Chapter Fifty-Six

After dinner the family went on the porch, and while the children did their lessons, the adults occupied their hands with simple tasks, the women knitting and the men making corn ristras. Alvi insisted on helping, and Donovan was annoyed to see that he was good at it. "This brings back happy memories of the summer I spent here," he said. "I thought my career was over just as it was beginning, but you got my Hérculo back on his feet and I will never forget it."

"I did what I would do for any animal," Carina said.

"Your family was very generous to me. That was my favorite summer, and Hérculo was a good worker and faithful friend for many years, thanks to you."

"You've got some good ones now," Carina reminded him. "I know I say it every time you come through, but I hope you're making note of who's breeding good stock out there. I'm willing to look outside the valley next time we buy, if there are quality animals for the right price."

"There is never a moment I'm not thinking of it."

"Then it's a wonder you get any sleep," Amalia teased.

"Sleep is for those who are willing to miss out on life. We must stay awake always."

"Well, I don't mind missing out on a few things," said Carina, yawning.

"It's a sacrifice we have to make," Amalia agreed. "But we don't have to miss out on that sake, do we? You thought we had forgotten, didn't you?"

"Not at all," Alvi said, standing up. "It is I who had forgotten. I will be right back."

A few minutes later he returned with a blue bottle and four short glasses on a tray. He poured a bit of the cloudy rice wine into each glass and handed them out. "I was told that it should be drank out of small bowls, but I don't know if I trust my source."

The women sipped cautiously. Carina made a face. "It's horrible. This tastes like what I use to preserve my herbs."

"Yes, if you added water and a bit of rose petal," Amalia agreed. "But it's okay." She took another sip. "I can see how it could grow on you."

"Well, I don't." Carina set her glass on a small table and returned to her knitting. "At least I can say I've tried it."

Amalia shrugged and added the contents of Carina's glass to her own.

A cool wind blew in off the desert and they sipped their wine, talking about nothing in particular. The sake and the peaceful evening brought a certain listlessness over them all, and finally Amalia got out a book and read to them from Mark Twain. Then the women stood up and Amalia began bringing in lamps and glasses while Carina herded the children down the hall to their bedroom. Alvi turned toward the porch steps and motioned to Donovan. "I think we have a business transaction to finish."

* * *

Donovan held the papers in his hands. He couldn't make much out of the unfamiliar words, but he understood the most important bits, especially the card that identified him as 4-F, unfit for service. That was the most important part. He could scarcely contain his excitement. It had been worth the extra trouble to get the money.

"Take those with you whenever you set foot off the property," Alvi told him.

"Don't worry, I will."

"Things are getting strange out there. It looks like the rebellion in Texas is serious. The Feds are going to have to put it down fast or it could get out of control."

"You mean spread to other states?"

"So they say. You know I only repeat what I hear."

Donovan tucked his papers inside a pocket and reached for his glass of whiskey. It tasted good after the anemic sake. "Well, at least you hear something. We don't hear much of anything out here, and in Macrina, it's almost as bad."

"They tried being something of a news center many years ago, but they found that bad news made the buyers nervous, and it was almost all bad news. Such things tend to attract the wrong kind of people. Macrina just wants honest traders willing to spend money. Rumor-mongers start riots. That's how half their business district burned down. It set trade back by years."

"Was that the riot that Amalia's father...?"

"Yes. He was a fine man. Treated me like a son the summer I was here, and he died worse than an animal. It's enough to make one think the Feds were right to shut down free communications. Most people are fools. They believe everything you tell them and then run around in a panic if it's not the news they wanted to hear. If you want to keep public order, you don't have much choice but to make it all good news."

"Where do you get your information?"

"Customers. Towns that don't have news blackouts. I have sources, and what I'm hearing pretty consistently is that there's a push in the military to do some recruiting sweeps, especially in the overlooked areas."

"Like Macrina?"

"Like Macrina, and maybe this valley."

Donovan took a deep breath, acutely aware of the papers in his pocket. "These came at a good time."

Alvi topped off their glasses. "You're still not completely safe," he reminded him. "They might decide that even as a 4-F, you'd be good for manning a supply station behind the lines."

"I know. I've thought about that."

"When you have time to look the papers over more carefully," Alvi gave a little smile that suggested he knew why he had only skimmed their contents, "You'll see I had them add a few things to your phony psych report."

"What kinds of things?"

"You'll see. It ought to make you undesirable for just about anything."

"In that case I don't care if these papers say I'm an alcoholic transvestite who bays at the moon."

"Just remember, none of it will do any good if they figure you out or don't bother to read the papers at all."

"So how is it you aren't nervous about some of the same things, like getting picked up and made to mop floors in a barracks somewhere?"

"You're as bad as the ladies, wanting to know my secrets."

Donovan considered. "You have friends in high places." He knew better than to ask, and simply stated it as a fact.

"A few."

"Hard to believe they wouldn't have other ways of getting scotch whiskey, olives and the occasional bottle of sake. I wonder why powerful people would resort to an ordinary peddler?"

"I provide my clients with what they want."

Donovan tossed back the rest of his whiskey. "Is the information you give them real?" he asked. "Or fake?"

Alvi stared, but it was too late to deny what he was. "I tell them whatever I think will help the most number of people, and then I pray to God that I have chosen wisely."

In the moody silence that followed, Alvi filled their glasses a final time and they both nursed their drinks, darting only the occasional glance at each other. "Be careful about going to town for awhile," Alvi finally said. "I've tried to throw them off track, but I think Macrina, Higdon and all the towns in this region are targets."

"Do you hear anything else?"

"Some units are being brought up from South America to help put down the Texas rebellion. I think Miles might be with them, but I'm not certain. If he's not with them, it could be many more years before he comes back to the States. And if he is with them, it might be worse. The waters are full of mines, making it dangerous to send the men by ship, and the indigenous of Central America have begun targeting supply and medical units. They figure it makes it easier to kill off the regular troops if there's no one to feed them or patch them up. We can't say a thing about this to Carina, you know. It will worry her.”

"Yes. It’s funny, I used to think Amalia was weak because she was always so angry."

"She's the strong one because she doesn't deceive herself."

"When you know something..."

"I will get word to you and Amalia. Good news or bad."

"Thank you." Donovan looked at his hands. It was a new feeling to be grateful for a favor that didn't benefit him personally. "I don't want to see her hurt."

"We will hope that the news, when it comes, is good."

Donovan set his empty glass on a wicker chest and got to his feet, surprised at how unsteady he felt. "Thank you for the whiskey. And the papers. Especially the papers."

"You paid for them," Alvi said, seeing him to the door. "Be sure and show them to the ladies. It will put their minds at ease next time you are out and about. I don't think you realize how they worry about you."

Donovan nodded, grabbing onto the door jamb as he teetered on the step. "It'll reassure Carina," he said. "But Amalia..."

"Will see the catch in it, as always. But she'll feel a little better, too. Trust me."

"Of course I trust you," Donovan said, making his unsteady way down the stairs. He reached the ground and felt he had overcome a great obstacle. "You gave me back my life."

Alvi stood on the top step, an odd expression lighting his eyes. "Don't go taking advantage of it too soon. I'd hate to see Amalia have her heart broken again."

Donovan frowned. "Of course not." But as he weaved his way back to the house, he pulled his papers out of his pocket and clutched them tightly to his chest, a movement not lost on the dark man standing in the open doorway of the gypsy wagon.

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