by Manolo Mario
“Good afternoon, Señor Sastre, how are you today?”
“Good afternoon, Perez, I am well. Let me get some coffee for us. Won’t you sit down?”
Sastre offered in his usual polite manner. His small ranch house was humble, but neat. There was no fresh paint or fine leather frames or rugs, but it was clean. Despite working since early, he also was clean. Extending his thanks, Alvaro sat at the dining table of this unassuming ranch. Sastre came back in a few minutes with fresh coffee.
“Excellent coffee!”
Alvaro bent down to his valise and pulled out his draft book and order sheet. Sastre wasn’t fully back when he began his process with a smile. “Señor Sastre, as per our records of the past, I am here to purchase two hundred and fifty steers and two hundred novillos. Assuming the average weights we have received in the past, as well, I can make a draft payable to you at a price of three pesos per hundred for the steers and three pesos fifty for the novillos. Our handlers will be here by the end of the week to gather the animals and get them to the stockyard.”
Sastre heard him clearly and waited patiently for the representative to finish. He gave a whirl to his cup and swigged the last of his coffee. “Señor Perez, I don’t think that will work. I think it would be best if I sell you three hundred steers at four per hundred.”
Alvaro, who had his pen on the draft writing in Sastre’s name, looked up suddenly. “Forgive me, but I didn’t quite hear what you said? Can you repeat it, please?”
“Yes, of course. I would like to sell you three hundred steers at four pesos per hundred.”
Alvaro looked at Sastre for a moment and wondered if the rancher was trying to take advantage of his youth. He raised the pen, placing the back tip on his lips. “I can look and see if I can make an adjustment.”
He reached down again and looked at his buying sheet, flipping a few pages back and forth. This was part of his act. He expected some negotiation and had his ritual lain out. With that in mind, he had room to give him a little more on the steers, but would not give as much on the novillos.
“Sastre, I think I can offer three pesos twenty five for three hundred steers. Can we agree?”
Sastre shifted in his seat, opened his knees, and hung his head holding it between his hands without saying a word. This caused Alvaro to sit up on his chair. Without rising, Sastre acted out a moment of distress. “Three fifty. I think you can do better.”
Once again, Perez muddled through his papers. “Sastre, because you have been such a loyal provider to us, I’ll make if three fifty. Are we all right?”
Sastre did not change his pose, but nodded agreement. Alvaro made his notes and hemmed his way through the numbers. “Very well; how about the novillos?”
Sastre shook his head, still being held by his hands, in a negative. “No novillos, I can’t sell you novillos.”
“What? What happened? Have any died; are they sick?” Alvaro became concerned and pressed for a reason.
“Sick? No, I just can’t sell them to you. That’s all.”
“Why not, man? I will pay a little more for them. Why can’t you sell them to me?” Alvaro Perez, buyer representative from La Habana, became agitated at the intransigence of this guajiro rancher.
“The novillos don’t belong to me. They belong to Señor Bartolo in the city.” Sastre peered up with one eye to see the buyer’s face. A puzzled look came upon the young man, and as if he couldn’t quite understand.
“But I saw novillos out on your property.”
“Yes, you did. Bartolo keeps the novillos here, but they are his. You will need to talk to him about them.”
Alvaro Perez looked confused and befuddled, but he went on to put an amount on the draft covering the steers, signed it and gave it to Sastre. He bid farewell and walked out looking back at the property and seeing novillos he couldn’t buy.
As he boarded his buggy, he shook it off and remembered his instructions to ‘move on to the next’ and so he did. By the time he returned to the hotel that evening, he heard the same story three more times and had purchased not one novillo.
***
Matos lived a marvelous afternoon. After having his lunch at Ofelia’s and making his presence obvious, he walked a few blocks to his hotel, where he checked into a master suite. It was not as fancy or as big as some of the finer ones in La Habana, but it was excellent. He washed up and left the hotel for a certain establishment where the lovely Ana would be his focus of attention. A few blocks away, he was timely. The hostess welcomed him as a regular and though a bit early, Ana came to him and made sure he felt like the most powerful man in Camagüey. The afternoon turned into evening and then night by the time he left.
Hungry and a little tipsy, he walked back to the hotel and took a table at its restaurant, where there were others dining, but not too crowded. He ordered his riñonada46 and rice with some watercress salad and a cold beer. He would eat alone and plan for his negotiations the next day. The most important cattleman in Camagüey, Felipe Quintero, was his responsibility. The man owned the largest herd, was educated and businesslike. He managed purchases from him for the past five years and developed a good method of communicating. There wasn’t much haggling, but verbal acknowledgements of what the future would have in store. Matos guessed it was because Quintero was an incessant planner and meticulous record keeper. He didn’t think Quintero liked him much, but he wasn’t there to be liked. It was all business and in business you couldn’t be too friendly.
While finishing his desert of cheese and guava shells, he saw Alvaro Perez and another buyer making signs at him. Matos looked around to see if any of the other patrons had noticed, then he mouthed a ‘No’ and shook his head. Discreetly, he took his water glass with his left hand and flicked his right hand saying ‘go away.’ The two men scooted off.
***
Galo washed and got ready for bed. He took one last look at the contracts signed by Gutierrez and Rodriguez and felt more comfortable than he had mid-afternoon. He almost ran straight into the man who had been behind the curtain, celebrating at The Crystal Restaurant in La Habana. That was a day to remember. Galo learned about the cop suborning bribes from the company and Elio acquiescence. He was terribly upset with his young partner and wanted to be alone. Yet, it was also the day when he first saw an opportunity he was determined to pursue despite any reservations. That the opportunity became precipitated by other circumstances was purely one of those things. He was here and his opportunity was here and to borrow a phrase from Gutierrez, all these fates would collide. One could not dispense with different views. Maybe Gutierrez is correct and the fates are pre-determined. He committed to his fate. Tomorrow morning he needed to get Luna and Quintero signed on. He would go to Quintero first. He kissed Rona good night and tossed a while before exhaustion took its toll.
* * *
45 White pulpy and sweet tropical fruit.
46 Delmonico steak
Chapter 46
The morning broke beautifully on this eighteenth day of October despite hurricane season. That alone was a surprise. The early storm back in May made everyone expect a series of storms in September and October. So much should be demanded from the experts, but maybe it wasn’t their fault. Maybe a sacrifice was made to an Afro-Cuban god and he or she made sure nothing happened.
Matos woke up invigorated with the aroma of the greenery in the air. There was also the essence of manure, being overpowered by coffee. He rose, cleaned up, and dressed. He rushed across the courtyard garden and into the lobby for some of the coffee. Taking a deep inhale of the steam rising from his cup, he shook out the newspaper. While reading the daily news about the war, the desk clerk interrupted him with an envelope. Matos accepted the envelope and asked the clerk to have a buggy available as soon as possible. He placed the coffee cup down and opened the envelope to find a note from Perez that simply stated, ‘I need to talk to you in a hurry.’ He thought ‘Damn, some of these young fellows. Why can’t they solve their issues? When I was
younger and starting in this trade, I had to fend for myself. I have lost count of all the threats I dealt with. I bet someone negotiated too much on a price and he had to give in to him. Now he wants to confess and ask for forgiveness as if I were some priest. No, I don’t want to deal with him. Let him sink if that’s what’s going to happen. I’ll see him tomorrow on the train on the way back and let him have it then.’ He crumpled the note and went back to his coffee and paper.
The clerk soon came back and advised him that the buggy was ready. Matos made his way assuredly and boarded the buggy letting the driver know he wanted to go to La Vaquita. In the lobby, with a hand raised, Alvaro Perez tried to draw his attention once more. He looked down to the table and saw his note, crumpled with the soiled napkin and an empty coffee cup.
***
Galo awoke before dawn. Rona stirred with his movement and got up as well to make him coffee. She placed the appropriate spoonfuls of the dark roasted bean grounds into the cotton, coned sock and placed the metal tankard underneath. She held the pot of boiling water over the sock and began to pour the water slowly onto the grounds. In a few moments, the black elixir dripped from the bottom and its aroma perfumed the apartment.
Galo sat in the dining table looking through the documents one more time. He reviewed his plan and had a second thought. He would opt to go to Luna Llena, Luna’s ranch, first. There was more risk with that guy than with Quintero. This would remove one potential headache, though he thought the pain would occur at a much lower place in his anatomy. Rona interrupted him from his thoughts with a coffee cup and bread with cheese. Though he was impatient about leaving, he settled his thoughts and ate his breakfast.
Daylight peeked through the horizon as Galo mounted Maximo and followed the same route on the Vertientes road to Luna Llena. As in most cattle towns, people start early. He ran across the milk wagon delivering to homes. Some newspapers were being tossed from bicycles. Bakers were getting their bread ready for the day. Galo saw all of these on his way through the city.
At the outskirts, where farms began to appear, the bellow of milking cows dominated. By the time he reached Luna Llena, the ranch operations were in full swing. Daylight prevailed and Luna railed on his sons to get things done right. Galo drew Luna’s attention and pointed to the ranch house. He rode and dismounted at the foot of the steps. Luna took his time, but eventually joined him on the porch, doing his own bellowing for coffee.
Galo reached into the satchel and pulled out the contracts and sat with Luna reading them aloud. Luna nodded as each clause was read. Galo continued to ask him if he understood or if he had any questions. Luna simply stated that he did understand and had no questions. It took some time to go through the bill of sale, the promissory note, the custody/collateral agreement, and, of course, the agreement not to sell. If there was a difference with any of the other agreements, Luna did not ask, and Galo did not offer a limited time frame. Based on the warnings Galo received about Luna, he did not feel compelled to explain too much about the timetable. Either way, Luna showed his demeanor the day before. Who knows, the man was sixty years old. Perhaps he was starting to lose his senses. Luna signed both sets of documents, keeping one set for himself with Galo keeping the other set. He promptly secured them into his satchel and reminded Luna that his men would come by with earring tags for the novillos.
“Luna, it would be helpful if some of the ranch staff would assist with the tagging. Can I count on you?”
“You have a better chance to screw my wife! What the hell? I’m not going to give you free work!”
“Very well, Luna. After all your wife is the one who deserves you!” Galo bid his farewell and headed back to cross the city and get to Quintero at La Vaquita.
The ride back to Camagüey became a little tedious. There were more carts on the road with vegetables and wares that farmers were bringing to town. He ceded passage a few times before continuing. The traffic in the city comprised of horses, buggies, carts, bicycles, pedestrians in the street, the trolley, and those new awful smelling machines called automobiles that also served to slow him down. It all was self-imposed tardiness caused by his pressing for agreements before those damn buyers started their bidding.
At midmorning, he stopped at Albergue’s to deliver Luna’s agreement and give Maximo a break. An hour later he remounted and headed north out of the city and turned east. The early part of the ride was as busy on the road as earlier, if not busier. The main road connected to Nuevitas on the north coast. Several of the carts coming toward Camagüey had the distinct smell of fish. The day turned hotter than anticipated and the breeze died down. Galo was sure those fish people wanted to get to the city as quickly as they could to sell before the fish spoiled.
Again, he ceded passage before taking the slight left off the road to head in the direction of La Vaquita. With the heat, he was happy to have taken the water he did at Albergue’s or else he would have been thirsty by now. That was the good of water. The not so good happened a half hour later when he pulled off the road, dismounted and sought relief along some bushes on the side. There was no traffic on this road as it mainly led to some small farms and ranches before getting to the entrance of Quintero’s place. Galo did notice some dust rising in the distance and didn’t give it a second thought as he welcomed his relief. He concluded and worked on buttoning his pants when a buggy carrying a recognizable face from yesterday and from months ago rode by at high speed. Galo’s heart took an uptick. He originally planned to see Quintero first. Now, he realized his potential mistake. He should have recognized the buyer would go to the largest source first. It would be easier to secure his volume than to mess around with a lot of little ranchers. He berated himself for allowing the fear of Luna to drive him to this mistake. Damn him and damn Luna. He knew that turd brain would be a pain.
~~~
“Señor Felipe, excuse me for interrupting you, but Sr. Galo is here to see you.” The announcement came from the Quintero ranch servant. Quintero, at his desk looked at the draft in his hand. He snapped the paper as if to test its authenticity and placed it in a drawer he closed.
“Please show him in.”
The servant returned with Galo and showed him in. Felipe rose and extended his hand, “Good morning, Galo, it’s a surprise to see you, but I am glad you came.”
“I hope it is a good morning, Quintero, and thank you for seeing me. I wanted to go over our contract and ask if we could sign them.”
Galo retrieved the papers from his satchel in a deliberate way. He felt insecure for the first time since his arrival to this provincial capital.
“Of course, my friend. We can do that. The day seems hot. Let me get Jose to bring in some lemonade. Rosa has been in the city at some canasta tournament at the club with other ladies.”
Felipe rose and walked to the door to have Jose bring in the lemonade. He seemed calm and merely returned to his desk. “Galo, by the way, did you happen to run into the buyer from La Habana on your way over? He was here this morning; came on the hotel buggy.”
“Oh, so that’s who it was. I saw a buggy on the road heading the other way, but had no idea.”
Jose came in with a tray of lemonades. He set napkins down on the desk and placed the cold glasses down before asking Quintero if there was anything else. Quintero thanked him and Jose left. Both men took good samples of the lemonade.
“Well, yes Galo. The man in the buggy is the buyer from La Habana, a man named Alberto Matos. He has been coming here for five years or so and we usually go through the same routine. It happens four or five times a year. He offers a low price. I tell him he’s a thief. He comes up a little and I tell him to go screw someone else. He comes up a little more. Then cries about how he is going to get beaten in La Habana. I get bored and settle at some number. He gives me a draft. A few days later, men come and get the cattle to the stockyard. It’s a dance every time, you see?”
Felipe explained the whole thing nonchalantly with menial gestures of his hands. “Now,
normally, I would befriend the people I do business with, but the longer I know this gentleman the less I care to be his friend. It’s all for the money.”
Galo listened carefully, trying to restrain his obvious concerns and hoping to God he would not lose it after all this time. “How was the dance this morning, Felipe?”
Quintero rose from his chair with the lemonade glass in hand and walked around his office in an animated manner, not quite looking at Galo. “I’ll tell you, Galo. It began much the same. Matos offered. I balked. He offered again. I balked. He came up to a full four pesos for the steers. I know I said something inappropriate about his ancestry, but agreed on the price. Although he didn’t think I noticed, he seemed to smile as he wrote down on paper. I’m sure the price agreed was well within his range. Of course, I kept a stern, disgusted look on my face.”
Galo sat calmly in his chair despite his pressure rising and his heart pounding so hard he had to concentrate closely to hear Quintero. He opted to take a sip of his lemonade as Quintero went on.
“I let him make his notes, and he said he was going to buy some novillos.”
Quintero stopped his pacing and stared down directly at Galo in his chair. “He offered four pesos fifty and went on to explain it was a fair price and there would be no negotiations on the price. I needed to work with him on this because he had gone over market on the steers. Can you believe that Galo, four pesos and fifty per hundred pound of novillo? Do you know how much money that is? Do you know they have never offered that much in their miserable life?” He waved his forefinger back and forth.
Galo shifted on his chair and shook his head, mortified and didn’t want to ask. He already calculated assuming fifteen thousand novillos at seventeen hundred pounds each, at four fifty per hundred would amount to one million one hundred forty seven thousand and five hundred pesos, give or take a few. At the same time, he visualized tearing the contracts that were on the desk and kissing his whole venture adios. His mind rambled, picturing Rona and the kids loading on the train back to La Habana and having to go back to the bloody apron. Perhaps Luna would be right after all, that son of a bitch. He was in reverie and almost missed Quintero’s continued tale.