She Had No Choice Read online

  She Had No Choice

  by Debra Burroughs

  ~

  Published by Debra Burroughs

  Cover design by

  Stephanie Mooney Designs

  ~

  KINDLE EDITION

  ~

  First eBook Edition: 2011

  First Paperback Edition: 2011

  by Lake House Books, Boise, Idaho

  ~

  Although She Had No Choice is inspired

  by a series of true stories, the names

  were changed to protect the

  privacy of the people involved.

  ~

  Copyright 2011 Debra Burroughs

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Running For Their Lives

  Chapter 2 - Saying Good-Bye

  Chapter 3 - An Unexpected Life

  Chapter 4 - A Cinderella Story

  Chapter 5 - Free at Last

  Chapter 6 - The Heart’s Yearning

  Chapter 7 - Out of Wedlock

  Chapter 8 - The Fertile Valley

  Chapter 9 - Brothers

  Chapter 10 - The Secret

  Chapter 11 - An Unfortunate Union

  Chapter 12 - War and Peace

  Chapter 13 - Carlos's Mean Trick

  Chapter 14 - A Pivotal Moment

  Chapter 15 - A New Life for Eva

  Chapter 16 - First Love

  Chapter 17 - Wedding Bells

  Chapter 18 - Hope for Sofía

  Chapter 19 - The Escape Plan

  Chapter 20 - A Marriage Shattered

  Chapter 21 - Attempted Assault

  Chapter 22 - A Second Chance

  Chapter 23 - Mama Saved Them All

  Chapter 24 - A Glorious Day

  This book is lovingly dedicated to my

  wonderful husband, Tim. Without his

  continual prompting and encouragement,

  this book would not have been written.

  Chapter 1: Running for Their Lives

  1918, Sonora, Mexico

  Pancho Villa’s reign of terror had ended a few years earlier, but now there was a new enemy to battle – and he was merciless. The Death Angel had knocked repeatedly on the Ramirez family’s door over the past few weeks. Now, it was imperative for them to swiftly and stealthily find a way to move what was left of the family to a safer place before he came calling again.

  Emilio and his wife, Juanita, hurriedly made plans to flee, covertly receiving word of the time and place for the dangerous escape. They were desperate to get their family out of Mexico quickly, but now all they could do was wait.

  The appointed night arrived. Tied about Emilio and Juanita’s waists were pouches filled with as many belongings as they dared to take. She had planned all day, choosing this, discarding that, filling their pouches with dollars they had exchanged for their pesos, a comb, a couple handfuls of beef jerky and an old pocket watch.

  This was going to be a perilous journey for the Ramirez family. Emilio and Juanita instructed their children once more, as they had for the past two evenings, that on this trip they needed to stay close together and keep silent. Noise of any kind could draw attention and put them in danger.

  “But, Mama, why do we have to go?” asked little Sofía.

  “We have no choice, mi’ja,” Mama replied, putting an arm around her. “One day you’ll understand.”

  Their friend, Señor Vega, agreed to load them in the back of his horse-drawn wagon and take them to the pick-up point. The location was the old abandoned Castro ranch. It was once a working venture, until Pancho Villa’s men plundered it during the Mexican Revolution several years before. Now, it was nothing more than a few outbuildings with sagging roofs and jagged, broken windows where lonely tumbleweeds collected. That desolate ranch was where they would begin their journey.

  Juanita heard the horses’ hooves and wagon wheels crunch the dry ground outside their house and knew Señor Vega had pulled up. Her back stiffened, and she drew in a quick breath. There was no turning back now.

  “Emilio, niños. I hear Señor Vega outside. It’s time to go.”

  “Hey, Señor,” Emilio called out to his friend from the doorway, as the children somberly filed out of the house. Señor Vega waved back and motioned for the children to get in the back of the wagon.

  They reluctantly climbed in, fearful of what lay ahead, sad to be leaving the only life they knew. Mama and Papa had shared with them during the past week how this would be an adventure, a new start for all of them. They had asked their children to trust them.

  Juanita took one last look at their home and blew out all the candles lighting the living room. She stood for a moment in the doorway, looking back into the dark house. “Good-bye my friend,” she said. “You’ve been very good to us.” She closed the door quickly and walked away, choking back her tears. Drawing a deep calming breath, she held her head high and walked toward the buckboard.

  Papa had already helped the children into the wagon. They were quietly talking among themselves, the oldest daughter holding her sleepy little brother on her lap. Emilio could see the pain in his wife’s eyes, but speaking of it would only make it worse. So, without a word, he lifted her into the back with their children.

  “Remember, niños,” he said to the children, “you must be very quiet this whole trip. Understand?” They nodded. They understood to be quiet, but they didn’t understand why they had to leave. The youngest were confused and frightened, the eldest sad and nervous.

  “And when we get off the wagon, you must stay together. You older ones need to watch for the young ones.” Then Papa pulled himself up on the front seat next to Señor Vega, and they were off.

  Mama watched over her children during the bumpy ride on the back roads. Looking into the dark night, she stared at the cloudless sky with just a sliver of crescent moon and a sprinkling of stars. It seemed to her like a vast wall of sadness with small glimmers of hope shining down on them. She was determined, no matter how she felt, to try to keep a smile on her face for her children’s sake, all the while pushing down her own grief and anxiety.

  After about thirty minutes, they reached the deserted ranch and found the family named Lopez already there, waiting in silence. The soft moonlight gave them barely enough illumination to find their way and see the silhouettes of the others standing there. The Ramirez family climbed out of the wagon as quietly as they could and shuffled in the darkness over to where the others were standing. Papa whispered his thanks to Señor Vega and shook his hand before he turned the wagon around and left.

  In hushed tones, the two families exchanged greetings. Everyone nervously awaited the promised truck’s arrival, the vehicle that would take them on the next leg of their journey, one step closer to their freedom. They stood waiting in the faint moonlight, each likely trying to imagine what their new life in the United States would be like. Emilio wondered if there would be enough work to take care of their family, and Juanita thought about the living conditions. The children were merely concerned with when they would eat next or if they would find friends.

  Time seemed to pass slowly. The adults and older children were exchanging nervous looks, even commenting on their wishes for the truck to show up soon. The children were getting fidgety, especially the little ones.

  Soon, they heard the faint roar of an engine in the distanc
e. Then, the much-anticipated truck arrived. It was a dark green Buick flatbed, about seven or eight years old, covered with the desert’s dust and dirt. It had well-worn wooden railings on each side with weathered canvas tied over it to hide its cargo.

  The truck pulled in near to where the people had gathered, coming to a squeaky stop. The driver hopped out and addressed them.

  “Everyone, I’m Paco. Let’s get loaded up quickly. We don’t have much time.”

  Paco took an old, but sturdy, wooden box off the front seat and walked around to the rear of the truck. He set the box down, stepped up on it and lifted up the canvas flap. One at a time, climbing clumsily into the back, each person stepped on the box then up into the bed of the truck. The stronger helped the weaker, especially the children, until both families were on board.

  The driver secured the tattered canvas flap down over the back and picked up the box. He stored it on the front seat next to him, not allowing any of his passengers to sit up front with him in case anyone saw them.

  For the most part, they all sat in silence in the back, some resting up for what was ahead, some too anxious to sleep. They sat in their cramped quarters for the next two hours until they reached their destination, near El Sasabe.

  The Ramirezes had been told another truck full of people wanting to cross the border would meet them at their drop-off point, and they found it was already there when they arrived. Men, women and children were gingerly piling out of the back of it. As the Ramirez and Lopez families climbed out of their vehicle, their driver told them to huddle around him and listen up. He kept his voice as low as possible, but he was still loud enough to be heard.

  “Go out into the desert. Each of you take a hiding place behind the shrubs and rocks. Try to stay out of sight until you’re given the signal to run. When it’s time, I’ll let out a loud coyote howl. Then, you all just run for the fence as fast as you can. Don’t look back – just run!”

  The families quickly dispersed and found their hiding places, waiting for the coyote howl. Papa took the two younger boys and hid behind a big rock, holding little Marcelo by the hand. Mama and the two girls hid behind a clump of cactus. The older son found his own bush near Papa to shield himself. Before long, a loud shrill howl pierced the night air and carried out over the flat land. The race was on.

  They all ran with every ounce of energy they possessed, crossing the dark Mexican desert with only the light of the crescent moon to guide them. As their shoes were clapping the dry desert floor, the pounding of their hearts was resonating in their ears. Diving in the dirt for the border fence, the hopeful clawed and crawled their way under it to freedom.

  Papa could see Mama and little Sofía were struggling. Sofía’s little legs couldn’t keep up and stumbled a few times. He worried they might be left behind. So, in a firm voice, not more than a whisper, he urged them on. “Άndale! Άndale, muchachas!”

  Mama firmly grasped Sofía’s hand and held on for dear life, nearly dragging her to freedom as she helped her run. Papa was frantically trying to help the rest of the children under the fence before diving under himself. He made it to the other side, picked up five-year-old Marcelo, and began running, pressing the older children to get moving. “Run, niños, run! Rápido, rápido!”

  In desperation, Mama shoved Sofía under the fence ahead of her, yelling at her to run and not look back. Sofía scrambled to her feet and took off running in terror. Mama squeezed through and caught up with her. She grabbed Sofía by the hand and helped her run like she had never run before.

  Simply clearing the fence was not enough. The U.S. border patrol could catch them and arrest them for illegally entering the country. It was important that they ran far enough into Arizona land to reach the trucks that were waiting to take them safely to their new lives.

  They all reached the other side safe and sound, their hearts pounding in their chests, barely able to catch their breath. They looked around the muffled chaos to try and find their family members amidst the clouds of dust. Fortunately, they had all gotten through without being detected. There were no guards, no lights, and no dogs. It was eerily silent.

  Lifting the crucifix she wore around her neck, Juanita pressed it to her lips and gave it a quick, gentle kiss. “Gracias a Diós. Gracias a Diós,” she whispered under her breath.

  Chapter 2: Saying Good-Bye

  Crossing the border, with little more in their pockets than a few dollars, hope was all the Ramirez family had left. But, hope is a powerful force. It moves people to dream of better lives, and it drives them to take chances they wouldn’t ordinarily take – especially when their lives are at stake.

  Just a few weeks earlier in Mexico, before their dangerous border crossing, in the simple ranch home the family shared, Juanita lay coiled up in the middle of her bed in the fetal position, crying uncontrollably. She had been there for days, her body shuddering from wave after wave of sobbing.

  Her young daughter, Sofía, came into her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Wanting to comfort her in some way, but not knowing what else to do, the little girl softly patted her mother’s back.

  “Mama, it’ll be okay,” she said gently, trying to ease her mother’s grief. Mama continued to cry, and Sofía kept patting her back. The whole family was in mourning, but of course, Mama took it the worst. For a mother to suffer the death of her child is painfully heartbreaking, but to lose three children in as many days is unbelievably excruciating. The days dragged on, but no one could console her. Not even little Sofía.

  As she sat on the side of the bed, watching her brokenhearted mama cry, Sofía wondered when the sadness would end. It had been days, like a heavy dark cloud hanging over their home. Each day that brought another child’s death heaped more grief on top of the other. The priest would stop by to offer comfort and consolation after the death of each child, but he couldn’t stay long because there were so many more he had to call on.

  Friends and neighbors, in ordinary times, would have come by to offer their condolences and support, bringing food for the family. But, not in these difficult times. They had their own share of grief to deal with.

  It was hard for little Sofía to understand just what was happening. She remembered happier times. She wanted life to be the way it was before – days of going to school with her friends, laughing and learning to cook with Mama, helping Papa with the animals, playing games with her brothers and sisters. That was the life she loved. But those days were gone.

  Almost overnight, life in their little village changed completely. Men, women, and children started getting sick – a rash, a deep constant cough, and a high fever. Many of the afflicted died right away, some languished for days. Once a vibrant little town filled with life and love, laughter and excitement, it was now a village filled with grief, devastation and heartache. An outbreak of deadly disease took its toll.

  The epidemic had spread worldwide, starting in Europe near the end of World War I, killing nearly 10 million people. It was named the Spanish Flu, because it was thought to have begun in Spain.

  Mexico was not immune. Likely brought in through the port city of Tampico, disease and despair quickly swept through the country, ravaging town after town. It mercilessly infected Sofía’s beloved village, claiming the lives of over half of its residents within just a few short weeks.

  Unfortunately, the Ramirez family was not spared. Sofía was eight years old when she lost three of her brothers and a sister to the influenza epidemic. One of the brothers that died was her twin brother, Lorenzo. As one child after another died, Emilio and Juanita suffered indescribable grief. Each time they lost one of their beloved children, it was like a dagger driving deeper and deeper into their hearts.

  The small cemetery behind the Catholic Church could not contain the bodies of all that had succumbed to the influenza. The priest was overwhelmed by trying to keep up with all the deaths and burials.

  Emilio and Juanita chose to bury their children on their farm. They held a small, private ceremony
each time they lost one, with only the family, the priest, and their friend, Señora Ochoa. Others were busy dealing with their own dead.

  Many of the surviving children were left orphaned by the epidemic, and the village elders frantically tried to find homes to help these poor children. Those that had relatives in or near the village were sent to live with them. But, for those that did not, the elders tried their best to find families that would take them in.

  The Ramirez family had no family nearby. Sofía’s parents were consumed with fear, afraid they would contract the influenza and die, too, leaving their remaining sons and daughters orphaned and abandoned. Who would take care of their children, they wondered, if any of them survived? Who would feed the niños? Who would help them with schoolwork? Who would help them say their prayers? Who would hold the little ones at night when they were scared? Mama and Papa asked themselves these questions late into the night, long after the cries of the dying became silent. Their mounting anxiety overwhelmed them.

  One day, after toiling in the fields all day, doing his best to stifle his feelings of grief over the loss of his children, Emilio was worn out and headed to the house. As he came through the door, the younger children greeted him.

  “Papa! Papa!” the little ones hollered, clamoring to climb up into his arms. Keeping up a strong facade, he bent down and hugged the children. He kissed them on the head and held them close, holding back the tears that wanted to break through. He needed to be strong for them.

  “Dinner’s almost ready, Papa,” his oldest daughter, Maria, said. “Come on, niños, let Papa rest.” She grabbed a couple of them by the hand and led them into the kitchen area.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m gonna check on Mama.”

  He went into the bedroom to see how his wife was doing. She had stayed in the house, shut up in her room for days, grieving over her lost children. Each day he hoped she was feeling better and would come out and eat supper with the family. But just when she thought she was all cried out, a new wave of sorrow would hit her and the sobbing would start again. Maybe this day would be different.