Authors: Dan Glover
William 'Billy' Ford grew up the only child of one of the wealthiest ranchers in Texas.
They raised thousands of cattle in some fields, grew tons of winter wheat in other fields, at least when they had rain, and for fun he and his father rode horses and hunted pop bottles and beer cans in the scrublands that dominated still other fields sometimes riding for miles and never leaving their land.
Billy was used to the finer things in life. His walk-in closets were stuffed full of expensive clothing some of which he'd never even worn and he had a different pair of hand made leather boots for every day of the month as well as a collection of cowboy hats that rivaled any store within a hundred miles.
He'd grown up roughly ordering others around, even the old men and pretty young girls who migrated to the farm each spring and each fall to help with the planting and the harvest, and he saw nothing wrong with it. Though his father often advised him that 'please' and 'thank you' went a long ways when it came to running the ranch Billy could see no reason why he should be required to mouth such pleasantries, especially to the hired help.
A ranch the size of theirs needed many hands to run it. Counted on to see to the milk cows each morning and each evening Billy made sure they were all fed and watered while informing his father if any of the livestock were sickly.
He rode a moderate sized white stallion that his father had given to him for his tenth birthday. A magnificent animal full of fire, when he rode high in the saddle Billy though how the two of them... he and the horse... were unequaled in all the Americas. He often hear his men murmuring among themselves when he rode by and Billy imagined they were all commenting on how well he rode and what a grand pair they made.
Billy loved his father. He often commented to himself how one day he'd make the man proud of him by enlarging the ranch until it encompassed the entire county... perhaps even the whole state of Texas... though he knew the latter was unlikely to happen and even the former would be a challenge.
His mother, a stately and a matronly woman, made many things known to Billy Ford not the least among them that she had married well below her station in life. She came from good stock: her father was a long time Senator from out east who'd ran for President of the United States not once but twice, and her mother was a well-known opera singer who toured Europe and Asia as well as all of North America.
Her given name was Lorraine Townsend and she often lamented to the boy how unlike her parents she'd never discovered what it was that she was supposed to do with her own life. She'd come to Texas while campaigning with her father for his first run at the Presidency and there she met Rancher Ford. The exact image of the West of which she had read so much about, he owned the biggest ranch in the state and when he asked her to marry him she said yes without thinking what it would cost her.
Looking at the picture albums Billy could see that his mother had never been what anyone would consider a pretty girl. She wore the finest clothes, spent a fortune on spa treatments designed to slim her body and beautify her skin, and had her hair styled by the same woman who styled the First Lady's hair, yet Lorraine still looked mannish even in her younger years and that appearance only grew more enhanced as she grew older.
She confided in her boy that though she'd been courted by a number of men during her teenage years those men were all twice and even three times her age and she hadn't been inclined to consider marriage to any of them despite her mother's entreaties to do so. By the time she had met Rancher Ford, she just turned thirty three years old and quietly realized her best years were behind her. The fact that her husband had been eight years her junior didn't figure into her decision.
As the marriage progressed Rancher Ford grew an eye for the women. He didn't try to hide his affliction from his son though with his wife he wrote a different story. There'd grown a bond of trust between father and son that clearly didn't exist between husband and wife.
The first time his father had enlightened Billy Ford to his predilection the boy had been seven years old. They'd ridden all day long and this time instead of keeping to the ranch his father had led Billy to a saloon in the town of Guthrie where he ordered a mug of cold beer for himself and a frosty glass of root beer for the boy.
A pretty lady standing behind the long elegant bar jumped to attention when Rancher Ford entered the saloon. Billy couldn’t help but notice the sparklers going off in the woman's eyes. He felt proud to be in such a grown up place especially alongside his father. Crawling up onto a barstool next to Rancher Ford, Billy had to use both hands to lift the enormous glass to his lips.
"Stay here a minute, partner... I have to see this pretty lady about something or another. If you start to run low on that root beer, Billy, order up another round. My tab's good here."
As his father reached over to wipe the root beer mustache from his upper lip Billy couldn’t help but notice how his attention was drawn to the woman behind the bar. She and his father seemed to be old friends even though it was the first time Billy had been introduced.
"So do tell, Rancher... this can't be your boy... he's way too handsome. Did you just stop and pick him up along the way to impress little old me? If you did, it worked."
The woman giggled and when his father walked behind the bar she twisted away from him as if putting on an act just for Billy... a show at how to play coy with someone not expecting it.
"Lori... this is my son Billy. Billy... meet Lori... she keeps this place honest for me. Now... don't worry if I'm gone longer than you expect, Billy. We have some unfinished business, don’t we, Lori?"
"We do indeed, Rancher, darling. Billy, it's so nice to finally meet you. In a few more years you're going to be a lady killer just like your father."
Just before they disappeared into the darkness behind the bar Billy saw his father take the pretty lady and twirl her in his arms and kiss her long and lusciously... not the kind of kiss that he gave to mother, either.
It was a kind of movie star kiss that Billy Ford had seen watching television late at night when he wasn't supposed to be but father allowed it anyway. The woman seemed to faint away right into father's arms as he picked her up and carried her away with her feet kicking ever so gently so as to open the saloon doors leading into the back room. Maybe that was what she meant by being a lady killer.
"I don't reckon we'll mention what happened today when we get home, Billy. What do you say, partner? Your mother won't take too kindly to me taking you into a place of ill repute like that."
Billy grunted the way he had heard his father do when he agreed with something despite his better judgment. He'd no idea what to say to mother anyway. Billy imagined she might well know all about the pretty woman in that saloon and she didn’t need him reminding her of it.
It turned out that father had lots of pretty women that he kept in his ever-growing stable. Rancher Ford seemed to enjoy showing them off to his son, a never ending parade of beauties who all commented upon Billy Ford's good looks and gentile manner and who all disappeared with father for an hour or so while he sat waiting patiently wherever he happened to be planted.
As Billy Ford grew older he began hearing rumors that Rancher Ford had other children with those women he loved meeting and that the places where those women lived actually belonged to him. At first Billy ignored the hateful talk telling himself it was nothing but envious townspeople gossiping about a man who was bigger than life and better than all of them put together.
Not long after the day Billy Ford met Church Gutiérrez he realized at least some of the rumors were true and that in fact the boy was his brother. He wasn’t sure how he knew it... it was sort of like the time he had gone to the barn to see about the unruly horses whinnying and stomping so loudly the whole ranch was upset by it but stopped short when he felt a presence there in the darkness. A rattle snake had slithered its way into the building and barefoot Billy Ford would've stepped right on top of it if he had proceeded instead of backtracking and putting on his boots.
Big John was picking on Church and it pissed Billy Ford off. But then again Big John picked on lots of little kids and it always made him angry but Billy had never stepped in to stop it before. He was actually a little afraid of Big John... the boy was twice his size though most of it was fat. There was something in Church's eyes though... a family kind of familiarity—he supposed later—that induced him to tell Big John in no uncertain terms that this boy wasn’t to be bullied.
He knew better than to invite the boy to visit the hacienda but he did anyway. Of course little Church Gutiérrez had turned him down saying that he wasn’t allowed—that his mother forbade him going there since it would upset her work—but Billy Ford insisted telling the boy he'd be by early on next Sunday afternoon with two horses upon which they'd both ride to the hacienda.
"Your mother doesn't work on Sundays, not until later anyway. Just tell her you're going riding with a friend. She doesn't need to know who it'll be."
Billy Ford had learned his lesson well from his father. Women were best kept in the dark when it came to manly things. What did it hurt that his father loved many women? A man like Rancher Ford couldn't be expected to remain true to just one wife, not when so many beauties beckoned.
Billy Ford rode out to the shanty early one Sunday morning with another pony in tow for Church to ride. Though the boy had suggested it might be better if he didn’t come, Billy figured the kid was just being polite in not wanting Billy to go out of his way.
He hadn’t counted on the aunt being there, however. He'd seen the pretty woman before but she'd never given him the evil eye like she did that day.
"What are you doing here?"
She said it in such a way that it seemed as if she recognized him from somewhere in the past or perhaps a future yet to be lived, as if she knew all about him and didn't approve of who and what he was.
Billy heard that an aunt lived with Church and his mother but he'd never met the woman. Now she seemed infuriated with him though he had no idea why. His horse pranced beneath him like a wild bull as if it too felt unsettled by the presence of the witch.
It took him a long moment to find his tongue. When he finally spoke, however, his voice quavered like a frightened child's and he felt ashamed.
"I'm looking for Church... is he around?"
"If he was I wouldn’t tell you... now get out of here."
"But..."
He had started to argue when she turned her back on him. Suddenly, though, and unexpectedly, she spun around to face him with something like doom shining in her one eye... the one covered with a black patch yet not quite enough to keep what was lurking under it from escaping into the light of the world.
The look nearly knocked him off his horse which was apparently so flustered by the young woman's gaze that it ran on him despite his pulling up on the reins and wouldn't stop until they were a mile away from the decrepit chabola where the boy lived and both horses were winded and lathered and nearly ruined.
Billy Ford hated not keeping his word to Church yet at the same time he didn’t have the courage to confront the aunt again, at least not on that day. He'd say something to the boy when they rode to school on the bus and perhaps between the two of them they could confound the witch.
Though she loved her, Yani didn't like the woman she called sister.
All her feelings for Evalena were based upon a contradiction. The girl claimed to be her sister—but for the eye patch they looked so much alike they could've been twins—yet at the same time Yani sensed a deep gulf between herself and Evalena that only widened with time and deepened with grief.
For years she both looked forward to and dreaded the thought of her showing up again at the chabola looking for a handout and a place to stay and one night it finally happened. Evalena's coming to them marked the end of the idyllic if poverty-stricken existence she'd been leading with her son Church and ushered them all into a maelstrom of wealth and hate that Yani always knew awaited.
She'd been born into an island paradise though her mother had always been as much a mystery as the world in those days. With Evalena always there, however, watching over her, guiding her, and instilling dark thoughts to which she'd rather not be privy she had come of age like all the island girls.
Why did she ever think she could hide from her destiny?
When Rancher Ford asked her to stay on at the Triple Six hacienda, she saw the way he looked at her. She knew he wanted more than his house cleaned and dirty dishes washed. Yet Yani consented hoping that her presence there would go undetected by the forces in her life seeking to use her in unspeakable ways. What Rancher Ford did to her was nothing compared to that.
The man who claimed to be her father wasn’t even related to her. It was a harsh realization to know that the person who she'd loved all her life was no more than a charlatan and a crook, and worse, a would-be Satanist who had doubtlessly promised Yani to the Cuban cult in which he worshipped.
She learned of the plot on her fifteenth birthday... her quinceañera was supposed to be a special day and it was... only not in the way she'd dreamed. She remembered dancing with him... with Hajdani, the man who she once knew as her father... and how happy she'd been at the celebration he and Evalena had planned just for her.
Cuba was a paradise in those days... the revolution but a rumor from the hills, they lived in a house not far from the white sand beaches that abounded with mamey and palm trees even growing in their front yard and sounds of the surf lulled her to sleep each night.
She began to feel strange not long after drinking a cup of sweet purple punch her father brought to her after their dance. Yani loved dancing and often lost herself in the melody only coming to when the song stopped, dripping with perspiration and dizzy from whirling in circles. The drink had an unpleasant aftertaste which made her wonder if someone had inadvertently used fruit in the making that had gone bad.
After downing the drink she felt so sleepy that she excused herself to go lie down in her bedroom... perhaps the punch was spiked with a bit of alcohol. She seemed to remember a secret smile on her father's face as he handed her the cup but she'd put it off to it being her special day and how proud of her he seemed.
As soon as she shut her eyes she had the strangest dream. All different sorts of animals were gathered around her bed. The giraffe stared down at her from the ceiling humming a familiar tune while a hyena kept laughing at something none of the others seemed to find funny though the hippopotamus in the corner gave out with a guffaw every now and again.
Suddenly she was no longer in her bed. The animals had evaporated and she was lying upon the beach under the warm Cuban sun but instead of waves of water lapping at her feet, the sand seemed alive as it looped and curled about her caressing her as a lover might, touching her in places no one had ever done before.
A gust of wind came up blowing in dark tremulous clouds that covered the sun... a typical tropical rain storm that occurred with regularity on the island though this one turned the air cold like frost. When the rain began, instead of water writhing red lice fell out of the sky covering her now naked body and burrowing into her tender flesh like a thousand angry ants.
Screaming herself awake she was still dressed and in her bed and through the closed door she could hear music and people in the living room outside her door talking and laughing. It had grown dark out while she slept and she had a throbbing headache right behind her eyes and she itched all over from having fallen asleep in the dress damp with sweat from her dancing
Going to the bathroom to shower, after she undressed and happened to glance into the full length mirror on the back of the door she gasped... her body was covered from shoulders to feet in tiny red marks that looked like stings from an insect and some kind of gritty material clung to the folds of her skin where it left welts.
A sudden realization came over her that it had been no dream... those animals had done something to her while she was incapacitated from the punch. But that was just a silly dream. Or was it? Perhaps her father had drugged her with spiked punch... but why? Why would her father who she loved above all others suddenly do such a despicable thing?
Stepping into the shower to hurriedly wash the itchy grit from her body Yani began to recollect the man's many strange ways which she had heretofore put off to eccentricities that ran in his blood. He once told her how he had been born into one of the wealthiest families in Cuba who owned vast sugar cane estates as well as warehouses and ships and mansions in every port.
There was no reason not to believe him. Still, it seemed odd at times how he'd never introduced her to any of his family. She simply assumed her grandparents were dead and her mother? No mention of that woman had ever reached Yani's ears.
Growing up she'd never wanted for anything. While most of the island was a backwater her tiny family had luxuries the likes of which other families could only dream of, like running water and electricity provided by a special generator father had imported from the Americas.
Other than Evalena and her father, she spent her time alone. As a small child Yani recalled an elderly nanny who took care of her and who never failed to cross herself the second she walked into the nursery.
Josephine was rumored to be from Africa... one of the many slaves who'd been recruited to work the cane fields. Of course everyone said slavery had been abolished long before Josephine's time but had it really?
The old woman never talked about herself to Yani... what the girl gleaned about Josephine's past came through the gossip among the other household help... father kept many servants in those days and the large house by the sea was always full of guests and bustling with activity.
Though an older woman—she first arrived when Yani was three years old—Josephine seemed vibrant and alert and full of strength equal to that of someone twenty years younger. She often sang Yani to sleep and though the girl couldn't understand the words of the lullabies—more of a humming than a song proper—she dreamed of far away lands full of green jungles and a multitude of wild animals all living in a sort of harmony.
By the time Yani was seven years old Josephine had become a wraith of her former self. Her clothes hung off her sallow frame as if she wore a tent and she moved about the house with trembling motions in her limbs and a frightened look in her far away eyes. The change had been so slow that Yani didn't mark it at the time. Only in looking back did she realized how drawn and haggard Josephine had become in only a few short years while working for Hajdani.
At the same time her father still appeared to be a young man not much older than twenty though Evalena who was said to be his oldest daughter seemed nearly that age too. Yani remembered her as a tiny and compact girl who danced as if the devil possessed her and who clung to their father in a way not comporting to custom.
Yani had left Cuba that night.
Going to the harbor she'd stowed away upon what she knew to be one of her father's ships bound to the Americas telling no one of her plans. She hadn’t any idea what port the ship was heading for but when she overheard some of the sailors on board saying they were anchored off the coast of Mexico she lowered herself into the warm waters and swam ashore.
Wandering into the interior of the country she made a life for herself in a little village called Angangueo where the people welcomed her as one of their own. Though they spoke the same language hers was more manic both in flavor and texture and it took Yani many years to learn to slow down both her mouth and her ears.
Apparently blessed with the same age-defying body as was her father and her sister, though she lived in Angangueo for four decades or more she still looked like a teenager and she began to hear how the villagers gossiped and see how they crossed themselves whenever they were in her presence. Finally despite wanting to stay Yani decided she had to leave or risk misadventure at the hands of the village elders.
Traveling north she blended in with other migrant workers who perpetually crossed the Rio Grande to work in the fields of the western part of the United States in the spring, summer, and fall and to return to Mexico in the winter, much like her beloved orange and black butterflies who did the same each year.
Unlike those butterflies, she left and never again returned to that beautiful little valley deep in the heart of Mexico.