Across the Great River

by Irene Beltrán Hernández

  Don Juan jumps off the well and races to the front of the house. He drives his old truck over the garden, smashing the plants, and parks it as close to the well wall as he dares. From the bed of the truck he pulls a long rope and ties it to the front bumper. “It is a good thing I bought this rope at the market,” he says. “Anita, hold here,” he commands, “and see to it that the knot does not come loose.”

  “What are you going to do, you old fool!” she asks.

  He glances up at her. “Something you could not do, my dear.”

  I hug Mama and watch as Don Juan lowers himself into the well. Between his teeth he holds the flashlight. Anita holds tightly to the rope. The seconds seem like hours and soon Anita wails, “I should have had the old thing fixed. It’s all my fault. Now I will never forgive myself!”

  Mama cries harder and I hug her waist, trying to comfort her. “Hail Mary, Mother of God,” she says over and over.

  “Old woman!” shouts Don Juan, “I found him on a small ledge. He is very muddy and I cannot tell if he is hurt. Now, hold tight, for I am coming up with him.”

  “Thanks to the Lord!” Anita crosses herself. The rope seems to strain under their weight. Anita holds as tight as she can. Her bad eye is flicking at such a fast pace that my eyes start to flick too.

  Suddenly, she lets go of the rope and jumps into the truck which she quickly cranks up. The truck moves into reverse as it slowly pulls them up.

  The top of Don Juan’s head appears first. He is very red in the face and seems to gasp for breath, but he manages to throw the flashlight out. He has Pablito tucked inside his shirt with his belt securely knotted around the baby’s waist. Pablito has fainted and is as pale as Anita’s powders.

  Mama runs to help him. I gasp as I watch her stretch herself out over the well in order to take Pablito.

  “No!” commands Don Juan. “Take the rope and pull us in.”

  Mama pulls at the end of the rope and Don Juan, in one great lunge, lands with his feet on the ground, then falls onto his back. He sits up and unties the baby, then hands him to Mama, who rushes him inside the house. Anita hurries after her.

  Don Juan sits with his legs crossed upon the ground. He rubs the sweat off his forehead. I rush to hug him. “Thank you, Don Juan. You saved my little brother.”

  “I would have given my life for that boy.”

  I kiss him on the cheek and he turns very red. I help him to his feet and watch as he slowly puts his hat upon his head. Then, he glances up and his eyes open wide.

  “Oh, no!” he gasps. “What have I done to Anita’s little garden? She will never forgive me.”

  I take his hand and kiss his palm. “Yes, she will forgive you, because you saved Pablito.”

  He smiles down at me. “Maybe you’re right, child. I hope so, or she will never cook for me again,” he says, shaking the dirt from his white pants.

  That night Anita fixes a special treat in celebration of Mama’s return and Pablito’s rescue. I lick my lips, watching her as she fries tortillas and coats them heavily with sugar.

  My days at the ranchito are simple. I do the same chores day after day and each night I fall into bed exhausted from the toil. Pablito follows me, adding to my misery. If I am feeding the chickens, he is chasing them away. If I am watering the garden, he knocks the water bucket over, and if I am picking tomatoes, he picks the ones that are not ripe. I yell at him, but he does not mind me.

  Anita and I sweat beneath our clothes, but we talk as we hoe the garden or cook our simple meals. We have become close friends as she teaches me about herbs and healing and her strong faith. I have seen her heal snake bites, bee stings, even broken legs on a dog that wandered into the ranchito. She is indeed a healer.

  Mama announces one weekend that she has found a place for us to live in town. As she describes the room with its own tiny bathroom, tears come to Anita’s eyes. I will miss Anita greatly, but for me the work at the ranchito never ends. I see few rewards in working myself so hard.

  “Anita,” I suggest, “why don’t you sell this place and come with us to town?”

  She dries her tears on the corner of her apron. “This is my home. It has been in my family for years and I cannot sell it. My father would turn in his grave at the thought.”

  “But Anita, what will become of the place once you are gone?”

  “I will worry about that later. Besides, what would I do all day in town? Gossip here and gossip there? Where will I find my herbs? No, I cannot accept your offer, as kind as it is.” Her chin quivers as she stares down at her untouched supper.

  “Anita,” I say, “I know you want to come. You must come. We need you as much as you need us. You are alone out here, except for Don Juan.” I hug her massive shoulders, trying to win her over, for I know that I will be very afraid without her.

  She pats my arm. “No, I cannot go. You will learn to survive without me. I will have to learn to do without you and your brother.” She glances down at her plate and stirs her beans. Her bad eye blinks rapidly. “Besides, I will come visit you on weekends. Would you like that?”

  “I’d love it!” I shout, hugging her again.

  Mama sighs, “As you wish, Anita.” She takes her plate to the stove. “I still have not heard anything about Carlos. I went with Don Juan to check the lists posted at the jailhouse, but his name is not on it.” She sighs, then sits herself down again. “When I have a chance, I go to the front door of the shop and watch the streets, hoping that he might pass.”

  “Have you checked the market on the other side of town?” questions Anita.

  “No, not yet. Perhaps when we have settled I will have more time to search the town and ask more questions.”

  “If he has been in town, someone there will have seen him. If he has drowned in the river, it will be posted outside the police station. We will check again.” Anita rises. “My friends will tell me if they have seen him.”

  “I hope you are right, Anita,” whispers Mama.

  “Mama,” I ask, “tell me, do you still like your job?”

  She smiles at me. “It is fine and I only work as hard as I have to. The wage is small and the hours are long. Thank goodness, I will have you to look after Pablito while I am at work.”

  “I will make a good babysitter,” I add.

  “Good. Because we must help one another, especially since Anita will not be along.”

  “And, I will cook and clean so you won’t have to.”

  Mama brushes my hair back. “That’s my big girl.”

  Anita touches my shoulder. “Remember, Kata, never let a stranger into the room. Some people want to do harm to others for no reason other than the devil tempts them.”

  “I’ll remember, Anita,” I say taking her hand in mine.

  “Good. Tomorrow is Saturday and we will wash the clothes so that they will be clean for packing.”

  “I will help draw the water,” I add.

  Anita rises. “No, I will draw all the water we need until Don Juan takes the time to fix that old well.”

  “But, what can I do?” I ask.

  She stops and turns, “You may hang the clothes on the line to dry.”

  “Okay, Anita. That’s much more fun than drawing water.”

  Mama rises. “It’s time for bed.” She hands me a blanket, which I take to our bed of straw.

  The minute I lay my head down I start dreaming. I remember Anita turning out the lantern. I see the moonlight peek through the window, but I don’t remember how that man enters my dreams.

  The man comes walking out of a cloud. He seems to be in a big hurry and trudges forward with heavy steps. His boots are like a cowboy’s and very muddy. I see that his shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, as if he has just gotten off a dirty job. On his right arm is a tattoo of a lady with a snake wrapped around her waist.

  He approaches a bolted door which is painted blue. He pushes at the door with all his weight, but it does not give. After several tries the man steps back and doub
les up his fists. I see myself standing on the other side of the door. I am shaking with terror. His fist smashes through the door and the arm with the naked lady slowly reaches inside and unbolts the door. Helpless, I fall to my knees and raise my arms to protect myself from flying wood. I faint as the door creeps open.

  I awake screaming. Mama is holding me and Anita stands behind her with a lighted candle. Pablito sits up rubbing his eyes, but I hold tightly to Mama, as if I were once again drowning.

  Mama rocks me back and forth in comfort. “She is frightened of a dream,” she whispers to Anita.

  “What did you dream, Kata?” asks Anita as she sets the candle down and hurries to the closet. There she pulls out her book. “This is my dream book and you must tell me what you dreamed while you can remember it, Kata.”

  “Oh, Anita. It’s just a child’s dream!” scolds Mama.

  “Dreams are signs, and we must listen to them at all times. Now, Kata. Tell me quickly.”

  I sit up watching as she leafs through the book. I tell her what I have seen as I floated above the dream like an angel.

  She grumbles as she flips the pages rapidly. “Naked lady with a snake around her waist… that means that a woman will be hurt. That is bad.” She flips more pages.

  “It is just a bad dream, Anita. Do not worry,” Mama assures her, but Anita pays no attention.

  “The blue painted door means that it was placed there for protection against evil. Blue is the color of the heavens. That is a good sign,” says Anita with a slight smile.

  “But, Anita,” I ask,”why am I an angel floating like a cloud, yet able to see everything?”

  “Ah … that is the best sign. It means that someone will arrive to protect you from harm.” She quickly turns more pages and her smile disappears. “The first means that the man wants something you have in your possession. That is very bad.” She closes the book and sits staring out into space.

  Mama goes over to Anita. “I do not believe in that silly book.”

  Anita quickly glances up and brushes back her grey hair. “You should believe it, señora. For the book comes from your very land.”

  “So, what does that matter?” snaps Mama.

  “Oh, I fear for the children!” moans Anita, rocking herself back and forth. “How I fear for their lives. Leave them with me while you work. Let us continue as we are. Does the arrangement not suit everyone?” Anita wails.

  “No, not me. I miss the children. I need to see them every day, not just on weekends.” Mama falls on her knees before Anita. “Don’t you understand, Anita, I need them more than you.”

  “You are the one that fails to see. You keep them for selfish reasons, while I keep them for their own good,” Anita snaps as she rises. “Beware of dreams, señora. Do not take them lightly.”

  “Anita, I know you mean well, but let’s not argue just because I don’t believe in your book.”

  Anita slowly lies down upon her cot and stares upward at the ceiling for several moments. She clears her throat before she answers, “I am your friend, but I do take the liberty of warning you of these things, and I worry for the children’s sake as well as your own.”

  Mama stiffens as if she has been struck. “Anita, por favor, let’s not speak of this dream anymore.” She walks over to me and tucks me in, then goes back to her bed.

  “As you wish, señora,” adds Anita as she turns her face to the wall.

  “Leave the candle on, Mama,” I ask feeling very frightened and confused.

  Chapter Five

  Early in the morning I rise and go to the outhouse where I check the pouch, making sure that the straps are secure around my waist. Then I walk to the front of the house and sit on the porch, watching the road for Don Juan, who is very late. I am anxious to get into to town to see our new home, and his lateness angers me as well as Anita, who grumbles loudly as she puts a sack full of vegetables down on the steps.

  “That old fool is forever taking his blessed time!” she snorts.

  I glance up at her. “He will come, Anita. You must be nice to Don Juan. He likes you.”

  She spins around. “He likes my cooking, not me, Kata. All men love women that cook good meals. That is why they are led around by their stomachs rather than by their hearts.” She smoothes her apron and peers into the distance.

  I laugh. “I know you like him too, Anita. You can’t fool me.”

  Anita growls, “What does a child like you know about men?”

  “Only what I see,” I answer. “Look! Don Juan comes now.”

  “Well, it’s about time!” she snaps as she goes back into the house.

  I help Don Juan load all the things into the back of the truck and then I turn to Anita, who stands with her hands crossed over her chest, as if she does not know what to do. “Anita!” I cry, “I shall miss you and this ranchito.” I jump off the bed of the truck and fly into her arms for a moment of comfort.

  “My dear, little Kata. Remember, you are welcome here forever.” She hugs me tightly, then she takes Pablito into her arms and kisses him furiously.

  Mama comes out on the porch and she too embraces Anita. “Thank you for everything, Anita.”

  “Take care of the little ones.” Anita’s body shakes in great sobs as she hugs Mama again. “God be with you and the children.”

  I climb into the back of the truck and sit on a bale of hay. Mama and Pablito climb in front with Don Juan. Anita starts waving goodbye when the truck starts. We pass through the gates and I glance back to see that she has taken off her apron and waves it wildly in the air.

  The truck stops in front of an old two story house. Don Juan climbs out and says, “This is the place, señora.” He holds the door open for Mama, then reaches inside the truck to take Pablito.

  I stand up in the back of the truck and stare at the huge house with its crumbling steps and its stove pipe chimneys. “Mama,” I say, “the first strong wind that comes along will knock this place down.”

  “Oh, Kata! Don’t be silly!” she scolds. “Now, hop down so we can go inside.”

  The porch squeaks and groans as it complains of our weight and Don Juan almost pulls the door knob from the door. “This place needs lots of work,” he says as he stands aside to let Mama through.

  Mama takes a key with a number on it from her bundle. It matches with the number on the door at the top of the stairs. She puts the key in the lock and turns the knob. “Well, we’re here at last.”

  Our new home is an upstairs room which has two mattresses on the floor. It has a closet-size bath and thin walls and one large window that overlooks the busy street below. The glass in the window is stained yellow with age. I try to rub it clean with my hand, but it does not help.

  The tub has animal claws for feet. “Mama, this tub is rusty.” I open the faucet. The water runs out dirty until at long last it clears somewhat. I take a sip, then spit it out. “This water tastes ugly! I would rather drink the cool well water at Anita’s than this muddy water.”

  Mama swings around to me as if she wants to strike out. “Kata! We will fix this place later.”

  I circle the room. “But Mama, there’s not even a place to cook.”

  She sighs, “I will go to the market and buy a hot plate. That will do for now.” She smiles weakly. “We’ll figure out some way to make tortillas on it.”

  Don Juan interrupts, “I must leave, señora. Good luck.” He tips his hat and says, “I am sure we will see each other again.”

  I hear the old truck crank up from the street below and dash over to the window. “Goodbye, Don Juan! Take care of Anita!” I shout.

  He waves his hat from the window, then disappears around the corner. I turn to see Mama sitting on the lumpy mattress in the center of the room. Her shoulders droop to her knees and she rubs her neck as if it hurts. She is tired and I do not want to upset her anymore, so I add, “Mama, we can paint the room to brighten it up.” She stops rubbing her neck and smiles up at me.

  That night we are all re
stless. It is not the brilliant moon that flows in through the glass, but a street light which casts yellow shadows against the bare walls. Nor is it quiet, like out at the ranchito. The trucks and cars honk and the wagon wheels rattle over the stone street late into the night, and I hear Mama’s beads as the pass through her fingers.

  I am not comfortable at our new home. Pablito does not seem to mind the change, as long as I take him outside for long afternoon walks. For me, the room grows ever so small, as if the walls are closing in on top of me, and I cannot stop them.

  I enjoy the afternoon walks because they make the day shorter. Often we sit on the steps and watch people pass. I study them silently. Is he a farmer? Or does he work in a laundry? How many children does she have? It’s a game I play with myself because I never speak to these people. I only wave if they wave at me.

  On the fourth night that we spend in our room, I awake covered in sweat. I sit up quickly and turn to Mama, but she sleeps so soundly that I decide not to disturb her. I lay quietly in the dark, wondering why the man with the tattoo has once again awakened me from my sleep.

  I rise and walk over to the window to look out. Far below, I see a man standing beneath the street lamp, smoking a cigarette. He seems lost, so I watch him for several moments, but soon he walks into the darkness around the corner.

  The next afternoon I take Pablito for his usual walk around the block. As I turn the corner I stop and gasp, for I see the man with the tattoo. “Pablito! Come here quickly!” I take his hand and hurry in the direction of our room. A cold chill springs up my back and the man turns quickly, as if he has recognized me.

  At the next corner I glance back to find that he is following us at a very slow pace. He stops for a moment to scratch his head, but never takes his eyes off us. I hurry Pablito back toward the house, but in a final burst of speed the man runs towards us. I drag Pablito as fast as I can, but the man passes us, then stops in front of the apartment house. There on the steps several yards from us he turns and stares at me in a hard way. Then he disappears through the door.

  I wait outside for a long time until Pablito becomes cranky from the hot afternoon sun. “Oh, Pablito. I am scared. I do not want to go inside, but you need to take your nap and I must be brave.”