Crucita wandered through the barrow, twisting streets of San Luisito. She loved to look at the hills among which the town seemed to be hiding timidly. And she liked the low, brightly painted houses that lined the stone-paved streets.
From every doorway, a family greeted her without stopping their work. Parents and children were making pottery. Pots, dishes, candlesticks, animals, birds, suns, saints, and mermaids appeared as if by magic.
In the market place, Crucita studied the pottery that each family showed in its own stall. Her black eyes sparkled in her gold-brown face. She threw back her long braids and thought of the designs she would make someday. With the mind and heart and hands of an artist, she longed to work with clay.
Now she must go home. How empty home seemed since her mother died! The nine days of morning and of telling the rosary in their house had just ended.
As she neared the door, she heard her oldest sister, Rosa, saying, “Papacito, I can keep house. Jesusita and the boys will help me or tend the stall or make pottery.”
The other brothers and sister were enthusiastic. The twelve-year-old beauty only wanted to tend the birds and flowers, but they made her feed the pigs.
Crucita and Antonio were left out. Tonio only wanted to play, even though he was eight years old—two whole years older than his little sister. But Crucita felt hurt.
When the others had gone, she saw tears in her father’s eyes. “Papacito, why are you crying? Shy are you sad?”
“You’re all so good! I’m crying for happiness.”
“Grown people talk silly,” said Crucita.
“You must study before you can help,” her father said, wiping his eyes. “Soon you’ll go to school. Now run and play.”
Only her adored brother Tonio had time for Crucita.
That night, curled up in bed beside Rosa, Crucita thought, “If I were older, I could take the crooked road over the hills to Guanajuato. I could work in the city with its carved doors and towers, and its high, stone houses that sometimes form arches over the streets. But no! I’m going to be a great artist. I’m sure! My fingers, like magic wands, will make wonderful things of clay.”
Finally she went to sleep. She had to wake early. Tonio had promised her a surprise.
Crucita was up before the church bells struck six. She dressed quietly and ran outside. Tonio was waiting.
“You’re just an old woman,” he scolded. “Always late.”
“Oh Tonio, don’t be cross. What’s the surprise?”
“Last night I visited Dona Choley.”
“That horrible witch?”
“She’s no witch, she’s just old. People are jealous because she knows so much. She told me her husband was paymaster in the mine on Bufa Hill when the terrible landslide buried all the workmen. He had boxes and boxes of gold, because there was no paper money hen. At night when no one can see her, Dona Choley goes to the mine to dig. She told me just where he gold is.”
“And what are we going to do”
“We’ll dig it up first. Unless you’re afraid.”
“I’m not! I’ll go anywhere with you.”
After an hour’s hard climbing, falling now and then, they reached the cold, dark tunnel of the mine.
“Sis, you’re trembling! Do you want to go back?”
“Oh no! I’m not scared! I’m just cold water dripped from the roof, spider webs stuck to their faces, and insects made strange noises. Their feet slipped in icy water over their ankles. It was pitch dark.
Tonio lit the lantern, but it soon went out. They groped down many tunnels till they were tired, chilled through, and lost. Finally they sat down on a rock. Both cried.
At home, their family searched for them everywhere.
Dona Choley said, “Perhaps they have gone to the abandoned mine.”
Francisco, Crucita’s big brother, formed a search party. Armed with lanterns, picks, shovels, and ropes, they entered the mine. After a long, weary search they found the children, muddy from head to foot, trembling with cold and fright. The neighbors carried them home. Later, Tonio got a beating from his brothers for his bright idea.
The next day, Crucita could not get up. Her whole body ached, and her head felt as if it would burst.
Rosa finally asked, “Do you feel badly about Tonio? Don’t! he has forgotten the beating. Even while he is being punished, he is thinking of some new mischief.”
“I’m all right,” Crucita said. “I’m just still scared.”
Rosa hugged her and kissed Crucita’s forehead. It was burning with fever.
Frightened, Rosa ran to the neighbors for help. Soon the house was full of people, all talking at once, offering home remedies. Crucita swallowed one horrible dose.
But every moment her fever was higher, her pain greater. “Rosa, I can’t move,” she cried. “What’s happening to me? I’m not afraid. You’ve said that all good children who die go straight to heaven. But I want to stay here. I want to help. That’s why we went to the mine.”
As soon as her father came home and saw Crucita, he went for the doctor. It was almost midnight when the doctor arrived. The family stood around the bed, crying.
Rosa was praying, “Lord, you have so many angels. Can’t you leave us ours?” even Tonio promised to be good.
The doctor examined Crucita carefully. “She must go to the hospital in Guanajuato at once,” he sighed. “Her discase is contagious. She has polio.”
For many long weeks, Crucita remained in the hospital between life and death. Then one day, the doctor told her family, “I have good news! Soon you will have Crucita home.”
“Thanks be to God,” exclaimed the father.
“Will she be all right?” asked Rosa.
The doctor hesitated. “Her legs are paralyzed and her hands are still clumsy. But the child is brave and she is determined to get well. You must help her by acting cheerful and treating her as if nothing had happened.”
The family cleaned the house from top to bottom.
When the doctor brought Crucita home, the family was overjoyed. Crucita was excited, too, but she answered all their questions. Then, turning to Antonio, she said, “Tonio, don’t laugh at me, but in her brother’s eyes, but he said bravely, “Of course, Sister, because I wasn’t there.”
That made everyone laugh.
Crucita said, “Doctor, where is my little wheel chair? I want to show them how well I can manage it!”
Antonio watched until he could not keep still and said, “Won’t you lend it to me?”
In the days that followed, Crucita tried to do everything for herself. She did not want to be a bother to anyone. The people of San Luisito marveled to see the little girl ride along the narrow streets in her wheel chair, always smiling, always interested in pottery.
Her father taught her to work the clay, and praised her efforts. Day after day she made tiny toys.
Sometimes Crucita was sad. She longed to be as she had been before. She missed playing with Tonio. And sometimes at night when no one could hear, she cried.
Months dragged by. Little by little, Crucita’s hands lost their clumsiness.
One day Crucita decided, “I’m going to make a clay pig.” She worked hard. Each time her work displeased her, she started over. At last she was satisfied. She called to her brothers, “Boys, come and see. I’ve finished what I was making.”
Her brothers looked at the figure and then at each other. Jesusita asked. “What is it?”
“Don’t you like it?” asked Crucita. “Of course it’s not decorated. When it is finished you will tell me the truth.”
At that moment their father came into the shop.
“Papa,” said Crucita, “come see what I’ve made. To morrow, when it is painted, you’ll like it still better.”
Her father thought quickly before answering. “It seems to be very original.”
Crucita looked at her brothers. “I told you so,” she said. “If Papa approves, it’s sign that it isn’t bad.”
The next day Crucita waited impatiently for the afternoon so she could finish her pig. In the morning she exercised, and this, too, exited her. No one knew, but far away in a field, Crucita had a secret place where she was learning to walk from tree to tree and lean against them when she had to. Now she could walk quite a distance, not perfectly, but she had made great progress.
No one in the family even dreamed that Crucita could walk—not even Tonio. Crucita was saving her secret until Christmas. Then she would surprise everyone!
The afternoon came at last, and Crucita went to the shop to work on her clay pig. She painted the background white, the tip of pig’s snout and its ears, red. Its eyes were two shiny black spots. She painted a flower on its side, and yellow stripes on its legs.
Crucita put the clay pig into kiln to bake and made the sign of the cross. When she took the well-baked pig out, she exclaimed, “I really have made a masterpiece!”
The family gathered round, but no one said a word. Turning to her father, Crucita asked, “What do you think of it now, Papacito? When you take it to the market, you will get lots of orders.”
Her father looked doubtful. “Wouldn’t it be better to keep it at home?” he asked. “After all it’s your first work. You can keep it for a souvenir.”
Crucita could not believe her ears. “What are you saying? Please don’t say you don’t like it. I think it is so pretty.”
“I think so too,” said Tonio. “Crucita’s piggy bank is the best I’ve seen. For years the markets have had the same thing. It’s time someone changed it a little.” Furiously, he turned to his brothers. “You think you are artists, but I have never seen you make anything new!”
Crucita’s lip trembled. She bowed her head to hide her disappointment. Carefully she put her piggy bank next to her in her wheel chair and started home.
Everyone felt terrible. How could they have been so stupid? None of them meant to hurt Crucita’s feelings.
“Crucita, wait,” her father called. “You misunderstood me. I like your pig. It’s just that I thought for a moment that perhaps you should wait till you had more practice before putting your pig on sale. But Tonio is right. Tomorrow you and I will take it to the market.”
Seated in her wheel chair near the stall, and wearing her best dress with a red ribbon in her hair, Crucita waited. Every time a customer approached, her heart beat faster. She silently begged, “Please let them look at my little pig. Let them like it.”
After a long while, a group of well-dressed men and women stopped by the stall. They looked at all the pottery. One women picked up Crucita’s pig. “How much is this?” she asked.
Crucita’s father named a price he knew was high, but no one said anything. Then one of the group asked, “And by the dozen? How will you sell it? We are merchants from Mexico City. We will want many dozens.”
Crucita’s father arranged all the details and received a sum of money to close the deal. Then he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet the artist who made this piggy bank.”
They were astonished to meet such a young artist. They praised her, caressed her, and asked permission to take her picture. Crucita was very happy.
The whole family helped make copies of Crucita’s piggy bank. Crucita felt very important when they asked her advice. At last, the order was filled and brought a delivered.
A few weeks later, the postman brought a letter.
“What do you think?” Crucita’s father said when he finished reading the letter. “Crucita’s bank is a great success! They want us to send more. It is an enormous order. They also ask permission to use Crucita’s pig on advertising posters. They will send the posters to countries around the world. Of course they say they will pay well.”
There were shouts of joy. Everyone hugged and kissed their little sister.
Crucita felt giddy. Too many things seemed to be happening at once. She was so excited she forgot about waiting still Christmas to tell her secret. She got out of the wheel chair, and with awkward steps went to her father.
No one dared speak. Still as statues, they stared astonished at the miracle.
When Crucita reached her father, they were at once in each others arms.
“Little daughter, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” asked her father.
“Because I’m so happy, Papa! Now I’m big too!”
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