Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
Part Eight
ILLUMINATION
17
GOD was Whirling, Swirling, Dancing! His Children were finally Awaking to the Light and Loving each other as much as they LOVED HIM!
NEXT WEEK Domingo would be getting out of prison.
Hortensia was nearly a year old. Salvador and Lupe were in the back room of their little rented house in Carlsbad. It was Sunday morning and Lupe was getting Hortensia dressed so they could go to church.
Salvador had just put a chair sideways across the door on the floor between the kitchen and the living room. The week before, Chingon had been killed by a car when he’d dragged Hortensia out of the vehicle’s path. They’d quickly found a little black and white puppy for Hortensia so that she’d continue to have someone to take care of her. She’d loved Chingon. He’d been her best friend. And now they were training the puppy to stay in the porch and kitchen area when they were gone. Putting a chair sideways on the floor did the trick.
Suddenly, they heard a banging at the front. Salvador and Lupe were in the tiny bathroom. They could hardly move—they were so crowded together.
“Did the puppy knock something over?” asked Salvador.
“I don’t know,” said Lupe. “But you finish getting dressed, Salvador. I’ll go check.”
Lupe couldn’t believe it. All her life, she’d always heard that it took women forever to get dressed, but ever since they’d been married, she’d noticed that it took Salvador about twice as long to get dressed as it did her. And now with the baby, she could still dress herself and the baby before Salvador was ready.
“Please hurry and finish getting dressed, Salvador,” said Lupe as she went to the front of the house. “I don’t want us to be late for church again!” She stepped over the chair that was blocking the doorway of the kitchen, and she was going past the stove and sink toward the back door of the porch, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks.
Through the glass of their back door, Lupe could see the form of a big man with a rifle in hand. He was screaming like a wild man! At first Lupe thought that it was their good friend, Kenny White, but then she didn’t think so. He was waving the rifle wildly and hollering like a madman and Kenny was always so soft-spoken.
Lupe froze. Instantly she was back home in their beloved box canyon in Mexico, and armed men were breaking into their home to rape and plunder. She began screaming as loudly as she could!
“Salvador!” yelled Lupe at the top of her lungs as she went running back through the kitchen and leaped over the chair on the floor. “There’s someone with a gun!”
“No, Lupe!” the man outside the back door was screaming. “It’s me, Kenny, for CHRISSAKES!”
And saying this, Kenny White busted the glass out of the door with his rifle’s butt, reaching inside to unlock the door.
Salvador had been looking at himself in the mirror and whistling happily, tying his tie, when he heard Lupe’s shouts. Then he heard the glass being broken out of their back door and Lupe’s racing footsteps. He ran for his gun.
Opening the top drawer of their dresser, he took out his .38 snubnose Smith & Wesson, and raced down the hallway, pistol in hand. Lupe shot past him, picking up Hortensia in her arms. The little puppy was in fast pursuit, barking happily, thinking that they were playing. In the kitchen, Salvador came standing face to face with Kenny White. The old man’s 30/30 rifle was pointing straight at Salvador’s stomach. Salvador didn’t know what to do.
“Jesus Christ!” said Kenny, seeing Salvador’s .38 in hand, “put that gun away! I’m your friend, Sal! I just killed Eisner, and I don’t want to DIE SOBER!”
And yelling this, the white-haired old man slapped down ten dollars on the kitchen table. “Give me a bottle of your best!”
Salvador couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. Eisner was the gringo who’d come into town about two years back and he’d opened up a little grocery store. But Salvador sure as hell wasn’t going to argue with a man with a rifle. Kenny looked completely loco!
Quickly, Salvador got Kenny a quart bottle of whiskey from under the sink. Hungrily, the old man opened it, putting it to his lips, and he drank down six long gulps, each gulp shooting past his reddish-brown Adam’s apple like a quick-moving steel ball.
“Damn, that’s good!” he said, blowing out with power. “You’ve always made the best damn whiskey, Sal! You’ve never cheated no man with your liquor! You’re a good hombre!”
Just then, Hortensia came crawling back into the room, trying to catch the little puppy that had gotten through the chair’s legs.
“Oh, isn’t she cute, all dressed up in her Sunday best,” said Kenny, smiling happily. “And look at that puppy; he’s a good one, too! Just like Chingon!” He bent over, putting his 30/30 in the crook of his left arm as he made baby talk with Hortensia and the little dog.
Lupe was at the doorway. She and Salvador glanced at each other, not knowing what to do. Salvador thought of maybe trying to wrestle the rifle away from the old man, but then thought better of it. Somebody could get shot.
“Well, I best be going,” said Kenny, straightening up. “The cops will be here any minute, and I don’t want you folks getting in any danger because of me.
“But I’m glad I killed that son-of-a-bitch!” added Kenny, bringing up his lever-action 30/30 Winchester. “I loaned him five hundred dollars when he first came to town, just like I loaned you, Sal, man-to-man, on a handshake. But you know what that son-of-a-bitch told me today when I went to his grocery store to get my money? He said to me, ‘What money?’ So I said to him, ‘Hey, don’t joke me, Eisner! I need that money, or I’m gonna lose my garage!’
“Hell, it’s bad, Sal, you know that! Nobody’s got money to pay me their bills, except you and maybe a couple of other guys in town.
“But you know what the snake then told me? He said, ‘You got any witnesses that you loaned me that money? You got any written note?’ I said, ‘Eisner, you know I don’t. We shook hands on it, man-to-man. Don’t bull me like this!’ Well, God as my witness, he just looked at me straight in the eye, Sal—I couldn’t believe it, right in the eye—and said, ‘Get out of my store! I owe you nothing!’ Just like that. The store I helped him get started. So I said, All right, I’m going, but I’m coming back with my 30/30, and I’m going to kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!’
“So I went home and got my rifle and went back to his store and shot that snake five times—the dirty, lying, double-crossing son-of-a-bitch! And I’m sorry that his wife and kid saw me do it—I really am—but, my God, I love my little garage, Sal! I didn’t want to lose it!”
And Kenny lifted up the bottle and drank again, then levered a round into the chamber of the Model 94 Winchester and said, “Thank you, folks; you’ve been like family to me! God be with you. Adios, amigos mios!”
“Lupe,” said Salvador, “take Hortensia and the dog into the next room.”
Lupe quickly did.
“Wait, Kenny!” said Salvador, catching the old man at the back door. “Did anyone see you come here?”
“Hell, no, when the shooting started, people scattered!” he said, laughing.
“Then there’s still time, Kenny,” said Salvador. “Give me that rifle and I’ll get rid of it for you, and I’ll be your witness. I’ll say I was with you all morning and you never shot the bastard!”
“You’d do that for me?” said Kenny, his blue eyes sparkling with gusto.
“You damn right!” said Salvador. “We’re amigos! You saved my life before I got married! We’re compadres!”
“Damnit, Sal,” said Kenny, tears bursting from his eyes, “you’re a real man! And I love you dearly for it, Sal, but like I said, there were witnesses; it won’t work! His wife and kid saw me do it and, good God, I wish they hadn’t, but what could I do?!”
“Look, I’ll get fifty people from the barrio!” said Salvador. “We’ll all say that you were drinking all night with us and never left us! Hell, la gente love you! You’re a ma
Putting the bottle in his coat pocket, Kenny reached out with his 30/30 in one hand and took Salvador in both of his arms. “Give me one of ’em abrazos, you son-of-a-bitch!” he said with joy. “I love you with all MI CORAZÓN, AMIGO!” And he hugged Salvador with power. “Hug me! Yeah! Harder! HARDER, JESUS!” The tears streamed down from Kenny’s eyes. “My old man, we never done this! And, my God, I loved him! But we just didn’t know how to touch, or hug, or—shit, life is so much easier with abrazos, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Salvador, hugging Kenny with all his strength. They held each other for a long, long time.
“Well,” said Kenny, letting go of Salvador and wiping his eyes, “it was a good life; good friends, good whiskey, a little good loving now and then, and now a good rifle to end it all!”
“But, Kenny,” said Salvador, “it will be Archie and our friends who’ll have to come after you!”
“Don’t worry, Sal,” he said, pulling out the bottle of whiskey again. “I’d never shoot to kill a friend!” And he drank, nearly emptying the whole bottle. “See you in Hell, Sal!” he said. “Hell of a life! Damned shame it’s got to end like this, though! Damnit, I was working on two cars! People from Oklahoma and they need their cars fixed pronto, and I needed the money to get the parts. Damn snake ruined a lot of lives!”
And saying this, he turned and quickly went out the back door, 30/30 in hand. “See you, amigos! Vayan con Dios!”
And just then, as Kenny went out the door, Salvador saw that Archie’s big black Hudson was parked at the end of the driveway in the avocado trees. Instantly, Salvador ran back into the front room, yelling, “Get down! Get down!” But Lupe was already down. Ever since she could remember, she and her familia had been dodging bullets. “Archie and some deputies are in the orchard and—”
The huge explosion of Kenny’s big 30/30 stopped Salvador’s words.
“Archie, damnit,” bellowed Kenny. “Don’t come any closer! I don’t want to kill a friend! But I ain’t going to jail for killing a snake!”
“Kenny!” yelled Archie with his huge, booming voice, “you didn’t kill him! Give yourself up!”
“Don’t lie to me, Archie!” said Kenny. “Goddamnit, I shot the son-of-a-bitch five times!”
“That’s true, you shot him, but he’s alive!” yelled Chief-Deputy Palmer. Palmer and George Thompson were in the orchard, too.
“Damnit, Fred,” Kenny said to his good drinking friend Palmer, “you and Archie are my friends! Don’t try and trick me!”
“We ain’t. Honest. Eisner’s alive!” yelled Archie.
“Bullshit!” said Kenny, and he raised up his 30/30, firing two more quick shots into the eucalyptus tree beyond the orchard way above Fred Palmer’s and Archie’s heads. “I’m drinking this bottle down! Then I’m going to my garage, getting in my car, and driving off to Mexico and find myself a couple of señoritas! So nobody try to stop me, for chrissakes! I don’t want to kill no friends!”
“Kenny, put that rifle down so we can talk!” yelled Fred. “We can’t let you go, you know that! We’re the law!”
“And you really didn’t kill him!” yelled Archie. “The bastard is still breathing!”
“Bullshit! I killed him, sure as Hell! In old Mexico, I’d get a medal!” shouted Kenny. “Shit, a song, a corrido, would be sung about me, because there ain’t no loss of honor in shooting a rattlesnake!”
“That’s true!” bellowed Archie. “And I’d sing it, true as Hell, because, personally, I’m glad you shot the son-of-a-bitch, the way he treats folks! But he’s still alive, so you got to give yourself up, Kenny, so you can shoot him again next year, and finish the job!”
On this one, Kenny BURST OUT LAUGHING. “Archie, you slick-talking Pala Indian son-of-a-bitch, I just don’t know how the white men ever out-tricked you-breeds out of nothing! But, goddamn, I know I killed that son-of-a-bitch Eisner, and so I’m not going to jail for killing a rattlesnake!” He fired two more quick shots.
At that moment, a car came screeching up behind Archie and Fred Palmer. Two young cops from Oceanside leaped out of the car, opening fire. Kenny never moved. No, he just stood out there in the middle of the driveway, firing over their heads, as the two young cops—one named Davis—continued shooting at him.
A couple of the rounds came flying past Kenny and hit the windows where Salvador had been watching. Salvador dove for the floor again.
Lupe SCREAMED!
Salvador turned and saw a mass of blood covering his daughter’s face and her little, white church-going dress. Crawling over to her, he saw that Hortensia was holding the puppy in her arms. Its head was missing.
The shooting continued, and more bullets came flying just barely over their heads. Salvador tore the bloody puppy from his daughter’s grasp, throwing it as far as he could.
Then the shooting stopped as quickly as it had started. And now you could hear Archie’s huge, bellowing voice, “You stupid son-of-a-bitches! He wasn’t shooting to kill nobody! You had no reason to open fire on him, you stupid, ignorant, trigger-happy young BASTARDS!”
Then Archie rushed over to Lupe and Salvador’s front door. “They killed him,” he said, “Jesus Christ, those stupid, young Oceanside trigger-happy bastards killed him! Those stupid son-of-a-bitches! I kept yelling for them not to shoot!” Then seeing the blood, he finally asked, “Hey, is everyone okay here?”
But no one answered Archie.
No, Salvador was sitting on the floor, holding his wife and daughter in his arms. And they looked absolutely petrified.
“Jesus H. Christ,” said Archie, seeing Hortensia all covered with blood. And across the room lay the splattered, bloody remains of the little black and white female puppy. And on the lime-colored wall, about three feet above the puppy’s body, was a big, bloody mess where the puppy’s body had hit the wall when Salvador had thrown it with all of his might.
The drums were beating!
The Drums were Beat, BEAT, BEATING! POUNDING! SINGING with the FORCES of CREATION!
SALVADOR WAS WAITING for his brother, Domingo, at the Carlsbad train station when the train came down the tracks from Los Angeles. Salvador had just driven down from Tustin where he and Lupe were now living in the ranch house where he made his liquor. He had a lot of things to explain to Domingo.
The whole country was going to Hell!
Everywhere businesses were closing their doors. Kenny White wasn’t the only good, decent man who was taking the law into his own hands to settle money matters.
Watching the people get off the train, Salvador was excited with the prospect of seeing his brother. He wanted to tell his brother how hard he’d worked to get him out of prison a year and a half early, and that Chief-Deputy Palmer had explained to him that Domingo would have to be very careful, or this whole early parole business could backfire on them.
But, then, Salvador no more than saw Domingo get down from the train and he knew that he was in for big problemas. His brother looked wild. He didn’t have any of that calm healthy look that Salvador had seen when he’d visited him in prison.
“Salvador!” yelled Domingo, rushing up to him with a big, rawboned grin. “Damn, it’s good to see you, mano!”
They hugged in a big abrazo, chest-to-chest, then, they’d no more than stepped back from each other to get a better look, when Domingo said, “You got a drink?! I need one quick! All the way down on the train I was wondering what I’d want first—a woman or a drink! But then I got to thinking that a woman takes at least an hour, so I figure that I’d have a few drinks first! Eh, so you got some whiskey with you, mano?”
“Keep your voice down,” said Salvador as he glanced around. There were people all around them. “Remember,” he added, “it’s Prohibition.”
“Prohibition?” shouted Domingo, laughing to beat Hell. “Who the hell gives a shit about Prohibition! I wanna drink!”
Salvador rolled his eyes to the Heavens.
“Where’s your c
“Look, don’t you have a bag or something?” asked Salvador.
“Hell, no!” said Domingo. “I threw everything away! And as soon as I can, I want to throw away these clothes that I’m wearing, too!” He put an arm around Salvador, turning him about. “Come on,” he said, “I need for you to get me all new clothes, and a car, and a roll of money, and—”
Salvador stopped listening. My God, this man was crazy-loco. Nothing had changed. This was exactly how Domingo had been behaving just before they’d been caught and he’d gone to prison. What in the world had happened to all that peace of mind that Domingo had found in prison when he’d seen those ten thousand angels?
“All right,” said Salvador. “Let’s go.”
“Ovale!” said Domingo, grinning ear-to-ear.
Getting to the Moon, Salvador decided not to take Domingo to Palmer’s place, where he’d be working. The man was just too dangerous. He’d first take him out of town, around the lagoon between Carlsbad and Oceanside and try and talk some sense to him in that eucalyptus forest east of town.
At the back side of the lagoon, Salvador parked the Moon and led Domingo up a trail and across a little swampy area on a couple of logs. They could hear the frogs in the water behind them.
“You got some barrels buried out here?” asked Domingo, licking his lips as they continued up a small embankment.
“Yeah,” said Salvador. “A couple.”
“Oh, good!” said Domingo. “That’s a start! Let’s drink a whole damn barrel, then go chase us some women with nice, big, nalguitas!”
“Okay,” said Salvador, uncovering the first barrel. He had no intent of going anywhere with Domingo. He had a plan. He was going to let Domingo get stinking drunk, then he was going to call in Archie to come and run a bluff on Domingo, telling him in no uncertain terms that he had to watch his step or his parole officer—old man Palmer—was going to put him right back into prison. He couldn’t afford to have his brother out here in the world without reins. Why, the wild fool could destroy everything that he and Lupe were working so hard to put together.