Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [30]

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Chapter 30. Family Divided

1900 was the beginning of the century that saw the Texas oil boom explode. Millions of dollars would be made and millions would be lost. By 1897 the State’s first refinery had begun running. Its first oil was shipped in 1899. Some people made money, others lost everything. But the Jaudon and Rodrigo families would still be standing when the dust settled – some of them anyway.
    The body of Jésus Jaudon received a hero’s welcome in San Antonio. He had died on July 1, 1898, at the battle of San Juan Hill, along with 144 other men. The mayor and a large crowd were on hand at the station. Two black horses pulled the hearse and a riderless black horse trailed it with the boots in the stirrups facing backward.

    Behind the lone black horse walked James, Claude, José, Jésus’ widow, and his son. Behind them Rafael and Maria led the rest of the family. They walked the two miles to the San Antonio National Cemetery, where Jésus was laid to rest alongside other Texas heroes. A letter from Theodore Roosevelt was read aloud at the grave site. It spoke of Jésus’ brave charge up San Juan Hill and how he was the first one to reach the top. He had cast a long shadow indeed.
    Hundreds of well-wishers showed up at the ranch. Claude had rented three Pullman train cars, which had been pulled onto a sidetrack for family and guests to stay in. They all came to the ranch after the funeral. There were three bars, one inside and two out, and food trays in the house and around the outside.
    Claude invited Rafael, Ricardo, Claude, José, and Jésus’ son, Juan Martinez, to the study. Everybody was given drinks but Juan, who was too young. James stood and raised his glass. “We buried a Jaudon today, the first to be buried in the soil of Texas. My son was a true hero of Texas. Let us drink to his memory.”
    Ricardo raised his glass and said, “Here’s to Jésus, a true hero of Mexico.” He was this day drawing a line and making it clear that there were two families of Jaudons, not one.
    Upon hearing Ricardo’s tribute, James placed his full glass back on the desk. “You may not like it, but Jésus is a Jaudon, not a Garcia or a Rodrigo, and he was buried in a Texas grave, not a Mexican one.”
    Rafael interrupted them. “Please, not in front of the boy.”
    Claude told Rafael, “You might want to take the boy outside. I believe there’s some air that needs clearing.”
    Rafael guided Juan outside. Behind him, he heard Claude say, “Everybody in this room has benefitted from the Jaudon name. Even the ones who are not even Jaudons. Jésus could have stayed at home and made a good living, but it was his choice to go to war. It was a choice made by his Jaudon blood, not the Garcia or the Rodrigo blood. If he had waited for that to happen he would still be in Brownsville.”
    James took his seat and sipped his drink. This was something that was going to come to a head sooner or later, and it was better to get it out in the open now and over with.
    Ricardo was mad. “You arrogant bastard. My family raised Jésus. We loved him like he was our own brother. He married my sister, had a child that carries both families’ blood. Not that you or your father give a damn. This is the first time either of you has said his name since he was packed off to Mexico.”
    Claude made a move toward Ricardo, but James jumped to his feet and in a booming voice said, “That’s enough! This stops right now. You are both right. However, if there is any blame to be assigned for the treatment of Jésus, then right here on me is where to place it. You don’t have to love me, or even like me, but I am the head of this family. Ricardo, you’ve been like a son to me, and your father is the oldest and dearest friend I have ever had. We buried one of my sons today and while I can be blamed for neglecting his upbringing, I loved him all the same. And as long as I’m alive, no one in this family will raise a hand against another.”
    He came from around the desk and stood between Claude and Ricardo. “Now, you two shake hands.”
    They both held back until James shouted, “God damn it, I said shake hands. Do it now!”
    Like small kids who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing, the two men easied toward one another and shook hands. It was more a touching of hands, not a real handshake, but it was a step forward and James went back to his chair.”
    Everybody started for the door. James called out, “José, could you please hold back? I would like to speak to you.”
    Claude turned. “Should I stay also?”
    “No, I want some time with my son the doctor.”
    The door closed and James offered José the chair in front of the desk and then walked to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”
    “No, thank you, sir. I don’t drink.”
    James filled his own glass and came back to the chair next to José. “How were you going to toast your brother?”

    “I raised my glass; that was enough. Jésus knew I didn’t drink, he would have understood.”
    James took a small drink from his glass and smiled at José. “I never in my wildest dreams thought we’d have a doctor in the family. What made you take up medicine?”
    “It was just something about healing that drew me. The human body is a fascinating machine. I’ve seen people live through things that should have killed them and others die from a simple scratch. But to know that a person is alive and living a happy life because of your skills, that is a wonderful feeling.”
    James took another drink as he tried to see himself in José, but he couldn’t see it. José was cut from a different pattern than any of the others. “Have you ever thought about moving back to Texas?”
    José laughed. “Only during the cold winters, with the wind blowing off of Lake Michigan. It is a wind that will make the strongest person wish for a warmer climate.”
    “San Antonio could use a new hospital. I would be willing to make that happen if I could find the right man to run it.”
    José stood up. “I wish you hadn’t done that. I had hoped to leave here with a fond memory of you. But some things are just not for sale, and I’m one of them. Thank you for your hospitality, but there’s a midnight train leaving for Chicago, and my family and I had planned to be on it.”
    José turned and walked out of the room.
    James was finishing his drink as the door opened and Claude entered.
    “What the hell was all that about?”
    James got up and walked around his desk and took his seat. “I was taking a measurement of José as a man.”
    “And what did you find out?”
    James handed Claude his glass to pour him another whiskey and waited for him to come back to the desk. “He is head and shoulders above all of us.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    James leaned back and put his feet on the corner of his desk and stared at the ceiling. “It means he has morals that mean more to him than money. I can’t say that. Can you? Can Ricardo? Maybe Rafael can, but I have ridden the trail with him and he has morals only when it suits him. José is a moral man.”
    Claude sat in the chair across from James with his glass resting in his hands. “You tried to buy him, didn’t you? He turned you down, and for some reason you’re impressed by that.”
    James was still looking at the ceiling. “It wasn’t so much that he turned me down as it was what he turned down. I was going to build him a hospital. A whole big beautiful hospital all his own. And he walked away from it. He’s a doctor for God’s sake – what better prize is there than that?”

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers