Stars Always Shine (7 page)

And Salvador also wondered about Place. He appeared to deny the conventional patterns and paradigms of what it meant to attain and succeed in this country. He asked many questions, and it was important to him to do things the right way as far as the ranch chores were concerned. How strange too that this blue-eyed Mexican with such an impressive American accent could pronounce his Spanish words, once he learned them, with such authenticity and fluidity. He had no problem, eventually, rolling the first
r
or the double
r
in a word—Rápido ruedan las ruedas del ferrocarril—was the exercise Salvador had tried to drill into Place to get him to consistently trill that vibratory consonant. When that idiomatic exercise made his tongue twist, Salvador offered the ringing singing song that was taught to children and that Place picked up more quickly:

And Place could also slide the
n
with a tilde as smoothly as a gliding, silent hawk floated in the air.

Salvador’s teaching was bringing Place back to what he felt he had lost. In a way, Salvador was Place’s cultural guide, and learning to speak Spanish more fluently was a step in a southern direction. It gave Place less of a feeling of being on the cusp of two cultures, of feeling homeless in an ethnic sort of way, and of always receiving only marginal acceptance from both Americans and Mexicans. Place’s identity seemed to come with an asterisk, a footnote of difference but not distinction, and as they worked, Salvador would insert other aspects that he felt would cultivate Place’s assimilation. One day it was an explanation of pan mexicano, Mexican bread. He told Place about two types of Mexican bread, one called calzones, that was shaped like underpants, and another called besos or kisses. Then he recounted the joke about the woman who goes into the panadería and asks first for the underpants and then for the baker to remove them and give her two kisses. On another day, it was a song: “Mis caballos y mis perros están tristes porque ayer me vieron llorar, yo sé bien que los hombres no lloran, pero yo no me pude aguantar.” With this song, Salvador taught Place that animals know how their owners feel. They know when their owners are sad or mad or happy. “¿Y cómo saben, Plácido?” he asked Place and without waiting for his response, answered convicingly and with mysterious awe, “Sí, saben. ¡Es una cosa muy extraña!”

At the end of the week, Mitch and Place invited Salvador over for dinner. He ate ravenously and commented on the satisfying meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, cooked carrots, and warm dinner rolls. He had never had such a tasty meal. Place reminded him that perhaps he had never had such a gabacho meal, and Salvador agreed.

After dinner, the three of them went out to the deck and sat at an old picnic table where they ate fruit and cheese and talked. Mitch talked, Place listened, and Salvador stared. When a convenient break occurred in the conversation, Place interpreted in stalling and stammering Spanish the more important points and caught Salvador up to the discussion.

“Jacqueline and Mickey will be here early tomorrow. They’re only staying the weekend, but she said there’s a lot of stuff they want to get done while they’re here.”

Place interpreted, and Salvador commented that the ranch certainly looked better than it had just a week ago. Jacqueline and Mickey would appreciate the quick improvement. He added that he would stay out of the way, as he sensed that Jacqueline and Mickey did not like him. Place interpreted back to Mitch.

“Tell him I’m going to suggest to Jacqueline and Mickey that they keep him on for awhile. I’m going to tell her that he had a lot to do with the improvement of the place this week. He’s just too valuable to cut loose right away. They should realize that.”

Place interpreted, and Salvador was grateful.

That night, as Mitch and Place settled into bed, they heard the Kittles’ pickup slowly drive onto the property.

“It’s them!” Mitch said in a spooky voice.

“Hurry, get under the covers!” Place whispered. “You’re always safe under the covers.” They laughed and tickled each other and squiggled under the covers like kids at a slumber party. Then they listened for sounds that would provide clues to what Jacqueline and Mickey might be up to.

Place fell asleep quickly. As she entered the subconscious fringes of her own sleep, Mitch could hear the faint bawling of calves in the distance. Sleepily she figured that some young ones at Sweet Milk Dairy had lost their mothers.

At eight the next morning, Jacqueline Kittle strode from the antiquated milk barn up to the ranch house. She knocked loudly on the back door, setting off an alarmed ranch dog in the form of Rosa. Mitch answered the door, and Jacqueline apologized for her abruptness.

“Hi. I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” she explained. “But we gotta get going early around here.”

“Oh, no problem, Jacqueline,” Mitch answered as she walked out to the deck. “We’ve been up since five. Place starts working at six. We figured you’d be up here sooner.”

“Well, I would’ve been,” she began, and she did not offer the expected reason, cutting her statement down to an unexplained clause. “So how did it go this week? Do you two think you’ll be able to handle it?”

“Oh, I think so,” Mitch answered. “This has been an interesting week. We’ve really learned a lot about what needs to be done around here. Salvador was especially helpful. He worked all week with Place. They got a lot done, didn’t they?”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I guess,” Jacqueline responded. She was preoccupied with some of what she had just heard, and then said, “He better not expect to be getting paid. I didn’t agree to give him anything. In fact I want him out of here as soon as—”

“Who, Place?” Mitch asked, knowing just when to interrupt and that Jacqueline was really talking about Salvador. She was finding her peaceful morning unnecessarily and irrationally inflicted with Jacqueline’s scowling demeanor and attempted to return some of that nettlesome feeling.

“No! I’m talking about Salvador. He better not expect—”

Mitch interrupted again by clearing her throat assertively. She looked at Jacqueline with piercing eyes. Jacqueline stared back, but her eyes were not as pointed. Mitch let a few seconds of silence preface what she wanted to say, and then she began: “Jacqueline, nobody’s asking you to pay them for anything. Please don’t worry. Salvador’s not going to ask you for a cent. But I think you should seriously consider keeping him on for a while. He knows this ranch better than any of us. He’s a good worker. And you wouldn’t have to pay him much. This place could use the extra help, especially now. I can do some, but a lot of my time is going to be spent getting this house into shape.”

Jacqueline was not accustomed to straightforward talk. She was hoping to warm to Mitch this weekend, but there was something about her self-assurance that irritated Jacqueline.

Mitch was irritated too, and it was Jacqueline more than Mickey that created that irritation. Mitch searched for the causes and effects that directed her perception of Jacqueline and she cued them up to form her reasoning: “It’s Jacqueline’s money, her means that got them this ranch. Since the ranch is hers, she gets to call the shots. It’s Jacqueline’s ignorance that guides the shots she calls. Therefore, the shots she calls are stupid ones. It’s Jacqueline’s stupid ideas that keep things inert, but she wouldn’t recognize progress if it walked up to her and stepped on those clean, fancy boots of hers.” This much Mitch understood, and as she understood it she liked it even less. Jacqueline was coarse, another cause, and she was really deep down—but not too deep to be hidden—trash, a blatant effect. Add her ignorance and insolence to that and almost any reasonable thinker could see she was easy to classify, starting with order and going down through family, genus, and species. Mitch knew that Jacqueline held the reins and Mitch was simply another saddled beast in her eyes. This startling realization led Mitch to shudder momentarily, jarring her ego. At least with Place, they both agreed, even if it was a tacit understanding, that Mitch knew how things should progress and that she would guide Place through those things. He understood the nature of cause and effect and acknowledged that that was how things should work. It eased his burden. It allowed him to float along in a world that confused him and was one he often regretted living in. Mitch waited for Jacqueline to respond, and as she waited she recalled some lines from
Othello
: “It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch,” she said, switching her tone as she confronted the fork in the discursive road. “Buying this place has been stressful for me. Everything happened so fast. I’m feeling such pressure from thinking about making the payments and all the money I have to put into this place just to get a respectable boarding operation up and running. I bought this ranch for Mickey because he wanted to get out of the construction business, and he wants to ride horses and rope. And I’d like to do that too. But it’s costing so much.”

“Jacqueline,” Mitch said “I really think we can help you. There’s a lot of work to do around here, but it can get done, as Salvador and Place say, ‘poco a poco,’ which means that little by little things will start looking better. Maybe I can get some horses onto this property. I can probably have them within a month. You’ll have some income from that starting sooner than you thought you would. But really, Jacqueline, this ranch needs to be fixed up first. And your pocketbook can’t afford to lose a hand like Salvador. Just think about it. Come on, I’ll show you what we’ve worked on this week.”

Mitch showed Jacqueline the inside of the ranch house first. She was tearing down old wallpaper and preparing the walls for painting as Jacqueline had asked. The old doors would be sanded and revarnished next. The enormous job of refurbishing the floors would take time as the old carpet needed to be ripped out and the worn linoleum had to be peeled from the kitchen and bathrooms. Jacqueline and Mitch then walked out toward the pastures and barns. Mitch made pointing motions to the left and right, showing her where they had cleaned, pruned, or moved something.

From his kitchen window, which was blocked by his outhouse, Salvador leaned over the sink and stretched his neck at an angle. With a sliver of a view, he watched the two women as they walked around the ranch. In the milk barn, Mickey stretched, scratched an armpit, wiggled his toes, wiped his eyes of sleep, and decided to wake up.

Jacqueline was not satisfied with the slow progress, but she did feel better. Mitch knew of the importance of evidence, and she made it a point to walk Jacqueline all the way to the end of the property and then over to the western portion of the ranch. It was a long walk, and most of the way Jacqueline stopped frequently to catch her breath or rest her legs, pretending to inspect a gate or check to see that a waterer had been cleaned. Mitch emphasized what was occurring with the irrigation and explained to Jacqueline the finer points of what her contract with the water district called for. She showed Jacqueline the cleaner barns and pointed out the neatly shaped shrubs and trees as well as the lawns surrounding the ranch house that were already showing deeper shades of green despite the late season.

Returning to the milk barn, they met Mickey, who greeted Mitch and expressed a distinct pleasure with the progress in such a short time.

Jacqueline remained unconcerned as Mickey complimented Mitch. “You guys really did some work around here. I can see a big difference already. It looks great. Well, we better tend to those cows.”

“What cows?” Mitch asked.

Behind the barn was a stock trailer with six calves. Mickey had purchased them on the way to the ranch, and they would be the first pasture tenants. Jacqueline’s and Mickey’s horses would come up next week.

“What do you plan to do with them?” Mitch asked.

“Raise them for beef,” Mickey answered. “If you want to live like country folks, you do what you can to raise your own food.”

Mitch did not like the idea of cows on the ranch, but since it was not her property, she was not going to point out to Jacqueline and Mickey that the fencing on this ranch was suited primarily for horses. With their tendency to push and lean and want their sides scratched, cows would do a considerable amount of damage to the wood and hogwire fences of StarRidge Ranch. The fence would be bowed in no time. Perhaps the Kittles thought that since there was an old milk barn on the property, the ranch could accommodate cows. Mitch had wondered too about a milk barn on what was previously a thoroughbred setup. When she went to the title company and county recorder’s office to research the history of StarRidge Ranch, she discovered that decades ago it had been a dairy, and the only remaining artifact to indicate that was the bonnet-roofed milk barn; the rest of the ranch had long since been redesigned for horses. She found out too that the little round house that Salvador lived in was what the county referred to as a “non-permitted dwelling” marked as uninhabitable due to new sewage regulations. Like Salvador, the help house was illegal.

“Where do you plan on putting them?” Mitch asked.

“I was going to put them in one of the smaller pastures,” Mickey answered. “They don’t need too much space for right now. The guy I bought them from said that we should probably give them all a bolus too. You know what that is?”

Mitch thought for a few moments before answering. She was starting to regret that she had lied about Manfredi’s letter of recommendation and the other two mendacious documents. Once a lie was produced in one place, it could come back in a different form in another. And it became harder to justify and convince while still sorting through the dirty laundry of falsehoods that often mixed with delicate garments of truth. Jacqueline and Mickey apparently had not read Mitch’s portion of the resume, Mitch thought, that said she had managed a dairy operation in Colorado. Maybe they forgot, she guessed. And then she told Mickey and Jacqueline all about what a bolus was.