Thirteen Senses (12 page)

This was a fine country for an outlaw, as long as you had a good mechanic to keep your car and truck ready to go, and a big-time lawyer to cover your ass if your car or truck wasn't fast enough.

Inside, Salvador had a cup of coffee with Kenny, and he handed the old man fifty dollars. “Here's a little more of the money I owe you,” said Salvador.

“Hell, no,” said Kenny, sipping his steaming hot coffee. “You keep that money 'til your marriage is on its feet! You're a real man, Sal. And your word is good enough for me.”

“Kenny, you're the best,” said Salvador. “The absolute best!”

“All right, I'll accept that,” said Kenny, putting his coffee down, “but now don't start any of your damn hugging
abrazos,
Sal.” Kenny put both of his hands out in front of himself, so Salvador wouldn't try to hug him. “I wasn't raised up with all these compliments and hugs—make a man nervous is what they do!”

But Salvador was an experienced horseman, so he shifted his eyes to look over Kenny's right shoulder, and said, “Who's that?” in a sudden tone of voice. When Kenny turned to look, Salvador grabbed him in a big
abrazo,
hugging him close. Kenny fought it, but only for a split-second, then he was hugging Salvador in return with such power that Salvador had to hold strong to not have his ribs broken.

Over the years, Salvador had found this to be true with so
many gringo
men, they just didn't like to be touched or hugged. It seemed to threaten their manhood. But then once they got hugging, then my God, it was like they were so hungry for male contact, that they'd hug back in desperation.

It was eight o'clock by the time Salvador started up the coast to pick up Lupe. He'd stopped by their little honeymoon house in the orchard—four blocks north of the
barrio,
where someday the new Carlsbad post office would be built—and he'd shaved, showered, and changed clothes.

He just didn't know what had gotten into him last night. But he'd felt lost and lonely inside. He'd actually begun to resent Lupe.

It was good that it was daytime now, because the things of the night just didn't seem to sit well with a man when he was in love.

Salvador was just north of Oceanside when he remembered the two stallions of the night before. He had to pull at his crotch. What a beautiful sight that had been!

WHEN SALVADOR PULLED UP
to Lupe's home in Santa Ana in his Moon automobile, both of her parents were playing cards on the front porch. Doña Guadalupe and Don Victor each had a pile of pinto beans in front of them and they both looked very intent on the game.

“Quick, come here,” said Don Victor, when he saw Salvador come up the stairs. “Look at the predicament that this old woman has got me into! I got good cards, take a look, but she's beat me so many times in the last few days that I'm even afraid of betting on these!”

Salvador nodded hello to Doña Guadalupe, tipping his small-brim Stetson, then he took a look at Don Victor's cards. The white-haired old man held two kings and two tens. They were good cards. But still, Salvador would've thrown them away without a moment's hesitation if he'd been having bad luck.

“Remember the saying,” said Salvador to the balding old man, “the worst curse of the gambler is having the second best hand.”

“Yes, of course, we all know that,” snapped Don Victor. “The best thing is to have the best or the worst, so then you won't be tempted to bet, if you don't have the winning hand.

“But you tell me, Salvador,” he said, looking at his son-in-law in the eyes, “how can a man know that his hand is second best unless he bets?”

Salvador's whole heart came up into his mouth. Oh, these words, these thoughts, they were what haunted every loser every day of his life. Lady Luck, after all, was a very dangerous woman if a man didn't know how to court her shapely, beautiful curves.

“Myself, that's why I don't gamble,” said Salvador. “I put my money only on a sure thing.”

And here, Salvador, who was in actuality a professional gambler, had said it all, telling the old man the real secret about gambling. But still, even as he, Salvador, told this secret to Lupe's father, he well knew that this old man would only laugh, and never take this advice to heart. For you could see it in his eyes, especially his right eye, the male side; he loved the feel of risking! This was what got him flying. Not the winning, not the figuring and planning, but simply the risking it all to the wild winds of life, with no plan or scheme for the odds of survival, whatsoever.

But, on the other hand, Salvador could well see that his wife, Doña Guadalupe, did understand. You could see it in her left eye, and so this was why she was the real breadwinner of their family. She, the woman, with the power of the mother pig, had the absolute focus of mind to know when not to buck the odds and, and yet, she also knew when to risk everything, even her own life for the survival of
la familia
!

“Ha!” continued Lupe's father, laughing happily. “I'm not going to chicken-out now! I'm a man, and so I'm betting!”

With a gleam in his old eyes, he turned around facing his wife and pushed in his whole pile of beans, betting everything he had. Salvador could see his own father doing this type of
macho
bravery, and it was so stupid, and completely unnecessary!

Reluctantly, Doña Guadalupe saw his bet, pushing in an equal amount of beans. “Three queens,” she said.

“Three queens!” yelled the old man, throwing down his cards in disgust. “Damnit! I lost again!”

Don Victor got to his feet, pulling his pants up angrily . . . just as Lupe came out the door, suitcase in hand, wearing her royal blue dress and full-length coat with the fur collar that Salvador had bought for her. And she looked so beautiful, so breath-taking elegant. There was no movie star who even came close to Lupe's natural beauty.

“Oh, how I just hope I get rich once before I die, so I can choke this old woman to death with money!” continued Lupe's father, half-angry, but still laughing at the same time. “So she'll realize once and for all, just what kind of man I am!”

“But I know what a good man you are already,” said Lupe's mother Doña Guadalupe, smiling as she drew in all her winnings.

“Look at her,” snapped the old man. “She has the mouth to say that even as she takes all
of my frijoles!”

The roar
of carcajadas
that came from Lupe's old mother as her father mentioned his beans, was so loud, so contagious, that Lupe and Salvador started laughing, too, and then Don Victor was laughing, also.

The two old people laughed until they had tears in their eyes, and their stomachs ached. And then Doña Guadalupe and Don Victor looked at their daughter—standing here before them with her suitcase beside her—and they suddenly realized what the moment was really all about.

They weren't laughing because of
their frijoles
; oh, no, they were laughing these painful
carcajadas
because they were losing the baby of the family, and soon they'd also lose Carlota and Victoriano, and then they'd be all alone.

The two old people dried their eyes and took each other's hand as they stood looking at Lupe and Salvador—two old people who were still at odds with each other, two old people who saw love in this young couple's eyes, and it caused them to remember that love in themselves.

“Well, well,” said Don Victor, drying his eyes with the back of his hand and reaching for his daughter, “I guess this is it.” And he took Lupe into his old, thin arms, giving her
un abrazo.
“And only yesterday you were chasing after your deer up and down the hillsides in
la Lluvia de Oro
as agile as a Tarahumara Indian—oh, my God, how the years have flown by!”

He was crying and crying and hugging his daughter, and then Doña Guadalupe joined them and she was crying, too.

Salvador watched these two old parents hugging their daughter, and he now once more knew, down deep inside of himself, why he'd chosen Lupe above all other women to be his wife; not only was she beautiful, but she knew love deep in her center.

“Please,” said Lupe, kissing her mother and father, “tell my
nina
Sophia that I'm sorry I didn't get to see her, but we'll be back soon, and Salvador and I will spend time with her then.”

Salvador had no idea what Lupe was talking about. But Lupe was very upset. Sophia was Lupe's oldest sister and she was also Lupe's
nina.
meaning her godmother, and so Sophia and Lupe were very close, but still Sophia and her husband, Julian, hadn't come to Lupe's wedding. Sophia had sent their older children to Salvador and Lupe's wedding, but she and Julian hadn't come, because these were hard times and they hadn't thought that they had the proper clothes.

It had bothered Lupe tremendously, but she also hadn't dared to ask Salvador to buy them clothes—fully realizing that he'd already spent a fortune as it was. And besides, her sister Sophia was as stubborn as she was tiny and cute, and once she'd made up her mind, that they needed special clothes to come to Lupe's wedding, she just wouldn't change her mind.

“Of course,
mi hijita,
” Doña Guadalupe now said to her daughter, “please don't worry about your sister Sophia anymore. As soon as Victoriano gets another truck, things will be better for all of us again.”

“Excuse me,” said Don Victor to Salvador, “but while these women talk, I'd like to see you alone, Salvador.”

“But they need to be going,” said Doña Guadalupe anxiously. “You can talk to him some other time.”

“Look at her,” snapped Don Victor. “During your courtship, she'd steal you for three hours at a time—ruining your ears! But now I only wish to speak to you for a moment and she says no! Women, I swear, they're impossible! But what can we do? Pigs are only good for eating!”

Saying this, the old man put his long, thin arm about Salvador's thick, heavy shoulders and walked away with him. “Tell me,” he said, taking a little stone out of his pocket and rubbing it with his thumb and index finger, “do you remember me telling you about all the gold that's still left in the canyon where we came from in Mexico?”

“Yes,” said Salvador. “I remember well.”

“Well, see this little stone,” said the balding old man, “I picked it up on the trail when we were walking out of the canyon. Look, it's got color, and if you look close, you can see little spiderwebs of interlaced gold. In any other place, this stone would have been considered wonderful ore, but in our canyon, we had such a wealth of pure gold nuggets, that stones like this we just threw away.”

He laughed. “Look at it, look at it real closely. I'll tell you, all these years this little stone is what has given me the heart to go on.” He breathed. “My wife, she brought her wild lilies, but I, I brought this little stone, and whenever times get too hard for me to handle, I just take this little stone out of my pocket, and rub it between my thumb and fingers. I feel good when I rub this little stone!” He breathed again. “Salvador, it has always been my dream that before I die, I return to Mexico, and dig for gold again! And not for a rich Mexican or for an American company like last time, but for myself, this time! With my own two hands and arms! And I want you, Salvador, to come with me so we can dig deep into the Mother Earth and get rich together!”

“Sounds good to me,” said Salvador, seeing the old man's eyes aglow with fire.

“Really?” said the old man, surprised by his son-in-law's quick response. “You'll then go with me!?!”

“Sure, why not? Then we'll all be rich!” added Salvador, giving the old man exactly what it was that he wanted, fully realizing that the old man was really all talk, all bluff, just like he was in cards. But what the hell? We all had our dreams, and dreams were such an inexpensive gift to give, his mother always told him. And then, also, who knew? Miracles did happen. And dreams were to miracles like manure was to a plant, giving them each the power with which to grow.

Well, the joy, the
gusto
that now came into the old man's eyes, lit up his whole face. “Then it's settled!” he said with a sudden rush of newfound vitality. “And we'll take Victoriano, too, and then we'll all come back like kings! And I'll buy
frijoles
by the truckload, so this damn old lady won't be able to win them all from me even in a million years!”

Lupe's old father now laughed with
carcajadas,
pumping Salvador's hand up and down on the deal, and—in this moment of supreme joy and feeling of abundance—he handed Salvador the little stone that he'd held so dear for all these years!

“For you!” he said with tears coming to his old, wrinkled-up eyes. “That you will be a better man with my daughter than I was with my wife. For the truth is, Salvador, that I've never been
un hombre
much good at cards, or gambling, or even at life, itself. But you, oh, you are different than me, I can see it in your eyes, your clothes, your confidence. You are a man among men, a real
macho?'

And saying this, the tall, thin, old man hugged Salvador close, kissing him on his right cheek, then on his left. Salvador's eyes filled with tears, too, holding the little stone in his right hand. His own father—a powerful giant—had never shown him such love and honor! But still, taking this old man's little stone made Salvador feel a little bit uncomfortable.

“No,” said Salvador, “you keep the stone. It is yours, Don Victor.”

“Mine?” asked the old man. “You take our heart, the soul of our family, with the taking of our baby daughter, but now you don't accept this stone? Here, take it, Salvador, and rub it like this between your thumb and fingers when life gets tough. Please, I've been where you are going, and we men need our little stone, or else we never stop playing with our
tanates
,” he added, laughing.