by Pam Lewis
Sander and Fortunato were just as she’d left them and exhausted by now. Pieps took over from Sander, and Cassian instructed them on what to do. Find a stick longer than the leg. Without letting the leg slip, jam one end of the stick into the shoe on the foot of the broken leg, put the other shoe at his crotch, and jam the other end of the stick into it, then bind the whole thing with strips of their own cut-up shirts, and carry him home this way.
Once he was in his bed, Minke sponged away the dried blood. His skin was purple, and welts swelled along the side of his body.
“Who did this?” she asked.
Cassian was trembling, as though the terror and trauma had just caught up to him. “Schwul.” His voice broke achingly. “They said schwul.”
“Schwul?” Fortunato asked.
“Maricón,” Cassian whispered to the boy. And to Minke, “Flikker.”
Fortunato crossed himself. Minke reeled at the very sound of that word. In the Netherlands, a person was stoned for being flikker. She felt weak in the knees. Cassian flikker? True, she’d seen him kiss a man that time, and on the Frisia with those bleary boys, even here at the obras. But she never would have put this word to him. Flikker was something else. Dangerous, wicked, a threat. Like the bogeyman. Cassian was none of those things. He was unusual, but he was kind. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.
She heard horse hooves and went outside to see who had come. It was Dietz, galloping into the courtyard on horseback with Fenna clinging to him. He circled a few times. “Where did you go? My God, woman, I came out and you were gone. What’s the matter with you? I went to your house and found Fenna instead.”
“What about Zef?” Minke shouted at Fenna. “Who’s with Zef?” Was the whole world crazy?
“Sound asleep. He’s fine.” Fenna was pressed against Dietz, not so appalled by his advances after all.
“Go back to the house and stay there!” Minke commanded.
“I’m not your slave.” Fenna slid down from the horse. “You’re his mother, you go.”
“Sander, make her go back right this minute! Zef is alone. My baby is all alone!”
Dietz kept circling on his horse. “Who did it? Did Cassian see?”
“Take Fenna back to the house this minute!” Minke shouted at him.
Dietz ignored her. “So he doesn’t know who it was.”
“Meduño may have gotten wind of it,” Sander said. “I’ll go to the hotel and ask around.”
“Don’t stay to play faro.” Minke glared at him. Since Zef was born, Sander had been spending more and more time throwing their money away.
“Meduño hates flikkers,” Fenna said.
“I’ll take Fenna back,” Dietz said. “Come on. Up, up, Fenna.” He extended a hand, but Fenna got into the car.
“I’ll ride with my brother-in-law,” she said.
After the car left, Minke and Pieps went inside, and Dietz went looking for someone to take his horse. They drew two chairs close to Cassian’s bed. Cassian had taken a heavy dose of morphine and was breathing evenly.
“Get out of here,” Pieps whispered to Minke with a startling urgency.
“No, I need to stay with him.”
“I mean Comodoro. You and your husband, your baby, your sister.” He gestured to Cassian. “All of you.”
“Are you serious? This is our home, our business.”
“First him and next Sander.”
She studied his solemn face. “But Sander isn’t—”
“That doesn’t matter. They see you all as one. You arrived with Cassian. You’re in business together.”
“What do you mean, they? Who did this?”
“I’ve heard talk at work.”
“Who?” It was terrifying to discover that people were talking about them.
“There are many Catholics. In their eyes—” Pieps glanced at Cassian. “In their eyes, he sins against the laws of nature, the worst possible thing. In their eyes, you and Sander condone it. Some of their sons work here. It brings shame to the families.”
“But Cassian is good to them. He treats them well, pays them well.”
“Minke, wake up. They hate him and, by extension, you. He’s your friend, and he’s corrupting their sons.” The words were all the more frightening because they came from Pieps, who was always so carefree, so pleased with the world. She was forced to see herself, her family, in a new light—as corrupt, even evil—and protection was something that could vanish in the wink of an eye.
She got to her feet, so agitated by Pieps’s words that she needed to pace, to breathe in deeply and settle herself. “I was taught it’s important to stay when you’re innocent, not to run away.”
“That’s fine, but it’s naive. We’re not in Europe, Minke.”
“There should be no difference.”
“But there is a difference.” He stood and came toward her, grasped her hands tightly to underscore his point. “We came here to Argentina. We act as though the laws of the place we are from protect us, but they don’t exist here. There are no real laws yet. No shared laws. Don’t you understand? In order to have law, everyone must agree on the rules. Here there is no such thing.”
She looked into his eyes and then at the sleeping Cassian. “Germans did this to Cassian, not Argentines. They called him a name in German.”
“They’re no longer German. The way we’re no longer Dutch.”
“Cassian did nothing! It’s not fair.”
“Look at me, Minke. Try to understand. Not what he’s done. Who he is.”
“Am I interrupting something?” Dietz’s oily voice filled the room and although Minke had the impulse to withdraw her hands from Pieps’s, she left them as they were. Dietz would not bully her. Pieps made to let go, but she clasped his hands.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Is the good doctor awake?”
“You can see for yourself that he is not,” she whispered, still holding on to Pieps. “Keep your voice down.”
“I want to be told when he wakes,” Dietz said.
After Dietz left, Minke withdrew her hands.
“He’s a snake,” Pieps said.
Fortunato and several other obras workers appeared at the door.
“Cassian,” she said softly. One eye opened; the other was swollen shut. “Tell us what to do about your leg.”
It took all of them, seven in all, including Fortunato and the four obras workers. Step after painful step, with Cassian twice fainting from the pain and biting down on a wooden stick whenever they had to move the leg and often breaking into desperate sobs, even through the morphine. The goal was to fix the leg with the bone ends just close enough to mend. They measured his good leg against his bad for length, covered it in plaster, and raised it to a forty-five-degree angle counterweighted with bags of sand to keep it taut. By the time they finished, Minke was so tired she could have slept on the floor. She asked Fortunato and the others to stay with Cassian.
Cassian grabbed her hand. He was wide awake, terrified. “Don’t leave me.”
She smoothed his brow. His skin was cold to the touch. “Oh, Cassian,” she said. “You poor, poor thing.”
Pieps drew up his chair to Cassian’s bedside. “I’ll stay with you, Dr. Tredegar. Minke needs to see to her baby.”
“I’ll be back first thing tomorrow,” she promised.
Tears formed in Cassian’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep you from Zef.”
“He’ll come, too, tomorrow.”
Cassian managed a bleak smile.
JUST BEFORE SHE reached the house, she saw curls of smoke rising to the west; the gauchos had come back, the only good thing to happen all day. She would see Goyo again, show him Zef, and thank him for the maté cup.
Inside, she found Fenna and Sander at the kitchen table, a half bottle of brandy between them. Fenna sat with her knees apart, leaning on her elbows, like a man.
“Where is Zef?” Minke asked.
Fenna indicated the baby’s room. “Sleeping.”
>
Minke tiptoed in to see him. He lay curled, sucking his thumb in sleep. She kissed his forehead and gently pulled the thumb out without waking him, then drew the blanket up.
“What happened at the hotel?” Minke asked Sander when she joined them.
“I was just telling Fenna,” he said.
“Well, tell me.”
Sander sat back saying nothing, letting her know he didn’t like her tone. She was too tired, too distressed, for this. “Please,” she added.
“I’ve offered a reward, put up notices at the hotel and at the Almacén.”
“The reward was my idea,” Fenna said. “People talk if there’s money to be had.”
“But what did Meduño say?”
Sander squeezed the bridge of his nose. “That these things happen.”
“Cassian might have been killed.”
“His leg was broken,” Fenna said. “He’ll live.”
“Meduño suggested that one of the workers at the obras did it,” Sander said.
“They all get along well out there. Do you believe it, Sander? That it could have been one of the employees?”
“It’s time I went to work,” Fenna said.
“Pay attention to what people say, will you? Someone is bound to let it slip,” Minke said.
Fenna saluted.
MINKE WAS FRIGHTENED all the time after the attack on Cassian, as in those early days, except this time she didn’t have him for solace because now he depended on her. She went daily to tend to him, to bathe him and empty his bedpan.
His day bed was in the front room, covered in tapestries and pillows that she could adjust for his comfort. The entire floor was covered in Persian rugs, giving the room a warm and slightly exotic feel. The leather chair was beside the bed. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes not. She practiced her English, which had improved over time. Sometimes he trembled and spasmed like a person freezing to death. Other times he lay limp and breathing such shallow breaths that she worried he would die. You can handle this, she kept telling herself. Just concentrate on taking care—of Cassian, of Zef, and of the baby growing inside you.
“Forgive me,” Cassian said one day.
It was early morning, and she was tucked into her leather chair, sipping black coffee. “For what?”
“Just say you forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“You know what I mean.” He was curled like a child on his side, his eyes imploring her.
“They’re the ones who need to ask forgiveness, not you.” She ran a hand over his damp forehead.
“For being—”
She leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Shh. That requires no forgiveness.”
“Just say it, please.”
“I forgive you.”
He shut his eyes and sighed. “Have they been found?”
“No,” she said.
The reward money had generated a rash of accusations. People pointed a finger at their neighbors, their in-laws, and the gauchos. In the end, the reward had caused nothing but trouble. People were angry with Minke and Sander for not giving them the reward money, but how could they? Nobody had proof, just grudges, and now they were more unpopular than ever.
Sander came in then. He was working at the obras full-time, doing his own work plus the work Cassian had done. The sweet smell of opium clung to him these days, and he looked haggard, his clothing limp from working in so much steam. He rubbed his hands together, as if warming them, with a gusto she knew was false.
“Cassian was asking if anyone came forward with information,” Minke said.
Sander pulled up a chair to join them. “Sure they did. All of it nonsense.”
“According to the people of this town, it’s a miracle the gauchos haven’t murdered all of us in our sleep,” Minke said. “People here will use any excuse to accuse them.”
“The gauchos do kill, Minke,” Sander said. “It’s well known they enjoy it. And they are known to kidnap.”
“I know that, Sander,” she said. It was true the gauchos killed their enemies. Everyone had heard that. “People who steal their horses and cattle or offend their honor. It’s ridiculous to think they’re involved in this.”
“Well, well.” Sander tipped back in his chair. “You hear that, Cassian? She knows a great deal about these people. I wonder how.”
She went on. “If the gauchos had wanted you dead, Cassian, you would be dead of a slit throat, and dead in broad daylight; gauchos don’t attack like cowards under the cover of night. But the gauchos like you.”
“And just how do you know all this?” Sander asked.
“Pieps told me,” she said.
“That boy is German, isn’t he?”
“He’s Dutch, and you know it.”
“Pieps would know a word like schwul whether he’s Dutch or German.”
Cassian pulled himself to a sitting position. Gray showed at his temples where he’d been unable to darken his hair. He adjusted his pillows and settled back, pulling the covers up around him. “Don’t cast aspersions, Sander. It certainly wasn’t our friend Pieps.”
“What about those Germans who are here looking at Petróleo Sarmiento?” That was the new name for Dietz’s oil works. “Maybe one of them attacked Cassian.” Even as Minke said it, she knew how unlikely it was. She rocked back in her chair. “Pieps likes Cassian.”
“Somebody might have put him up to it. Where money is concerned, a man like that will do anything.”
“A man like what? Why do you hate him so? He’d never lift a finger against Cassian!”
“You seem to know him very well.”
“Well enough to know that much.”
“Please,” Cassian said. “You two are giving me a headache. Go fight somewhere else. But, Sander, she’s right. Pieps has been good to me.”
“Did you bed him, too?”
“Sander!” Minke said. “What’s gotten into you?”
Cassian touched her hand. “I’m used to this from him,” he said with a wan smile. “He’s merciless, aren’t you, Sander?”
“I asked you to be careful, Cassian. Was it too much to ask?”
“I was careful.” Tears filled Cassian’s eyes. “I swear to God. We never—”
“Who was it this time?”
“Fortunato,” Cassian said.
“He’s long gone,” Sander said. “First one to get out of here.”
Cassian was visibly shaken. “Where did he go?”
“Working for Dietz. Fenna heard it at the bar.”
Cassian turned his face to the wall.
“That’s where they’ve all gone. Their families won’t allow their sons to work here. We’re lucky there are still two. Otherwise we’d have to shut down.”
“You make it sound like it’s Cassian’s fault, Sander. Did it occur to you that morphine production is the problem for the families? There’s a stigma attached. People want their sons involved in oil.”
“It puts the clothing on your back, my dear.”
“Pieps thinks we should all leave,” Minke said.
“Him again, eh?” Sander said. “She listens to him now and not to me. What do you think of that?”
“Fortunato must have been terrified,” Cassian said. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”
“None of them say goodbye,” Sander said.
“We need to talk about money,” Cassian said.
Minke had seen Sander counting money once when he hadn’t known she was there. He’d laid it out on his desk, counted once and then a second time. Lovingly, she’d thought at the time.
“What about money?” Sander asked.
“What do you think? No one comes anymore to buy morphine. Dietz’s men apparently are well supplied by that new man, Pirie, and the people of Comodoro will do without rather than come here. That’s what about the money,” Cassian said.
Sander shut his eyes. “The Elisabeth will come back with raw materials. Things will change.”
“I can’t process raw material without help, and we lack that,” Cassian said. “You and I cannot manage on our own for much longer.”
“If there’s not enough money, why do you continue to gamble?” Minke asked.
“I’ve told you why I spend time at the hotel.”
“Tell me,” Cassian said.
“The worst would be to disappear from sight, hanging my head. I must be seen about town. Business as usual.”
“How much have you lost?” The weariness in Cassian’s eyes told Minke this news came as no surprise to him. She remembered that Pieps had mentioned Sander’s gambling on the Frisia with men belowdecks. She began to wonder how much of the time he was away from her was actually spent at cards.
“I win all the time,” Sander said, his voice level, challenging Cassian to disagree.
“No one does that,” Minke said.
“What’s left, Sander?” Cassian wasn’t about to back down.
“Plenty.” Sander got to his feet. “Don’t worry. Get well. I come in to see how you are, and all I get is trouble.”
This was her chance to speak up, with Cassian right there to support her. “Sander, Tessa and Frederik will go to America when they sell to the Germans. We should go to America, too. We could have a new start. For the baby, Sander. For Zef. I feel so frightened since Cassian was hurt. I sense hostility everywhere.”
“Except from that boy Pieps.”
Chilling, the way he looked at her, as if she were a stranger.
A FEW DAYS later, Minke heard the clatter of hooves in the obras courtyard and ran outside, carrying Zef on her hip, to find Pieps and Goyo circling on a pair of fantastic piebald horses. Goyo jumped down, took the baby in his arms, and shouted, “¡Es un muchacho magnífico!” Zef’s eyes were wide as an owl’s.
“We came to help,” Pieps said. “We heard your men were leaving.”
Sander appeared at the door of the boiling room to see about the commotion. Goyo strode over, still holding Zef, took Sander’s hand, and congratulated him on such a fine son.