“Make a good profit here and go home. Two years, three years, whatever you wish. The arrangement would be the same as Jivan’s—Eggenberger gets one-third profit. We will work the land together, rent mules when we need, hire the people to cultivate and harvest. I will take half of the crop. The rest is yours.”

“You take half the crop?” Ram was not sure that he heard correctly.

“I am putting the seed—”

“Half?” He did not want to farm again, but still, the word stung.

“I pay for the rental of mules and equipment—that is fair. You would get the remainder, bhai,” he said, turning toward Ram. “I said it already, didn’t I? Far more than two dollars a day?”

Ram’s cheeks grew hot. He stared at the outline of the far hills, trying to swallow the anger. Half? He had come to Karak seeking refuge, wanting to confide what had happened in Hambelton. He had hoped the man would lend him money for passage home. Even without knowing all this, Karak had betrayed him.

“You have experienced a huge shock,” Karak whispered, his eyes traveling to Ram’s chest. Ram felt the gash burn again, as if Karak’s gaze had caused it. “Don’t take any hasty decisions now. And you are young. You may not realize the opportunity I am giving.”

Ram snorted; he could not help it. “I will think about it,” he said, and would not allow himself to say more, because his anger would be fully revealed.

“Of course you must look at the matter yourself. You must not trust me only because I am ten years senior to you.”

They mounted the wagon and Karak turned the mules toward Jivan’s home. But something dark and almost tangible had moved between the two men. Karak was talkative at first, pointing out more landmarks than he had previously, more enthusiastic than before; then he grew silent and they traveled the last minutes without speaking. Ram remembered a moment on the SS Minnesota when Karak had mocked a shipmate—a chappal maker from the Deccan—for not knowing that western women wore corsets. What, brother, do you think they are shaped that way naturally? Karak had spoken in Urdu so that everyone could understand. The fellow was known to be dim. The Hindustanees sitting in the steerage communal room had laughed loudly; the man himself had joined in. The joke had lasted for many days. It had helped to pass the time.

6

HE HAD PROMISED PADMA HE WOULD COME BACK. WHAT IF HE FARMED for two years, or three, and had three bad harvests; what money could he send home? Would he be required to stay longer? That was his worry.