When the Owl Cries Part 6

The robe was Franciscan, the face Italian. Gabriel, at fifty-seven, had l.u.s.trous brown eyes, a bald head, a compa.s.sionate mouth, thick neck, large ears, a reddish wen under one eye. His front teeth had been capped with gold. He wore gold-rimmed gla.s.ses. He walked with a limp. But his defects were forgotten when he smiled.

The smile welcomed Raul.

"So nice to see you."

Momentarily the dark room, after brilliant sun, bothered Raul and he b.u.mped into one of the familiar leather chairs. He only half saw the Spanish desk with papers in every pigeonhole, its reed-bottom chair, the shelves of books, and the plain wall cross carved from a sc.r.a.p of high alt.i.tude cedar. Raul touched Gabriel's silver and bone rosary, where it lay on a corner of the desk.

"I'd like to talk with you."

"Sit down. Let me take these papers off the chair."

They faced each other on leather chairs, the door slightly open; again hors.e.m.e.n crossed the court, the hoof beats making the cobbles sound like empty clay bowls.

"One of these days you'll have your stained-gla.s.s windows," said Raul.

"Ah," said Gabriel, amused at such an unprompted declaration. "Right now, I think we ought to have a school teacher. We must reopen our school."

"I'm going to see to it," said Raul.

"What made your father change his mind?" asked Gabriel eagerly.

"I've decided to make these changes, now."

Gabriel began to laugh softly, one hand on his knee. His gla.s.ses shook and seemed about to fall.

"My dear boy, what's happened? Hadn't you better explain?"

"I've decided to take over Petaca. I should have done it long ago."

Gabriel blinked at Raul as if seeing him through smudged lenses. He trusted Raul, but he cleared his throat and knotted together the edge of his robe.

"We're in for trouble," Gabriel said, drawing his feet underneath his chair and bending forward thoughtfully. "This will really upset the hacienda."

"I don't want trouble; that's why I came to you."

Gabriel sighed. He was willing to a.s.sume responsibility, but he could not see where he could help. He had looked forward to the young man's administration of the estate at the death of his father. Removing his gla.s.ses, he pinched his nose, and then put the gla.s.ses on again.

"There's Pedro Chavez," he said. "You'll have to deal with him."

"Angelina reminded me," Raul said.

"Did you have to be reminded?" asked Gabriel. "Who else knows your decision besides Angelina?"

"Salvador and Manuel."

"Well, in a short time everyone will know."

"Father doesn't know. Shall I tell him today?"

"We'll tell him later. I see no reason to go to him now."

"I think I should tell him today. He should hear it from me.

"What precipitated your decision? I thought you would wait until..."

He did not bother to finish the sentence; he was trying to consider problems dispa.s.sionately.

"It's the shortage of corn. Father has refused to supply grain. Many are ill, but you know the situation better than I do. I won't wait any longer. Farias was sent to check the corn and fences along the del Valle line. I don't want any shootings and I don't want any trouble."

Gabriel chuckled. "You don't want trouble," he said. "Now you'll have your hands full."

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Come--what about Pedro Chavez?"

"I'll order him to leave the hacienda." Raul slapped the side of his boot with the palm of his hand. "I've had more than enough of Pedro."

"I'm with you," cried Gabriel. "Let's get him out of here as soon as possible."

Raul grabbed the priest's arm, and squeezed it. Gabriel's eyes glittered, and he stood up and said: "I remember the talks we've had in this room. I'll help you see that our people are treated right at Petaca. The Americans fought for their liberty.... Their war brought freedom! G.o.d will bless your decision, Raul. We'll work together."

"I'll talk to my father," said Raul, rising.

"Perhaps we should wait till Dr. Velasco comes," said Gabriel.

"I'd rather not."

"The shock may be too much for Don Fernando. I'd wait." Gabriel hesitated.

"You're wrong. Father will fight. He won't give in to me, in spite of his stroke. Let's talk to him before Velasco comes. Come with me."

"I suppose we may as well," sighed Gabriel.

Together they crossed the cobbles, a mangy yellow dog trailing them, sniffing the priest's robes. Entering by the veranda, they went directly into Don Fernando's bedroom. He was asleep. Gabriel bent over him, made the sign of the cross, and counted his pulse, the old man's skin cold to his fingers.

"It's steady," he whispered to Raul.

Fernando opened his eyes.

"Is it time for Ma.s.s?" he jibed thickly. He disliked Father Gabriel.

To his way of thinking, his kind of mental superiority was out of place on an hacienda. It had been Gabriel who had influenced Raul to study abroad. Priests were for women and children. He had been a fool to put money into Raul's education. Education destroyed a man's strength.... Lids barely open, he glared at his son and the priest's bald head.

"How are you feeling?" Gabriel asked, avoiding his stare.

"Thirsty," said Fernando.

Raul poured water from the table bottle and gave the gla.s.s to his father.

"More water, Father?"