At least in her room, the stone wall stayed cool. Batya leaned her back against it, fanning herself, and contemplated what her chatty morning client had just revealed.

He was a gaucho, a rancher of cattle, dressed in leather leggings with a gun tucked in the back of his brown-black belt, but his white shirt was clean. To her astonishment, he spoke Yiddish. She’d never heard of a Jewish gaucho, a Jew who rode a horse rather than harnessing it to a peddler’s cart. His name was Kolkowski, and he said he’d come down to Buenos Aires to greet Jewish immigrants arriving from Odessa as guests of the Baron.

“What baron?” Batya had asked, thinking it was a game.

“Baron de Hirsch. Maurice—Moses de Hirsch.” When Batya seemed confused, Kolkowski added, “Haven’t you heard of his initiative?”

No, she hadn’t. “Teach me your game,” she cooed.

“I’m serious. This Jewish German baron lives in Paris and has decided to save the Jews of Eastern Europe by establishing farming communities in Argentina. He’s already built many agricultural colonies in Santa Fe, Entre Ríos, and La Pampa, with synagogues and yeshivas. He’s bringing over shiploads of Jews.”

Batya had known that there were vast empty areas beyond Buenos Aires, but she hadn’t heard of anyone choosing to live there. “What will they do there?”

“Resettle in the ranches. What else? Moïseville, Mauricio, these are Jewish colonies in the Pampas. We teach them agriculture, mainly, but also how to raise cattle.” Probably seeing Batya’s skeptical expression, Kolkowski added, “The Baron is paying the czar to let the Jews leave. He wants to empty Russia of the Jews and bring them all here.”

She couldn’t hold her laughter. The man was delusional. “Like Exodus? Does God also split the ocean for you all to cross?”

“Not God, but the Jewish Colonization Association does. That’s the Baron’s project for resettlement,” Kolkowski replied, seemingly unperturbed by her ridicule. “One million Jews. You’ll see soon.”

There was no point in arguing with a madman. “Let my people go,” Batya intoned, and broke into a dance.

“Really. The Argentine government wants people from all over the world to come here, to help build the country. Jews are good at commerce. The Baron—”

She had stopped Kolkowski by placing her hand playfully on his mouth while the other traveled downward. He’d paid for a short visit but was wasting it on nonsense.