That Night at the Palace (20 page)

So Cliff and Jesse would make a couple of deliveries in the morning without Jewel but sharing all profits as if she were along. They had been hoping for a chance to go out to Cherokee’s without Jewel from the start, but this was the first opportunity they’d had.

Cherokee was sitting on his porch wearing his cavalry hat, enjoying the cool of the morning as the two boys came bouncing along the lane in the old truck. He, like everyone in the area, had heard that they had the truck and stood to watch as they approached.

When they pulled to a stop, Cliff shut off the motor, but the old engine continued to rumble, sputter, and backfire for at least twenty seconds after they got out of the car and walked to the porch.

“Hi, Cherokee,” Cliff said cheerfully once the noisy old truck shut down.

“Some new sparkplugs might help that racket,” Cherokee offered as the two boys got to the porch.

“We’re plannin’ to get some if we ever pay off the tires,” Jesse replied.

“Come sit down boys. I got some tea made.”

The old man hobbled into the house and a moment later returned with a couple of Ball-Mason jars. He picked up a crock jug he had sitting in the shade on the porch and filled the two jars.

Jesse took a sip of tea from one of the glasses. “Wow, that’s cold.”

“An old Indian trick. I make the tea at night with cane sugar then lower the jug into the well before I go to bed. It cools overnight down there in that water, and by mornin’ it’s nice and cold.”

The old man settled in his rocker, “You boys sit-down,”

The two kids took seats, Jesse in the porch swing and Cliff in the opposite rocker.

The old man smiled at Cliff. “That was my wife’s chair. We spent twenty years rockin’ on this porch.”

“Where is she?”

“She went to be with the Lord almost five years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Cherokee,” Cliff replied.

“Don’t be, she was a good woman. She was a good army wife. She never once complained when I went off to chase Indians or fight the Spanish. She was, by far, the best part of my life.”

“Do you have any kids, Cherokee?” Jesse asked, wanting to change the subject.

The old man reached for a cane that he kept next to the door and stood. “My first son died at birth. My daughter died in the winter of ’85. But my other son, Romulus….” the old man stopped speaking and hobbled into the house. A moment later he came out with two velvet-covered cases. He handed them to Jesse.

“Romulus started out with the tenth cavalry like me but transferred to the ninety-third in 1917. They created two colored divisions, the ninety-second and ninety-third.”

Jesse opened one of the boxes. Inside was a medal with a green and red striped ribbon. The medal was a cross with crossed swords.

“That’s the Croix de Guerre. It’s the highest medal the French give to foreigners.”

Jesse handed the box to Cliff and then opened the second one.

“That’s the DSC, Distinguished Service Cross,” the old man said with obvious pride as he seated himself. “It’s the second highest honor given in the American army.”

The boys looked at the two medals and handed them back to Cherokee.

“Romulus was a captain in the three-hundred and seventy-second Regiment.” The man paused and took a sip of tea. He was killed in the assault on Champagne.”

The old man clutched the two boxes with his head down. Jesse couldn’t help but feel for the man who was so proud but had lost so much.

“Y’all seen any more of the Crawford man?”

“No,” Jesse replied. “We see him drive off almost every day. I think he goes up to Jacksonville.”

“I wish there was somethin’ we could do,” Cliff uttered.

“You’re doin’ it. Just keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything. I’ll do what needs to be done. I’ve chased down savages like Apaches and Comanches. Men like that one, they make mistakes. We just gotta be patient.”

#

Twenty minutes later Cliff and Jesse rumbled down Main Street in the old truck. This time Jesse was at the wheel. He pulled to a stop in front of the Palace just as Jewel and her mother Sarah came out of one of the stores. Jesse shut off the motor, but as usual it sputtered and backfired before shutting down.

Jewel walked over to the boys.

“Don’t be late for dinner,” Sarah said as her daughter walked away.

“I won’t, Mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Stoker,” the two boys said almost in unison.

“Hello, boys,” she said. “Y’all be careful, now.”

“We will.”

Jewel walked to the driver’s side where Jesse was still seated.

“Scoot.”

“What do you mean, ‘scoot’? You just got here.”

“It’s my turn. Now scoot over. You two have been drivin’ all morning. Now, it’s my turn.”

Cliff sat opposite Jesse, smiling broadly because it was Jesse and not him facing off with Jewel.

“I’ll just drive over to McMillan’s. You can drive then.”

Jewel put both hands on her hips and glared at Jesse.

“Are all girls as aggravatin’ as you?” Jesse asked as he slid over.

Jewel smiled and climbed up behind the wheel. “Pretty much all of us.”

Jewel started the motor and pulled out of the parking spot and drove up Main Street to McMillan’s store. As they drove by, Jesse noticed Peterson Crawford sitting on a wooden box in front of the domino hall staring down the street. Jesse looked behind him and saw Mrs. Stoker walking down the block. Jesse nudged Cliff, and they both looked at Crawford. As they passed, the truck backfired and Crawford took his gaze off Mrs. Stoker. He looked at the truck and noticed the two boys staring at him. He watched them as they drove away.

#

Sarah Stoker turned the corner on Elm Street to make the long walk home. She was just crossing Red Oak when a brown Plymouth sedan pulled up beside her.

“Hop in, Sarah. I’ll give you a ride home,” Peterson Crawford yelled out the passenger side window.

Startled, Sarah nervously looked around and then bent down to the open window. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, Sarah, relax. No one around here cares. And old Irwin’s off workin’ the fields somewhere. Hop in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m a married woman.”

“Oh, Sarah, there’s no reason to act like that. You and me are old friends, and besides, we both know what kind of woman you are.”

She looked around again, now showing real anger.

“Go away.”

“You got anything for me?” he asked with a broad smile.

“I told you before, we don’t have any money.”

He looked leeringly at her. “Well, Sarah, you’re gonna have to come up with somethin’, and I’m sure you’ve got somethin’ I’d like, unless you want everyone in Elza to know who and what you really are.”

She froze and stared at him as he opened his suit coat and revealed a Smith and Wesson .38 Police Special tucked into his trousers.

“Come on. Go for a ride with us,” she heard from behind.

Sarah swirled her head around to see Richard Crawford standing behind her. Startled, she tried to rush away, but he grabbed her arm.

“Come on, Sarah. Let’s go have a little fun,” Richard said with an evil grin that sounded more like an order than a request.

“You know, Rich, we could always wait a couple of years. That little blonde we saw in that old Ford will be lookin’ good before long,” Peterson added.

Sarah looked into the car at him. Her heart sank at the disgusting remark.

“Stay away from my daughter.”

“Get in the car, Sarah,” Peterson added, this time without a smile.

Dejected, Sarah watched as Richard opened the car door. She wanted to turn and run, but he still had hold of her arm. Finally she got into the Plymouth and slid over as Richard got in after her.

#

MAYDELLE, TEXAS

June 15, 1915

Juanita Burney had the look of a woman who had far exceeded her thirty-six years. Sometimes one ages from things other than years, as is often the case of women like Juanita. Life tended to be hard for an unmarried mother who operated a business. Still, she was an attractive woman with long black hair and a shapely figure, and of course she took great pains to wear the right amount of rouge.

Juanita lived in a little shack that had once been a henhouse behind the farm house. She preferred it that way. She could have easily made for herself a place inside the main house, but she didn’t want to raise Sarah in such an environment. Sarah, she hoped, would not have to age beyond her years. Sarah, she promised herself, would never set foot inside such a place as The Maydelle Tomato Farm.

In 1898, at age nineteen Juanita, then Juanita Carrillo, began working the counter at the Alamo Laundry and Cleaning service less than a block from the actual Alamo and almost directly across the street from the Menger Hotel in downtown San Antonio. Juanita had beautiful dark eyes and long black hair. She was a rarity in San Antonio. Her mother was white, and her father was a descendent of Mexican aristocracy. Though her grandfather had been in Texas since before 1800 and fought for Texas in the revolution of 1836, to the whites that she grew up with, Juanita was always a “Mexican.”

Her grandfather had done well after the revolution, and though it took some years he had managed to get much of his family’s fortune out of Mexico. He eventually purchased real estate in San Antonio. Over the years the city continued to grow, as did the Carrillo wealth.

Following her grandfather’s footsteps, her father invested heavily in real estate. He also opened and managed the Crockett Street Bank and Trust, the largest and most prestigious bank in town. All things considered, the Carrillo family owned, managed, or collected payment on about twelve percent of San Antonio, a sizable fortune at that time. They lived in one of the first and largest homes in the King William District.

Eduardo Carrillo was a hard man who expected much from his children, so, like her brothers before her, Juanita had to take a job as soon as she graduated from Ursuline Academy. Her father chose the Alamo Laundry and Cleaning Service for her because he saw investment potential in this new service and wanted his daughter to learn all about the laundry business. Eduardo did not want his daughter to become like the women of the social class that he saw almost daily having lunch in the restaurant of the Menger or lounging at the Polo Club. His daughter was going to understand the value of a dollar and would be as capable of managing a business as any man. So rather than watching polo ponies or playing tennis with her friends, Juanita learned the business of Laundry and Cleaning.

It had been all the news when the famous Teddy Roosevelt came to San Antonio to train his newly established volunteer cavalry, known as the Rough Riders. The river city buzzed with excitement. Juanita, like everyone else, hoped to catch a glimpse of the former Navy Secretary either at The Menger or possibly at the fairgrounds where they trained.

So Juanita was surprised that morning in April 1898 when Colonel Roosevelt walked into the Alamo Laundry and Cleaning Service to have his uniforms cleaned and pressed. In all honesty, had he not been in uniform and wearing his trademark glasses, she may not have recognized him at all. That was partly due to the fact that he was not nearly as tall as she would have expected, and he was considerably unassuming in his manner.

But the most important reason that she did not notice the Colonel, however, was the other man in uniform. This man, standing right behind the Colonel, was taller, with dark skin and a broad smile that she couldn’t help looking at.

Juanita Carrillo was in love. She knew it the moment she first glimpsed Captain Jamison Ernest Burney. She tried to keep from showing that she was stricken by the man, but she was certain that she had failed. In fact, she was so smitten that it was only after the Colonel handed her his laundry and she took down his name that she realized that she had one of the most famous men in America standing right in front of her.

As difficult as it was, Juanita managed to take the young Captain’s laundry also and write down his name without making a complete fool of herself. Up to the point when he was walking out the door, she had no clue that the handsome young Captain had paid any notice of her at all because she was so preoccupied with her own feelings.

She quite easily could have gone her entire life thinking that the Captain hadn’t even seen her had the Colonel not said, “I believe, my boy, that you are smitten. Don’t you think that you should invite the young lady to join us at the hotel for dinner?”

Captain Burney paused, looked at her, marched to the counter, and did just that. She was a bit amused that he seemed nervous. Naturally, of course, she agreed, but only if he would come to her home, meet her parents, and assure them that she would be home before ten. The captain agreed, and at precisely five o’clock that evening he knocked on the door of the house on Prince William Street.

Captain Burney, as it turned out, was not a boy that was easily intimidated. Most boys she met feared courting a girl from that part of town and feared courting her even more when they learned that her father was Eduardo Carrillo. Still, Carrillo was not in the least impressed with the young captain. But since the young man would only be in town a few weeks, and they would be dining at the Menger, where the Carrillo family was well known, Eduardo relented and allowed Burney to escort Juanita to dinner.

They dined in a private room in the hotel restaurant that had been reserved for Roosevelt and the other officers. Juanita was the only woman present, which made her the center of attention. Colonel Roosevelt saw to it that she was seated in between himself and Captain Burney. The night was one of the most memorable of her life. Colonel Roosevelt kept everyone entertained with stories of his adventures in North Dakota. Unfortunately, though fascinated by the exploits of the famous adventurer, Juanita was far more interested in learning about Captain Burney, whom the Colonel tended to refer to as Jay.

After dinner, which seemed to last for hours, the Colonel ordered all of the officers to their quarters. All the officers, except Captain Burney, who he suggested might enjoy taking Miss Carrillo for a walk down by the river. The captain escorted Juanita to a little coffee shop overlooking the San Antonio River just south of downtown where the two talked right up to until there was just enough time to get home before Eduardo called for the police. Over coffee she learned that he had graduated Harvard the same day that she graduated from Ursuline Academy. She also learned that he had received his commission because he was a family friend of the Colonel’s. It was highly unusual to be commissioned directly as a captain, but the Colonel had ways of pulling strings to get what he wanted. He continued to explain that he served as Roosevelt’s aide-de-camp. Juanita had no idea what any of that meant, but it made no difference. Juanita was in love, and she simply enjoyed the sound of his voice.