Chapter 13
Mrs. Opal let us know she was going to tidy up because there was a man coming to take a picture. I passed out some sweet tea to the men on the front porch, and then I sat down not too far from Mr. Villa. Get your nerve up, I told myself.
“So, Mr. Villa, how long are you planning to stay at the Hawkinses’ ranch?” I asked.
“Until the mules arrive tonight,” he answered. “Then we will go by train to Mexico and return to my people.”
“Well, I hope you have a safe trip,” I said positively.
He laughed. “You and your friend will be coming too.”
My skin crawled. I was pretty sure we were going not to Cancun to hang out at Carlos and Charlie’s Bar but to the poor towns Villa was so famous for defending. Transporter or not, there was no way I was going to Mexico with this criminal. Gertie and I would be leaving tonight, come hell or high water.
A buggy pulled by a raggedy-looking mule was coming up the lane, with a man in a bowler-style hat and a brown suit driving the poor thing. The buggy bounced along, slinging the occasional rock here and there. The Villistas drew their guns.
“It is OK, my compadres,” Pancho said. “It is just the picture man coming to take my photo.”
The man pulled the buggy up and stepped down, hauling out his camera equipment. Pancho Villa went down the steps and spoke to the man, telling him where to set up. The Villistas gathered in front of a large dogwood tree that stood in front of the house, offering a beautiful backdrop for the pictures. Its white flowers were gone, but pinkish-red fruit that looked like raspberries adorned the branches. The leaves were shades of purple, red, and yellow. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all the fuss Pancho Villa was making about standing in front of the tree when the pictures would be taken in black and white.
The man in the brown suit scurried about, moving men around until Pancho Villa was standing in the middle and his men flanked him on either side. A row of men stood behind him. The tallest were not put directly behind Mr. Villa but instead toward the end of the row and had to squat to make themselves look shorter. The camera guy ducked under a cover attached to the back of the camera. After poking his head out and then ducking back under several times, he held up a big stick with his uncovered right arm.
“On three,” the picture man said. “Uno, dos, tres.” The men mumbled, there was a flash of blinding light and a loud noise, and a poof of dust clouded the air. The picture was taken. All that work for one picture. I hoped it came out. I wouldn’t want to be the picture man if that picture turned out fuzzy.
One of the Mexican men brought Pancho’s horse around, and he mounted the black stallion. He took his rifle and held it against his chest. The little man got under the cover again. After about five minutes, whoosh, another picture was made.
Gertie and the Hawkinses stepped out onto the porch.
“Oh, this is just grand!” exclaimed Mrs. Opal as she went down the steps, dragging Slim by the hand.
“Orville, thank you so much for comin’ today,” Mrs. Opal said to the picture man as she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Girls, come over here by Orville and tell me if I look OK when he makes the picture,” Mrs. Opal said to Gertie and me.
“Stand over there in front of the house, Mrs. Opal,” the picture man instructed.
Mrs. Opal moved to stand on the porch steps. She turned to straighten Slim’s suit collar.
We did as told and watched as they prepared for their photo. Mrs. Opal looked prettier than before. She had put rouge on her cheeks and done her hair up under a cute little hat that had a peacock feather sticking out of it. Slim was wearing a blue suit and cowboy hat and had on his church shoes. I thought they made a nice-looking couple.
“One, two, three,” said the picture man and, poof, another blinding flash.
I heard Gertie gasp beside me, then she grabbed me as if she were going to faint.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried.
“I have that picture on the table beside my bed,” she stammered.
“What do you mean?”
“The picture Orville just took sits next to my bed at home.” Her voice was shaking, and a bead of sweat was forming on her upper lip. “I’m a Jezebel.”
“Are you telling me these are relatives?”
“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” she said, still holding on to me for support. They are my great-great-grandparents. Which means Johnny is my great-granddad.”
“You didn’t know he was your great-granddad?”
“No, Granny Azona’s first husband was a Hawkins, but I think he was a junior. He was her real dad, but my ma always referred to him as John, because he died of tuberculosis when my ma was a baby. Then Granny Azona married Pawpaw Norton, and he adopted my ma. She always called him Daddy but I am sure Johnny is the father of my granddad, John.” Gertie looked uncharacteristically pale.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “There are probably tons of people with the last name of Hawkins.”
“Pretty sure,” she mumbled. “After Granny married Pawpaw Norton, they had six more kids, so I guess it kinda got lost, but my ma always had that picture, and when she married stepdad number two, she gave it to me. I almost had relations with my great-granddad, just like Jezebel.”
“It doesn’t count if you didn’t know. Besides, all you did was kiss, no tongue, remember?”
“Well, there might have been a little tongue,” Gertie replied sheepishly.
Crap.
Several of the Mexican women had come to watch Pancho Villa get his picture taken. They were laughing and pretending to pose for a picture. It was starting to get loud. Johnny showed up and walked to stand next to his parents.
“Girls, get on over here.” Mrs. Opal’s voice rang out above the ruckus.
What now? I asked myself. How was I supposed to talk with Pancho Villa and get an escape route planned? Reluctantly, Gertie and I walked over to Mrs. Opal.
“OK, now you gals get on either side of me and Slim,” she commanded.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I started backing away.
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Opal screeched. “Get in the picture. These picture people don’t get around much, and Mr. Villa is payin’ fer us to get a picture. Now git!”
I stood next to Slim, and he put his skinny arm around me. Johnny moved in next to Gertie. I looked over at her, and she had the perfect smile frozen on her freckled face. She was in shock. Great, now I had a traumatized Gertie to deal with.
“It’s as if my two girls were still alive,” Mrs. Opal sniffed.
Slim placed his other arm around Opal. “Now, Ma, don’t get all sentimental. Your face will be blotchy in the photo.”
“Dad’s right, Ma, these are happy times!” Johnny wrapped an arm around Gertie’s back and gave her right buttocks a squeeze.
Poof!
After the picture-taking experience, we went into the house to finish the preparations for the feast. There was plenty of food. How could the Hawkinses afford to feed all these people? I mean, how much money could be made selling mules? I needed some answers before I was carted off to Mexico.