ACROSS THE GREAT RIVER
IRENE BELTRAN HERNANDEZ
This volume is made possible by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, a federal agency, and the Texas Commission for the Arts.
Piñata Books are full of surprises!
Piñata Books
An Imprint of Arte Público Press
University of Houston
452 Cullen Performance Hall
Houston, Texas 77204-2004
Covert art and design by Mark Piñón
Library of Congress No. 89-289
Hernández, Irene Beltrán, 1945-
Across the great river / by Irene Beltrán Hernández
p. cm.
ISBN 0-934770-96-4
I. Title
PS3558.E6873A65
813’54—dc19
89-289
CIP
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1984.
Copyright © 1989 by Irene Beltrán Hernández
Printed in the United States of America
3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 13 12 11 10 9 8
Across the Great River
Irene Beltrán Hernández
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
I watch Mama tie a leather pouch around her waist. She slips a black skirt over it, then turns to fetch her sandals. She bends to tie them on, then moves to the table. She puts bread and a piece of dried meat in a scarf, then she ties the ends of the scarf together into one tight knot. Now, she waits.
“Where are we going, Mama?” I ask.
“On a trip, Kata. Now, dress quickly.”
“But Mama, it’s still dark outside.”
She looks at me sadly. “Kata, I wish we weren’t going anywhere, but…”
Papa enters the hut. For a moment they stare at each other, but I cannot tell if they are angry. He moves to his cot and picks up his guitar which he slings carefully over his shoulder. “Have you got the pouch?” he asks.
Mama touches her waist. “Yes, but Carlos, it is such a long walk for the children.” She picks up Pablito, my baby brother, and hugs him tightly. I watch as she dries her tears on the baby’s shirt. With red eyes she looks around our hut, then she comes over and touches my shoulder. “M’ija, daughter, is there something you would like to take on this trip?”
“Will we be gone long?” I ask.
Again she sobs, then turns her back to me. I hear her blow her nose as I walk over to my cot. I reach under my serape and pull out my cloth doll. “Can I take Anna?”
“Yes, now come. Papa is waiting for us outside.” She hands me the scarf. I hurry out the door after her.
The night air wakens me as I follow them. This is strange, I think. Why are we going for a walk in the middle of the night? Papa trudges ahead like a soldier going to battle. He takes such giant steps that it is hard for us to keep up with him. Mama takes two steps for each one of Papa’s and I take four and still I fall behind.
Mama runs to catch him. “Carlos, we are leaving the only home we know. In the name of all that is good, please change your mind and let us return to our warm hut.” She clings to his arm, but still he walks onward.
“We cannot return! This is a dream that I shall make come true.” He walks onward removing himself from her grip.
“Carlos! Some dreams are not meant to be! This dream of yours is wild and very dangerous!” she cries.
“Silence! I will hear no more!” he commands as he walks on even faster.
Mama stops walking and stares at Papa’s back. I grab onto her skirt. “Mama, don’t cry. See, the stars aren’t sad.” She hugs me tightly, then takes my bundle. I am glad because the bundle is getting heavy. Besides, I have Anna to carry. I run to catch up with Papa. He is such a tall man, so thin and so brown. I take his free hand and kiss it. He smiles down at me, showing white teeth under a thick mustache.
I glance around. This path is in the middle of nothing but empty land. A tree sprouts up here and there on the desert, and the moonlight is flooding the land as the sun does in the daytime. I keep walking, switching Anna from hand to hand.
“M’ija, daughter, get away from the brush. You might trip on a cactus or uncover a rattler. Stay behind me.”
I obey Papa instantly. “Are we going to the river, Papa?” He does not answer, but moves as if he were turning the world under his feet. Walking on, I find myself thirsty. “I want a drink, Papa.”
“Soon, daughter, soon,” he says, but he does not stop walking.
I look back at Mama, who seems to have slowed down. Her long skirt hugs her thin legs. She puts the scarf with the food on top of her head and balances it. She is small but strong, and her thick black hair is braided in a massive pigtail which swings back and forth with each step she takes. Her face glows in the moonlight, reflecting a quiet sadness.
“We will stop here to wait.” Papa points to a spot covered with high brush. Mama sits on a nearby rock and I flop down next to her. Papa then hands her Pablito.
As I rest, I notice they seem frightened. Papa’s pacing back and forth worries me. Mama is cradling Pablito. How I envy Pablito, sound asleep like a fat lazy cat on a Sunday afternoon.
“Quiet! We must not make a sound!” warns Papa.
Mama sobs, “Carlos, there is still time for us to turn back. Our family is here in Mexico.”
“Woman, I have made up my mind.” Papa takes his hat off and rubs his brow, then paces back and forth a few times. “I will return shortly. Remember, stay here and do not move. Do you understand, Kata?”
“Yes, Papa.” I touch Mama’s calloused hand. Her palm is sweaty. A stray lock of her hair falls forward. She nervously pushes it back in place. Then she bends to kiss Pablito and breaks into heavy sobs. She raises her tear-stained face, then pulls me closer to her side.
I look up into her face. She kisses my forehead, then bends her head in prayer. From between her breasts she pulls out her beads. Mama never goes anywhere without them. Fifty-nine beads in all. Each one represents a prayer.
I wonder how Mama remembers all those prayers. She says them nightly.
The night becomes silent. I can no longer hear Papa’s footsteps and I can hear Mama’s breathing, but not my own. I put my hand to my chest. My heart is pounding away, and I wonder why. Suddenly, a branch breaks. Mama stiffens. I hear him returning, too. Papa is like a big shadow that comes from behind the clouds. “Come,” he says, “they are waiting.” He takes Pablito from Mama’s arms.
“Carlos, I am afraid.” Mama mutters.
He turns and faces her, then he gently brushes her hair back. “Do not fear, my love. All is ready and a new life across the border awaits us.” He bends and kisses her forehead, then squeezes her shoulder. “Come, we do this for the children’s sake.”
She takes my hand and picks up the bundle. Then, she bites her lips and rushes along as if she wishes to punish me. We walk downhill. Papa stops. From behind a tree appears another shadow.
“Señor,” says the shadow. “We will accept your money, now.” Papa turns back to Mama, who lifts her skirt and unties the pouch. I watch as Papa takes the pouch over to where the man stands and pours the entire contents onto the sand.
The shadow bends on his knees next to Papa. I listen while Papa counts the paper money out loud, then hands it to the man whose arm is eagerly outstretched. The mo
onlight shines upon a large tattoo that is imprinted on the man’s right arm. I walk over to his arm and take a closer look. It is the picture of a woman with some kind of rope around her waist. No, I decide. It is not a rope. The woman holds a snake in her hand. The snake’s body is curled around her waist. I step away from the man at once.
“Ah!” says the shadow. “What is this shiny stone that winks at me from within the sand?”
I look to where he points, and there, within the sand, I see a golden yellow glow that seems to be a stone of some kind. Papa hurriedly takes the stone and some other coins and puts them back into the pouch. Then, he rises and straightens the guitar upon his back. “Let’s get on with this, man!” demands Papa sternly.
The shadow rises, too. He has large teeth that sparkle white in the moonlight. “When you hear the call of the doves, proceed downhill to the river bank.” Then, the shadow disappears into the high brush much like a cloud that is hidden within a dark sky.
Papa and I walk back to Mama. She says, “Carlos, I did not like that strange man.”
“Nor did I, but it is too late. The money is gone and we must go on.” He takes Pablito from her. We hear the cry of the doves and Papa moves ahead at a fast pace.
It is downhill all the way. We run, dodging rocks and cactus. In the moonlight, I can see that Pablito is no longer asleep. He bobs up and down on Papa’s shoulder, crying in discomfort. Papa hushes Pablito, but the guitar strings play by themselves.
Papa and Pablito are way ahead of us. My legs spin as fast as a weaver’s wheel. Without warning my feet go out from under me and I fall, causing Mama to lose her balance. She falls and we both roll and roll as a wheel rolls downhill. Then, she pushes me aside in one big thrust. “Carlos!” she screams. She stops abruptly against a cactus plant and screams as the thorns tear into the soft flesh of her arm. I sit up stunned with the taste of sand caked on my tongue.
Papa reaches us in one giant stride. He stands me up and checks my arms and legs. Then, he hands me the baby. He rushes back to Mama and stares down at the wound. He quickly examines her arm, then looks up to search the path. “Beloved, we shall remove the thorns later. Now, we must hurry because your screams might have alarmed them.”
Mama nods that she understands and shakes the tears from her face. Papa takes Pablito and clutches my arm. We are off, running downhill like the wind.
I glance back at Mama who follows. Her arm must feel like burning fire, but still she is able to keep up with us. I see a visible cloud of dust rising rapidly behind her.
“Where are the clouds!” Papa snaps as if he is angry with them.
Papa’s grip is like an iron bracelet choking my wrist. I want to tell him to let go, but I dare not, for I can see that he is very angry. Instead, I hold tightly to Anna.
Again, I hear the cry of the doves as it echoes out from the darkness. We run faster and soon strange voices become louder. The high weeds snap at my face an darms and the mud covers my feet. We approach the river bank where Papa stops. Still carrying Pablito, he wades out waist-deep to a boat where a man sits waiting. Papa hands him Pablito, then dashes back for me.
Papa carries me into the water, which feels cold against my legs. He loses his footing and we go under. The cold water surrounds me and chokes me. I hold tightly to Papa and to Anna and when we finally come up, I gasp. Papa lifts me onto the boat, then he turns to help Mama, who now waits on the river bank.
In the distance, I hear a motor as if a truck is coming our way full speed. I glance up, and there on top of the hill I see two lights that zig-zag downhill. Then, I hear voices that echo four or five times. They say, “Alto! Stop! We will shoot!”
I hear a loud cracking pop, which seems to come from out of the heavens. Mama screams and I turn to see her fall into the water with a big splash. Mama and Papa go under, leaving nothing but circles of water floating everywhere.
Suddenly, two large lights beam upon the water. The man that sits in the boat moves quickly and shoves us down into the bottom of his raft. Pablito starts crying, and with his hand, the man signals me to quiet him. I hug Pablito, hoping to warm him, but my dress is wet and he pulls away. I hear whizzing sounds all around us. It sounds as though God has sent bolts of lightning to strike us, but soon they stop.
I peep into the water around me, searching for Mama and Papa. Then, I glance up at the huge man in the boat. He crouches low, letting the boat drift, rocking itself back and forth. Suddenly, they pop up beside us, and Papa shoves Mama into the boat.
“Go! Man, go quickly!” Papa yells.
The man shakes his head. “No, it’s too far for you to swim. Come with us.”
Small splashes of water again sprinkle around us and the whizzing noises start again. “Go! I will swim!” Papa demands before he goes under.
The boat lurches forward. I look to see that the river is now carrying Papa further away, but our boat moves in the opposite direction with greater speed. Soon, I cannot see Papa at all.
Once in a while a moan escapes from Mama’s lips and she stirs. I look up at the big man with the gleaming eyes. He is sweating and the muscles on his arm jump as he rows. As the time passes, I grow tired of searching for Papa and I sigh, feeling very lost without him. I glance down at Pablito, who is sleeping against my arm. I wish I were he. He doesn’t worry. He just sleeps and eats.
The man stops rowing and sits. Soon the rocking of the boat hushes me into drowsiness, but I force myself to stay awake as the boat glides through the water like a floating log. It soon stops against some tall brush sticking out of the water, and there we wait.
After some time, a voice from the river bank breaks the silence that surrounds us. “Chente,” it says, “it is clear now.”
The man in the boat pulls out the oars and rows, guiding the craft through high brush which gives way to land. He pulls in the oars and says, “Compadre, we had trouble this time. The woman is hurt and the children are wet and cold. Their man went under, trying to swim the river.”
“Rotten luck!” answers the man on the bank who emerges from the shadows of a tree. He catches the rope that is thrown to him, then pulls in the boat and ties the rope around the tree. The man called Chente jumps out of the boat into the water. It comes to his waist. He turns and holds out his arms for the baby. “Pass him to me so that I may take him ashore.”
I give him Pablito and he wades ashore and hands him to the other man. Then, he returns for me. He is strong and lifts me easily, then he carries me to the shore.
Mama moans loudly as he picks her up in his arms. It seems that they will fall into the cold water, but the man holds fast. When he reaches the bank of the river, he gently lays her on the ground. “She’s in bad condition. We must get her to Doña Anita’s right away.” He lifts his head from Mama’s chest. “Are you children, okay?” he asks.
I nod yes.
“Bueno. Good. We must be on our way to get help for your mother.” He lifts Mama into his arms and motions for me to follow with Pablito. When I do not, he turns back. “Come!” he commands.
I cross my arms and stand frozen. “Papa is still out there!” I shout as I point back to the river we have just crossed.
“My friend will wait for your Papa. We must get help for your mother or she will die.” He hurries up the steep path, and I follow him carrying Pablito. I catch him on top of the hill and I ask, “Where are we?”
He keeps walking, but answers, “No longer in Mexico, niña.” His breathing is heavy. “You are in the land of good opportunity.”
“But, what does that mean?” I ask, very puzzled.
He chuckles, “You are in the United States of America. The river we just crossed is called the Rio Grande. You are now in Texas.”
“Is that good?” I ask, still curious.
“Si, yes. It is very good. You shall see.”
Chapter Two
We make our way to the other side of the hill where a truck is parked. The bed of the truck is filled with hay, on which he lays Mama
, and then he puts Pablito beside her. I climb in by myself.
“The ride will be bumpy because I must drive fast. You must hold tight or else you will fall out,” he instructs. He goes to the front of the truck and cranks up the engine, which coughs several times before it starts.
With its first jerk forward, Pablito rolls backwards like a ball, Mama cries out and I bump my elbow against a metal tool box. As we bounce, I manage to grab Pablito and pull him over to Mama, where I put her skirt into his little fist. “Hold here, Pablito.” We will all die from this ride, I think, as I hold tightly to Pablito and to the rail of the truck.
The road soon becomes smoother and the man drives even faster. The wind slaps my wet hair against my face and Mama cries out in pain. I call to her, but she does not speak. Pablito hugs her body for warmth and I decide to do the same. I put my arms around her waist and touch a lump. It is the pouch tied under her skirt. I decide that it must be important or she would not have hid it, so I lift her skirt and undo the pouch, then retie the rough leather straps under my own skirt.
The truck streaks past a wire fence and pulls to a stop in front of an old wooden farm house. There are no lights from within. The man jumps from the truck and bangs on the door, then he hurries back to Mama. “Come, señora,” he mutters. “Perhaps Doña Anita can help you.”
A bulky woman, carrying a small lantern, steps out onto the porch. Her massive body is covered by a long white gown. She quickly raises the lantern and peers out. I can see one big eye that opens and shuts like that of an owl, and I grab Mama tightly.
“Eh? What goes on here?” asks the woman.
“Doña Anita, this woman was hurt crossing the river. Do what you can for her. These are her children. I must return to the river for my compadre, because he waits to see if her husband makes it across.”
“Ah … Chente! The things you get into! What am I going to do with the little ones if she dies?” she shouts.
Across the Great River Page 1
