Albert sat on the edge of the tub and soaked his feet in hot water. He could hear Angela Madero still playing the piano downstairs, where a group had gathered after dinner to sing.
He splashed his aching feet around and tried to sort out the events of the day. Revolutions, he decided, make strange bedfellows. Madero’s key “lieutenants” were a mule-driver, that Orozco fellow, a bandit, Pancho Villa, and a desperado named Zapata, who was ravaging the wealthy haciendas in the southern state of Morelos.
Where were the educated Mexicans Julio and Raúl talked about on those snowy nights at Houghton? Well, the American Revolution was fought by the rabble. And Madero had the backing of a strong and wealthy clan.
The important thing was that the flame Madero had lighted was now a blazing prairie fire. “Madero has loosed the tiger,” a senator was quoted as saying.
Before turning in, Albert wrote in his journal: “I arrived in San Antonio at 7:30 a.m., was commissioned a lieutenant in the Revolutionary Army at 9:30, and was assigned to General Carranza’s staff at noon.”
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