No. She didn’t.
She must be an exceptional woman.
She is, yes.
The fact remains, I have been liberated by your hand and hers. Partially liberated, I should say, because my emancipation is incomplete. That is the other reason I am here.
John Roger cut a look at Patterson, who smiled tightly and lifted a finger to indicate that he should simply listen.
There are no Montenegro men left alive, Mr Wolfe, Mrs Albéniz said, and I have inherited a hacienda on which I have no wish to live. The only family left to me is a widowed sister in Cuernavaca. I have decided to sell La Sombra Verde and buy a house in Cuernavaca large enough for her and my daughter and myself.
The sale of the estate should certainly make you financially comfortable, John Roger said. I am pleased for you.
Thank you, she said. But though I have my faults, greed is not one of them. I need only enough money to purchase a house and to maintain us in comfort. I have asked appraisals from three different advisors and they are in close agreement as to the worth of La Sombra Verde. I believe Mr Patterson is also not without knowledge about these things. She turned to Patterson and stated a sum. To John Roger’s ears an immense sum.
I’m no assayer, Patterson said, but that sounds right.
The accountants with whom I consulted, Mrs Albéniz continued, have assured me that twenty percent of that amount would be more than adequate to provide for me and my sister for the rest of our lives. For my daughter, as well, if she should choose never to marry. The accountants believe I intend to invest the difference, and I did not disabuse them. The point, Mr Wolfe, is that I have thought about this quite carefully, and as I have no other means to repay you for the severe mutilation inflicted on you by my husband, I wish to offer you La Sombra Verde for twenty percent of its worth. You could then, if you so wish, sell it in turn and gain a very large profit. I know of course that no amount of money can make amends for—
Forgive me, madam, John Roger said. You are under no obligation to recompense me for anything.
I am not here to argue the point, Mr Wolfe. Mr Patterson told me you might be reluctant to accept my offer for fear of taking advantage, but I shall be very offended if you should turn it down. Besides, my motives are not entirely benevolent. While I certainly believe you should be compensated by Hernán Montenegro’s estate, I have another reason for selling it to you for less than its full worth. Can you guess that reason?
They held stares for a moment, and then he said, Your husband would not like it.
She smiled. You understand everything. Nothing would enrage the man more. It pleases me to believe that even in hell he will learn of it and it will add to his misery.
Forgive my intrusion, madam, Patterson said, and turned to John Roger and said in English, “No offense, Johnny, but if it’s a question of money, I can see to it that in less than an hour you have a loan of as much as—”
I have the money, John Roger said.
“Que bueno,” the woman said. She leaned forward and placed the portfolio on the desk and opened it to reveal a small sheaf of legal documents. My attorneys have seen to the necessary paperwork, she said. It has all been certified and requires only our own signatures and that of Mr Patterson as witness before it is registered and becomes official.
John Roger looked at Patterson. “It’s not right, Charley. She’s giving it away.”
“Como?” said Mrs Albéniz.
Maybe you want to talk it over with Lizzie, Patterson said.
“Leezee?” the woman said.
My wife.
You wish to ask for the opinion of your wife?
No. I don’t have to.
I did not think so. It is the same with the men of this country.
That was not my meaning, John Roger said. My wife’s opinion is of importance to me. I simply meant that I know what she will say. Because we have discussed our, ah, aspirations for the future, you see.
How extraordinary, the woman said. So tell me. What will she say?
John Roger cut a look at Patterson, looked back at the woman, cleared his throat. Yes. She will say yes.
Mrs Albéniz smiled. So we are agreed?
For thirty percent of the property’s worth, John Rodger said.
The woman looked quizzical. Your wife will say for thirty percent?
No, I’m saying for thirty percent.
You are saying. . .? Mr Wolfe, I do not know very much about business, but I know it is contrary to basic principle for a buyer to offer more than a seller asks.
Thirty percent. Agreed?
No, she said. She looked at Patterson and made a small gesture of perplexity.
I would be stealing it at thirty percent, John Roger said to her.
For the love of God, she said, you are stealing nothing. It is my price.”
Thirty percent is—
“Ay, pero que terco!” Twenty-five percent, Mr Wolfe, and that is all. Not one penny more. Now please, sir, let us end this silliness.
He studied her face. She raised her brow in question. He smiled.
She smiled back. “Ah pues, estamos de acuerdo, no? We have, ah . . . como se dice? . . . make the busyness?”
Yes.
He dispatched the news to Richard, who congratulated him for his good fortune but opposed his resignation from the company. He persuaded John Roger to stay on in the Trade Wind’s employ as head bookkeeper, a duty he could fulfill from the hacienda. Twice a month Richard would send him the company’s most recent paperwork for final accounting. The records would be relayed by Amos Bentley, whom, on John Roger’s recommendation, Richard hired to manage the company’s Mexican office.
PART TWO
BUENAVENTURA
Sombra Verde was very different in geographical character from the hacienda Corazón de la Virgen that they had visited some years earlier, but the estates were similar in organization and amenities. It was a self-sustaining settlement, feeding off its cornfields and orchards, its pig farms and chicken roosts and dairy, its beef cattle that was processed into meat at the downriver slaughterhouse. The compound was centered by a plaza with a fountain and a church, a main store, a trio of stables with a large adjoining corral. Also fronting the plaza was the walled enclave containing the casa grande. Though it had three stories, the compact design of the house made it small by hacienda standards, but it was still larger than either of the mansions in which Elizabeth Anne had been reared. It boasted all the usual facilities, including an armory, though few of the arms had seen use since the days of the Valledolids, who had kept in hire a dozen pistoleros, while the Montenegros could scarcely afford to maintain half that many. John Roger told these men their service was no longer required and paid them a discharge bonus and they shrugged and left. At Elizabeth Anne’s suggestion he renamed the estate Buenaventura de la Espada, which over time would be simplified in casual reference to Buenaventura. All of the casa grande’s furniture had been shipped from Spain for the Valledolids, and the Wolfes chose to keep most of it. Elizabeth Anne was especially delighted by the piano in the salon, though it was in bad need of tuning. The only item of furniture they rejected was the bed in their private chamber. It was a mammoth thing of polished mahogany and a feather mattress, but they would not lie where Montenegro had lain. John Roger had the mattress burned and a bookcase made from the fine wood frame. The walls of the residence were cleared of Montenegro portraits and they too went into a fire. He had the bones in every Montenegro grave exhumed from the little cemetery adjoining the casa grande garden and reburied in the communal graveyard of the neighboring village of Santa Rosalba. As the Montenegros had done with the bones of the Valledolids.