Dreaming of You

By Rick Vasquez

In the early 1900s was a turbulent and unsettling time for the Latino community in Sonoratown, Los Angeles. Illegal immigrants from Mexico were pouring into California for various reasons, fleeing their perspective country trying to escape persecution from Latin American Dictators. These scared desperate people found themselves displaced in a sm

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Jul 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781955603805

Book preview

Dreaming of You

Copyright © 2022 by Rick Vasquez

Published in the United States of America

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-955603-81-2

ISBN eBook: 978-1-955603-80-5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

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Chapter 1

Los Angeles, California August 1933

Dawn was spreading tentative tendrils of light through the early morning darkness of Los Angeles. Slender palm trees lined the neighborhoods of light-colored bungalows, each with neatly trimmed lawns and borders bursting with sleeping flowers. Rafella saw and heard nothing as she stumbled along the cracked sidewalk towards Joe’s house. Joe’s barking dog heralded her arrival. Rafella’s dress, a simple shift, was too light for the predawn chill, but she didn’t notice the cold. Her black hair, laced with a few gray strands, was falling out of hastily placed clips. She clutched her purse tightly to her bosom as she knocked on Joe’s door.

Barking erupted from within, and heavy footsteps heard walking towards the front door. The porch light came on, and she could hear the agitated growls of a dog growing more urgent and aggressive.

Bueno, who’s there? Joe said, holding back his dog with his barefoot. Quiet, Choey! he yelled at his dog.

Joe, it’s me… Rafella, trying to overcome the voice of the dog.

Joe flung the door open and pulled Rafella into the house, holding back his dog by the collar. Dios Mio, what’s wrong?

Help me, Joe, Rafella whispered as Joe assisted her onto the couch. The dog sniffed at her heels, and after sensing she was a friend, he disappeared back into the bedroom.

Joe ran a shaky hand through his rumpled black hair. His brown eyes were filled with worry as he took a closer look at Rafella. Her body was shaking with tremors that weren’t caused by the cold. Her natural copper skin was pale and clammy with sweat. Joe took off his robe and tucked it around her. He knelt beside and gently took her hand.

Where are your children? Joe asked.

They’re with Juan, she said in a voice above a whisper.

How can I help you? he said with concern.

Let me rest, Rafella said.

Joe led her from the couch to the spare bedroom. The room furnished with just a twin-sized bed and a simple dresser. Over the chest hung a colorful picture of the Virgin Mary, the Madonna with her hands held out, beckoning the weary to come to her for comfort. The walls papered in tiny blue flowers that stopped just shy of the ceiling. All the corners of the room rounded, and the ceiling had etched ceramic tiles around the center brass light fixture.

Joe pulled down the chenille bedspread. Do you want me to call a doctor? I can go over and get Vita. She’ll know what to do. Joe said.

Rafella silently focused on the bed, not giving Joe a yes or no. She slipped off her worn-out shoes, and climbed into the bed fully clothed, still clutching her purse.

I’ll be right back . . . just rest . . . you’re going to be okay. Joe said. His worry deepened when Rafella didn’t respond. He left the door ajar and ran across the street, turning the corner, leaving sight of his house.

Rafella rolled onto her side and stared at the wall. She found a tiny hole in the wallpaper that might have been picked at by a child. She focused all her attention on that one flaw to stop the memories of her life from filling her mind. Like a wave crashing through a child’s sandcastle, the memories overwhelmed Rafella. She gasped for air as she was engulfed by her past, forced to see the unwanted truths of her life.

Chapter 2

1898 Calabasas, California.

The Botiller home, a late 1800s ranch house, formerly owned by the Dominguez family, was overtaken by Brigido Botiller. A Frenchman, an immigrant, whose family became politically connected in the development of the City of Los Angeles. Because of an oversight during the conversion of Alta California, Botiller found a loophole and was ruled the new lawful owner of the land previously called Rancho Las Virgenes. The house centered in Calabasas, built near a creek in the middle of several hundred acres of California ranch land. The surrounding porch and large picture windows in each of the bedrooms enhanced the outside appearance of this Rancho home. The long drive through the property rutted from the wagon wheels of carriages, which carried everything from supplies, groceries, to guests.

Calabasas, a rough undeveloped area, occupied by Mexican Native Indians, Mexican Rancheros, and disrupted squatters. Life in Calabasas was turbulent and dangerous, due to radical behavior between the Mexican Rancheros and the Squatters. The violence put a damper on the peace sought out by the new families. After the District Court ruled in 1880 against the Dominguez family, who sued the Botiller family, claiming that they owned the land before the war of 1845. The courts concluded that the deed to the property which were never produced by the Dominguez family. The ownership was perfected to the Mexican Government. This land was now a part of the United States, and so the Botiller family was granted to stay. The community of Calabasas was not open to Brigido Botiller. At times open warfare was declared against the family. Attitudes and behaviors towards the entire Botiller family demonstrated disrespect and malice to a well-known family. Their social significance bared them together, using family members from Los Angeles to bind the future of California as a path of progress. The Botillers were an established civilized family-centered in Los Angeles. People of Los Angeles didn’t find fault in the legal possession of the ranch. It was the neighboring rancheros that felt the dishonor and injustice of the wealthy ruling over their land and community. Rafella, the youngest Botiller daughter, was raised on the ranch. She lived and knew the isolation, the fear that kept her family hostage. She perceived all the turmoil, her family against the rest of the world.

The sun was barely breaking the sky when a herd of vaqueros on horse-back were surrounding the house, shooting their weapons into the air. Lupe burst into Rafella’s room, grabbed her, and together they hid under the stairs that led to the kitchen. Susan, with gun in hand, was barking out orders. Hector, cover the back door in the kitchen!

The household staff all took guns and started shooting at the invaders, taking up arms under the Botiller name.

The true heroes of this war were the ranch workers, who charged the vaqueros, shooting, fighting them as if it was their obligation. The vaqueros fled off the ranch as Rafella and Lupe came out of hiding when all cleared.

She remembered seeing her Mama hugging each of the workers, thanking them for their loyalty.

Surrounding the outskirts of the primary residence, there were wooden shacks providing shelter to the workers and their families. The ranch hands, and their families knew their most significant responsibility was to serve and protect the Botillers. Throughout the years, random raids from radical protestors attacked the ranch. The servants fought to preserve the land. Even though an actual act of loyalty was permitted, the vaqueros, master of horses, and ranch families were not allowed to associate with the Botiller family on a personal level. Even the language was different as Rafella, and her siblings were taught French and English, the servants on the ranch spoke a native tongue mixed with a Spanish dialect. The house servants were encouraged to learn English, but never French. All this to keep the family safe.

Rafella got older, and the raids continued, she had to learn to bear arms. Only one time did a fighter entered the house. The man came forward as Rafella pulled the trigger as a triumph of explosions filled the room from several family members blasting the intruder.

It was hard for Rafella to understand, all this fear, hatred, segregation, all to secure a false sense of peace. A war of politics, people were losing their lives, children giving up their childhood to defend their name, ‘Botiller. A connected name, a war fought over a loophole in the law.

Outside the parlor, Rafella stood with her sister, Lupe. The girls clung tightly to one another. Rafella was five years old, and Lupe was eight.

You have to go in, Lupe whispered to Rafella.

With her lips quivering and brown eyes glistening with unshed tears, Rafella replied firmly, That is not my Mama in there.

Lupe stroked the young girl’s long black hair as she struggled with her sadness. I’m sorry, but it’s her. Lupe clutched Rafella’s hand and led her into the parlor. The heavy embossed drapes block the sunlight staining the plain pine coffin. Candles were casting flickering images on the walls, giving a feeling of punishment instead of sorrow. The lid of the casket was resting against the adjacent wall. It appeared that the young woman inside was only sleeping. The lady was Inez Rocha Botiller. Rafella’s mother and best friend.

Mama, please don’t leave me! Rafella cried as she ran to the coffin. Lupe chased after her charge.

She looks like she’s asleep, Lupe said.

Rafella climbed up the pedestal to the head of the coffin. Lupe grabbed Rafella as she tried to climb inside, and they both toppled to the ground.

No! I want my Mama! I want my Mama! cried Rafella.

Brigido Botiller, was an older man by the time he received ownership of the ranch. He was a widow and had several children before he married fifteen-year-old Inez Rocha. Brigido and Inez had four children: Albert, Hector, Susan, and Alex. The oldest son Albert seventeen-years-old, wanted to be sound-minded and precise like his father. Unfortunately, in his father’s opinion, he was too soft and unfocused. Hector, the second oldest, fifteen-years-old, had his mother’s character. He was gentle, kind, and a free spirit. Hector was Rafella’s faithful confidant and supporter.

Susan, the strong-willed child, ruled the family after her father passed away. Alex, the youngest of the Botiller children, was a baby when Brigido passed away.

Inez Botiller had a massive heart attack on Rafella’s fifth birthday, in 1903. Once again, to protect the name and the children’s security. The family found it necessary to bury Inez alongside Brigado Botiller and his family members at the Calvary Cemetery in Los Angeles.

Lupe! Get off the floor. Now! Albert barked.

Lupe scrambled up, scraping her knee on the floor, pulling Rafella up beside her.

I want my Mama! Rafella cried, facing her mother.

Hector broke away from his brothers and sister and rushed to embrace Rafella. He held her tightly as tears rolled down his face.

Hector! Get up and dry those tears. That’s not the way of a Botiller! his brother Albert said sternly.

Hector, hung his head low, retreated to his place behind his brothers and sister.

Rafella met Hectors’s eyes and turned her back on her brother as she walked towards the opposite door. Lupe quickly followed.

If you young ladies cannot control yourselves, then stay out of this room, Albert bellowed his last command. He turned and strode out the same door he entered with his siblings walking respectfully behind. The door slammed, leaving Rafella and Lupe alone.

I’m sorry, Rafella, Lupe said quietly.

Rafella turned back to her mother’s coffin. Why did you leave me? . . . Mama.

Chapter 3

Rafella’s bedroom was large and roomy for a five-year-old girl. Her bed made of black iron, and it always squeaked when she moved. Her custom-made dresser had four drawers, and a sizeable hand-carved frame. Her wardrobe was tall, almost touching the ceiling, suckled with a beautiful design inlaid with gold. A pitcher and bowl for washing rested on a small round table. Rafella kept her chamber pot under her bed, but she usually didn’t have to go until morning, when she visited the outhouse.

Rafella, emotionally exhausted from viewing her mother’s body, lay on her bed as the undertaker’s cart stopped under her window. She peered through the delicate lace curtains and saw two men carrying her mother’s coffin. The casket was a plain unfinished box with no design or explanation of the beauty inside. Hector stood faithful to their mother, making sure the men were careful handling pine box. He stood brave, watching until the cart disappeared off the ranch, acknowledging the removal of his mother forever.

Rafella allowed her tears to flow freely down her cheeks. She hurried to her dresser and opened the top drawer. Searching through her neatly folded undergarments, she pulled out a soft hankie bordered in lace. Carefully wrapped inside the handkerchief, was a silver coin. Rafella took the money piece out and placed it in the center of her palm. She flopped down on her bed and concentrated on her beautiful mother.

Mama, come to me. Stay with me, Mama. Rafella closed her eyes. A few tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. Rafella could almost see her mother. She opened her eyes and saw a shadow in the corner by her bed. She sat up, stared, and confirmed it was her mother. Her heart began to race, a knock on the door startled Rafella.

Yes? she answered, startled with a hand on her chest.

The door squeaked, and Hector peeked in. Are you okay? he asked.

Rafella nodded. What are we going to do without our Mama? she cried.

Hector quietly closed the door behind him and settled himself up against it. We’ll always have our mother. She is right here in our hearts, he said with his hand softly tapping on his chest.

Do you mean like dreams? Rafella asked, as she looked at the bright silver coin.

Exactly. Memories that are only special between you and Mama, Hector replied.

Rafella rolled the coin between her fingers, thinking. She was cautious as she lowered her voice and said, I have a secret. Do you think it is all right to share it with you? She looked at Hector, hoping that Hector would allow her.

Hector sat on the bed and smiled. I think Mama would want you to share your secret with me.

Rafella glanced around the room, making sure there was no one listening. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper so that Hector had to lean closer to hear.

One day Mama told everyone that we were going to visit with the Agoura’s at their ranch. Rafella paused, her eyes and voice brightened at the thought of the memory. Well, this time, we didn’t go to their house. Alex took us to the backside of the ranch. There was a stream with lots of trees growing on both sides. A man in an old cart came and took Mama and me back into the hills. After a short ride, I could see some old houses and people around a campsite. Hector smiled, urging her to continue.

Everybody was speaking like our workers. Mama smiled and laughed. I didn’t even know that Mama knew their language, but she said something that made the crowd laugh. Rafella smiled, thinking of her mother.

The sun was bright, and the breeze was brisk. There were houses built next to each other with laundry lines strung between the sycamore and cottonwood trees. The women in their long black dresses dampened by the sun, were bent over their laundry tubs, scrubbing vigorously on their washboards. The older girls stood ready to grab each end and pulled and twisted, to get rid of all the water. Other girls rushed to hang the clothes on the lines so as not to waste a sunny day. In front of the shacks, there were logs set up around a community fire. A large pot of water was heating in preparation for the evening meal. Men in work clothes were sitting on the logs talking, other workers preparing their horses for the afternoon ranch work. Pancho, the chief foreman of the Agoura Ranch, stopped the cart at the fire pit clearing. All the workers converged around the wagon to greet the visitors.

Inez, jumped down off the wagon with great alacrity, and received those greeting her with a smile and a hug. Rafella looked upon the scene with wonder and confusion. She had never seen so many happy people in one place.

Inez looked up at her daughter and helped her down from the cart. Come on, Rafella, this is where we’re going to stay. Everybody, this is Rafella. Inez said in Spanish. Rafella jumped down and immediately hid behind her mother’s skirt.

Inez laughed and stroked her daughter’s long black hair. It’s okay. These people are family! Rafella looked up at her in surprise. She felt better to hear her mother laugh, but all the fears instilled by her father’s rules, made her feel uneasy.

A short, dark-skinned man wearing a cowboy hat bent over Rafella, smiled, and said, Ay Mujer, su hija es muy Bonita.

At home, Rafella, was not allowed to learn Spanish, so she had no idea what the man had said, but she knew by his smile that it was a compliment. She blushed and retreated behind her mother. Soon, Rafella’s curiosity got the better of her, and she noticed a group of children on the edge of the crowd. Inez, engulfed by the adults, moved with the crowd toward the shacks. A little girl with long black braids shyly came over and took Rafella’s hand. She didn’t speak English, but Rafella understood her kindness. The thought and gesture was one that Rafella only dreamed of, gratefully, Rafella squeezed the girl’s hand.

Rafella smiled at the memory of the brief playtime. She continued telling Hector about her adventure, At first I was scared, but before I knew it, I was climbing fences, and playing in the dirt. We played tag, and we laughed at the vaqueros trying to break a new horse. It was so much fun. I accidentally fell into a mud puddle, I ran to Mama, thinking I was in trouble. She made a face and then she grabbed me and hugged me, she said something in Spanish, then everybody laughed. Mama ended up with mud all over herself. She screamed and laughed and told me to go play with the other kids.

Hector reached over and squeezed Rafella’s hand. Her eyes sparkled as she continued, At night, Mama helped the other women cook dinner. We had tortillas and beans, and we ate with our hands, right there around the fire. All I could think was how all this was against the rules. At home, we were not allowed to eat with our hands. But to see Mama laughing, singing, hugging everybody. It made me feel happy.

Rafella smiled, thinking of the good times. That night, the campfire crackled, throwing sparks high into the air over the workers’ heads. The scraps of the fire flung into the night like streaking stars. Everyone sat with their families, from the smallest babe to the oldest grandparent, everyone ate together.

Rafella remembered sitting close to her mother. Inez showed her how to roll a tortilla.

Inez said, You have to close the end of the tortilla, or else everything will come out. She lay the tortilla flat on her plate and placed a handful of beans into the center. She folded the bottom of the tortilla and rolled both sides over. Rafella folded her tortilla, following her mother’s instructions. Her first bite sent half the beans out the end of the tortilla and back onto the plate. With a mouthful, Rafella asked, Mama, this is fun, can we stay here forever?

Inez stopped eating and frowned. We can’t . . . But let’s have fun now while we’re here.

Several men came out of the shacks carrying guitars, and a ripple of excitement pulsed through the group sitting around the campfire. Meals were finished and singing, and dancing began. Almost everyone converged in the center of the ring and danced freely, even if they didn’t have a partner.

Inez grabbed Rafella’s hand and pulled her to the edge of the crowd. Come on. I’ll show you how to dance.

What are they singing? Rafella asked, as her mother showed her some dance steps.

This song is about freedom, despite the heartaches of our lives, She hummed along with the singers for a few moments and continued translating the song’s verse. But nobody can take the freedom from our hearts. Mother and daughter swayed in time to the music.

When all was calm, an older lady sang from her soul, following the lead from a single guitar as the master plucked its strings. At first, the older woman didn’t want to sing, but everybody shouted and begged her. The song was haunting as Rafella reclined in her mother’s arms. When she finished, everybody clapped, and all the guitars started up again. Nobody needed encouragement to dance, including Rafella. The evening was perfect with the fire, music, laughter, and the company.

Rafella could almost hear the music again as she described the dance to Hector.

That night, Mama and I danced until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. When it was time for us to go to bed, Pancho, that was the man’s name, picked me up and carried me to a little house. Inside, the walls covered with different animal hides. Pancho lay me in a bed made of straw, and he kissed me on the forehead, I fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up before Mama did. I looked outside, and Lily, the little girl who reached out to me, was waiting for me. We went to the laundry area, and I hung my first pair of pants. After a while, I went back to see if Mama was up yet. When I reached the house, Mama was gone, so I went to meet the other kids. I started down the path and saw a house all by itself. It had an old porch with a rippled tin roof. The older woman who sang around the campfire, lived there alone, her name was Tia Viola. I was afraid to walk past the house because the day before, while playing with my friends, some boys were teasing us. One of the boys who spoke English told me that Tia Viola was an old witch who could see into the future. The girls all giggled, but the boy was serious. He said, If you make her mad, she could make you die! Another boy said something in Spanish to the other girls, and they all laughed.

Rafella became silent, reflecting on her meeting with Tia Viola.

When she was in front of her house, the blanket used as a front door opened, and she called out, Rafella, come here, mi hija. Where are you going?

Rafella trembled as she reluctantly approached the stooped older woman. She looked down at her shoes, to keep from looking into the eyes of the woman.

Come here, let me tell you something. Tia Viola said in very broken English.

You’re a strong little girl, and there’ll be days in your life when you’ll need to be strong. Don’t be afraid, the old woman said.

Rafella stepped closer, wondering what this lady was saying. Tia Viola disappeared into the shack but returned almost immediately, holding something in her hand.

Do you know what a gift is? The toothless old woman smiled with a face full of wrinkles. Her face told a tale of a hard life of work and struggles.

Yes, sometimes when my family goes away and comes home, they bring us all gifts, Rafella replied.

Tia Viola showed Rafella a delicate white handkerchief. She unfolded the hankie and handed Rafella a coin. Rafella gasped as it shined brightly in the sunlight. Holding the coin in her palm, she felt a spark of warmth throughout her body.

Yes, Tia Viola continued. Sometimes, God gives us gifts to help others. God has given you a special gift. You have the gift to see into the future, to be able to talk with His angels, and help people. This coin symbolizes god’s pureness. Always keep this silver piece with you, and it will help and protect you to understand."

Rafella, afraid to look into the woman’s eyes, asked, How can I see the future?

The woman smiled, Just pretend that there’s an eye right here in the middle of your forehead. She reached forward and touched Rafella’s forehead.

Rafella backed up slightly to avoid the woman’s touch. Does it hurt?

Tia Viola dropped her hand and said, No, it’s special. It will help you for your whole life. You’ll see pictures and hear things. Just listen to what the angels are telling you. That’s all you need to do. It doesn’t hurt.

Rafella! The older woman and Rafella were startled and turned to look down the path to see Inez rushing toward them.

Rafella waved and called, Mama, I’m over here.

Inez, quickly and protectively joined her daughter. She put her hands across Rafella’s shoulders. Buenos Dias Tia Viola, Inez said stiffly, wondering why this old woman was talking to Rafella.

Rafella, all the children have been looking for you. Let’s go down to the camp with the rest of the kids, Inez said, never taking