Manuel checked his horse and gave his cartridge belt a yank.
A buzzard circled above them.
"I've made up my mind," Raul said, and his face brightened. "I've told
Salvador that I will manage the hacienda from now on."
Manuel's fingers tightened with pleasure on the rein, his eyes became
slits, and a slow grin began. He glanced at Raul and nodded, and then
glanced away.
"I told Salvador to move to Petaca and make us new carts and repair old
ones. We must begin to improve things."
"But your father?" Manuel asked, almost mechanically, fearing Don
Fernando's domination; for a moment he felt his conflicting sense of
duty, acquired through the years.
"I'll have it out with him," said Raul, working his horse closer to
Manuel's, his knee rubbing the Arabian. "Things have gone much too
far. He sent Farias to check the corn fences; you know how many
boundary troubles have come of that; there's never any attempt to work
out a sensible relationship with the del Valle people." His thin lips
narrowed. "I want corn distributed to all sectors where there's a
shortage. I want our people to know my father is not in control."
"He'll strike back," said Manuel.
"I've stood enough intolerance," Raul exclaimed.
Manuel was satisfied to jog along behind Raul, he wanted to weigh the
abrupt change and consider possibilities; he was eager to accept and
participate. Slit-eyed, he gazed about him. His nostrils expanded as
he remembered Don Fernando had once whipped a young boy until blood
streaked his back ... Tonio Enriques. Manuel rubbed his hand over the
bullets in his cartridge belt and clucked to his horse.
For Raul, the return trip was melancholy and yet beautiful: Petaca
appeared on the gradual slope above the lagoon. It was his job to
administer the million and a half acres, to supervise crops, gardens,
people ... little Carmen might race to him and cry, "Can we have
another jug of milk for supper?" Gasper might come to the office and
say, "Mama's sick, she's passing bile--" Dr. Velasco could live at the
hacienda and receive annual wages, instead of having to make the long
ride from town, at the beck and call of everyone. Should he be
unwilling, Dr. Hernández would consent. Gabriel Storni would have his
stained-glass windows for the chapel.... Some prayers would be
answered. Debts would be canceled. Of course, it would take time.
As he rode between the rows of tall eucalyptus, he felt that time was
his friend. Perhaps current political and economic tensions would
ease. President Díaz was not his man ... his corrupt regime would last
as long only as he could make it last. Reason told Raul that he
himself could not alter, singlehanded, the feudalistic setup of the
hacienda system. It was Petaca he wanted to change.
Breaking off twigs from a low eucalyptus branch, he crumpled the
foliage in his fingers. As he went inside the house he smelled the
aroma of the crushed leaves; as he stood in the doorway of his bedroom
he sensed the oily pungency.
He found Angelina sitting in front of her circular mirror, brushing her
hair. Gazing into the mirror, she smiled at Raul and went on brushing.
"You're back quickly," she said, covering her knees with her skirt.
"I was down along the lagoon," he said.
"I was playing with the children in the garden and messed up my hair."
He tossed his belt and revolver on their bed. Going up to her, he
wanted to touch her, stroke her hair, but instead he thought of
Lucienne and remembered her smile. Angry with himself, he said, loudly:
"I've told Salvador and Manuel that I'm taking over the hacienda.
Sectors are in need of grain. People are hungry. I want Velasco to
move here and help the sick. I want no more beatings. I can't wait
any longer. It's my job now!"
Angelina stared at him in the glass, until his eyes found hers, and he
sensed her disapproval at once. She did not speak. Her brush in her
lap, she was thinking that he was a dumb fool, that from now on
stability would be a thing of the past. Still looking at him, she
reached for her comb, and her brush fell to the floor.