by Manolo Mario
~~~
Cuello analyzed correctly and got ahead of the slow trot Bartolo rode. He found an ideal spot among a clump of trees with branches that hung low to the ground, where he waited for his prey. The sun rose behind him and he had a clear view of the dirt road. He spotted the light dust being lifted by a sole rider coming from the city. He looked up and down the road to see if there was anyone coming from either direction other than the one rider. There was no one. His mind was clear. He would shoot the man, drag the body and bury it behind these trees. He would not be found for a long time, if at all. The horse would be miles away before anyone wondered what happened to its rider.
Many birds sang their varied melodies from their perches in the trees. A rooster crowed in the distance and a train’s whistle blew. Cuello had a perfect setting, almost covered in the front. With the sun at his back, anyone facing him from the road would see darkness and the darkness the coming rider would see was endless. A perfect limb from the nearest tree stood out and he placed his rifle in a rut and worked to align the sight with his target.
~~~
Galo enjoyed once again the sight of the jumping bull in silhouette when a shot rang out and Maximo reared, catching him by surprise. He almost fell off, but dug his knees and grabbed the saddle horn with his left hand. The horse pirouetted and Galo worked the rein and used his voice to calm the horse down. Thousands of birds instantly took flight from the trees and were dancing in an aerial acrobatic show. Then, another shot rang out.
~~~
Cuello was stunned and shocked, but strangely not feeling any real pain. He could not understand what happened, but he fell back and couldn’t control any of his movements. Why didn’t Ortiz tell him that his target had some kind of magical powers? Confusion. Bewilderment! He was at the sheer mercy of whatever was happening. The noise of the birds above him sounded loud and he knew something had gone terribly wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. One moment his target in sight, he pressed the trigger and the next he wasn’t there. His eyes seemed to focus briefly and he saw a black face with a wide nose and bulging yellowish eyes. Is it the devil? This face and his own rifle pointed back at him were the last thing Cuello would ever see.
~~~
Galo, in control of Maximo once more and under way, looked around and mumbled, “What imbecile hunter would be out here at this hour? Hell, what kind of animal would they be hunting? It could be one of those field rats, I suppose. Coño, the idiot must be pretty hungry to be screwing around at this hour.” He rode off on his way.
~~~
Behind the cluster of trees that looked like a bull jumping, Quino dragged the dead body of Juan Cuello with a broken neck and a bullet hole between the eyes to a spot that Mulo had dug. Mulo stopped and looked at him. “Quino, do you think I can learn to read too?”
“Don’t see why not!”
Chapter 55
Galo galloped hard back to town around noon. He was not happy with his meeting with the guajiros and needed to act quickly. The poor bastards were up in arms and they wanted Galo to pay up. He needed to get control quickly before he was back wearing a bloody damn apron. At the point where the road came to the last residence in the city, Quino and Mulo were waiting for him.
“What are you two doing here?”
Quino looked around. “We are waiting for you. The men from La Habana are here and are raising a stink with the guajiros. We were told to leave from two of them this morning and couldn’t get to our work.”
“Yeah, I know. Those bastards are starting a war, but they don’t get that we are going to win. In any case, I came from a few visits and everyone is up in arms. I need to go to the telegraph office and see if I can communicate in the clear for a damn change!”
“Señor Galo, we are going to stay with you today. With so many angry people around, you need some backing. We can help if it becomes necessary.” Quino nodded.
Galo grinned and reached for his back, pulled out his knife, and laughed out loud. “I have all the fucking back up I need, men!”
“It doesn’t matter, we want to fucking ride with you!”
***
At the telegraph office, Galo barged in with his knife in hand, grabbed the telegrapher and shoved him into his office. The man squealed and held his hands up pleading.
“Listen to me you little piece of shit. I know you have been passing on private information to Felipe Quintero.”
The telegrapher’s eyes went wide.
“That’s right, I know. So I’m either going to have to cut your tongue out to teach you a lesson or I’m going to telegraph the head office and tell them what you are doing, or you are going to stop this right now!”
The stuttering man almost cried. “Yes, yes I’ll do anything! I’ll stop, I swear! Not another word to Quintero!”
“If you do, I will know. I will come back and cut your tongue out. The hell with your tongue! I’ll carve your heart and bring it out through your mouth!” Galo barked as he twirled his knife in front of the telegrapher’s face. “Now, get back to your post and let me give you two messages to get out right away.”
The man shocked and soiled went back to his post and sent the telegrams as Galo asked.
***
“I don’t understand, Matos?” asked a visibly troubled John Howard. “I spoke with you the other day and you said everything was going well and that you would have a resolution shortly. Today, I come to the office and I have notes with complaints from the stockyard and from a slaughtering operation stating the cattle they received are inadequate. Let me look at what they said,” continued the trustee flipping through his messages. “Ah, yes, here it is, ‘emaciated’ cattle. What do you have to say?”
Matos stood firm in front of Howard’s desk gesturing through his explanation. “It’s a mistake, Mr. Howard.”
“A mistake from eight different sources? What do you mean a mistake?”
“No, sir, not a mistake in the information. In fact, the ranchers in the west took us for fools. They shipped us good cattle for weeks and then they sent us their worst. I have come down on the buyers involved.”
“You came down hard on the buyers? What about the slaughterhouse and the stockyard? What do we do about them?”
“From our backdoor shipment, we distributed evenly to appease them. We are targeting to have a full supply of good cattle in a day or two, as I mentioned to you before.”
John Howard stared down Matos with a raised eyebrow and a pursed bottom lip. “Backdoor? Matos what are you talking about?”
Matos began to sweat and fidget. He went on to explain the situation in Camagüey. “But you see, I’ve convinced one of the Big Five houses to ship novillos behind the scenes, loading them in Ciego de Avila. At least, this maintains a flow until the guajiros break. These guajiros are on the brink and the main instigator will disappear soon.”
“Disappear? What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, disappear, as in he won’t bother us again. We’re going to nail that bastard!” Matos clenched his fist.
“Dear God, Matos, what do you mean? What have you done? It sounds like you aim to kill the man. We cannot condone that. We have a business and there is a way to work out a deal.”
Matos opened his eyes wide and pointed his nose. “But you said you didn’t want to hear more bad news; I should take care of the problem no matter what. So I’m taking care of it. Now don’t you say you didn’t. Besides, it will not come back to us. We made sure the guy made many people angry.” He became angrier as he argued and pointed a finger.
Howard looked at Matos trying to gauge what he was saying and what he had done. His mind rewound through their prior conversations, considering the genesis of the situation in Camagüey, and looking toward the future with what he had learned the night before.
“You’re a fool Matos if you took what I said to be something other than legitimate transactions. Last night I heard from the syndicate, President Wilson was informed of a telegram to the German embas
sy in Mexico offering the Mexicans Texas, New Mexico, and other territories if Mexico joined the war on their side. It will not be long before the U.S. goes to war. What do you think that will do for the price of cattle? Get out of my office! You have lost your mind and you should consider yourself dismissed. Get out! I have work to do!”
Matos, flushed, defiant and clearly defeated left the office at a funeral procession’s pace. Behind him Howard yelled at his secretary to come in to take a note. He needed to reach Perez in Camagüey before it got too late. He needed to acquire novillos at any price.
***
Roberto Luna took the liberty as he rode into town to stop at some of his neighbors’ ranches. In each case, the guajiro relayed to him their conversation with the buyers. They each expressed nervousness and asked Luna what he would do. One asked him directly what he was going to do. Luna told each of them he had enough with the little Napoleon. He had scammed them all into a deal he could never win. Luna said he felt cheated and he was going to give Bartolo a piece of his mind. He asked the ranchers to come into town the next day and join him at the café across from the train station in the afternoon at two. These ranchers agreed and Luna asked them to call on other guajiros and make sure they joined him as well.
The closest big ranch to his was Cruz Azul and Eriberto Sanchez. Luna made the detour as well. He told Eriberto what was happening and if he knew about it. Eriberto said he didn’t and he was somewhat surprised. Luna gave him hell for being so unemotional about a man who was about to ruin all their markets. He implored Eriberto to join him in the city with other ranchers to make a decision on the situation. Sanchez found no option but to agree to attend.
In the city, Luna visited with every supplier and found guajiros in each store understanding the same story. With each story, Luna wound his emotions up and was in the vein of calling Bartolo names and cursing every time he mentioned the name. He stopped at the messenger service and issued notes to Quintero, Gutierrez, and Rodriguez to join him the next day as well. It was time to end this nonsense.
***
Galo left the telegraph station and went home asking Quino and Mulo to wait. He wrote to each of the Big Five asking them to meet with him the next day so he could update them on the situation and the course of action he would take. He suggested Ofelia’s at two thirty would be as good a place as any, and asked his men to take the messages. Quino looked at Mulo and he took them. Quino remained downstairs, following the instructions of his spirit woman, looking up and down the street, comfortable the stranger he saw often a few days before would no longer be across the way.
***
“My God, this situation is worse than I thought.” John Howard flicked at the telegram in his hand. Perez’ response with details of Matos’ instructions coupled with his alternative suggestion of elimination were hitting Howard hard. He felt like a fool to have let his man Matos run loose with a delicate situation that needed a different solution. He hated that he had not let Perez handle it. On the other hand Perez was sensible. Perhaps he needed to let the young man conclude this ugly mess. He hoped he was on time before this Bartolo person would be killed and a deal could never be struck. It was late in the day, but he would send a cable anyway.
***
Elio received the telegram explaining that the telegraph situation had been resolved and communications were now in private with each other. The cable had several requests. Elio would take care of them, but he first responded.
“You better watch your ass. They are out to kill you!”
Galo received the telegram at his house and laughed. He slept well for the first time in weeks.
***
Guajiros were still walking into Ofelia’s at ten after two. The place was so full that non-ranchers settled their bills and left. The atmosphere felt tense, though they each greeted one another. Several men cornered Emilio Sastre and were forceful in registering their anger. Quintero arrived last and he stood with Pedro Rodriguez, who couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt uncomfortable with this affair. Eriberto spoke with a few of his neighbors and tried to soothe them. He said not everything was ever as bad as it seemed. He implored them to have an open mind and see what the options were. Gutierrez, as usual, had a drink in his hand and told the closest person it was all meant to be.
Luna pulled his son next to him and smacked his riding whip on a table in the center, yelling the room to silence. It took a few moments for the crowd to settle as some men were jockeying for a better view of the speaker. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming. I know these last few days have become intolerable. Each of us works hard every day with the hope of turning our cattle into cash that we need to survive.”
Luna paused for effect. Folks in the back of the room looked at each other and whispered, “As if he worked or was close to being destitute.”
There was a chorus of shushes! Luna continued. “In good faith, and I mean truly good faith, all of us contracted with a newcomer who promised us an incredible return for our trust. And now we all know that the trust was violated. Time and again, Bartolo turned down fair offers from the agents at a huge the loss to our pockets!”
One voice yelled out, “That isn’t true! Those pricks from La Habana were screwing with us!”
The room broke out into a back and forth with a few pushes, gestures and finger pointing. Once again Luna smacked his whip on the table and yelled for silence. Again it took a few minutes for order to resume. The train whistle interrupted before he could continue.
“We have not sold one novillo since November; since November, gentlemen. It has been four months. How can anyone survive without getting cash for his novillo? You still have to work the beasts and work the fields. You still have to feed your families. You still have to pay your debts.” Luna commanded the full attention in the room with his passionate approach.
He raised his contract high over his head. “And what have we to show for all that effort? A lousy contract that is not worth the paper it’s typed on!”
The room erupted once more with cheers and boos and more pushing, more gesturing, and more name-calling. Quintero smacked a table with his walking cane and called for quiet. Luna looked surprised and looked over to Felipe. When the room settled, Quintero spoke, “Roberto, don’t you think we should at least hear Bartolo’s side of the story? You seem to be loading this crowd with one point of view and not respecting what you don’t know!”
More noise started, but Luna yelled over it. “What is there to know? Four months without cash coming to these people; squeezed and living in hardship! You’re right, Felipe. He should be here to explain to these people whatever comes to his mind. Now, I don’t know about you Quintero, but I know what I am going to do!”
Once more he raised his paper above his head, ripped it in half and let the papers float to the floor. The room again erupted in yelling and cursing and pushing and shoving. Luna looked at his son and gave him a half smile and a wink.
One more time Quintero called for quiet and the room quieted. “Gentlemen, I am sure Luna means well.” He coughed a few times before continuing. “And the facts as he has presented them are in front of you. These contracts, which Luna has admitted were entered into in good faith, have an effect on all of us in the room. Therefore, I suggest as we have a new democracy, we should also vote on its disposition. In essence, I propose a clean, person by person vote.”
The room once more broke into chatter with some ranchers for and some against the vote. Quintero continued trying to override the noise. “A yes vote keeps the contract and a nay vote, tears it up. Whichever side wins, we all agree to abide by the result. What do you say?”
The room slowly built back its noise, but in an approving manner.
Quintero called Luna over and leaned in his ear. “I would hope you think this is fair?” Luna nodded his assent. “By the way, I bet you one thousand pesos you are going to lose.” Luna stuck his hand out and shook.
Unnoticed by the crowd, who were busy jostling for positio
n and still arguing for and against the vote, two men wearing suits entered Ofelia’s and stood near the entrance. Quintero banged his cane and called order for the vote. The room quieted and one of the suited men lifted a hand and began calling out. “Excuse me! Forgive me! Pardon me!”
Quintero, Luna, and the rest worked their view back toward the door and Quintero spoke. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Forgive me for interrupting, but is this a meeting of the Camagüey cattle ranchers, yes?”
The room erupted in laughter and noise requiring Quintero and Luna to smack each of their implements to get the room quiet. Quintero answered. “Señor, we have been called many things. What do you want?”
The man darted his look around the room. “All right, but everyone here is a cattleman, correct?”
One time in unison, the crowd said, “yes!”
“Good! Gentlemen, my name is Rodolfo Campos. I am the President of Ruiz & Estevez Bank. This is my assistant. I have just arrived from La Habana, and I am here with instructions to settle your contracts with Señor Galo Bartolo.”
Luna’s jaw dropped, “What? What do you mean?”
Campos tilted his head and smiled. “I am here to pay the amounts due under your contract with Bartolo.”
Quintero looked at the stunned Luna, and grinned widely. “You owe me a thousand pesos!”
Luna’s eyes opened wide and he dropped to the floor on all fours looking for the torn pieces of paper. “Son, help get these papers!”
Quintero looked down at him. “Are you shitting me? Did you tear the real contract? You are one hell of an imbecile!”
By now the room rang of cheers. Guajiros hugged and laughed and shook hands. Eriberto walked to Pedro Rodriguez, shook his hand. “What do you know? The little guy pulled it off! These guys have never seen money like they will today!”