The Wrong Side of the Blanket

By Jennie Gilbert Ross

Manuel considers himself the wealthiest boy in all of Mexico. He freely roams the countryside with his faithful dogs. He hunts, fishes, and basks in the fresh air. However, hes the son of a peasant woman who is deeply in love with Manuels father, a wealthy Mexican land owner. Because of their class differences, the relationship between his parents is forbidden.

Manuels birthright is kept secret until his mothers death. On her deathbed, she reveals his fathers identity and makes him promise to go live with him. Manuel discovers he has two sisters as well as a brother whom would have been the heir to the family fortune if he hadnt died being overworked by the father. Manuel learns that because of his strength and character, his father sought him to carry on the family name.

From Mexico to Spain and back to Mexico, Manuel faces many trials and tribulations and experiences a host of life lessons. Manuel promised his mother he would live with his father, but he wonders how long he can survive with a man who is bent on breaking him. Encompassing romance, adventure, intrigue, and family drama, The Wrong Side of the Blanket tells Manuels rags-to-riches story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781480841369

Jennie Gilbert Ross

Jennie Gilbert Ross attended the University of Texas. She’s written the lyrics to more than ninety country western songs, has written several mysteries, scores of children’s books, and a lot of poetry. Ross lives on seven acres in Nevada with her husband, two dogs, and two horses.

Book preview

PART 1

Chapter 1

Manuel’s straight black hair glistened in Mexico’s hot sun; it hung silently over the collar of his white cotton shirt. His bare feet dug into the warm brown dirt. Thrust between his light baggy pant legs was a crooked stick that served as his horse. Around his wrist was looped a rope used as a quirt to ensure command over his mount. He did not realize he was copying his idol, a man who frequently visited his mamá. With each of the man’s visits, the child sensed more of his importance.

His mamá would wait at the doorway of their small casa, her bright eyes glistening. The boy was too young to give any thought to what went on behind the closed door, but he’d stand back and watch as the stranger departed. The man’s black eyes were alert and snapped when he ordered his caballo to be brought to him. As he swung onto the silver saddle, the black stallion’s hooves pounded the dirt road and echoed throughout the peaceful countryside. He sat erect, his back ramrod straight, while his muscled legs provided the perfect balance as he and the animal became one.

It confused Manuel to hear his mamá cry. Her fragile body shook, and tears streamed across her face as she tossed and turned on the old iron bed. Only moments before, the small room had rung with laughter and shared secrets between the young woman and her lover. His arrival had filled her with happiness, but when he left, she was engulfed by loneliness. The boy stood beside the bed, offering small condolences. He patted her arm as he urged her to wipe away her tears, unsure of what to do. Sometimes he’d wish the stranger would stay away. He knew, however, his mamá watched the road and listened for the familiar hoofbeats of the caballo as eagerly as he.

Hijo … hijo, called his mamá’s soft voice. To the five-year-old, she was the goddess of his universe. Compared to her beauty, her charm, and her tenderness, Manuel felt the whole world paled in comparison. She was his sun. She was his star. The child was sure all nature revolved around her. He ran to her, forgetting his stick caballo and his thoughts—everything but his love for her. His little brown legs churned with speed, and his straw sombrero flopped in the breeze, following him by the simple cordon tied around his neck.

With outstretched arms, she swept him close to her and swung him around and around in the air. She wiped her tears away, and they laughed and laughed, complete in each other’s happiness. She set her son down and smoothed her long black hair tied with a red bow behind her oval face. Her large brown eyes filled with expression that Manuel had inherited. Deft fingers straightened her long rose-colored skirt as she readjusted her blouse. Manuel had never seen his mamá untidy, and she had never allowed her son to be slovenly or unclean. Sometimes her words made little or no sense to him, but it was enough to know she expected only the best from him.

He looked into her face as his small hand soberly examined his hatband and removed a wildflower he had picked for her. For you, Mamá, he said almost humbly.

¡Bello! she cried. What lady in all Mexico has such a noble son? Now I’ve chores to do. Come and watch.

Manuel reached down to pick up the clay pitcher his mamá had placed on the ground.

No, Manuel. Chores are not meant for the likes of you. She noticed the child’s puzzled expression and gently retracted her words. Of course you shall help me. You did a man’s job penning the goat. Now mamá will milk.

Chapter 2

Manuel considered himself the wealthiest boy in all of Mexico. As time went on, his daylight hours were spent roaming throughout the countryside, followed by his faithful dogs. He hunted, fished, and basked in the fresh air. The boy developed self-reliance and skills that could not be bought by a paid tutor. He was a child of nature—fearless, frank, and free. The hours spent outdoors made his body strong and his eyesight keen. Brown, taut muscles rippled under his garments. His mamá teased that he was growing faster than any weed she had ever seen.

If you keep growing, how in the world can I keep you in clothing? she asked lovingly.

He’d look at her, smile, and flex his muscles contentedly. After dinner, she would get out a slate and a piece of chalk and begin teaching him letters and numbers like the sisters from the convent had taught her before she left her village. When he saw how much it pleased her, Manuel became an eager student. Soon, he surpassed all that she was able to teach him, and it became apparent he needed more schooling than she was able to provide.

When she had first left her village to ride away with the stranger, her father had warned her that he would no longer consider her his daughter and that she would not be welcome on his land. She wondered if that would also apply to her son. Her father was a tough man, but he was also honest and God-fearing. The loss of his favorite daughter had been almost more than he could bear. Still, he had given fair warning, and she had made her choice. Now she needed to make a trip to the village to speak to her mamá and sister to find out if his feelings remained unchanged. It was imperative to seek more schooling for the lad. It was the first time she was aware of how her leaving must have affected her dear papá, and she hung her head in shame. He’d tried his best to warn her that no matter what kind of life the stranger provided, he would never make an honest woman out of her. The vows of wedlock would not be attainable. She was just a peasant girl, and nobility would not accept her as their own.

Best stay in the village and find a young man who will respect you for who you are, my lovely child. Do not look above the station in life where the good Lord placed you. Find a village man who will proudly take you to the altar, her father had advised, for he had realized that love was not enough to bridge the chasm of society.

Anna inwardly sighed. She now saw that her papá had indeed been wise. He had only wanted what was best for her, but she had been too young and foolish to listen or understand. The stranger’s visits became less frequent. Just as his memory began to fade, he would again reappear. One such appearance brought a new awareness into Manuel’s life that tarnished all glamour he had ever felt about the man.

The boy was standing near the casa when the caballo and rider seemed to appear from nowhere. Without so much as a glance at Manuel, he ordered, "Chico, take my caballo!"

If the words had not been sufficient to stir rancor in the boy’s veins, the insult of a coin slung carelessly at him was. Manuel reached down, quickly picked up the piece of silver, and—with deliberate aim—flung it into the stranger’s forehead.

It was not the pain but the audacity of the peasant boy that startled the man. He turned to look at the determined face to find he was gazing at a much younger replica of himself. The eyes were a carbon copy of Anna’s, but the firm chin, high cheekbones, and aquiline nose could have been sculpted from his features. The stranger shook his head in wonderment as he walked into the adobe structure to greet Anna. It was not his usual visit, however, for there was now more on his mind than the solace of her bed.

Manuel knew nothing of the conversation that passed between the two. It was enough for Anna to know that her son would have his chance. It was agreed that it would be wise not to rush the boy. Given time, he could be brought around, and time was on their side. However, puzzling questions began to concern Manuel.

One time, he took a walk to where the stranger lived. He did not dream such a place existed. It seemed a complete city. There were training stables that contained more caballos than he had thought were in the entire world. Workers were doing many different chores, but what interested him most were the family quarters. It was a building beyond his wildest imagination. Three children played on lush grass. Near them sat a woman, not nearly as beautiful as his mamá. She was draped in costly silks and laces. Instinct told him that she was the señora of the mansion.

A pale young boy, exhausted from tumbling, got up and sat down beside her. He looked as though he had no strength at all, and his weakness caused Manuel to glance with pride at his own firm, well-shaped body. Two girls played as the vacant-eyed boy watched. At his age, girls did not interest Manuel. His mamá was the only woman with whom he was familiar, and he felt her love was enough.

She is my steadfast friend and teacher; no other woman could equal her, he thought. Still, in order to give her the things she deserved, he thought a girl might be the key. These must be children of the stranger and might prove very useful.

He stood up, brushed the red dirt from his pants, and threw back his head in laughter. He wondered what the stranger would think if one of his blood kin became involved with … he stopped suddenly. Anna was his mamá, and he could not ask for better. His eyes searched the ground in shame. His mamá would scold him for such thoughts, for it was beneath her dignity to desire anything not rightfully hers. She had intense pride in who she was, and she would never envy someone else. He whistled softly, and then he started for his home at a jogging pace, trying hard to erase the idea from his mind.

Chapter 3

As the summer of Manuel’s twelfth year gave way to autumn, the change of the seasons had also brought a change in his mamá. At first, she had tried to hide it from him, but Manuel was too astute. He’d found her clinging to a fence post and vomiting. Her rosy cheeks paled, and her bright eyes became glossy. The young man said nothing, but he no longer spent time roaming the countryside. Instead, he stayed as close to Anna as possible, trying desperately not to arouse her suspicion. In the evenings, she would watch him do his numbers or listen to all the make-believe stories he’d tell of his day. In all actuality, he spent his time hovered close to her bedroom window with his head bowed in prayer.

Each week brought a more recognizable change in the mamá he adored. Her waist had expanded until she could no longer wear her bright skirts; she wore blocky dresses instead. This was not his mamá. She was never cross, however. She noticed his concerns and tried to put his mind at ease and lay all worry aside, but it was useless. Anna knew in her heart that she must do what was best for her son.

It was late in the day when Anna called Manuel to her. She sat in her rocker as he knelt beside her. She paused, not knowing where to start, for she had never told him about her background or family. Now, for his own good, she needed to send him to the village where she had been raised. She knew he would obey her wishes—even against his desire to remain by her side and care for her. She told him of her father, mamá, sister, and all the aunts and cousins that were his kin. She told him about the stranger she had met so long ago and why no family member ever came to visit.

They deserted you, Mamá. Why should I go? he asked stubbornly.

Her slender fingers twisted strands of his dark hair like she used to do when he was younger. Her lips became red, and her cheeks flushed before again turning pale.

¿Qué? Because you are a good son, and Mamá wants to make peace with her people.

Manuel stood up and nodded. I will leave, Mamá. Now, will you eat some hot broth?

Anna looked at her tall son. The little boy had disappeared, and standing before her was someone she did not recognize. His stubborn chin was set, and for the first time, she realized that he was approaching the altar of manhood.

Manuel packed a change of clothing, cheese, and a gourd full of goat’s milk; he set them aside while he listened to her vague instructions as she tried to explain where her village rested. Anna had been fourteen—perhaps younger—when she had left … not quite a woman, not quite a child. It had been, at least, a two-day trip on horseback. Her memory was hazy at best. Somewhere in the valley, tucked between high mountains, was the small village where she’d been born. She did not know exactly how to tell him the way. It had been too long ago; she could not be sure. In truth, she didn’t know whether or not she was sending her son on a wild goose chase. There was a possibility Manuel would not be able to find it. She didn’t care as long as he was not around to see the changes that took place in her body. She wondered how her son would feel about another child. She trusted God—and Manuel’s skills to protect himself. Otherwise, she could have never sent him away.

Anna closed her eyes, and sleep soon overtook her entire body. When she awoke, her son was no longer in the hut. He had been gone for hours. The sun had gone down, and the darkness began to invade the small room. She stood in the doorway wondering where he’d gone. Surely he’d not left with telling her good-bye. No, his carefully packed bundle was where he’d left it. Certainly, he had not begun his trip. Almost without warning, two shadows passed across the clay-packed yard. He had returned with Jessie, the old midwife who had been with her when Manuel was born.

So he knew, she thought and watched his intense face as his low, rapid voice gave instructions with authority. He ended with stern orders: Don’t leave Mamá alone for anything until I get back, or you’ll have to answer to me! It’s his baby making her sick!

Jessie only nodded. This young man who stood before her was surely the master’s offspring.

Manuel passed his mamá, and he entered the adobe walls to gather his things. He took care to hide all anxiousness from his eyes and spoke so serenely to her that Anna was doubtful she’d heard the venom that had recently exploded from his lips. He leaned over, gently kissed her good-bye, and left.

Chapter 4

The night air stung Manuel as he pulled his serape closer about him. He sat down under a large oak tree to drink his milk and eat before going to sleep. He was pleased with the time he’d made. He had crossed one mountain range; however, others lay ahead. He would make his way up the high peaks, certain he would find the village in some obscure valley. After he’d located it, he would camp unnoticed outside of its confines until he determined the correct approach to entry. It would have shocked him to know that his mental process was very close to the one the stranger used. Neither liked unwelcome surprises, and both wanted to be prepared for any event. An owl hooted from the tree limb above; he took out the little flute he’d carved and softly began to play.

In the morning, his mind was sorting out his feelings. He felt his family had betrayed his beloved mamá. On the other hand, the stranger had enticed the young, innocent girl to leave home. He was on his way long before the sun was up. The stars were his compass, and the sunlight burst like an orange fire, offering warmth and light as he traveled. The mountain air felt brisk against his cheeks as he easily put the miles behind him. Before sunset, he’d picked another campsite, retrieved a smooth stone, and killed a rabbit for his evening meal. He leaned back, enjoying the flicker of the low flame as he slowly ate.

After rising early, he had traveled some distance when he heard the sound of running water. The echo of the laughing voices caused him to proceed with caution. He quietly circled the group of pretty young matrons joking and teasing as they washed clothing in the flowing stream. One young woman had her hair pulled back like Anna’s. On her ruby lips was a smile that seemed oddly familiar. Manuel knew he’d come to the end of his journey.

For two days, he kept surveillance on the comings and goings of the village. When satisfied that he was prepared, he lay out clean clothes and took an evening swim. He would not go before his mamá’s people as a waif or foundling. He pulled on the fresh shirt and tied a red bandanna around his neck. Manuel had no idea what his acceptance would be. After all, they had thrown out their daughter. Why should he, someone not known to them, be received with respect? He thought about it for a few minutes as his mind roamed over facts. It made no difference to him; insults or rebuffs could not puncture his self-assurance. He would not allow himself to be intimidated by people he didn’t know. His back was straight, and his head was high as he entered the village.

Children quit their playing and rushed out to greet him. It was not often that unknowns arrived in their village, and a new face was something to get excited about. Manuel smiled and asked to speak to Florena, the girl who had so reminded him of Anna. She came forward from the crowd, and her red, cotton skirt enhanced her black hair. Almost before he could grasp his breath, she had flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. Tears of joy ran down her large brown eyes. When she pushed him back, questions of Anna flew from her mouth.

Where is our Anna? How is she? I’d know you anywhere … you are her son! No one but our Anna could have such beautiful eyes, and you … you also have them.

He stepped back and tried to conceal the surprise that swept his face. It was humbling to think that, after all these years, they still loved and missed her.

Florena took Manuel’s large hand into her small one. We must find Papá. Since he sent your mamá away, his life has never been the same.

Obediently, he followed his aunt into a small adobe where an old man sat in the dark. His hair was thick and silver, and his once brown eyes had the bluish tint of the very old. As they entered, the old man looked from one to the other. His hands trembled as he studied the tall young man. Without a word, he signaled Florena to leave, and the two men were left alone. They looked each other squarely in the face.

All bitterness fell from the boy, and he rushed into the old man’s outstretched arms, sobbing. The old arms, once strong, were now feeble with age. Manuel felt the comfort that his mamá gave, and he knew her strength must have been derived from this worn figure of a man. It was a long time before either of them spoke. There was no need to talk.

The old man studied him, and as he looked at the strength the younger body possessed, he smiled sadly. Anna is in your face. He held up a shaky hand. Hear me out, son. I was a young fool when I let my bebé go. She can never forgive me—nor can I forgive myself.

But she does, Grandpapá. She sent me to find you.

The old man nodded. "Sí, I forgot. Anna is like the Virgin Mary. ¿Cómo te llamas?"

Manuel.

Bless the angels. After the sin I cast upon her, she named her son after me! The old man smiled with amazement. Is she well?

Manuel did not wish to lie, but he did not want to bring any more pain into his grandpapá’s life. Also, he felt loyalty to his mamá. What good would it do to talk about more hurt? With his journey completed, Manuel felt a sudden urge to go back home. His mamá needed him now, and he had done her bid. He looked into the old man’s eyes.

Years had taught him much. Through tragedy and folly, he’d lost a beloved daughter. Granted a second chance, he must, at all cost, not lose his grandson. He felt the urgency facing the young man, but he knew questions might drive a wedge between them. You will spend the night with us to celebrate our new relationship?

Overcome by relief, Manuel smiled. Sí, sí … I’d like that, Grandpapá. I have to start back early tomorrow, but I will be back.

It’s the others you will have the most trouble with, but I’ll help you out. I’ll see that you have plenty of food. You’ll not leave empty-handed. He had felt the undercurrent in Manuel’s tone, and somehow knew it would be the last time his eyes would ever feast on Anna’s son. Still, God in his mercy had, at least, allowed him this brief encounter.

Mamá would like to know of her mamá. Is she well?

Silence filled the room. The old man shuffled to his feet and picked up a worn photograph that could have been a much younger Anna.

Take this to her, he said. Because of my intolerance, I not only lost my daughter but my wife also. She grieved herself to death. I was the cause. If you have learned nothing from me, learn there are no absolutes! We’ve wasted time in the past, but the village is preparing a feast for you. Let’s put on our smiles and go outside.

Chapter 5

Manuel’s return home was swift. He didn’t take the time he had in making the trip; instead, he punished himself relentlessly. His young heart pounded when he saw the thatched roof and adobe walls where he had been born and raised. His chest ached as his eyes took in the beloved scene. He started running. He was home! He stopped abruptly when he heard a caballo nicker and saw the big black stallion tied near the little casa. A chill ran down his back as he fought for self-control. His body strained until calm gradually took charge. His mamá must not see him upset.

He stopped by the well, picked up the old wooden dipper, and took a long, deep drink of water. He splashed his face to remove grime, and then he walked briskly into the hut, leaving the door ajar. The stranger sat on a stool but gave no sign of recognition as the boy passed him. His head was in his hands, and his eyes were red. Manuel tiptoed softly into the room where his mamá lay. Jessie knelt on the floor, her gray head bowed, and her rosary in her gnarled hands.

I want to be alone with mamá, he said gently.

The old servant left the room without replying, and Manuel stood beside the bed. Anna was fighting for each breath. Her breasts moved slowly up and down, and it appeared to him that every intake of air caused her pain. He picked up a slender hand that had so often shielded and comforted him. Her half-open eyes smiled as though she were a little girl caught doing something naughty. He stroked her damp forehead and tried to soothe her. I’m here, Mamá. I talked to Grandpapá, and you’ll never know how much he loves you. Please rest so I can take you to see him. Your whole family sends their love, and they miss you so very much …

I fell, and I lost the little one … Her voice trailed off, and her breathing became so irregular that, at times, Manuel didn’t think she was breathing at all. Suddenly she sat upright in bed. Her small hand clutched his hand, and he was startled by the intensity of her strength.

Manuel?

Sí, Mamá?

"I want you to do one last thing for me … the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do! Will you promesa?"

Anything, Mamá, he said hoarsely.

Don Carlos Francisco De Bacca … is your papá, and he will educate you and give you all that you need in life. Don’t be so proud that you won’t let him help! ¿Promesa?

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. In the last breath she had drawn, her thoughts were about his welfare. With tender fingers, he reached down and closed her eyes, which would never open again.

The funeral was simple. Jessie placed one red rose on the coffin after the priest gave a short benediction about Anna’s beautiful, untainted life. At times, Manuel wondered if he would be able to fulfill his promise, but he would try. Why didn’t the stranger go away and leave him alone with his grief? He knew the answer to that … like it or not, the stranger was his father. His blood boiled, and his heart pounded with a hatred he did not know he was capable of processing. To be under obligation to one he considered his mamá’s murderer was almost more than he could endure.

To give Carlos De Bacca his due, however, he seemed sincerely broken up about Anna’s passing. He stayed out of Manuel’s way and tried to be understanding. It was not part of his nature—or his intention—to let matters drag on forever. He ruled with an iron hand, and his five-hundred-year-old name was not one to be trifled with. Wealth and power had always been his. Had he not recently lost his only male heir, he would have given Anna’s son no more consideration than any of his other bastard children. However, he had found himself in need of someone to distinguish himself as a true De Bacca. The girls would marry men with both wealth and title, but he was in need of a son.

This young Manuel had rough edges, but they could be trimmed. He had character and guts. He was a leader, not a follower. De Bacca was certain that, under his guidance, this would be a son to make him proud. This young peasant could be molded into a man who would continue to make the De Bacca name immortal. Manuel’s feelings had not occurred to him.

Any man in Mexico would give his all for such consideration, the stranger reflected. Perhaps peasant blood, combined with mine, might make the difference. This young man shows no resemblance to my weak noble son who passed. Yes! This offspring suits me well. De Bacca rubbed his hands together and chuckled slightly.

Is there anything special you wish to keep? the stranger asked. He was impatient to be on his way.

Manuel drew his lips tightly together before answering, I’ve yet to sort out mamá’s things, he replied.

A servant can do that, the stranger stated impassively.

For you, maybe … not for me.

I’ve business to attend. Can you have your things packed and cleared within the week?

Sí, but why hurry? It took a lifetime to acquire these things.

Because you’re coming to live with me. You won’t need this rubbish. You’ll be learning the ways of gentlemen. You will learn to ride, shoot, and fence. You’ll study under a tutor until you’re deemed ready for the university of higher learning. I gave my word to your sweet mamá, and I intend to keep it, he added.

Just so we understand each other from the beginning, Manuel said softly, she’s the only the only reason I’m coming with you. Manuel flashed a smile that De Bacca could not understand. It irritated De Bacca to lose control. This young animal was certainly trying. De Bacca was not used to giving explanations, and he certainly did not intend to start with this insolent fool.

Good enough, De Bacca stated. I’ll send a coach for you.

No need. When I’m finished, I’ll come to you on my own. Whether Manuel liked it or not, he had given his mamá his word; it was binding. He wondered how long he would be able to put up with this man who was out to break him. He stood in the doorway and watched the stranger ride away. At least his mamá did not have to spend any more of her life waiting for the man to come, use her body, and abruptly leave. Tears had ended for her, and for the first time since his mamá died, Manuel was able to smile.

Chapter 6

Tenderly, he went through his mamá’s clothing. He pressed her bright red ribbon lovingly between his brown hands and then placed it aside. He would always wear it next to his heart, but the clothes—the skirts and blouses and the few dresses she had owned—would be burned. It was late in the evening when he finished; every item had been examined with extreme care. Few mementos were kept. Her rosary, her Bible, and the photograph of her mamá were carefully tucked away as keepsakes to take with him on his new journey.

Still, he intended to remain among the things he loved for as long as possible. The next two mornings, he arose early and walked the countryside. Wildflowers were gathered for his mamá’s grave. He stood beside the simple white cross, remembering