A Wild Story of Love and Betrayal

This is about my dear friend Carolina. I wrote it in my early blogging days. Five people read it, and so I apologize if you were one of the five and are seeing it again. I've edited it since then.  Carolina's already passed on, but I put it up again in honor of her birthday, which would have been today.

The hearty tunes of Flaco Jimenez's accordion pounded out of the jukebox in the little Mexican restaurant where we sat waiting. My husband and I had already gone through half of the chips and salsa. "Do you think they forgot?" he wondered aloud.

"No, no, they wouldn't have forgotten. Juan talked with me about this several times and was very certain they'd be here," I replied.

Juan was a colleague of mine. He knew of my love for storytelling. He told me about his grandmother, who was already 98.

"She's got some wonderful stories to tell, Shelly. If she's willing to talk to you, I don't think you'll regret it," he informed me.

Of course, I was intrigued, so we set up a time to meet at a local restaurant that was near a picturesque creek on the north side of town.

"It's one of Wuela's (Grandma's) favorite places," he explained.

As we waited I silently hoped she hadn't decided against it. Soon enough, the door opened. We strained to look, and finally Juan came through the door;  a tiny, regal woman on his arm. Her hair, though white, was sleek and wound in a tight braid that formed a bun on the back of her head. Less than 5 feet tall, she stood straight as a ramrod. She surveyed the diners with mild curiosity as she and Juan made their way to our table.

We rose to greet her and all were seated. After preliminary introductions, Wuela said, "My name is Carolina and I am 98 years old. My grandson tells me you are interested in my stories." (She communicated only in Spanish, but I am transcribing it here in English.)

We assured her we were and she settled back into her chair with a contented sigh.

"The story I am going to tell you now is one that has been dear to my heart since I first heard it when I was a little girl. Back in the early days of this town, close to the turn of the century, the Church saw fit to send a priest here to start a mission to minister to all the ranch workers.

"Father Diego was a handsome man, so charismatic and full of energy. In no time, the church here was thriving and the people did all they could to become involved. Father Diego was well loved, but he also had a little of the devil in his eye."

We hardly moved as she continued.

"One of the families was especially devoted to the church and to Father Diego. They did all they could to make his life easier and promote the work of the church. Their children were taught to revere the church and to obey what the priest told them. They had a lovely 18 year old daughter, Raquel. Father Diego had trouble attending to the needs of the parishioners and tending to his own needs, so they offered Raquel to him as a housekeeper who could keep him supplied with good meals and a clean home."

Raquel was innocent of the ways of men, but the devil in Father Diego's eye sparked to life when he saw how beautiful Raquel was. He whispered things to her she believed. In time, Raquel knew she was pregnant with Father Diego's child."

Carolina paused to take a sip of water.

"Raquel was scared to tell the Father, but she finally did. He was so angry that it frightened her. He quickly came up with a plan to send Raquel away to a convent in Mexico and then once the baby was born, to send it to an orphanage far away.

'Raquel was devastated. She knew now she'd been betrayed, and all the things Father Diego whispered in her ear when they were together were lies. She finally had no choice but to tell her parents. They were even more upset. Her father wanted to disown her, to send her away forever, but her mother prevailed and they decided to take the matter to the Lord in prayer. They refused to allow Raquel to go into a convent. People would just have to form their own opinions about the baby's paternity because they would not discuss it with anyone.

"It came time for the baby to be born and Raquel's mother and an elderly midwife were the only two present with Raquel. Raquel's father was out on the range with the other cow hands and wouldn't be back at home for weeks.

"Raquel was immediately enchanted by her baby's beauty and knew she could never allow her, with the tiny rosebud mouth and shiny black hair, to ever go into an orphanage.

"It wasn't long after the baby's birth when word got to Father Diego that his baby had been born. He saddled up his horse and set off at a gallop for Raquel's house, determined to take the baby away from her and save his reputation."

Carolina took a deep breath. Her still elegant hands stroked the water glass. She continued.

"One of Raquel's little brothers came running in to tell his sister and his mother that Father Diego was on the way on a fast horse.

"Raquel's mother bundled up Raquel and the baby and got them to the wagon. She slapped the horses sharply and they were off with a desperate speed.

"It was when they neared the creek that Raquel's mother saw how great an obstacle it would be. Raquel sat in the back, huddled with her baby, when her mother breathed a prayer and made a momentous decision. They would jump the creek in the wagon. By now, they could see the dust Father Diego's horse stirred as he drew closer.

"Raquel clutched the baby tightly to her chest as her mother slapped the horses hard. The team ran at breakneck speed toward the creek and the wagon tilted so wildly the three were in danger of being tipped out.

"Father Diego was so close now they could see even the angry expression on his face. Raquel held her breath as the horses leapt over the small creek, pulling the wagon with them. Her mother's whispered prayer became loud with thanks as they landed miraculously in one piece on the far side, still in the wagon. The horses were stunned by the impact and slowed. Raquel looked back.

Father Diego had reached the other side of the bank.

Carolina looked over at her grandson, as if for reassurance. "Go ahead, Wuela, it's OK to tell it."

"That creek is the very one you see outside this window, just around that bend," she pointed.

We craned our heads around to see it through the window.

"Father Diego laughed aloud with how easy his task was going to be with his powerful horse. He backed his horse up and then spurred him forward.

"Raquel knew in her heart of hearts they had no chance. She knew she was in the last few moments of ever cradling her precious one. Tears squeezed from her eyes at the sorrow of it.

"Father Diego jumped his horse over that little creek like it was nothing, but instead of landing securely on the other side, his horse's back foot slipped and they both toppled. The last sight Raquel had of the man who had been her lover was his shocked expression as he arced through the air and landed squarely on his head.

"Raquel's mother later told that she believed the priest was dead the moment he hit the ground. He was certainly dead by the time they climbed out of the wagon and walked tentatively back to him.

My own mind reeled.

"So they were safe? All three of them in the wagon?" My husband's eyes were wide as he asked.

Carolina nodded her head, a small smile on her face.

"What happened to the baby?" I pressed.

Carolina looked at us both square in the eye and paused a moment.

"They named her Carolina." She winked. "And she grew to live a long and fruitful life. "

Copyright 2012

A Time of Love and War

This is another story told to me by my elderly friend Carolina, whom I first wrote about here: A Wild Story of Love and Betrayal. She was a wealth of information before she passed away. I treasure her still.


Jose was born in the Tamaulipas state of Mexico. His mother died at his birth and his father turned his infant son over to neighbors to raise. Jose's green eyes set him apart from the other children. The family turned him into a little more than an indentured laborer, having him work long, hard days even before he started losing his baby teeth.


How he ended up in South Texas is a story that has been swallowed by time, but he did show up at a large ranch here looking for work. He was unsure of his age, but his scrawny frame and still growing legs must have made him about 15 or 16. 


What set Jose apart from the other workers was his cheery disposition and his keen mind. He was never cross, although his days were physically exhausting. He was intensely curious about all the world and even knew how to read and write, something most of the other hands had no knowledge of. The only thing he brought with him, other than the clothes on his back, was a small, gold crucifix that had been his mother's. He kept it close to his heart and never took it off.

The hard work and the steady, hearty meals served from the chuckwagon and the ranch kitchen soon filled him out into a muscular man.

In the evenings, after he'd put away the horses and cleaned up his small area in the bunkhouse, he'd take an old guitar someone had left behind, sit outside on the porch and strum while singing the corridos he remembered from Mexico.

He couldn't help but notice Carlota, a  shapely girl of 16 who was usually outside in the early evenings watching her younger siblings as they played near the bunkhouse area. Carlota was small in stature, but feisty in temperament. Her dark eyes simmered with a fire that burned just beneath the surface. He also caught her attention.

Jose had never had anyone to give his heart to, and now he gave it fully to Carlota. She loved him as he'd never had anyone love him before, with all the passion and flames she had inside her.

Soon, Jose and Carlota were betrothed. He dreamed of saving enough to buy land, small pieces at a time, and farming with some of the new, progressive methods he'd read of in the foreman's old Farm Journals. He and Carlota would marry and have many children with sparkling eyes.

In Europe, though, events rumbled that would forever change the destiny of not only Jose and Carlota, but of entire nations. The United States entered into World War I and Jose was one of the first to enlist from the ranch. He explained to Carlota that he wanted the world to be safe for the family they would have after they married.

Carlota's heart felt like it would shred into a million pieces from the agony that gouged her inside, but on the surface, she kept her emotions in check, so as not to worry Jose about her.

The night before he shipped out, they spent one last evening together, and Carlota shed the restraint with which she usually conducted herself. Jose promised her he'd come back, and they'd marry and begin their lives together. He also pressed into her hand his mother's gold crucifix, telling her it would be a part of him she would have until he returned. She refused it, although she desperately wanted to cling to it, because she said it would help to keep him safe. She added to the chain two small gold beads she was saving to make herself some earrings with for their wedding.

Carlota soon realized their night of love before Jose shipped out left her expecting a child. Her family was aghast, but she knew Jose would come home, they would be married, and all would be right again.

He'd only been in Europe a month when a fierce fight against the retreating Germans left many casualties. Mangled and burned bodies marred the battlefield and identification was difficult.

When the messenger came to the ranch that horrible day with the news Jose had been killed in battle, Carlota thought she could never recover. But, she had a baby in her womb to think about who was all that she had left of Jose, and she channeled all her energy into preparing for this baby's birth.

An older man, hunch backed and never married, came to Carlota's father and told him he'd marry Carlota and take the baby as his own. Her father never even consulted Carlota, just hustled her with her packed bag to the county office and to the priest for a quick marriage. Part of Carlota's heart died that day, but a small flame rekindled when her green eyed baby boy was born several months later. Her husband refused to let her name him Jose, so he went by his stepfather's name. More children were born to this couple, but only the oldest son had the striking green eyes that reminded Carlota of Jose every time she looked into them.

One afternoon, after Carlota's oldest son had reached the age of eight, he and his half brothers and sisters played outside near the old bunkhouse where Jose used to strum his corridos.


A stranger came walking near and the children noticed him immediately because of the burn scars on his face and his mangled leg that made walking a laborious and painful endeavor. The little ones were afraid of him, but the green eyed boy stood his ground as the stranger drew closer.

The stranger approached the children and spoke to them. His shoulders slumped. He pressed something into the green eyed boy's hand and made his way back down the road.

Later that evening, when Carlota's oldest son told her of meeting the stranger, Carlota's heart raced as he told her the man had green eyes, just like his, although the man's face was hideously scarred. He told her of how the man asked about who he was, and who his mother was, and about his family situation. Almost as an afterthought, he showed Carlota the little crucifix with two gold beads the stranger had pressed into his hand.

He did not understand why his mother then sank to her knees and wailed, something he'd never seen her do, and which frightened him. He also didn't understand why men on horses rode out that night to try and find the stranger, although they never did.

The green eyed stranger was never heard from again, and when Carlota died of a stroke several years later, whispering the name Jose, people wondered why she would still have someone in her heart who'd been gone for so long.

Her oldest son once again took possession of the small gold crucifix that fell from his mother's hand on her deathbed, and in time, told his own green eyed children and grandchildren the story of love and of battlefields in Europe.