Across the Border (10 page)

In the days following Twelfth Night, life settled back into a routine for Ethan and the family. Chad, Luke, and Reymundo returned to the homestead.

Manda had expressed her concerns to Chad about their leaving. “I feel as though we're about to be surrounded by a revolution. If there is fighting where you are, how will we know if something happens to you?”

“We'll be minding our own business,” Chad had replied. “America isn't likely to send troops that far south. The revolutionaries they're interested in are north of here. We'll be safe, and so will you.”

It appeared that he was right, for the village of Galeana went about its daily affairs, undisturbed by rumors of bandit uprisings along the Texas border.

Polly, too, was worried, but she dared not mention it to anyone but Ethan. “I hope our friend
Señor
Villa stays up there in the mountains. I don't like to hear that they're huntin' him down. I can't believe he's against the United States, no matter what anyone else says!”

Ethan heard bits of news as he went about the village with his papers.

“I see that your country has sent troops to Mexico to protect American citizens and property,” the manager said to Ethan. “We are not going to hurt any citizens as long as they keep out of our politics. Mexico can take care of its own problems.”

“At least the people here in the village are friendly to us,” Ethan said to Frances. “But if the fighting comes closer to Galeana, they might not want to have Americans around.”

Ethan said nothing to the family about the trouble he'd had with Carlos and the other boys before Christmas. He was thankful that there seemed to be peace between them now. The winter was cold and wet, and often Ethan would see the fellows huddled around a fire in an alley, finding what little warmth they could. Sometimes when the village streets were nearly empty, Ethan joined them. After months of attending church services and working on the streets, he understood most of what was said in Spanish.

“My uncle says that the revolutionaries are fighting on the Texas border,” Gilberto reported. “The people in Texas are coming to watch them.”

“I wouldn't get that close,” Filipe declared. “There's nothing to keep a bullet from crossing the border!”

“I guess the
Americanos
think that since it's not their war, they won't get shot,” Carlos added. “And they probably won't. Papa says that Mexico doesn't want war with the United States.”

“Then their president shouldn't send troops looking for our general,” Miguel said. “They might as well save their time. They'll never find him. He won't let any American
gringo
see him!”

Ethan listened silently. He knew who they were talking about, and he also knew that at least two Americans had seen him. The general would have nothing to fear from him or Polly, but Ethan figured it would be better not to say anything about their meeting.

On a stormy day toward the end of January, Ethan was trudging back toward the newspaper office. The shortest way, he figured, was through a backstreet lined with old warehouses. It was the same street Polly had taken on the day she thought she was following Ethan.

He stayed close to the buildings, even though they didn't provide much shelter from the pouring rain. With his head down, he collided sharply with someone coming around the corner.

The man reached out to steady him. “Ah, we meet again,
mi amigo
.”

Ethan looked up into the face of Pancho Villa. Startled, he glanced quickly around the deserted street.

“It is all right. We are alone. Come, let us get out of the rain.” Pushing open a rusty door, the man led Ethan into an old storeroom. It was cold and damp, but the rain pounding on the roof wasn't falling on them.

Señor
Villa removed his dripping
sombrero
and shook the water from the rim. He smiled at Ethan. “You are doing well in the newspaper business?”

“Yes …
Sí, Señor
.”

The big man nodded. “I was sure you would. And your friend,
Señora
Polly. Is she well?”

“Sí.
She thinks about you a lot, because we hear the news that you're …” Ethan paused, since he couldn't think of a polite way to say “wanted” or “hunted.”

Señor
Villa's eyes twinkled. “Running from the law?” he suggested.

Ethan flushed warm with embarrassment, and the big man laughed.

“Many people think I am a bandit and an outlaw. I am accustomed to being the rabbit chased by the hounds.” He sat quietly for a moment, then said, “Remember what I say,
amigo.
If I am killed, it will not be by the hands of the enemy or the Americans, but by my own men—my friends.”

Ethan shivered, partly from the cold but mostly because of what
Señor
Villa had said. “But aren't you afraid?”

“All men have fear,
amigo.
One must be strong and face what life brings. We are alone in this world.”

“God is with us,” Ethan said.

“God?”

Ethan nodded. “Polly and I pray every day for your protection. The rest of the family doesn't know that we've met you, or they would too.”

Señor
Villa didn't respond for so long that Ethan was sure he must be angry.

Finally the man spoke. “No one has prayed for me since my childhood. I have not thought of God, because I did not think it mattered to Him. God's people are good, and I am not.”

“God doesn't care about that. He sent His Son to die for you anyway. He really wants you to think about Him.”

“Ah, but one forgets to do that when life is hard.”

Ethan quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out the key Bert had given him so long ago. “My best friend gave me this. He said that praying is the key to success, and this key would remind me of that when I need help.”

Ethan could tell that
Señor
Villa was listening carefully.

“I want you to have it,” Ethan concluded. “It will help you remember that God loves you.”

The man turned the key over in his hand and stared at it curiously. “And how about you,
amigo
?
How will you remember?”

“I've become used to praying since Bert gave it to me,” Ethan told him. “Besides, it's not magic or anything. God will hear you whether you have it or not. But sometimes it's comforting to feel it in your pocket. It can remind you that you have a friend who prays for you too.”

Señor
Villa stood. “
Gracias, mi amigo.
It will go with me. If I do not see you again,
vaya con Dios.
I will not forget you … or your good
Señora
Polly.”

Before Ethan could reply, Pancho Villa had opened the big door and was gone. When Ethan reached the street, it was empty.

Although friends at church assured them that spring came early to Galeana, it seemed to Manda that winter would never end.

“Our daffodils are coming out at home, even through the snow,” she said to Polly. “And the lily of the valley. Do you suppose there will be any flowers on the cactuses here?”

“'Bout the same time a lilac bush sprouts by the front door, I'd say,” Polly replied. “There's folks as say the desert has a beauty of its own, but I ain't seen it yet.”

“I'm getting homesick too. I imagine Henry and Amelia are getting ready to put in a good garden. I've never harvested a garden I didn't put in myself.”

Letters from home revealed that progress was being made on Henry's home.

Dear Folks,

Just a short letter to let you know that all is well here. It was a hard winter. We were snowed in most of February. The boys drove the range cattle in closer before Christmas, so they're doing good. We'll turn them out again by the end of the month.

Swift Eagle and the others helped us get the foundation laid for our house before the snow came. Amelia wanted us to be in sight of your place, so we're about half a mile down the creek. We're going to start with one floor and build on later. Amelia wishes you were here to help her choose curtains and paint.

We hear news in town that things aren't too good down there. Some American sailors were attacked. Did you hear about that? We pray that you're safe. Do you see Chad and Luke often? Tell Ethan to take good care of the family while his pa is gone.

I guess there's nothing else new here. We'll be glad when you get back.

Yours respectfully,

Henry and Amelia

Manda read the letter to the family and then read it over several times to herself. She longed to see the cottonwood trees in new leaf and to work her flowers.

“I know Amelia is taking good care of things,” she said to Polly, “but I sure do miss my home. There's nothing like planting your own garden and taking care of your own house.”

Polly agreed. “My kitchen is gonna look mighty good to me. Guess I should be grateful that we got it as nice as we do, but not haulin' water to wash clothes or cookin' in a lean-to will suit me fine.”

The family had been settled in Mexico for over seven months when spring finally came. May was a beautiful month, with warm breezes and flowers and an occasional gentle rain. Much to the delight of the ladies, the cactuses
did
bloom. Red, orange, pink, and white lined the road into the village, and Polly walked that way as often as she had the opportunity.

“If I'd known this, I woulda planted those homely old things around the house,” she declared. “Who'd have thought them dead-lookin' prickles would put out anything as pretty as that! What else have we missed by not bein' here last spring?”

Quite a bit, as it turned out. Before daylight on the fifth of May, a boom like a cannon shot startled everyone from their beds and into the middle of the big room.

Simon and Will dived under the table, while Alice clung to Frances.

Manda was pale and trembling. “It's war! They're fighting right out here! Chad said the revolutionaries would stay north of us. Whatever are we going to do?”

Ethan raced to the front window and peered out into the darkness. “No, it's not war. It's
Cinco de Mayo
!
”

“What's
Cinco de Mayo
?”
Polly asked, her voice shaky.

“The Fifth of May.”

Polly glared at him. “We know what day it is, Ethan! We want to know what's goin' on!”

Simon came out from under the table. “Oh yeah. I remember now. We heard about that in school. It's like our Fourth of July, and everyone celebrates all day.”

“They certainly aren't wasting any time,” Manda said. “We might as well get dressed before the house comes down around us.”

No one had ever experienced a day like the one that followed. Mules pulling wagons loaded with brightly dressed families began passing the house in the dim light of the morning. Groups of people crowded the road, all headed for the village.

“Did you ever see such outfits?” Polly marveled. “Just look at the ruffles on that skirt!”

Manda peered over Polly's shoulder. Beautiful horses, their reins and saddles adorned with shiny silver, pranced and tossed their heads. Their riders were every bit as spectacular.

“Those men are
caballeros
,”
Simon informed them. “They have the most beautiful horses in all of Mexico. That's what our teacher said.”

“Them men don't look too shabby neither,” Polly said. From their big, black
sombreros
, from which silver coins dangled, to their shiny, black, pointed boots, each rider seemed more magnificent than the next. Their snapping, dark eyes and drooping mustaches made for distinguished-looking gentlemen.

“Hurry!” Alice urged them. “We need to get to the square before the parade begins.”

“I don't know why you didn't tell us about this sooner,” Polly grumbled. “We weren't expectin' to be shot out of our beds.”

“We did tell you,” Will said, “but all you said was ‘That's nice.' We didn't know the fireworks would be this loud or start so early. They last all day, too.”

“We won't have an ear left on our heads,” Polly groaned. Secretly, though, she was delighted with the festivities.

The family joined their neighbors and friends from the church in the walk to the village. Everyone, no matter how poor, wore
fiesta
clothing, and the streets were a riot of color. By the middle of the morning, Manda and Polly were no longer jumping every time a firecracker exploded. They visited every booth on the square and were treated to delicious foods they hadn't sampled before.

The younger children ran off to be with school friends and get ready for the parade. The ladies, joined by Carlotta, found a small table outside the
panadería
, and Ethan brought a tray of sweets and
café con leche.
They enjoyed
bolillos dulce
and
buñuelos
dripping with honey.

“Just wait till we get home, and I fix 'em for the men,” Polly said. “They may never want pie again.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Manda told her. “They'll never give up their pie. They'll just want these in addition to everything else.”

“There will be a
fiesta
where the men are,” Carlotta told her. “Everyone stops for
Cinco de Mayo
.”

At just that moment, a roar sounded from the crowd gathered along the edge of the street. Tall black stallions thundered by, ridden by shouting
caballeros
who waved their
sombreros
above their heads.

“The parade is starting!” Ethan shouted. “We're in the right place to see it all!”

They would never forget the show they saw that day in the little village of Galeana. Men and women danced in the streets, accompanied by accordions, violins, and guitars. Castanets clicked in rhythm with flying feet and swirling skirts. The men threw
sombreros
on the ground and danced around them. There was a dance with swords that left the crowd gasping. People who traveled the roads daily with mules and wagons full of produce suddenly took on a glamorous appearance. The ladies looked on in awe as the music and dancing continued throughout the afternoon.

Polly was suitably impressed with all but the gypsy who approached their table. Carlotta told them what she was saying.

“She will read your palm and tell you all about your present, past, and future for ten
centavos
.”

“You tell her that I know where I been, I know where I am now, and I got a pretty good idea where I'm goin' when I leave here. And it didn't cost me no ten
centavos
to find out.”

Carlotta delivered the message, and the gypsy faded into the crowd.

“The idea!” Polly sputtered. “That's like stealin' folks' money from 'em. Who needs someone tellin' you what you already know?”

Walking home following a long evening of fireworks, Manda declared that she would be asleep before she hit the bed. “This has been the longest day I ever remember. And probably the most fun, too. If they plan to shoot off firecrackers all night, I won't even know it.”