While I was visiting my grandparents in San Carajulin, my gramps said, Hector, lets go visit your aunt Ema.
Auntie Ema was the oldest of his living children, and that was only because the first was stillborn, and his name was Mario.
I thought wed be going straight south on Xicotencatl Street cuz thats the way wed always go when Dad took us on the car, but instead, we turned right on the first corner and then left on the next one.
Im pretty sure some of you have heard of the Big Bend and that the name refers to the biggest of the two bends that the Rio Grande makes after turning east just before it reaches El Paso and continues its way to the Gulf of Mexico. Im also pretty sure that if, by chance, youve ever paid any attention to a map of the area, you didnt bother to notice that Eagle Pass, Texas, and San Carajulin Bendito, Coahuila, are almost in the middle of the smaller bend, which means that at this point, Eagle Pass is not on the north side of the river, just like San Carajulin is not on the south of it but kinda the southeast side, which prompted the city fathers to decree that the streets running parallel to the river would be divided as north and south.
Returning to our walk to auntie Emas, when we arrived to the next north corner, Grandpa stopped, took out the crumpled handkerchief out of his back pocket, and wiped his sweating forehead. I had never seen him perspire before, not even when he was chopping wood with his huge one-blade axe, so I asked, Tired, Grandpa?
The owner of that house stole your inheritance from me, son. Dont ever forget that house. And no, Im not tired. Remember this: Theres no trot that lasts nor pace that tires. I may be carrying seventy-eight years with every step I take, but I can still outlast any city slicker no matter how much younger than me he is. He had pointed to the house right across from us.
We continued on our way, and dont ask me how or when we got to Aunties house, because the only other thing I remember of that trip is what he told me next.
Do you know the old house next to my sister Hilas house?
Yes, Gramps.
Well, that house has been abandoned for many years, and people say Pancho Villa buried his treasure there, but its not true.
I knew it. Ive slept many times in the room next to it, and Ive never heard any ghosts, like everybody says! I must acknowledge that I was kind of sad it wasnt true.
I looked for the treasure for many years and didnt find it, but that man did find it.
By the way he said it, I felt that he was stating a fact and not externalizing his hate for the man in his unforgettable house.
After the revolution, my brother Pedro became governor of Nuevo Leon and Coahuila, and he named me health chief in San Carajulin, and thats when we moved here. That means we were living in that house throughout the revolution, which means that the house was never empty long enough for Villa to bury his treasure there.
Has your father or older brother taught you how to cross a street?
No, I learned on my own.
Show me.
I stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, looked for cars in all four directions, grabbed his hand closest to me, and started to cross.
Hector, Im old, but you dont need to hold my hand to cross the street.
But I need to hold yours because this is the first time I cross the street on my own.
I didnt let go of his hand, and he didnt let go of mine. Instead, he continued.
But none of that means there wasnt a treasure buried in that house. And you know how I know?
No, Gramps.
Because every time wed go back, there was a very strong smell of sulfur and old gold releases that smell. And what really convinced me is that, all of a sudden, that man showed up in San Carajulian without giving us notice, and people say he paid cash for that house and sent all his children to school in Monterrey or Mexico City, when he could barely afford to eat while he was renting the house from us. All they had to eat was what they grew in the backyard and the eggs from the two or three chickens they had.
After a short pause, he continued, His only income came from the goats he tended for me, and he hasnt worked since he moved to San Cara.
He never mentioned the name of that man, and I never saw him though I walked or rode past it many times.
Besides, when I went to check the old house, all the walls and floors were full of holes, and the smell of sulfur was gone.
And you never smelled the sulfur while you lived there?
Never. The gold mustve been buried after we moved out and before he moved in.
So, who wouldve buried it there, then?
Ive given that a lot of thought. Before I married your grandma, I was a forest ranger, which meant I spent days away, but your aunt Hila would always stay behind, so I think it must have been after we moved out.
Okay, but who wouldve buried it?
My guess is that it had to be some scoundrel. And believe me, there were a lot of them around that time.
When his parents died, my grandfather, Don Jos Martinez Perez, assumed the responsibility of raising his younger siblings, Anacleto, Pedro, Heraclio, Tomas, and Hilaria, the youngest. He quit school, having finished only the second grade.
All the boys went on to finish their studies in Mexico City. Pedro went to the Military Medical Academy at the hospital of San Lucas and the rest to Chapultepec, Mexicos version of West Point. Hila stayed in Guerrero, and my grandfather remained in charge of the familys properties, and for some time, he was employed as a ranger whose main responsibility was to guard the towns cattle from American rustlers who would steal Mexican cattle, herd them across the river, and sell them to people taking them to Dodge City via the Chisum Trail. Often, this job would force him to spend days and sometimes even weeks away from home.
His personal and professional responsibilities left him little free time, and when the opportunity presented or hygiene demanded it, hed take one of his horses, and if there was ample light left in the day, hed invite also Pichiquil, a black mutt with bad manners and few friends.
It was during one of these days that he invited both: Time for a bath boys. Hila, Im off to La Piedrera. Taking Pichiquil. Its still early. That okay?
I am not sure what day of the week it was, but Im certain it wasnt Tuesday, because Tuesdays were ladies day, and beware of the man that showed up at La Piedrera, from whose falls people would dive into the small lagoon below before turning into El Palo Blanco, which itself was used by those not old enough to swim and by those who brought soap.
Sure, dont worry, just dont take the shotgun.
Thats yours. I never touch it. Where did you leave it?
Handy, always handy.
If it gets late, lock everything and dont open for anybody.
Stop worrying, brother, and get out of here. And dont forget the soap. Your smell is enough to wake the dead.
I didnt find the soap, so Im taking the bleach.
You didnt find it cuz I hid it. You smell worse than an Indian, so the bleach is what you need. If you wait, Ill find it for you.
