13
June 19, 1911
"Dear Estelle,
"As you said, it must be destiny that brings me back. Something rulesme. As I rode out of Guadalajara, I felt a harshness clawing at mybrain. Poor thing, she can't tell the shape of her mind or why itcries so, or what it wants. Of course it wants you, but there is thissomething else, dark, darker than I dare admit.
"So when I got back to help with the fiesta, I wanted to see if I couldstraighten myself out a little. I fixed all the clothes for theVirgin, and dressed. I thought: this is the last time. But Trini camein and we got to laughing.
"Fiestas are such bores, and this one was no exception. They praisedFarias for getting in the best corn crop ever. There were Indiandances--the viejitos were best.... Doblado killed his bulls as badlyas ever ... fireworks ... and all the time I kept thinking of Lucienne,because she came and met Raul secretly. So people told me. I wantedto get sick.
"Raul and I had a bad quarrel, at supper, only yesterday. He said: Iwant you to live in Guadalajara permanently.' 'Why?' I asked. 'Can'tyou stand me any more?' And he turned white. I thought he wouldchoke. I just stared at the candle flames prettily. I wonder how youwould handle him? He said: 'You came back to fix the Virgin'swardrobe. It's something you always liked to do. You can come back toPetaca, any time. I'm not banishing you.'
"'So I can come back sometimes--how nice! And do you want to keepVicente forever?' I cried.
"'We can share him, as you like. We can work that out later.'
"'Why later? Later! Haven't we waited too long?'
"'Too long for what?'
"'For me."
"It went on and on. He says it's for my own good. But now I'm sick,and I can't go away...."
Abruptly, she got up from her desk. Barefoot, in a loose gray robe,she walked to the veranda windows, already hating what she felt shemight see: men on horseback, women and children, people walking andtalking. She had been writing very rapidly, and rubbed her hand as shegazed out. She thought she heard Don Fernando call, and went towardhis room, dream-walking, one hand over her breast, the other liftingher skirt a little.
The old man was raving at Chavela, who seemed frozen to one spot, adishtowel over her arm.
"We must wipe out such crooks as Enriquez and Ricardo Magon! Whatmesses they made in Chihuahua and Coahuila! There's more than meetsthe eye in their actions."
He squirmed under his bedclothes, the sheet sliding over his head sothat only one eye stared out.
"Listen to me: under Porfirio Diaz we have known prosperity ... ourcentennial celebration told the world ... there must be no politicaltricks."
When Angelina appeared, Chavela nodded and went out, shaking her head.
"I'm here," said Angelina. "Chavela had to go."
"Angelina, come sit by me. Fix my bed.... We must find another Diaz.We can, you know." He talked a while longer, as she arranged his bed.
She sat beside him, her hands limp in her lap. She remembered a dreamshe had had during the night. Caterina had been frisking in the patiowith Mona. Mona had just been washed and combed and her gray-gold hairstood up beautifully. Caterina wore a scarlet dress. She tossed Monaa ball, but as Mona ran toward her she became a dog of glass bones andglass hair.
Angelina trembled. She whispered to Fernando:
"It was a glass dog ... Mona's a glass dog."
He didn't hear her.
Afraid, she climbed the tile stair to her room and locked the door.She moved stiffly to the window, and looked down to the patio fountainand cypress below. She thought she saw Raul lying beside the fountain.Men began to whip his naked back. Drawing the curtains, she threwherself on her bed and began to talk to herself.
"I mustn't blame him for Caterina's death. I must stop thinking abouther. About Raul. I must just let things drift along. Nothing haschanged, not too much.... I must think that nothing much has changed.It has to be that way. Close the shutters."
With a great effort, she got up and took her embroidery and began tostitch.
Just before supper, Raul found her asleep across the bed, her fur overher shoulders. He had a hard time waking her and when she woke shegriped childishly:
"Go away," she said, "let me sleep. I need rest, please let me sleep.I won't eat any supper. I don't want any ... just let me sleep."
He helped her to bed and then went outside. The moon was low, thestars faded, the volcano glassy. Coyotes barked behind the grove. Hefelt stupid about Angelina. Could the doctors help her?
He longed to paddle across the lagoon. Why not find Manuel? Heknocked at his door and Manuel flung on his shirt and joined himgladly. They spent most of the night on the water, paddling andtalking together in Indian and Spanish, about his mother, the beauty ofdarkness, ghosts, the good old days.
They returned near dawn, had something to eat in the kitchen, and saidgood night. Raul tried to slip into bed carefully and not disturbAngelina, but she straightened and said:
"Where have you been?"
"Canoeing."
"I wish you wouldn't go on such escapades. You're not a boy."
He did not reply, but adjusted his pillow and tried to settle onto themattress.
"I want to go to Colima tomorrow," she said, her head turned away. "Imust leave Petaca, if only for a day. I want to see Vicente, too.Don't you want to see him? The church has been repaired, Raul, and wemust attend Mass, on the first of the month. A ceremony in honor ofthe reconstruction. The hospital isn't fixed. Why are they so slow?"Her husky voice, softened by her sleepiness, lulled Raul.
When she woke, men were loading stone onto an oxcart in front of thehouse, burros were trotting over cobbles, boys were spinning tops.
Glancing at Raul, sprawled on the bed, she tiptoed to the bathroom.Her maid had already filled the tub, and she sank into the cool water.
"Ah," she sighed. "Clavo said, 'It is the flesh ... with lightning ineach bone' ... cool water ... morning...." Her face looked younger.There was no fear there.
I must dress and get away to Colima, have a nieve with some friends.
When Raul awoke and went downstairs, he saw Angelina driving off intheir carriage. He had meant to accompany her, but had been too sleepyto say so. From the veranda, he enjoyed seeing the Placier sway downthe eucalyptus lane, its spokes shining. Someone had harnessed twoblacks and two whites, splendid horses!
After breakfast, Raul went to the mill to see Farias, who had his roomon the second floor. As he climbed the outside stair, a peacock wailedon top the wrought-iron railing. Raul shook the rusty rail and thebird spurted to the ground, shrieking as it fell.
He knocked on the door of weathered pine. There was no answer. Alarge knothole had fallen out at head level, and he looked inside.Someone lay on the bunk, his arm flung over the side. Pushing thedoor, which swung heavily, Raul stepped in.
Blood stained the floor, serape and bunk. Raul rolled the man over andremoved the serape from his face and chest. Someone had beaten him ...Farias was dead....
As if he had been struck, Raul stepped back.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "Que paso! Luis, Luis!" he shouted. Wherewas Farias' son?
On the stairway, clutching the rusty banister, he called:
"Luis ... Salvador ... Manuel! Get Dr. Velasco!"
Then he returned to examine Farias. The man felt cold. Without adoubt, he had been murdered hours before. But by whom, why?
Presently, a corral man came and then another; he sent one of the menfor Father Gabriel and another for Luis. He covered Farias and sat onthe stair, his eyes shut. He blamed his father, blamed himself ...this was another ugly mess for Petaca. What was wrong with men?
Gabriel limped up the stair, a torn notebook in his hand. He must havebeen doing some scribbling when the corral man called him. His glassesseemed about to plunge from his nose. Breathing unsteadily, hand onthe rail, he paused by Raul and asked:
"What ... happened ... to Far
ias?"
"Someone killed him."
"Let me see. Step aside."
Raul stepped away.
"Let me see." Raul watched as Gabriel folded back the blanket andcrossed himself.
"Madre de Dios ... dead. Who could have killed him? He's been beaten.Blood all over. Why, Raul! Raul, where's Luis?" He began to pray,asking understanding, asking peace. Adjusting his glasses and fumblingwith his notebook, he came toward the door.
"I sent someone to find Luis," said Raul.
Dr. Velasco arrived, annoyed at being wakened early. He had spent thebetter part of the night playing dominoes, and losing. Stopping at thetop of the stair, seeing Gabriel, he said, "Now, what kind of alarm isthis?"
"Someone killed Farias last night," said Gabriel.
Dr. Velasco made a noise and went into the room.
His heavy-lidded eyes screwed up as he examined Farias: he stripped hisshirt and turned him over: a knife had gone in again and again.Velasco had a magician's face, gray hair, gray goatee: the featuresseemed to be hiding something absurd, a little vulgar; that vulgarityand absurdity disappeared as he bent over Farias. Short, small-boned,quick, he swung around to face Raul.
"He's been dead several hours."
"I've got to clamp down on Petaca. Who is capable of doing that kindof killing?"
"We're rarely short of that kind of fellow," commented Velasco.
Gabriel took Luis into the room, and stayed with him, talking kindly.Even in the bad light he saw the youngster's face grow pale; tearsstreaked his rawboned features; his shoulders jerked.
"Pedro did it," Luis said.
"How do you know?" asked Velasco, in the doorway.
"Sure ... Pedro," the boy repeated, his hands waving. "You did it, youdid it," he said, as if Pedro had come into the room.
"Have you seen Pedro?" asked Gabriel, standing behind Raul.
"No. But a few days ago my father and I found his hut, near MountainRancheria, in a canyon. Guns ... guns in the hut ... rifles, pistols.Pedro came to the hut with a woman, as we hid. We tried to slip away,but my horse made a noise. Pedro shot at us. He saw us both. Heshouted threats. He said he'd kill us. My father and I got back lastnight. He was going to tell you, Don Raul."
"It's lucky Pedro didn't find you," said Raul.
Gabriel had covered Farias, and bent over him in prayer again.
Manuel appeared on the stair, stopping about midway. "Don Raul," hesaid. "Did you call me?"
"Pedro has killed Farias. Have three horses saddled, Manuel. I'll gowith Luis and see if we can get Pedro. You ride to Colima and get therurales. Can you show me the way, Luis?"
Luis tapped his thigh where he had worn his gun on trips with hisfather. "My father," he began, but his voice broke. He walked down ahall to his own room, where he snatched up his revolver, holster andbelt. He returned, strapping them on, trembling.
"Don't go, Raul," said Gabriel, coming out on the stair. "Let the lawtake care of Pedro Chavez."
Raul was at the bottom of the stair.
"The rurales can have Pedro. I won't stop them. Pedro's not atMountain Rancheria. We can get there before he does, if we move fast.We'll have a chance to get his guns. Let's at least try to get them.Come on, Luis. Manuel, look after the horses! Get water bags. I'llsee to the food. We may be able to get to Rancheria within five days."
But it was a hard push, through bad weather, and it took six days toget there and four to come back, ten days of rough riding, wet weather,poor food and little rest. They found Pedro's hut, his woman and guns.Luis had to cover her with his revolver while Raul removed the guns andammunition, stuffing them into long grain sacks. They rode off in ahailstorm that gradually became a torrential rain. Making a cairn, inthe downpour, they cached the guns and ammunition. Freezing cold, theymounted and rode on, hoping to reach a cabin before night.
When they returned to Petaca, through driving mist, Raul was astonishedto see rurales in front of Father Gabriel's room. Dirty, fagged andsore, he dismounted and gave his reins to Luis, saying: "I hope thismeans they've got him."
A stranger opened the door, and Raul found Gabriel in bed, covered withserapes.
"Raul, thank God, you're safe! Is Luis all right?" he asked.
Raul nodded and said:
"What happened to you, Gabriel?"
"Malaria.... This is Captain Cerro.... This is Senor Medina."
They shook hands, the captain holding his riding gloves in his lefthand. Raul had heard good reports of Cerro's having organized hisrurales into an efficient corps. He was hard-mouthed and gray-eyed; heseemed the kind of a man to do his job.
"I hope you've had better luck than we've had," Cerro said.
"I couldn't find Pedro," Raul said. "I didn't expect to find him. Ifound his hut and took his stock of pistols and rifles. Hisammunition. The people at Mountain Rancheria are afraid to talk abouthim."
"My men got there shortly after you had taken the guns. Youdisappeared in the rain." Cerro drew his gloves through his fingers ashe talked.
"We cached the guns. I'll send Luis for them with some men."
"I left some of my men at the rancheria. We're on the lookout forPedro. You feel sure that he murdered your man, here at the hacienda?"
"There's not much doubt about that," said Raul.
"Ana Paz came to me while you were at the rancheria," said Gabriel toRaul. "She saw Pedro leave Farias' place early that morning. She'sbeen at the hacienda for years, Captain."
Raul laughed angrily.
"You'd think we needed proof that this Pedro is a murderer. There areany number of witnesses to his killings, at Petaca. Father Storni,Manuel Boaz, Salvador Vega, Luis."
"But I understand he committed these ... ah ... crimes ... underorders," said Cerro.
His remark stopped Raul.
"If so, who is guilty?" asked Gabriel, propping himself on his elbow.
"The person who gave the orders," said the captain.
"My father," said Raul.
Embarrassed, Cerro shoved his gloves under his belt and moved towardthe door.
"I'll send men to del Valle," he said. "Pedro may be there. I mustreturn to Colima. I'm glad to have met you, Senor Medina. I hoped youmight have better luck on your hunt.... I hope you are well soon,Father."
"Stay overnight, Captain. It's a long trip. I don't want you to leaveat this hour; you won't get in till very late. Come, meet my wife,have supper with us."
"I have met the senora. She has been very kind. I'm leaving because Ihave to be at court in the morning. Thank you. I'm sure there will beanother time."
Raul saw him outside and then returned to Gabriel.
"Well, I see you didn't take care of yourself while I was away."
"I'm on the mend--now that you're back."
"How is the fever, bad?"
"It comes and goes, not too severe."
"Has Dr. Velasco been helping?"
"Both he and Hernandez. Everyone's kind, especially Angelina."
Cerro's horse and the mounts of his rurales clattered out of the court.
"I hated to lose Farias," Raul said, sitting wearily at the desk.
"I can't see why things like that have to happen," Gabriel said. "Menhave no right to assume the law. I didn't want you to go after Pedro."
"These disturbances..." Raul said, but he was too tired to finish hissentence.
"Don't become a killer, whatever happens," said Gabriel passionately."In all your program here at Petaca you have avoided violence. Let'sdo our best to keep it that way."
The high altitude crucifix hung in a streak of candlelight andattracted Raul's eye. He studied Father Gabriel's face. It had such asickly pallor; there were rings under his eyes. Poor Italian, so farfrom home!
"Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"
"Let me have a couple of those pills, in the paper on the desk. Andsome water."
"Get better soon," said Raul, helping
him.
"Before you leave, let me say ... how good it is to see you. I knowyou're tired but you're all right." He shivered under his blankets,but smiled.
"You'd better get some rest," Raul said. "I'm getting cleaned up."
"Will you put my glasses on my desk?"
"Of course. I'll send someone with a supper tray. In the morning I'lltalk with my father."
Raul went to his room, glad to be home, glad to hear the voices of hisservants. When he had washed and changed, Angelina came in. She worea blue dress and white henequen slippers. It was such a change fromthe mourning clothes that he started to comment, but checked himself.She waited, in the middle of the room, holding a vase of bougainvillaeain her hands.
"It's so good, your being back," she said agreeably.
"It's good to be back."
"Pedro?"
"He's still at large." He unfolded an ironed handkerchief and put itinto his pocket. "Luis and I got his guns.... It's up to CaptainCerro and his rurales now."
"I'm sure they'll get him," she said, and set the flowers on herdressing table where they doubled in the mirror. "I met Captain Cerro.Has he gone back to Colima?" Arranging her flowers, she said: "I likethe captain and wanted him to stay.... Have you eaten?"
"Not yet."
She walked across the room toward Raul. It was as if she had somethingunusual to say. She was smiling. But suddenly the floor began toshake, at first slightly, then with marked undulation. She reached outfor him and they held each other. Raul waited for the underearthrumbling. She began to sob.
"Take me away. Yes ... yes ... I'll go to Guadalajara and live. Takeme away, Raul. Raul ... I have to go. I can't bear it here. Allthese quakes, these killings." She paused and caught her breath."Will there be ashes and lava and smoke again?"
He kissed her forehead.
"You know it wasn't a bad quake," he said.
She held to him, as she had during her grinding pains before Vicentehad been born: those tortures had made a groveling animal of her. Oh,to be in love again, to be treasured, to be kissed every morning andevery night.... "Raul, I feel another quake!"
Terrified, she broke away and went to the door leading to the stair andstood under the door frame.
"I think there won't be another one," he said calmly.
"I want to be with you.... Let me sit at the dining table with you. Ican't bear it alone." The husky voice moved him as much as what shesaid.
Taking her arm, he led her downstairs. She curled her feet under herlegs on a chair next to his. A new maid, a charming village girl,served, walking lightly, humming, her stiff skirt swishing. Angelinamentioned the quake to her and the maid said, with a shrug, "It wasnothing."
A tall kerosene lamp with a pewter base and blue shade lit the table.All the windows stood open; the air, warm with _pastora_ clouds, didnot move. A dead moth lay beside Raul's plate; he pushed it about witha spoon, too tired to think.
"Father set fire to his bed while you were gone," she said.
"What ... was he smoking?"
"Cigarette or matches ... anyhow, Chavela threw water on him."
His face brightened.
"She threw it all over him."
They laughed together, a little ashamed of their disrespect.
"How he must have spluttered," said Raul.
"Oh, he did, he really did! And while you were away, the optometristcame to fit his glasses. They had a time. But he'll have new onestomorrow. The doctor thinks he'll be able to see fairly well."
"I hope so," Raul said, though Velasco had told him that glasses wouldnot remedy his father's eye condition or would be temporary, at best.
He enjoyed the dinner, his first meal since morning. The new maidserved steak, dry rice, sliced tomatoes and tortillas. She poured adark Spanish wine. For dessert he ate a _flan_, hot chocolate and _pandulce_. The bright face of the village girl went in and out of theblue lamplight, as Angelina talked.
Quite abruptly, he said:
"I'll go with you on the train to Guadalajara. I can get away in a dayor two. I have to see about our mine shares. The bank'scorrespondence with me is so much wasted paper. I have a hunch it'stime to sell because Roberto is selling some of his stock."
"I like hunches," she said, nibbling a mango. She thought ofLucienne's mining interests in Guanajuato, and bit into her mangoharder than she wanted to.
In the morning, Gabriel received a letter that excited him and made himfeel better, and he sent a man for Raul. He was having breakfast whenRaul arrived. While Storni munched a roll and drank coffee, Raulwaited, troubled by his friend's yellow face and fingernails. For thetime being, he had no fever or chills, but when would they come again?With a flourish, Gabriel put down his cup, rubbed his hands together,and cleared his throat.
Raul glimpsed a coat of arms on the letter.
"I had to make you wait a little but now I'll read it to you: 'DearGabriel, I have not written you for a long time. Your letters havegone unanswered because I am a careless, busy hulk, as you know. Farbusier these trying days than you might surmise. Still, busy as I am,worried by political conditions, I have been thinking of you. Youwon't be able to say I have no heart, when you lay down this letter.
"'I have not forgotten the part you have played in my thinking. I amnot always foolish. Years ago we used to discuss things that shape theworld. Those were memorable days.'"
Gabriel stopped to fix his glasses and wipe his nose, and ask, "Do youknow now?"
"Roberto."
"I'll read on," Gabriel said: "'You have wanted to brighten your chapelfor a long time. Since I, too, love Petaca I want to donate thestained-glass windows. In fact, I have ordered them. Salvador got thedimensions for me. The windows are being made in Mexico City; only asmall part of the leading has yet to be done. They will be coming toyou very soon.
"'In remembrance of meaningful days. Perhaps I am religious--whoknows? Cordially'...."
Gabriel could not speak Roberto's name; tears shone in his eyes. Heremoved his glasses and blew his nose.
"Good for Roberto," said Raul.
"Ah, yes," said Gabriel.
"Get rid of that malaria so you'll be up and around soon. It wouldn'tdo to have the windows arrive and you in bed. I'm sure they'll bebeautiful," said Raul, ready to leave. "All of us will enjoy them. Iwish I had given them."
"Ah, to be sure ... well, I can't say how grateful I am.... But I havesomething else to tell you, before you go. The same man who broughtRoberto's letter brought another one. You know how it is: good newsand bad news, a pair of horses."
"What's the bad news?"
"The Colima hospital isn't getting along. They haven't money to hireworkers. They're facing a serious situation."
"How much money do they need to hire workers?"
"Several thousand pesos. Father Gamio tells me that they have to paymore for workers and that ... they wonder if you could help. Theymention several thousand pesos, no exact amount."
"Shall I send five thousand--for the Medinas?"
"God bless you, Raul!"
"We need His blessing, Gabriel."
"With five thousand they can get some new equipment perhaps!"Gabriel's outburst delighted Raul.
"I should look after the hospital better than I do. Father Gamio can'tdo it all himself. I'm off to Guadalajara later today, Angelina and I.She'll remain there. I'll be bringing Vicente back when I return. Hewants to ride and hunt ... there's another fiesta. You can expect usin three or four days."
"If you see Roberto, tell him how grateful I am."
"I'll tell him. Is there anything you need?"
"Nothing, thank you, Don Raul. Maybe some newspapers?"
"I'll bring back papers and magazines. I'll leave my check for thehospital in the _tienda_. Will you have someone pick it up off mydesk? Write an accompanying letter, a gracious one, for Petaca."
"I'll be glad to."
"Goodbye, Gabriel." He smi
led affectionately. "Get well."
"I'll pray for you and Angelina," said Gabriel.
"Adios."
"Que le vaya bien."
Shortly after lunch, Raul and Angelina drove toward Colima, the horsespulling well. Gray clouds darkened the landscape; across the lagoon,between its shore line and the volcano, a sandstorm blew. The greatpeak seemed old, harmless, a dusty, withered thing.
Their carriage clattered over a _tzontli_ bridge; here, on one side, aMedina had erected a plaque in 1761, mortaring it deep inside a nichewhere it had weathered the years with scarcely a sign of wear.
"Hasta la eternidad," it began, and the phrase ran through Raul's mindas the horses trotted, clopping over firm ground.
Angelina leaned against the faded plush on her side, lost in herself,her folded parasol hard against her side, fingers motionless in thehandle strap sewn with gold threads.
Until eternity, he thought, gazing at her uneasily, recalling thoselines from their marriage ceremony.
Sugar-cane fields lay on both sides. The road twisted and grew rough,and the driver slowed his horses. A tall knob of a man, he sang in adeep bass, improvising expertly.
Raul hoped the train would be more or less on time because he hatedarriving in Guadalajara late, when the air was chill and cabmen weresleepy and crusty. He anticipated a satisfactory adjustment of themining business. He would invite Uncle Roberto to dinner: Angelina,Maria ... the four of them enjoying the lobster at the Copa de Leche.It would be fun returning to Petaca with Vicente; the boy was puttingon weight, growing too. Nowadays his talk was all about horses: "Tellme about Esmeralda, has she foaled? Is Canelito in pasture? How'sChico? I've read that the heaviest work horses are in France, is thattrue, Papa?"
While she held tightly to her parasol, Angelina thought of Estelle.She planned an afternoon with her at the hairdresser's: their hair,their nails. They would obtain good seats for the Degollado Theaterseason: plays, musicals, vaudeville. Because Caterina had not beendead a year, they'd have to steal away. Her head began to ache. Sheobjected to the swaying, the country roads, horrible country roads.Soon, Estelle's face would be lifted to hers, laughter, laughter,laughter....
And it was rather as they both had hoped. The train was on time andthe mining deal went well and the four of them enjoyed lobster at therestaurant.... Gray skies, rain sloshing the houses, carriages andstreets ... rain ... but the rain didn't matter to Angelina. She metEstelle at her home, on Lopez Cotilla, a tiled house under loftyeucalyptus.
Estelle covered her with kisses. They exchanged little gifts, and hadsupper in a Directoire dining room adorned with gold candles, the rainscuffing across red and green glassed windows. To Angelina, Estellehad the beauty of something original.... It was as if hair had beeninvented for her, or hands, or laughter, for her own particular use.Estelle's pile of yellow hair, so disarranged, so beautifully curled,her pink dress, so sheer, sewn with dozens of nacre buttons, herdishabille, they were as Angelina saw her in the bedroom mirror. Andwhen she went to bed with Angelina she took all that glory andabsurdity.... Laughter, laughter....