“Get into it.”
“When I went to Midland and drove to the ranch, I was arrested—by two Texas Rangers, by the way—and charged with trespassing. I was sentenced to ninety days in the county prison. When I was finally able to get a lawyer—I was employed on the county roads, clearing drainage ditches—he told me that an appeal of my jail sentence, much less an application to the courts to have you returned to me, would be a waste of effort.”
The Old Man is certainly capable of arranging that.
“The lawyer did tell me that he could have the sentence vacated on my promise to leave Texas and never return. So I accepted that offer and sought other legal counsel. When I arrived at the courthouse seeking an injunction to have you returned to me, I was rearrested by the Texas Rangers for parole violation, and returned to Midland to complete my sentence.”
“I never heard any of this.”
“I’m not surprised,” Frade said simply. “When I was released from jail, officials of the Immigration Service were waiting outside. My visa had been revoked on allegations that my morals were not up to the standards required of visitors to the United States. I was taken to El Paso, Texas, and escorted across the Mexican border.”
“Incredible!”
“In Mexico City, a firm of lawyers—I was assured they were the best around—informed me that my case was virtually hopeless. In order to petition a Federal Court for your return to me, I had to be physically in the United States. Otherwise—I remember the phrase well—I ‘had no legal status’ before the court. And I could not, of course, obtain another visa to enter the United States. Your grandfather hates with a great depth, Cletus. In a way, it’s admirable.”
“My mother was his only daughter,” Clete said softly.
“Yes, of course. In Buenos Aires, I consulted with our Foreign Ministry, who took the case to the Argentine Ambassador in Washington.” He shrugged, holding out his arms helplessly. “Little pressure could be brought to bear…especially now that several United States senators had already brought the case to the attention of the State Department. The senators were furious that an American child might be expatriated into the care of a father whose morals were…”
“Jesus H. Christ.”
“I considered having you taken—kidnapped. But I finally…Your aunt Martha loved you. I knew that. She would be a mother to you. I was alone. It would be better for you to be raised by Martha than by my sister, who has never been entirely sound mentally. Or by servants. So I quit, Cletus. Gave up.”
“All I can do is repeat that I knew nothing.”
“I was right about one thing. Jim and Martha raised you well.”
Very hesitantly, one of the maids entered.
“We do not wish to be disturbed,” Frade said softly.
“The Señora is here, mi Coronel. She asks to be received.”
“I will be a son of a bitch!” Frade exclaimed.
“The Señora?” Clete asked.
“She is the Carzino-Cormano
widow,” Frade explained. “She has an estancia nearby. Pushy woman. Comes here whenever she feels like it. Does not have the good manners to telephone to see if it would be convenient. I had hoped she would spare me today.” He turned to the maid. “Tell the Señora that we will join her shortly.”
The door opened again and a svelte woman in her fifties walked into the dining room. Her gray-flecked, luxuriant black hair was folded up under a hat with a veil; a double string of pearls hung from her neck; and a golden sunburst with diamond-chip decorations was pinned to the right breast of her black silk dress.
“I was planning to bring him by to meet you tomorrow,” Frade said.
“So you said,” she said. She looked around the room, and turned to the maid. “Clean up the mess on the floor, remove the whiskey, and bring champagne. I told Ramona to chill half a dozen bottles this morning.”
The maid hurried to obey her orders.
“I have not finished my drink,” Frade protested.
“Yes, you have,” she said. She walked to Clete. He rose to his feet as she put out her hand. “You are Cletus. I am Claudia de Carzino-Cormano. You may call me Claudia.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She turned to Frade. “There is much of his mother in him, but also much of you. Which may not be entirely a good thing.”
Three maids entered the room, one stooping to clean up the mess on the floor, the others carrying a silver wine cooler and a tray of glasses.