Fernando and César made themselves comfortable next to the fire. The heat was pleasant and the company picturesque. They began eating with a hearty appetite.

César paused between two mouthfuls to ask, “Where did you just come from?”

“From where the Negro Cimarrón runs.”

Doña Mercedes splashed coffee into two large pewter cups. Then she sat down, laughing silently. She didn’t want to say anything more.

“I won’t ask you where you’re going. Who is a poor peddler woman to make herself the equal of a pair of patróns? But I will tell you to be careful, because these aren’t the times for rushing into anything.”

The mule driver had finished his dinner and was rinsing out his mouth with a sonorous swig he then spat onto the brick floor.

“When the Indians see me arriving at a little hamlet with my team of mules, they run and hide as if the devil himself had appeared among them. Only when they’re sure I’m coming in peace, then they start showing their faces again. They buy salt, which is the only thing I carry. But they’d like me to sell them other things.”

Doña Mercedes and the mule driver glanced at each other. He felt authorized to say, “They have a powerful need for gunpowder.”

Doña Mercedes shrugged her shoulders as if to subtract any importance from this observation.

“These must be the months when it’s open season. There’s a lot of deer around here.”

The mule driver brushed the crumbs off his pants. He was standing up now, grouchy and drowsy.

“I’d swell up with cash if I could sell those Indians what they’re asking for!”

The mule driver interrupted his boss’s digression. “We have to get up early tomorrow, Doña.”

“So? Who’s holding you back? But before you go off to sleep, take a look in on the mules. Make sure the bogeyman doesn’t scare them.”

The mule driver left the kitchen, yawning. Doña Mercedes cleared off the dishes and washed them none too carefully.

“However I can serve you gentlemen, you know it’s my great pleasure.”

“Are you going straight back to Ciudad Real?”

“That depends. If I can unload all my merchandise. . . .”

“Who’s going to buy it from you in San Juan? There’s no one here.”

“There’s no one right now, niño. But I know the color of my cattle. They’re not going to let Holy Week go by without a fiesta. And besides the salt, I can sell them candles and incense for their saints.”

They were impressed by her certainty. How could the Indians assemble at a time like this? Unless they had weapons and had already resolved to put up a fight. Or they were unaware of the danger.

XXX

CHAPTER XXX