Rain of Gold

by Victor Villaseñor

  But he didn’t. He was also his mother’s child and so he had the fortitude of mind to turn and walk away, knowing down deep in the marrow of his bones that he was man, a real macho, and this big, tall piece of human pus would never understand this as long as he lived.

  Oh, he’d lost friends by loaning them money, and so now he was scared to take a chance on anyone. Archie was the worst of all cowards! He’d lost faith in mankind!

  Getting home that night, Salvador was running a fever, he was so shaken. He had nowhere else to go. And what could he do? Sell his Moon or ask Lupe for her ring back? Oh, he would die first!

  He went to bed and he became delirious again. He saw all of his life go slipping by his mind’s eyes. He was dying, dying, dying, losing all hope. He’d worked so hard and suffered so much, only to get to the crest of the mountain and then go slipping, sliding back down the mountainside before he’d realized his highest of dreams, his own family.

  But then, his mother came, dressed all in black like a great eagle, and she scooped him up, just as the devil in the form of a rattlesnake reached down to engulf him.

  “No!” screamed his mother. “You will not die! Do you hear me? You will not die! You will live, mi hijito! Breathe! Breathe!”

  “But I can’t,” he said. “I’m all broken inside. I’ve lost everything, Mama! And it hurts every time I try to breathe!”

  “Listen to me,” she said, grabbing him by the face, “every wino, every broken man and woman has their story of why they broke, but that’s not why. They broke because they broke! Nothing more, nothing less! Because other people have lost more, their limbs, their children, everything! But still, they went on!

  “Now sit up, and breathe life into yourself! A woman who loves you is waiting for you, mi hijito, and you are going to live, so help me God!”

  Hearing his mother’s words, Salvador tried to breathe, to bring strength to himself. But a big black cat leaped onto his chest, hissing into his face so he couldn’t breathe. And he was dying once again, slipping, sliding, going, but then his mother came once again, and she grabbed the cat by the tail.

  The huge black cat twisted and clawed, trying to kill his mother. But with the power of ten thousand years of motherhood, his mother sunk her one good canine into the cat’s jugular and tore the devil’s heart out with one mighty yank.

  The whole sky opened up in a dazzling spectacle of dancing color, and beautiful white clouds did somersaults like playing children. Life had won once more and the devil was gone.

  Lupe couldn’t figure out what had happened to Salvador. She hadn’t heard from him in nearly two weeks. And last night the coyotes had howled all night and once more she’d had terrible feelings about him.

  Oh, Salvador was dying. Lupe just knew it. She asked Victoriano to drive her over to Salvador’s in Corona that weekend.

  Looking in the cracked mirror, Salvador could see that most of his face had healed, but he still had quite a few small scars. His mother and sister had done a marvelous job once again. Salvador decided to grow a beard, as he’d done when he’d had his jaw cut. After all, he couldn’t just go over to see Lupe looking like this.

  But first, Salvador had to drive his Moon down to Carlsbad and have Kenny sell it for him. There was just no other way. He asked Epitacio to follow him in the truck so he’d have a ride home afterwards. Both Pedro and José asked if they could come, too.

  “Of course,” said Salvador.

  Getting to Carlsbad, Salvador passed by the old lady’s house who sold whiskey for him and he thought of maybe stopping by and asking her for a loan, but he decided against it. He just didn’t want to go through another embarrassment of being turned down again. He laughed at himself. Hell, he was getting as bad as Archie.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Pedro, who was riding with Salvador. José had gone with Epitacio so he could practice driving.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Salvador, “I just thought that I’m becoming like an ex-friend of mine. Now I’m afraid to even ask anyone for anything because I don’t have faith in people anymore, either.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the boy.

  “Don’t worry, you will when you’re broke some day and you try to collect debts from chicken-shit bastard mejicanos!”

  “You’re mad at our own people?” asked Pedro. “But it was the gringos who beat you and Domingo.”

  “Yeah, they did. But they never claimed to be my friends. Our own people are the bastards who’ve doubled-crossed me!”

  Pedro didn’t know what to think. He’d always thought that only the gringos were the bad guys.

  Salvador pulled up to Kenny’s garage. The wide, powerful-looking old man came out grinning ear-to-ear.

  “What the hell you so long-faced about?” he asked. “Did she find out you like wearing dresses to church and called off the wedding?” asked Kenny, doubling over with laughter.

  Salvador started laughing, too. He just couldn’t help it. Kenny was always in such fine spirits that it was contagious.

  “How are you, Kenny?” said Salvador, getting out of the Moon.

  “Great! Hell, if I felt any better, I’d get arrested!”

  Looking at his sparkling blue eyes and the stance of his thick body cocked forward, ready to go at life, Salvador thought of asking him for a loan instead of having him sell his car for him, but he quickly decided against it. Hell, Kenny was a gringo. If his own people had refused him, how could he possibly think that an Anglo might help him.

  “Well,” said Salvador, walking inside with Kenny so they could speak privately, “what I came down here for, Kenny, is . . . well, that I got in some legal troubles and so . . . ” Oh, it was so hard to ask for help. “ . . . I’m broke.” He put his hands in his pockets. “So I need your help to sell my Moon for me so I can get back on my feet.”

  “Sell your Moon?” said Kenny. “Bullshit! That’s a good car! Hell, you need money? I got money! How much you need?”

  Salvador was completely taken aback. These were the very words that he’d expected to hear from his own people, not a goddamn gringo!

  “But, Kenny,” said Salvador, suddenly feeling that the man didn’t quite understand, “I don’t mean twenty or fifty dollars! I need big money!”

  “Good,” said Kenny, spitting out a stream of tobacco juice, “the bigger the better! Hell, that’s how a man finds out who his friends really are, goddammit! And I don’t got many, believe me! So how much?”

  Kenny closed up the big front doors and locked them, leaving Epitacio and the boys outside. He took a shovel and began to dig a hole in the middle of the garage ground. Salvador watched Kenny dig down two feet and then reach into the hole and bring out a small metal box. It was full of yellowish-looking paper money.

  “Damn it,” said Kenny, “look at that color! It’s been buried too long. How much you need, Sal?”

  Salvador was moved to tears. “Kenny,” he said, “you got to understand . . . I could get killed or end up in jail, then you’ll never get your money back.”

  Kenny only shrugged. “So what? This place could burn down or I could get robbed. You’re a man, Sal, and I trust you! And that’s that! How much? I got nearly five hundred here!”

  Salvador’s eyes overflowed. He just couldn’t help it. Why, this was the first time that any man had ever offered to help him outside of his immediate family.

  “Kenny,” said Salvador, choking up, “this is, ah, well . . . ”

  “None of that,” said the old man. “Just tell me how much, goddammit!”

  “Well,” said Salvador, “two hundred is all that I figure I really need, but, well, to get the big stove and kettle and really get rolling again . . . ”

  “Well, then, hell!” said Kenny. “Let’s make it four hundred to make sure to get you rolling good again!”

  “But that won’t leave you hardly anything,” said Salvador.

  “So what?” said Kenny, standing up. “Hell, I’m not the sorry bastard getting married!”
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  He counted out the money, handing it to Salvador, and Salvador stood there looking at his blue eyes, blue like his own father’s, and he was overwhelmed with such a flood of thankfulness that he suddenly lunged at Kenny, grabbing him in a big abrazo.

  “Christ Almighty!” bellowed the old man. “I told you, none of that! Let go of me! You crazy Mexican!”

  But Salvador didn’t let go. He kept hugging him and kissing him.

  “Shit!” yelled Kenny, breaking loose and wiping his face where Salvador had kissed him. “Good thing the damned doors are closed. See if I ever loan money to another crazy Mexican!”

  “You saved my life!” shouted Salvador.

  “Bullshit!” said Kenny, slamming the metal box closed and dropping it back into the hole. “You owe me four hundred dollars whenever you got it, and that’s that. But don’t you ever kiss me again! Shit, my old man and I, we never hugged, even on his deathbed!”

  Driving home with Pedro in his Moon, Salvador couldn’t stop whistling, he was so happy. Hell, after he’d gotten the loan from Kenny, he’d stopped by to see the old lady who sold liquor for him and he’d told her that he was broke, just to see how she’d behave. She rolled up her dress, pulled out her roll, and lent him another hundred. Shit, he couldn’t wait to get home to tell his mother. This was wonderful! When the chips were down, you didn’t go to the machos of your own people. No; you went to gringos and the old Mexican women!

  “Well,” said Pedro, beaming with happiness, too, “now that you don’t have to sell the Moon, I can drive it, right?”

  Salvador looked at the boy a long time before answering. “All right,” he said, “when we get near Temecula.”

  “But why Temecula?” asked the boy.

  “Because Temecula is a very inspirational place. Don’t you remember? That’s where I taught you about the stick of human wisdom.”

  “Yes,” said the boy, suddenly getting very frightened. “But I’ve been doing good in school, I swear it. You can ask José. I don’t need another whipping!”

  “I don’t need to ask José,” said Salvador calmly. “I trust your word. You’re a good boy. But the other day when I saw you playing with sticks, pretending that they were guns so you could kill gringos, I began to wonder if you’d forgotten my words about respecting life.”

  “I won’t do it again!” yelled the boy. “I promise! Only don’t teach me any more wisdom. Please!”

  Salvador burst out laughing. “I wasn’t planning to hit you again,” he said. “Now you know how to listen and pay attention. So this time I was thinking of teaching you how to shoot my gun so you can see for yourself that guns aren’t toys to play with, but weapons to respect.”

  “Oh, good! I get to shoot your gun!”

  “Yes, you do,” said Salvador, “because I want you to know that I’m beginning to see that yes, of course, there are bad son-of-a-bitch gringos like the bastard that worked Domingo and me over, but there are good ones, too. Kenny, that gringo in Carlsbad, he just loaned me money and saved my life when no mejicano would. And Fred Noon, another gringo, he’s a lawyer, and he’s helping Domingo right now without pay. Do you understand? Both of these gringos came through for me when all of our miserable, son-of-a-bitch mejicanos ran from me in fear!” he shouted. “Gringos saved me! So I don’t want you pretending to shoot gringos anymore just because they’re gringos. That’s bad, just as bad as the ranger who beat us for no other reason except that we’re mejicanos.”

  “But Uncle . . . ”

  “No buts! If I ever see you shooting men again just because they’re not of our people, I’ll bring out the stick of wisdom again.”

  “No, Uncle, please, don’t make me wiser! I understand! I understand!”

  “Good, I’m glad you do.”

  “I do, I do, believe me, I never meant anything bad,” said the boy, tears streaming down his face. “It’s just that Domingo and you were beaten and jailed, and I love you so much.”

  Calming down, Salvador reached out and put his huge, thick hand on his nephew’s thigh. “Look,” he said softly, “I know you love me and I love you, too, but we got to be smart if we’re going to do good in this country. Killing is never going to get us anywhere except into jail. To make money, real money, and have power, you got to go to school and get educated. Become an attorney, then you can fight the bad cops with their own game like Fred Noon is doing right now for Domingo and me, and you can cut their balls off where it hurts!”

  “A lawyer can do that?” asked the boy.

  “Yes, and make money, too.”

  “Oh, boy! Then I want to be a lawyer! And I’ll have a suit and tie and a big car and my guys will work for me and I’ll . . .

  The boy was off to the races once again. Salvador shook his head, laughing. This little kid Pedro was truly indestructible. Any way you turned him, he always came up smiling as if life was a rain of gold.

  It was almost dark when Salvador, Epitacio, and the two boys pulled into Corona in the two vehicles. They could hear screams echoing from inside the house. Hurrying inside, they found that Nellie was in labor and Doña Margarita was assisting her.

  Nellie was screaming hysterically about her children back home and that she’d been a fool to come out here with Domingo. Doña Margarita almost seemed happy to hear these screams of retribution, and she helped the poor young woman the best she could.

  Luisa wasn’t much help. She, too, was big with child and expecting any day. Nellie had a girl that night, and Luisa had another boy a few days later. The house was filled with the crying sound of infants once again.

  Salvador and Epitacio set up the new distillery at Lake Elsinore. They rounded up all the drums that they could find and got the fermentation process started. Then, Salvador took off to see Lupe. He found her at home. He said hello to everyone and then Lupe and he went for a walk around the block. Flocks of red-shouldered blackbirds flew by. Two ravens gave chase to a huge hawk. The hawk circled higher and higher, trying to get away from the ravens.

  “Where have you been?” asked Lupe.

  Salvador took a big breath. “Some problems came up. I just couldn’t get away.”

  Lupe stopped and looked at him straight in the eyes. “But what are these problems that always come up?” she asked in frustration. “I was so worried, Salvador. I had all these bad dreams that you’d been hurt and were dying.”

  He saw the fear in her eyes and it broke his heart, but what could he do? He couldn’t very well tell her that she was, indeed, right and he’d been beaten and. had been near death. He had to lie to her. He couldn’t afford to tell her the truth about his life until they were married.

  “Lupe,” he said, “some of my trucks broke down. And I’m sorry, but, well, after we’re married, things will get better. I promise, things like this won’t happen anymore.”

  “Good,” she said, “because I’ve been so worried, Salvador.”

  “Really? You have?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Oh, Lupe,” he said, and he took her in his arms, holding her close. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest like a frightened bird. He felt like such a liar, such an awful beast, and yet, he couldn’t think of how else to handle the situation.

  Lupe never asked him about his beard that day. They set the date for their wedding—August 18, 1929—Salvador’s twenty-fifth birthday.

  The following week, Salvador picked up Lupe and Carlota to drive them across town to Harry’s store. He was still feeling pretty shaky. All the money that he’d gotten from Kenny had gone into his business. He didn’t have the money for their wedding clothes.

  Arriving at Harry’s, Salvador parked and walked around the car, opening the door with a big smile for Lupe and her sister. But, oh, he was dying inside. A man without money was a nobody.

  “But this is such a little place,” said Carlota, looking at the small tailor shop. “I thought we were going to a good place like Sears.”

  Salvador felt like bashi
ng Carlota in the mouth. According to her, he couldn’t do anything right, but Lupe took Salvador’s hand, winking at him.

  Harry and Bernice met Salvador and the two young women at the door.

  “Come right in, amigo mío!” said Harry to Salvador. “And this must be Lupe, the lucky girl,” he said, seeing the diamond ring on Lupe’s finger. “Oh, what a ring! But it’s even a thousand times more beautiful on your hand, my dear!”

  “It’s glass!” said Carlota, glancing around at the small shop which happened to be one of the most exclusive places in all of the southland.

  “Glass!” said Harry, astonished. “Why, this is a nearly faultless diamond!” he shouted. “You can’t find a more perfect stone in all of California! You just don’t know how to appreciate quality, my dear!” he snapped.

  Carlota didn’t know what to say. She was speechless. Salvador loved it; he couldn’t have asked for anything more.

  Bernice came over and took the two young women away before her husband destroyed the poor girl. Oh, Harry was as mad as hell.

  “I’m sorry,” said Harry, once his wife had ushered Lupe and Carlota away. “But for her to have said such a thing,” he said, bringing out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead, “is unforgivable!”

  “It’s all right,” said Salvador, smiling ear to ear, “believe me, it’s all right.”

  “I hope so,” said Harry. “I’m normally a very patient man, but . . . ” And then he smiled. “So, anyway, how can I help you today, amigo mío?”

  Salvador took a deep breath. “Harry,” he said, “I got some bad news for you.”

  Instantly, Salvador saw Harry’s face twist with a look of real concern.

  “Yes, Sal, I’m listening,” he said.

  “Well, you see, Harry,” continued Salvador, “in the past I’ve always come into your store with cash in my hand. But, well, this time I’m here, and I’m embarrassed to say, a little short.”