Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [115]
“It might be better to pay them by the job, rather than by the day. They won’t get paid until they finish.”
Severo thought a moment. “Well, yes, I suppose that makes sense.”
“And they can bring as many others to help them as they want.”
“It’s a good idea. The more they cut, the more they earn.”
“We’ll offer them five cents more than the going rate, four pesos per cuerda.”
“Sí. And another peso for every three full cartloads?”
“Minus the cost of their meals.”
“That’s right.”
“And the facilities?”
“The trapiche, as you know, is in bad shape. A steam engine would be more efficient to operate the grinders, and press more liquid than we’re able with wind and animal power.”
“You’ve suggested this for years,” Ana said. Severo nodded. “It’s probably too late to get the machinery here before the zafra, but please look into what it will cost.”
“I will, but this might interest you, señora. Ingenio Diana, on our eastern boundary, might be for sale.”
“Please, Severo, I don’t need more land. What I need is a higher yield with what we have. Most of our lands aren’t cultivated for lack of workers.”
“Yes, I know, señora, but the Diana has a steam engine. It’s not the latest model, but far more efficient than our configuration. Fewer but more-skilled workers running the machinery means I can redirect others to the fields.”
“I haven’t seen smoke coming from that chimney.”
“Don Rodrigo bought much land from the owners of the Diana,” Severo explained. “They kept the fields closest to their ingenio, about thirty cuerdas, probably hoping they’d recover the land someday. But after the owner died, his sons moved away. If the land were planted as cane, a cuerda would fetch about three hundred pesos each, but most of it has reverted to brush. You can probably get it for about fifty to seventy-five pesos per cuerda. It should also be taxed at a lower rate.”
“How far is the ingenio from our fields?”
“Manageable,” Severo said. “The hacienda borders San Bernabé to the south, along the road to Guares.”
“Don Luis isn’t interested?”
“He will be, if he hears about it.”
“And you have no interest?”
“I prefer lands along the littoral.”
“I see. What will it take to have the ingenio operational?”
“Hard to tell. It has wooden pressers, and there are better ones now, made from iron. An engineer should evaluate it, fix whatever is broken.”
“So it won’t be ready for our harvest?”
“I can’t say until it’s checked.”
“But maybe?”
“I’ll do my best, señora.”
Severo kept his meetings with Ana brief because he wanted her so much that he sometimes avoided the casona, afraid he’d forget himself and take her right there on the porch, where they conducted their business because it was improper for him to be inside where there was no husband.
Dressed in mourning black, Ana stood out against the lush greenery and colorful flowers that surrounded her as she worked in the gardens or walked to and from the coops and dovecotes, clutching two baskets, a small one for the eggs she collected, a larger one with the humpbacked infant inside. As the child grew, Ana carried Conciencia in a sling that Flora showed her how to wear like the ones African women used to carry their children. Ana hadn’t been that maternal with her son, and ignored the hacienda children until they were old enough to work. Severo wondered why she’d attached herself so thoroughly to this peculiar child and why she didn’t question where she came from. Would she treat her differently if she knew that Conciencia was Ramón’s daughter?
When he was alive, the slaves called Ramón El Caminante, because he wandered the paths at night, dressed in ghostly white, with no regard for weather, no concern for fences, no fear of the creatures of the night. He still walked in death, they claimed, and terror of encountering him along the paths and byways of the land was a powerful deterrent. They dreaded being caught outdoors after dark, and the overseers had no trouble accounting for every man, woman, and child before locking them inside the barracks and bohíos after the