Chapter 33

I was sitting in the kitchen of the Hotel Restaurant with Hector and Ramona the morning after Howard was arrested for showing his ass over in San Elizario. We were drinking coffee and kibitzing about how to heal the rift that was growing between El Paso’s Anglo and Mexican communities. During this time, as it was in my future, the rift was caused mainly by two things. The first was that many of the Mexican-Americans did not feel a need to assimilate; they continued to act as if Texas and New Mexico were still part of Mexico.

The second problem was the bigotry that people like Charles Howard brought with them when they settled in the El Paso area. To men like Howard, Chicanos were second class citizens and beneath their contempt. The actions of each group fueled the animosity of the other and reinforced their negative attitudes. I had no patience for either group.

We were talking about throwing some kind of community event that would bring everyone together like Independence Day, when Anna came into the kitchen. Anna was there to tell me she had arranged an appointment for me with Louis Cardis. Anna grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down with us. She filled me in on Cardis’ story between sips.

I was surprised as hell to learn that Cardis wasn’t even a Mexican. Actually, he was an Italian immigrant who had settled in the area about twenty years ago. Cardis had learned the language, married a Mexican girl and quickly became the most influential man in the Mexican community. He parlayed that influence into a stint as a member of the Texas House of Representatives. At one time, he and fellow Democrat Charles Howard were political allies. In his own way, Cardis was just as responsible for the split in the community as Howard.

I went to the stables, saddled Melosa and rode the three miles over to the center of San Elizario. Cardis was waiting for me, holding court with some of his cronies at Shultz’s General Store. He was sitting in a rocking chair near the front entrance when I walked in and introduced myself. We shook hands and he told me to grab a seat. The other fellows he’d been talking to drifted away as I sat down.

My conversation with Cardis was pretty much a waste of my time. The man was stubborn, egotistical and his hatred for Charles Howard blinded him to anything else. I did give him the idea of having Howard sign a document relinquishing his claim to the mineral rights for the salt flats, and he jumped at the idea of collecting a surety bond from Howard that would guarantee his word. However, Cardis vehemently resisted my suggestion that we work together to improve relations between Mexicans and Anglos. Cardis grudgingly allowed me to visit Judge Howard in the slammer.

The San Elizario jail still existed in my future. It was a historic site by then, but it had held prisoners until the 1940s. The jail had been built when San Elizario was the county seat of El Paso County. El Paso only became the county seat when Charles Howard’s machinations enticed the railroad to run through El Paso and bypass San Elizario. As soon as the rail line was complete, Howard convinced the County Commission to make El Paso the county seat.

The jail’s claim to fame was that it was the only jail Billy the Kid ever broke into, instead of out of. Billy came to San Elizario from Mesilla, New Mexico one night in the fall of 1876, posed as a Texas Ranger, and got his friend, Melquiades Segura, out of the jail.

Howard was just as obstinate as Cardis, I expected nothing less. Howard first started berating me for obtaining the warrant for his son’s arrest, and then he launched into a harangue about me being a dirty Mexican lover. I stood outside his cell and let him wind down. His vitriolic speech didn’t bother me at all. In fact, it almost made me feel sorry for him. When he ran out of invectives, I spoke for the first time.

“As an officer of the court, I thought the right thing to do would be to ride over here and try to get you out of this mess. After listening to you cuss me out for the last five minutes, I guess you don’t want any help from me.”

I had turned around and started for the door, when Howard called me back. In a normal situation, after the abuse he’d heaped on me, I would have kept walking. This wasn’t a normal situation, though, because I was trying to steer Howard toward the path history says he took. I turned back around.

“I haven’t even been told the charges against me, Counselor,” Howard said when I was facing him again.

It was a pleasure for me to recite the litany of charges Cardis had the constable slap Howard with. They included: inciting a riot, assault on a lawman, disorderly conduct, communicating a threat and the topper — mayhem. Howard was purple with rage when I wound down the list and told him the constable recommended no bail be set. I let him vent for a couple of minutes, then told him what Cardis’ conditions were for dropping the charges. The conditions set Howard off again. For a supposedly devout Baptist, the judge sure could swear. I left him to think about it, and told him I’d drop by tomorrow.

I had a late lunch with Belle and Connie, then held training for the women who would be working in the club. I wanted to try to emulate the level of service that I’d experienced at the Playboy Club in Las Vegas. The training did not go even the slightest as I had envisioned, as the women kept breaking out in laughter as I demonstrated the ‘Bunny Dip’ (where the waitress picks up or puts something on a table without leaning over, but by bending her knees to the side with her body erect) and the runway model walk. It took them about ten minutes to stop laughing, and all of two minutes to demonstrate that they could do both things flawlessly.

I gave the women a pep talk about staying informed on current events and perusing the books in the library anytime they wanted. After my little pep talk, I told them that I would personally inform every club member on how I expected the women to be treated. I had a zero tolerance policy toward any disrespect shown them. I told them that I wanted to know immediately if a member stepped out of line. I was serious as a heart attack about that too, any pawing, groping, or lewd language towards the women would get a member a warning; the second offense got him tossed out on his ass. My proclamation drew a round of applause, and earned me some serious hugs and kisses.

I then turned the class over to Belle, so she could start passing on some of her finishing school training to the women, and walked downstairs. I went to the restaurant to talk to Anna. I needed to fill her in on my visit to San Elizario, but mostly I just wanted to talk to her. For those few of you that haven’t figured it out by now, I seriously loved Anna Lopez. I loved her enough to let her go so she could maybe start a life with Joaquin. I was doing the noble thing, but it still sucked pond water.

As we sat talking, Anna gave me a look and reached over for my hand.

“What is the matter, Charro?” she asked me.

I leaned back in the chair with a sigh, as I thought about how to answer that. Since the truth had been serving me well since I dropped into this time, I told her how I felt.

“I love you Anna, and I miss spending time with you. I know it is selfish of me, but I think that I acted rashly by pushing you towards Joaquin,” I replied.

Anna’s eyes opened wide in surprise to that. Then her look softened and she squeezed my hand.

“I love you too, Tyler, but you and I cannot be. I am many years too old for you. It is best we keep things between us as they are. I care for Joaquin and he loves me, I must think about both of our futures, yours and mine, and do the right thing, no matter how I feel.”

Yeah, that’s what I figured. I nodded my head glumly and returned the conversation to events in San Elizario.

Thursday morning found me back in San Elizario, visiting first with Judge Howard and then with Louis Cardis. Another night in jail had changed Howard’s attitude considerably, because for much of the night, a very vocal group of Mexicans stood outside the jail, demanding that he be hung. Howard reluctantly agreed to Cardis’ terms, and told me who to see about his bail. It didn’t surprise me that William (Riverboat Bill) Braxton was first on the list.

I relayed Howard’s acceptance of the terms to Cardis, and headed back to El Paso. Dealing with those two slime balls sure left a bad taste in my mouth. It was just as distasteful having to visit the Longhorn Saloon and see Braxton. Braxton was furious that Howard was being held for what he considered ransom, but said he’d have the money by two that afternoon, and that he’d go with me to collect Howard.

After dealing with my third asshole in a row, I yearned for some sweeter company, so I ambled over to Rosa’s. Feleena was up and about now, so she came downstairs to greet me. I don’t know who in the cantina was the most shocked, when she stepped into my arms and planted a smoldering kiss on my lips. I found out later that I was the first man anyone there had ever seen her kiss. When she finally broke the kiss, she gave me a dazzling smile and led me over to a table. She sat me down and almost gave me a heart attack by hustling over to the coffee pot and pouring me a cup. She put the cup in front of me, sat down, scooted her chair close to me and grabbed my hand.

“I am so happy to see you,” she gushed.

I looked at her for a few seconds, trying to figure out if there had been some sort of reverse demonic possession. I mean this wasn’t the Feleena anyone in town knew. Even the other girls lounging around the cantina were gob-smacked. I told her I was happy to see her too, and asked how she was feeling.

“I feel very good, but I will feel even better when these bruises finish fading,” she said brightly.

We made a little more small talk before she stood up and asked if we could talk in private in her room. I agreed, and soon we were sitting side by side on her bed, her still holding tightly to my hand. The way Feleena was acting had me off balance since I’d walked into Rosa’s front door. She kept me that way by what she said next.