Conquistadora (22 page)

He crossed a swale and was once more in the cane, along the narrow
berm between two rows of sugar. He rode at a walking pace, the cheeping frogs competing with the whispering cane on either side of him. The field opened into a meadow. On the far side, a solid wall of coconut palms grew so close together they seemed planted deliberately to keep intruders away. Burro took the path that wound around two huge palms, along an avenue of coconut and
almendros
toward the clearing where Consuelo’s
bohío
rose on piles fifty feet from the placid Caribbean Sea.

“Consuelo,
mi consuelo
,” he called in a low voice as he unsaddled Burro and led him into a shack where he fed and watered him. He took off his shirt and undergarment, and splashed water on his head and neck, under his arms, around his chest. He rubbed his torso and arms dry before he dressed again, tucked the garments in neatly, refastened his belt, and combed his wet fingers through his hair. He walked around to the front gate and was immersed in fragrance, as if the garden emitted smells only within the space enclosed by its reed fence.

“Pasa, mi amor,”
Consuelo called from the
hamaca
strung across the porch beams.

The end of her cigar was a beacon, her voice syrupy and languid, filled with promises. Below her on the floor was a bottle of rum. Severo reached for it, swigged, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He sat on the edge of the hammock. The ropes around the beams groaned, and the cotton stretched to hover a few inches from the floor. He leaned against her. She was naked, her long body all curves and mounds, fleshy until she seemed boneless, like a giant sea creature. She brought the cigar to his mouth, pressed his fingers around it. He inhaled the tobacco until it, and the rum warming his belly, made him light-headed. Her hands roamed his body, undoing the buttons he’d so recently fastened, tugging at the shirt tucked in minutes earlier, removing the belt that held up his pants, pulling off his musky undershirt. She unlaced his boots and he kicked them off. With agile toes, she rolled off his socks, pulled down his pants, and let them fall over the side of the
hamaca
. As naked as she, Severo twisted and turned, rubbed himself against her ample flesh, seeking the wet.

“Ay, mi amor, qué desesperado,”
she laughed, but didn’t make him stop.

Severo was not the first
desesperado
to find his way to Consuelo
Soldevida. Every man needs consoling at one time or another, and she, who took her name literally, provided it. Her mother, Consuelo, brought comfort to men. Her daughter Consuelo would, too, as would untold Consuelos after them.

Consuelo was the illegitimate daughter of Roberto Cofresí, the most daring and famous pirate in the Caribbean. Consuelo’s mother was one of the pirate’s mistresses, a tall and bosomy
mulata
born of a white soldier and a black free woman. From her, Consuelo inherited her tamarind skin and a long-limbed, fleshy, rounded body. Her cacao hair was the same shade and wavy texture as the pirate’s. She’d never owned a mirror, but she knew her eye color changed with the light, a fascination to the men she consoled.

She had keen memories of her notorious father, who, like Severo, came to see the two Consuelos with no prior notice and stayed just long enough to be missed when he left. He established Consuelo and Consuelo in a cottage near the beach on the outskirts of Cabo Rojo, his hometown. He often brought them trinkets and coins, pewter spoons, fringed shawls, and painted china from the ships he captured. His favorite targets were the well-appointed North American cargo ships. He told Consuelo that English sounded like barking, and that the
yanquis
were arrogant and more imperious than even the
españoles
.

The Spanish government didn’t actively pursue pirates so long as they didn’t attack ships flying the Spanish flag. Cofresí’s exploits, however, and his cruelty toward captured sailors, pressured the Spaniards to go after the infamous pirate. Cofresí was captured in 1825 and executed by firing squad in El Morro. A few days later, soldiers appeared in the two Consuelos’ cottage, searching for hidden booty. They ransacked the house, took everything of value, then set the place on fire. Consuelo was ten years old. She hardly remembered the next four or five years except that they walked and walked and walked until they reached Ponce, the bustling self-important city on the Caribbean, where Consuelo the elder entered a tavern, and soon she was comforting its customers. Consuelo the younger knew her first man’s hand on her body when she was eleven.

After her mother died, Consuelo left Ponce and walked west, toward the ruins of her burned house, but she didn’t make it that far. She knew how to do only one thing and, weary and hungry, she
found a home and employment at a crossroads, north of Guares, in a hut behind a bar, available to whoever paid with money or goods. A fat hen was as acceptable as a few coins, so even the poorest
campesino
tilling the most unforgiving soil had hope of Consuelo. One day Severo Fuentes entered the bar at the crossroads looking for laborers. He spotted Consuelo leaning on the threshold of a door that never closed. Within days, he’d taken her away to a house by the sea, and all hope of comfort for the
campesinos
went with her.

The next morning, Severo woke up alone just as dawn purpled the sky. Consuelo was in the garden, snipping herbs between her hard thumbnail and index finger.

She looked up when she saw him stand, naked, the fine golden hair that covered his body shimmering. He whooped and ran into the sea, his muscular arms dipping into and emerging from the water in even strokes.

By the time he returned, Consuelo had heated fresh water in the shack where her cooking fire was never extinguished. She rinsed the salt water off his body and hair. A clean change of clothes was folded over the railing, and he dressed himself as she made the coffee. She served them both the strong, steamy liquid in the hollow of burnished coconut shells.

They sat in silence for some minutes, watching the sky lighten and the dew slide from the long, narrow channels of palm fronds. When they finished their coffee, Consuelo returned to the kitchen shack and came back with a gourd full of warm, soapy water, a leather strop, and his shaving blade. She wrapped a clean rag around his neck and, in slow strokes, shaved six days’ growth from his face and neck, finishing with a splash of jasmine-scented water on the jaw. A few minutes later she watched him mount his stupid horse and ride into the canebrakes.

Severo traversed the same path as the previous night, but when he neared Los Gemelos, he turned left toward the hills instead of right toward the
batey
. It was too early for the workers to be out but soon the bell would toll, signaling the beginning of the workday. Severo
urged Burro up a steep, pebbly mesa to the top, where the land was carpeted with fine, bright green grass. The slopes were a tangle of thorny lemon and grapefruit trees, guava, passion fruit vines,
amapola
bushes, and brambles. From the valley, it was impossible to guess that this hill was so flat at its summit, and that mild, aromatic breezes blew upon it all day long. Once the taller trees were cut, the spot would afford a panoramic view of the fields, the pastures, the river, the hazy mountains, and the brilliant Caribbean Sea.

She’ll like it here, Severo thought, dismounting and walking circles around the land, using his machete to chop saplings grown too tall since the last time.

Severo Fuentes chose this as the perfect spot for the new, the real,
casona
of Hacienda los Gemelos. He envisioned the house as a masonry and tile palace for Ana. He took her plans for a house with a roofed wraparound terrace and altered them to fit the site. He imagined Ana sitting in a shady corner of the
balcón
even on the hottest part of the day, the breezes playing around her shoulders. She’d be dressed in pale green, like on the first day he saw her, with her black hair pinned, revealing the fine down along the back of her neck.

The first time he saw Ana, the voice inside Severo’s head, until then silent for years, said, “There’s your wife.” Ana would be his. She’d be his and so would Los Gemelos. The voice didn’t mention Los Gemelos, but he soon learned they came together. Coming to Puerto Rico had been her idea, Severo knew; Ramón and Inocente simply followed her ambitions.

With Inocente dead, Severo had no doubt that Ramón would soon lose heart. The tropics had crushed better men. Tens of thousands had taken advantage of the Crown’s Real Cédula de Gracias of 1815 encouraging white settlers to colonize and make their fortune, with the certainty that they could leave after five years, presumably enriched. Like many Europeans who dreamed of building wealth from sugar, Ramón and Inocente were speculators, not agriculturalists. A little money, optimism, and willingness to work hard weren’t enough. You had to be tough, you had to be strong, and every time your eyes rested on black skin, you had to be able to silence your conscience. Neither Ramón nor Inocente could do that, but Ana could. He knew it from the first. And the afternoon that she looked him in the eye and said, “Find them,” he was certain. He knew that, like
him, Ana was ruthless enough for this land in a way Ramón and Inocente were not.

Severo predicted that without his brother, Ramón would soon doubt his ability to manage the plantation. Don Luis had already begun putting doubts into Ramón’s head. He had his eye on the hacienda, but he was overextended, even though he’d managed to scrape together enough to give Ramón and Inocente a loan. It was part of his plan to keep the Argosos indebted to him, to let them improve the land while he strengthened his own position. Then he’d call in his loans. But don Luis had a weakness, and Severo knew that too. He was
vicioso
, a man with a taste for every imaginable vice. His lechery and abuse of his female slaves were only the beginning. He was a gambler, and over the years, his losses were Severo’s gain as Luis came to him again and again for loans. To his credit, he paid if he won, but no one so reckless could win every time. If he didn’t lose at cards, it would be at cockfights. If not those, horse races. Severo bided his time. He wouldn’t allow don Luis to own Hacienda los Gemelos. If he had to use his own money to pay Ramón and Inocente’s debts, he’d do that, too. If Ana was to be his, the hacienda must be hers, and he would protect her interests.

Severo expected that Ramón would turn to him with increasing uncertainty. One day, he’d inform Ana that they were leaving, that he could manage the business from the city, like other Europeans who’d settled on the island before them. Ramón would argue that Severo was an effective and efficient manager, and that they’d come to Los Gemelos in the summer, when San Juan was insufferably hot and humid.

Ana would refuse. Severo was certain. Ana was enthralled by the land, its mystery and romance, just as he was. Sometimes, when they all sat together on the porch after dinner, a warm breeze would ripple through the leaves and Ana would close her eyes and turn her face in its direction as if toward a lover’s kiss.

Her small size made her seem delicate, but from the very first he saw her courage and determination. She rode like a man, with authority and strength, uncomplaining about her mount or the rough terrain. She displayed no squeamishness at the rustic conditions and worked as hard as any white man. Even when she was huge with child she was out in the gardens, or in the barns, or seeing to the
fowl in the henhouses, the livestock in the pastures, the hogs in the sties. He chose Flora as her attendant because the maid was skilled, but more important, because she was cheerful. Severo wanted Ana to have someone to keep up her spirits.

After two meetings with the Argoso brothers, Severo concluded that their pride was too tied up in their success for them to be good companions for Ana. They were overly preoccupied with proving to don Eugenio and doña Leonor that they’d made the right decision in coming to Los Gemelos. At the same time, they took chances that more experienced men wouldn’t. Encouraged by don Luis, they were buying every contiguous piece of land they could get. They didn’t take into account that the more land they owned, the more
brazos
they’d require. The hacienda just wasn’t producing enough for their extravagance.

The damage done by years of neglect was of more immediate concern. Grinders operated by a barely functional windmill supplemented by yoked bulls pressed the cane. Severo suggested that the windmill be replaced by a steam engine, and went so far as to show them various models that could be ordered from the United States and could be made functional before the next harvest. The brothers demurred. The boiling house was crumbling, and the barns and work buildings might easily come down the next time a hurricane blew through the island. The brothers argued that the price of sugar was down, and that planters were selling their lands and moving on. Ramón and Inocente wouldn’t invest in the infrastructure of the plantation while there was land for sale. It was foolish, Severo thought but, of course, could not say aloud.

Severo whacked a sapling close to the ground with his machete and smiled. When he first met them, it hadn’t occurred to him that the brothers were sharing Ana. In San Juan, and in Spain, too, he surmised, they took pains to dress alike so that it would be hard for people to tell which brother was which. At Los Gemelos, however, they weren’t as careful. Sometimes one shaved and the other didn’t, or one wore a blue waistcoat and the other a brown one. Severo observed Inocente’s more choleric, sarcastic temperament; Ramón was more even-tempered and sentimental, easier to manipulate.

It was Flora who, just weeks after she met them, confirmed that the brothers took turns with Ana. Severo gave Flora a length of
yellow cotton for this information and promised her more if she found a way to prove it. She’d receive nothing, however, if anyone else heard about what she’d told him. So Flora paid attention and reported which twin was with Ana when, and how she could tell whether it was Ramón or Inocente.