Chapter 2: The Family

The , as it turned out during dinner, were apart from Nita a young man and woman of about twenty. They both had Nita's heart-shaped face, dimples and rich black hair, but it seemed that she was the only one in the family with blue eyes.
The young man, Carlos, was easy to get to know. His smiles were as frequent as Nita's and his jokes no less. Lou found him particularly pleasant, even though he confused her at one point by saying:
I was thinking of going to town tomorrow night. There's a nice little club there called Estrella. I think you would like it. Would you like to come with me?
Well, I wouldn't she started, but then she halted. By his words and his way of saying them she had assumed that he was making a pass at her, but now it hit her that he didn't know she was a girl. Or did he? She realised that it was impossible to read out anything from that frank, friendly face.
His sister's stare at him was no less peculiar. She had introduced herself as Sandy, but the family seemed to prefer the name Aleja - both, of course, nicknames for Alejandra. Unlike the the others, she seemed entirely irritated by the arrival of more people. It was true that the dining-room was filled to the rim by housefolks and boarders, but that didn't trouble anyone else. While the table was surrounded by new subjects of conversation every minute, she concentrated mainly on her food. Any contribution from her part was short and in some cases almost hostile. Yet she listened carefully to what was said, and at times a smile even came to her face.
Ike had found it difficult to assert himself in a quick conversation where few people understood what he said, so it was only natural that he would notice the other person who sat silent. To his surprise, he liked what he saw. Sandy was in no way less attractive than her brother and sister, if anything, it was the other way around. What was only babyfat in Nita was in Sandy's case round, generous shapes. Her skin was smooth and olive-brown, and her face a perfect heart with dark brown eyes and a mouth that was more than a little too big.
Interesting view? mumbled Buck and Ike grinned when he realised he had totally lost grip of what was going on around him.
Beautiful, he simply answered.
Buck seemed unconvinced, and he wrinkled his nose discretely as he whispered:
A little bit crabby, don't you think?
Sure, but just look at her! That bosom, for one thing Ike stopped when he realised that Sandy was looking straight at him and seemed absolutely furious.
She put her knife and fork down with a bang.
What about it? she asked.
Ike's chin fell down. She had understood every single word he had signed. Embarrassment fought in his mind with curiosity to find out how this could be.
she persisted. The table was now absolutely quiet. What's so bloody amazing about my bosom that you have to bring it up as a dinner subject?
The only answer Ike could think of was: It's pretty
Thank you. Now stop treating me like a piece of meat!
Mrs. Fernandez wasn't pleased with her daughter's behaviour. ¡No hace falta estar insolente!
The women's eyes met in a battle of minds - a battle that the mother won.
Tienes razón. Perdón.
Mrs. Fernandez wasn't satisfied.
¡A él!
Sandy reluctantly turned to Ike.
I apologize, she said, very politely but hardly heartily. I was unnecessarily rude, and it wasn't my intention.
Confused, he accepted her apology. She nodded her head and then bent it down over her plate again, making any further effort of conversation impossible.

Buck woke up in a bedroom that was slightly too small for two beds, and at first he didn't know where he was. Then the sound of the rooster's crowing made him think of the poultry run, and he recalled the day before.
His eyes fell on a small earthenware statuette that he had barely noticed when he went to bed. He had assumed that it was a horse, but now he saw that instead of a horse's head, it had the upper body of a young woman, with her hair falling down as a long mane over her back and chest, only in part covering her bosom. He stretched out his hand and took it, watching it carefully. Then he noticed something that made him smile. The human part might be a woman, but the horse was a gelding. The person who had made the statuette obviously didn't know horses very well. Unless, of course, the ambiguity was made on purpose. The accuracy of every other detail almost made it seem that way.
The bedclothes of the other bed moved aside, and Ike's eyes met his own. He seemed awfully tired, Buck thought, and then realised, no, not tired, but troubled.
What's bugging you? You look like a dying duck in a thunderstorm.
I was thinking about yesterday.
That Sandy girl?
Ike nodded.
What's the big deal? She's a little shrew and she snapped at you, why are you still interested?
She didn't snap at me. She snapped from herself.
That really didn't make any sense whatsoever. Buck moved on: Anyway, what about Emily?
What has Emily got to do with this?
Buck stared at him.
Are you kidding? You look at another girl's breasts, and when she tells you off you ponder on it all night. That definitely has something to do with Emily.
Ike looked embarrassed.
I love Emily very much, he hurried to explain. But I can't help what I set my eyes on.
I'm not sure there's not more to it, mumbled Buck.
The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lou came in, fully dressed already.
The Giróns are waiting for us outside, she said.
Buck sat up in his bed. They had to come here just to make sure we would come to work?
Lou grinned.
Actually, I think they came to see mrs. Fernandez. She noticed the statuette Buck was holding. So, you've got one too, she said with a nod to the little thing.
You have one like this?
Let me see. She took the horsewoman from him and studied it. Well, nothing this imaginative. I have a chicken coming out of an egg.
I wonder who made them.
When the boys had dressed and they all went out they found Nita and mrs. Girón discussing hens while mr. Girón watched rather bored.
Good morning, boys! he said when he noticed the riders. I hope you have slept well and are ready for a hard day's work.
The women just looked up and said before they entered the discussion again.
Well, tía Becky, do you like any of them in particular? asked Nita.
How about that one?
Mrs. Girón pointed at a rather big, brown hen.
Nita shook her head. No, she lays too many eggs to be wasted for meat. But how about Quince? She's about the same size.
Mrs. Girón agreed, and Nita took the chosen hen carefully in her hands and went behind the main house. When she came back, the now headless hen hung by its feet from her right hand.
Here you go. She gave the carcass to the woman. I'm sorry it took so long, she kept flapping her wings so long.
The older woman shuddered.
That is one thing I can't stand about slaughtering poultry.
What, that they keep moving afterwards? Nita smiled. It's just reflexes, nothing to get soft about.
Oh, really! Mrs. Girón's eyes narrowed. Tell me, why do you go behind the house to kill a hen?
Nita's smile widened, and she explained to the riders:
I don't know if chickens get scared, but if they do, I don't want to kill one of them in front of the others. It might make them lose confidence in me.
Thoughtful, but crazy, said mrs. Girón, and to show that she wasn't serious she caressed the girl's cheek. Then she turned to the others.
Alright, shall we go then?
said mr. Girón with a sigh of relief. They have been chosing forever! he complained.
They were about to leave when Buck turned to Nita and asked:
Who has made the statuettes in our rooms?
She shrugged.
Which statuettes?
The ones in our rooms, Buck repeated.
This made Nita raise an eyebrow.
Yes, you said that, she said, rather amused. But which ones? What do they represent?
er Lou's is a chicken coming out of an egg and ours is some sort of I don't know, a woman-horse kind of thing.
A centaur, said Nita and nodded. That's Aleja's. The chicken is mine. I usually do chickens or Randy or people I know. Carlos does wild animals and his current beloved. Aleja is more talented. That centaur isn't one of her best things, though. They're all in the attic. Maybe if I coax on her she'll show them to you. Would you like that?

Mr. Girón interrupted.
This is all very interesting, but maybe we should get going. I want to get started before midday, if possible.

Mr. Girón had spent many days getting timber for the house.
I know stone would be more lasting, he said, while they were working. It sounded as if he were apologizing. But what can I do, wood is so much cheaper.
I've seen stone houses wrecked by the storm as well, objected mrs. Girón.
She helped out, too, with the slow house-building process. It wasn't so strange, she was actually bigger than her short but sinewy husband.
Only one of their children had survived to grown age, they told the riders during the labour. He was a sailor on a transatlantic ship and couldn't be expected home very often. Maybe this was the reason why they were so eager to make the riders comfortable. They insisted on the riders calling them and instead of mrs. and mr. Girón, just like Nita had done in Spanish.
Lou tried to get some information about the Fernandez family, but mrs. Girón was very unwilling to say something, and even her husband was unusually terse. Finally, mrs. Girón put down the board she was holding and turned to Lou with a grave expression in her eyes.
I'm not willing to discuss them, she said. I'm very fond of Marosi, she pronounced it Ma Rosie, and I think she's an admirable woman. People around here are no good at minding their own business, but I'm trying. Is that clear?
Lou was surprised at her seriousness, and didn't bring up the subject again.
As Ike carried some timber to the future house his head suddenly started to spin, and the dizziness forced him to sit down. His side had been aching for a while, but he had tried to ignore it. The others rushed up to him to see what was wrong.
Are you okay? asked Buck.
I'm fine. I just need some rest.
Buck grimaced.
A little bit too much for you, huh?
What's wrong? Mr. Girón seemed worried and Buck hurried to reassure him: Oh, it's nothing, really. Ike was shot pretty badly a while ago and he's still only half-recovered.
Oh, dear! said mrs. Girón. The couple seemed shocked. Shootings was obviously not part of their lives the way it was for the riders. You have to tell us when you're feeling bad, okay? Now, maybe you should go home and lie down for a while. We'll be finished in an hour or so.
Ike intended to protest, but realised that he didn't help anyone by playing hero, so instead he nodded his consent.