CHAPTER 1: "Nightmare!"
Boom!
The ear-piercing explosion sounded ominously like thunder. In the same instant it cracked, the cart flipped over. Felipe Cortez screamed as he fell out.
"Mommy!"
As the seven-year-old boy screamed for his mother, he shot up on his reed mat and gaped in terror at the darkened wattle-and-daub hut. A roaring in his ears drowned out all else and his heart pounded incessantly. In the next instant, an earsplitting crack of thunder made him jump. Terror surged in his heart, and he whimpered.
"Mommy!" he cried, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning against the wall. "Mommy!"
"I'm here, hijo mio." Arms wrapped around his shoulders and clasped him against a familiar bosom.
Felipe clung to his mother and whimpered, trying to fend off the terror that overwhelmed him. He'd been having this same nightmare night after night, for days, and he wished it would stop. Each time, he would dream that his parents were being killed in a violent explosion. He always woke up with a deep, aching feeling of loneliness and terror for his parents and himself.
As his panic melted away, another loud thunderclap startled him. In the same instant, he became aware of rain pounding the ground. There was a storm outside. It often rained during the summer months in central Mexico, and the region surrounding the pueblo de San Miguel de Bajio in 1815 was no different. Inside the hut, all was pitch-black, except for the faint, yellowish-red glow of ashes in the firepit across the room. The night air felt chilly.
"It's all right, son." Consuela's tender voice sliced through his panic, as she rocked him. "Shh, it's all right. It was only a dream, hijo. I'm here, son. I won't let nothin' happen to you."
"How much longer must we go through this?!" Felipe's father sounded disgusted. Felipe opened his brown eyes. Juan lay on his side on a reed mat next to his own. The peon propped himself up on one elbow and snorted. "I'm sick of you actin' like a baby, muchacho! This has been goin' on too long! Here I need my sleep, and you won't let me!"
Guilt surged through Felipe's heart. His father was angry with him again. It hurt the child deeply to disappoint his father like this. As he always did. If only he could somehow please Juan!
"He had a bad dream, Juan," Consuela said. "He couldn't help it."
Juan snorted again. "He's been havin' these bad dreams for days, now! I can't take much more. He's just a sissy and a baby!"
Tears welled up in Felipe's eyes at his father's harsh words. Consuela clasped him tighter. "Shh," she whispered. "Your father's just tired; he needs to sleep, and so do you. I'll rock you to sleep." She brushed back her long, brown hair and patted her son's soft cheek with a rough, callused hand. As always, it felt gentle on his skin.
Felipe nestled against his mother's bosom and closed his eyes. As he frequently did when nervous or scared, he inserted his index finger into his mouth and sucked it. He had taken up the habit when he had given up thumb-sucking at age five.
Softly, Consuela sang an old Mexican folk song Felipe loved. As she rocked the child and crooned to him, Felipe gradually relaxed. A series of mental pictures flashed through his mind...his mother dabbing water on his knees after he'd fallen down and skinned them...Consuela singing him to sleep at bedtime, as she was doing now...Consuela praying with her son in the evenings, after supper...Consuela comforting him after a nightmare, as she was doing now.
Felipe yawned. The rocking sensation made him feel good. His mother's arms felt so good. He soon drifted back into oblivion.
END OF CHAPTER 1