Conquistadora by Esmeralda Santiago Page A

was about her such a cheerful air that Ana felt lighter. Severo introduced her as Flora, her personal maid. The taller, fleshier, younger woman with the buckteeth and suspicious air was Marta, the cook, and the diffident gray-haired man was Teo, the houseman who would attend Ramón and Inocente.
    “I’ll leave you to rest now,” Severo said. “Marta will prepare
el almuerzo
. You’ll hear the bell. Here’s the key to the pantry,” he said, with a jangle from his pocket. “And the key to the liquor closet.” He handed them to Ana and looked at Marta, who curtsied heavily and left.
    Flora and Teo waited for instructions from Ana.
    “Put those things away.” Ana gestured toward their hats and gloves, dropped on benches when they came in. “And unpack the valises when they arrive.” The servants seemed eager to be given orders that excused them from the grueling work outdoors.
    “Señores”
—Severo turned to Ramón and Inocente—“I’m at your service when you’d like to review the ledgers.”
    “Yes, of course,” said Ramón. “This afternoon.”
    “We can ride the fields tomorrow,” Severo said.
    “That will be fine,” said Inocente.
    Severo bowed and left them standing in the middle of the living room. Ana sat on one of the rickety benches that squealed threateningly when she moved.
    “I’m sorry,
querida
, about the accommodations,” Ramón said. “If I’d had any idea—”
    “Mamá was right,” Inocente added. “You should’ve stayed in San Juan until we were settled.”
    “Please don’t worry about me,” Ana interrupted. “You have enough to think about. Our home will be my project.”
    “The
casona
,” Inocente said, “isn’t ordinarily so close to the work buildings. In a proper plantation, this would be the
mayordomo’s
house.”
    “Have we displaced Severo, then? Is this his house?”
    “Probably,” Ramón said.
    “Where does he live, then?”
    “Maybe in one of the cottages on the property,” Inocente said. “He did take some trouble to make this one habitable.”
    “Green walls,” Ana said. “As if there weren’t enough green out there.” She stepped to the porch facing away from the
batey
. As far as she could see, forested lands rose into the hills. Ramón and Inocente followed her.
    “We’ll use this house,” Ramón added, “and as soon as possible, we’ll build a proper one.”
    “After the harvest,” Inocente said.
    A breeze rippled across the verdure, like a whisper.
    “Sí.”
Ana once again hooked her arms into their elbows, bringing them closer. “
Sí
, after the harvest.”
    Within a month, they were settled into a routine. The work began at dawn, with the call of the morning Angelus bell from amid the cane. Ramón and Inocente spent most of their days on horseback with Severo, returning when the bell tolled noon for the
almuerzo
and a short siesta before riding again until dusk, when the bell signaled the evening Angelus. After supper, the bell clanged once more to indicate that all lights should be extinguished in the
bohíos
and
cuarteles
, and everyone should be indoors. During the harvest, the grinders and boiling house ran twenty-four hours a day, but the bell still tolled at the same times.
    Ramón and Inocente’s itinerant life had taught them to adjust to changes quickly. In spite of Leonor’s plans for them to work in offices, the brothers were most comfortable outdoors, among sweating men and beasts. Their boyish features darkened in the sun; their bodies grew muscular. Their voices deepened from speaking louder than allowed in Leonor’s fragrant
sala
, but as necessary in the canebrakes and trails.
    They sought, trusted, and followed Severo’s advice on every aspect of the plantation. The
mayordomo
was six months younger than the twins, but he’d lived harder and had accumulated experience that continually impressed the brothers and Ana. He was also eccentric in surprising ways. His dogs, for example, were Tres, Cuatro, and