seat, leading to the rooster’s head which was jammed down on the gear shift. Then he saw both men across the street by the entrance of the dancehall. They were grinning as contentedly as fat cats. And the Italian even had the audacity to once more raise up his glass to Juan, mocking him with another silent toast.

  Juan stared at them, holding his ground. Oh, he’d been a fool, thinking that a man in his profession
could be in love. Why, he’d almost gotten killed. He got in his car and started to drive off, but then stopped.

  “No,” he said to himself, “I won’t run. I won’t!”

  He got out of his Dodge, prepared to face the two men. He was in love and he wasn’t about to quit. A man, a real macho, had to learn to be soft and tender, hard and tough, all at the same time.

  But after going back inside, Juan never found the two men. And while he searched for them, Lupe left with her brother.

  For the next two weeks, Juan worked at the distillery day and night, like a man possessed. He hoped to make so much money from this hotel deal that he’d be able to take time off and devote himself completely to his courtship of Lupe and still have enough time left over so he could hunt down the Filipino and his friend and kill them both.

  With only twenty-four hours to go before the appointed time of the delivery, Juan and Julio had managed to make enough whiskey to fill the fifty ten-gallon barrels. At seventy dollars a barrel, Juan stood to make about two thousand dollars after expenses, enough to buy a house for his mother and sister and a little ranch for himself.

  But still, it truly upset him when he realized how he’d missed the perfect opportunity to meet Lupe. It had been set up so beautifully. Her own brother was going to introduce him and tell her that they’d be riding home with him in his grand car. Oh, he would’ve loved to see the look on Lupe’s face when she’d slipped into the big luxurious seats of his Dodge, a car much better looking than her Anglo’s car.

  Juan took a big breath and tried to get Lupe out of his mind and get back to the business at hand. He’d have plenty of time to think of her once he was done with this deal.

  “Well,” he said to Julio, “in the morning I think I should go in front with my little Ford truck. I’ll carry five barrels. But I won’t cover them with chicken shit. Too much weight.”

  “If we use a tarp and forget the chicken shit,” said Julio, “my big Dodge truck can handle ten barrels.”