Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [61]
On Hacienda los Gemelos, Ana’s gardens and orchards yielded fresh fruits and vegetables, and these had to be planted, weeded, pruned, and harvested, mostly by old women and children. Horses, mules, pigs, goats, milk cows, bulls, chickens, ducks, guinea fowls, and doves had to be tended, usually by young girls. The stables, sties, mangers, and coops had to be built, repaired, and cleaned, their animals fed, and those used in the fields trained and exercised.
The dead time, for the slaves, was as arduous as the zafra, with the added burden of the bone-rattling thunder, sizzling lightning, and sudden downpours of hurricane season that made outdoor labor hazardous. Rain or shine, dead time or zafra, the slaves fulfilled their duties under the watchful foremen and supervisors who were either white men or light-skinned mulattos with short tempers and quick hands. Locked in for the night in windowless cuarteles, the slaves led an existence defined by the demands of others, the needs of others, the caprice of others, and by the insistent throaty call of the watchtower bell.
Ana often rode from one end of Los Gemelos to the other to find out what Ramón and Inocente were doing with the land now that they didn’t include her in hacienda business. Over the last few days, she’d noticed workers heading southwest behind the pastures, so she went in that direction. The June morning air was moist following rain showers, and she breathed in the smell of wet earth and mango. The fruit was reaching its peak in this particular corner of the hacienda.
She came upon a team of workers clearing brush and stones in the woods. Severo Fuentes, who was inspecting a new irrigation trench along the fields opposite, rode up as soon as he saw her, and they talked without dismounting.
“This section seems to be coming along.” She looked over the immature but healthy canebrake.
“Yes, it should be ready for the next harvest.”
She turned her gaze toward the workers across the path. “Preparing new fields?” she asked, as if confirming the plan.
“Yes, don Ramón and don Inocente want five more cuerdas here, and another ten on the northern boundary.”
“Fifteen more cuerdas, with the same number of workers,” she said, unable to keep the disapproval from her tone.
“They’re hoping for a greater yield and more profit.”
“But you don’t agree with this plan.”
There was a pause. “I give my opinion, señora, but they’re the patrones.”
She rode a few feet to the shade of an avocado tree. Three women were bent over the stubbled ground, pulling roots and weeds in the sections where two men with machetes had cut down saplings.
“Isn’t it harder to find workers now? I read that the Spanish Cortes enacted a law—”
“Yes, the Law of the Abolition and Repression of Slavery,” Severo said. He made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a harrumph. “They keep writing laws in Madrid to keep the liberals happy, but there are many loopholes. The Crown makes too much money on taxes from sugar to allow the industry to collapse.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ana said.
Another of the workers, Jacobo, dug around an enormous rock and realized it was too heavy to carry, so he rolled it to the side of the field where a stone fence was being erected. A few feet away, four children collected small stones and dropped them into large cans.
“Don’t worry, señora. I’m always on the lookout for more workers.”
“Thank you.”
Three older boys carried the cans full of stones and emptied them along the edge of the road. She mentally counted: six adults and seven children needed to clear a rocky, wooded five-cuerda parcel.
“If there’s anything else you need …”
“I do enjoy the books and newspapers you bring. I like to be informed.”
“I understand, señora. Happy to oblige.” He lifted his hat, and she saw his eyes. They were