Thirteen Senses (8 page)

“But I thought of doing it,
mama
.”

“Of course, you're a man,
mi hijito.
But to think is not to do. To think is small potatoes compared to doing. And here inside of you, you are strong in knowing this difference. No, you would not have killed in cold blood,” she added.

He nodded. “And you knew that a cop was going to pull me over, and that's why you insisted to come with me?” asked Salvador.

“Oh, no, I'm not God,” she said, laughing. “I didn't know what was going to happen to you in complete detail, but as a mother, as a woman of substance, I did have the feeling here in my heart,” she said, breathing deeply, “that you were going to need my help, and so that's why I insisted on coming with you.”

“Oh,
mama,
you are such a mystery to me,” he said, pacing back and forth under the huge, old tree by the side of the road. “I'll never forget as long as I live, we were crossing the desert on our way north to the Texas border, and it was getting dark when we finally got to the water hole. But the hole was completely dry, and we were all dying of thirst. And yet you and all these old women didn't panic. No, you all just got together and had us children kneel down and begin to pray as the last sunlight disappeared. And miracle of miracles, fresh water began seeping out of the ground that night, filling the hole with water by daybreak. How do you do it, eh? I was so scared when the cop came up and yet you were so calm and my God, he really didn't see those barrels!”

“Easy,” said Doña Margarita, “when I pray, I just give myself over to God, completely, and He then gives of Himself to me. And God can do anything, so then can I.”

Standing under the great old tree, Salvador nodded. “I see, simple as that, eh?”

“Yes, simple as that,” she said, nodding to the tree. “Once we give up the ghost.”

“Ghost?”

“Yes,
la ilusión
that we really have any separation whatsoever between us and Holy Creation,” she said, kissing the crucifix of her rosary.

“
Mama
,” he said, “my God, who are you to know so much?”

“Who am I? Well,
mi hijito,
since you always seem to keep forgetting, then I'll tell you again,” she said. “I am your mother. I am the woman who brought you forth with life from here between my legs, and so you will never get rid of me when I decide to be with you!

“Because, as I've told you time and again, even after I'm dead and gone and the worms have eaten my earth-body and you're so old and deaf that you can't hear your own farts, I'll still be here inside your heart and soul like
una GARRRRRAPATA,
a tick up a dog's ass, scratching at you, clawing at you, giving you great discomfort, every time I see you or one of your offspring get lazy and allow the Devil to come near! Do you understand now? This is who I am, your ancestral TICK UP YOUR SPIRITUAL ASSHOLE FOR ALL ETERNITY! So you don't get lazy on me again,” she added. “GET YOUR SHIT FIRST!”

Salvador burst out laughing. What else could he do?

THE NEXT DAY
, Salvador was down in Carlsbad, delivering whiskey, when his good friend Jerry Bill told him who the guy was who'd brought the two men down from Los Angeles to try to take over his territory. Why, it was Tomas, a good friend of Salvador's, a man who'd sat across the table from Salvador in many a poker game and then had had breakfast with him in the early hours of the morning.

And the two men that Tomas had invited down were no other than . . . the
Filipino
and the
Italiano,
the two guys who'd cut Salvador's throat a few years back in Corona, leaving him for dead, and then they'd also been the sons-of-a-bitches who'd gotten Salvador arrested in Hanford, for gambling. That's how he'd ended up spending time in the Tulare jail.

These two stool pigeon bastard
-cabrones,
Salvador was going to kill immediately, and he didn't give a good damn if they were
amigos
of the big boys out of Fresno, or not!

But then, that night as Salvador slept alone in Carlsbad in the little white house that he'd especially prepared for his honeymoon with Lupe, his mother, Doña Margarita, appeared to him in his dreams. “
Mi hijito
,” said the old Indian woman, “I didn't raise you up all these years for you to now just go out and do your revenge like a stupid, typical man!

“You must think deeper,
mi hijito,
much deeper than the wolf or the
coyote,
and come up with a plan as cunning as the little She-Fox herself, the Female Force who helps God reign the Heavens.”

And saying this, his old mother then turned into a little She-Fox in Salvador's dream, and whispered to him so quietly that his sleeping male-brain now thought that these were his very own thoughts.

“Sleep, my child-darling, sleep,” whispered the little She-Fox, “and let all the wisdom of the ages come to you. Remember the story of how the little She-Fox fooled the big strong
coyote
when he was going to eat her babies. She took the big, hungry
coyote
down to the lagoon and convinced him that the reflection of the full Moon in the water was the biggest, most delicious cheese in all the world. Greed did all the rest,
mi hijito.
The
coyote
drank the water, wanting to empty the lagoon so he could get to the cheese, and he choked to death. Remember, greed can be a person's best friend when the other has it and you don't.”

“Yes,
mama
,” said Salvador to the She-Fox in his dream, “I remember that story well, but I'm a man,
mama,
so I don't know what to do, except kill these two
cabrón
-bastards!”

“Then sleep some more,
mi hijito
,'' said his old Indian mother to him in his dream, “and believe me, you'll soon come up with a plan so fantastic that it will give you a greater reputation than just the killing of two mere mortals. And also remember the formidable powers of the mother pig, the only farm animal capable of returning to the wild and surviving, because she never lost her wild instincts. And it is within our wild instincts that lies the key to our soul.

“Dream,
mi hijito,
dream, and know that our soul is our doorway to God.
Coo-coo rrroo-coo coooooo, dijo la Paloma!
” his mother continued singing.

And Salvador continued dreaming as he slept, and all these Ancient Powers came to him in the Great Open River
of Papito Dios.

In the morning, just as the dawn of the new day was coming forth, Salvador awoke with such strength and clarity of mind that he leaped out of bed, bursting with energy!

He was ready!

He was full to the brim!

It was already done, finished, and completed here inside of his being!

The Heartbeat of his Ancestry was beat, beat, beating, pounding inside of him. He was now in that Holy State of Being
Aprevenido
!

Salvador washed, dressed, and drove whistling up to Tustin to see Archie Freeman, who was a deputy sheriff in both Orange and San Diego Counties.

Immediately, Salvador told the huge lawman that he'd give him a free barrel of whiskey, if he'd just come down to Carlsbad this afternoon and say hi to him.

“And I'll be waiting for you east of town,” said Salvador, “you know, over in that old barn by the Kelly Ranch.”

“Just come and say hi?” said Archie, grinning. “Hell, just what kind of a fool do you figure me for, Salvador?”

“A smart one,” said Salvador, not flinching.

He and Archie had done a lot of business together over the last few years. And lately, Archie had been getting sweet on Lupe's sister Carlota, so—who knew?—they might end up being brothers-in-law yet.

“Look, Archie,” continued Salvador, “you're the law, so truthfully, it's best that I don't tell you what I'm doing. You just come by and say ‘hi, how's everything going,' and then leave immediately, and I'll handle everything, and this way you're not involved in any way.”

Archie reached up to his long, dark, California Indian face with his huge, thick right hand and scratched himself, then began pulling at his right ear, the chewing-over-information ear, then he scratched the left side of his face. “Just come by and say, ‘hi, how's everything going,' and leave immediately, eh?”

“That's right,” said Salvador. “But you got to tell no one that you've even seen me, because I'm still on my honeymoon, okay? And you do this, and I'll deliver you a free, ten-gallon barrel tomorrow.”

“Of real whiskey?”

“Of my best!”

“You mean, that 12-year-old stuff?”

“You got it!”

“Okay,” said Archie, licking his chops, “you've got yourself a deal, but I'll tell you, I smell a mighty big rat here somewhere.”

“From me? Oh, no, Archie, I'm a married man now.”

On this one, Archie burst out laughing. “Married, my ass! You still look like the same son-of-a-bitch
cabrón
I met the first day I saw you! So tell me,” added Archie, “all business aside, why aren't you on, well, your honeymoon?”

If anybody else had asked, Salvador would've gone into a rage, because he wasn't going to allow any pair of hanging balls to tease him about his love for Lupe. But Archie was almost like family; or maybe even better
than familia.

“Archie,” Salvador now said, “Lupe's mother came out and told me after the wedding that Lupe wasn't feeling well, so could I please wait for a few days before she joined me for our honeymoon. But like I told you, no one must know, not one person, okay?”

“You got it,” said Archie.

“Then we got a deal?” asked Salvador, wanting to make sure, because the law was a very big part of his plan—for this whole thing to work. “I'll see you late this afternoon, just before sunset in that shack by those horse corrals just this side of the Kelly Ranch on the old El Camino?”

Archie nodded, and they shook hands. And now that Salvador had accomplished this deal with Archie, he quickly drove over to Corona, bought himself a couple of young, male pigs, and hired two of the Moreno boys to help him—at such a price that they couldn't refuse.

Then he quickly went to his mother's place, got Luisa's two older boys to wash his Moon automobile for him as he bathed, shaved, and got all dressed up. The boys did a wonderful job. Jose, his nephew, was turning into a very responsible young man. Salvador then offered to pay the two boys. Pedro immediately accepted the money, but Jose didn't.

“Uncle,” said Jose, “you do so much for us all the time, that it's a pleasure to just be able to do something for you. We don't want your money. Do we, Pedro,” he said, turning to his younger, smaller brother.

Pedro really didn't want to, but he returned the money. “Jose is right,” he said. “We don't want your money! Ah, shit!”

Salvador laughed, then looked at his nephew Jose in the eyes. Blood was really blood. This boy had never even met his great big father—who'd been killed back in Mexico by two stupid, little, scared soldiers at the dinner table as they ate—but he had his father's size and looks and sense of justice, balance, and the larger, fuller picture of life.

Salvador hugged both boys in a big
abrazo,
kissing them, then he got in his fine, newly-washed Moon automobile and took off for Carlsbad with the Morenos following behind him in his truck with the two pigs.

He was wearing a gorgeous suit and great tie. Salvador knew that he had to look the part for what he was now going to do. It was no accident that a good lawyer spent as much time and thought on his dress as a good prostitute. Clothes, about fine clothes, Salvador had also learned in Montana when he'd been hiding from the law and Lady Katherine, the English madam of the finest whorehouse in the whole Northwest, had taken him under her wing.

In the
barrio
of Carlsbad, Salvador immediately found Tomas Varga, who'd brought in those two guys from Los Angeles.

“
Cómo estas,
Tomas,” said Salvador, stepping down out of his grand car and smiling to this man that was well known all through the
barrio
as a small-time, two-bit gambler. “I need to have a little talk with you. I got a little business deal for you, so you can make a few extra dollars.”

“Oh, no, I'm too busy, Salvador,” said Tomas, already looking nervous. “I can't go with you right now.”

Just then, the two Moreno boys were at Tomas's side, and Salvador drew close and put his .38 snubnose into Tomas's gut. “We insist,” said Salvador quietly. “Just keep still, and nothing is going to happen to you,
te juro.
I promise, we just need to talk a little bit.”

Getting Tomas in the front passenger's seat alongside Salvador, the two Moreno brothers got in the truck. Salvador drove slowly out of the
barrio de Carlos Malo
—as Carlsbad was referred to by the Mexican people, meaning the neighborhood of Bad Charles—and east up the hill, by the Carlsbad forest and over to El Camino, the old, abandoned dirt road that the
padres
had used when they'd first come into California over two hundred years ago.

Salvador headed south, and he could see that Tomas was getting more and more frightened as they went. Salvador loved it. His mother was right, why be a huge, powerful wolf or
coyote
when you could be a quick, agile, little, cunning She-Fox, and allow the frightened man's imagination to do it all for you.

“But where are we going, Salvador?” Tomas was saying. “I'm just a gambler, you know that, Salvador. I never had anything to do with—” He stopped his words.

“You never had anything to do with what?” asked Salvador, acting innocent and turning the knife in a little deeper. Imagination could do so much more than the wildest reality. His mother always said that a frightened person's mind was the Devil's finest playground.