Look!” she shouted as I opened the screened door.
“I am looking,” I grumbled.
The man sitting across from her jumped to his feet and bobbed his head quickly in my direction. His smile was broad and full of darkly stained teeth. He clutched a tattered straw hat in his hands. His right index finger was wrapped with a dirty bandage, but his nails were clean and clipped and he had obviously made an effort to look presentable.
“Señor Rudolfo,” said Cassie as she smiled in the man’s direction. “This is my mother, Señora DeLeon.”
“Encantada, Señora,” he said. His voice was warm and mellow, with a surprisingly well-educated Mexican accent. “I am so pleased to meet the lovely mother of the young señorita.”
“Er, yeah,” I muttered suspiciously. “Encantada to you, too.”
Mother was seated at the wrought iron table presiding over a large tray laden with her next-to-best china and third best silver coffee pot. The little white dog had curled up comfortably in Cassie’s lap and gone to sleep. Rudolfo sat back down when I took a seat across from Mother and smiled broadly at the three of us.
“Cassie,” I began.
“Mr. Rudolfo has kindly offered to help us out for a while. Isn’t that marvelous, Paisley?” interrupted Mother, with a gracious smile in the man’s direction.
Rudolfo didn’t understand her words but knew he was being discussed. His smile broadened and his head began to bob up and down again.
I tried once more. “What about the…”
“And,” continued Mother, without missing a beat, “he has some friends who might be persuaded to join him.”
“I just bet he does,” I sneered.
“Aren’t we lucky?” she persisted. “We’ll have things cleaned up and back to normal in no time at all,” this with another smile in the man’s direction. “Will you pass Mr. Rudolfo his coffee, please Paisley?”
“But what about the dog?” I finally managed to ask.
“That’s why I asked you to pass the coffee,” she explained with exaggerated patience. “Cassie can’t get up or she’ll disturb poor dear little Aggie, and I…”
“Aggie?” I shouted, almost spilling the coffee in Rudolfo’s lap as I handed the cup to him.
The little white dog’s ears twitched as she squirmed in her sleep.
“Mom, please!” hissed Cassandra. “Don’t wake her up! She’s exhausted.”
I grabbed the cup Mother extended to me and sat down heavily in my chair.
“Where in the world did you find her?” I croaked. “And what happened to her? She looks like hell.”
“You would, too, if you’d been through what she has,” chastised Cassie.
“But she’s been shaved to the bone!” I protested.
“Señor Rudolfo said he had no choice. When he found her, she was filthy. Her hair was wet and muddy, and so matted that he had to cut it all off.” Cassie smiled down at the sleeping puppy. “I think she looks cute,” she insisted.
Rudolfo held the dainty china cup awkwardly in his injured hand and continued to smile benevolently as he drank his coffee.
“Did she bite him for his troubles?” I asked nodding at Rudolfo’s hand.
“No, dear” explained Mother. “Cassie says he was hurt during the tornado. I do hope he had someone look at it.”
Cassie turned and spoke rapidly to her new friend for a few moments. I tried to keep up with the conversation, but the Spanish she had learned in college was much better than the idioms I had learned on the streets of San Romero. I was lost in no time.
“No,” she finally said. “No money for doctors. And, get this! Doc Wallace won’t see the Mexican laborers even if they have the money. He says they carry too many diseases.”
I had never had much respect for Winston Wallace, but I was still amazed when I heard something else that reminded me of his abysmal stupidity. Even Mother, who still believed in the Easter Bunny, was taken aback.
“Cassie, surely you jest!” she laughed.
“Sorry, Gran. It’s the truth. And Señor Rudolfo says the doctor has passed this information along to the Rowan Springs City Park. They won’t let the Mexicans swim in the pool or picnic on the grounds. And several local restaurants have refused to serve them.”
“But, Cassie,” I argued, “that’s real discrimination. They can’t do that.”
Rudolfo was nodding his head vigorously. He seemed to understand the gist of the conversation.
“Si, Señora,” he said. “Es verdad.”
“Believe him, Mom. He’s a nice guy.”
“And rich,” I said sarcastically. “How much did you promise for the safe return of that scrawny little rat? Five hundred smackeroos buys a lot of smiles.”
Cassie was outraged. “That’s mean!” she cried. “And, yes, I did offer a reward; but he won’t accept it.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s right, Paisley, dear,” affirmed Mother. “I heard it with my own ears. I even understood a smattering of the conversation. That’s when I offered to let Mr. Rudolfo and his friends come and work for us.”
“You mean, you jumped on him like a duck on a June bug!” I laughed.
I was still suspicious of this short, dark stranger, but I was vastly relieved that I wouldn’t have to part with five hundred dollars to get back a mutt who had already cost me that much in doctor bills.
Cassie made me take Aggie from her lap so she could give Rudolfo a ride back home. She watched me like a hawk from the car as I carried the sleepy puppy onto the porch and placed her in her basket. I turned and smiled and waved them off, ignoring the distinct growl of canine displeasure coming from behind me. As soon as Cassie was down the driveway, her beloved pet summoned up enough energy to launch herself at my ankle and take a furtive but hearty nip.
“Damn it, dog!”
And thus, she reestablished herself as the alpha dog in our pack.
Chapter Ten
True to his word, Rudolfo returned early the next morning with a whole posse of his buddies. I was never exactly sure of the number of men who came with him because like ants at a picnic, they were all over the place. They appeared to be absolutely tireless—working through the day without taking breaks or lunch. They brought wicked-looking machetes that they used to strip the larger fallen trees of branches, and in turn to reduce those branches into huge piles of debris that they dumped into the dry pond bed.
By late afternoon they
