City of the Sun

THIRTY-SEVEN

Don Ramon Ponceterra lay next to his wife in the large hand-carved wooden bed that had been in his family for generations. Though the air was cool, the bed was soft, and he felt the comfort of all of his ancestors who had rested in it before him, sleep was far off. He thought of his father, the stern presence who had shaped his life, in large part in this very bed. There were nights when his mother had left the finca and gone into the city, and Seсor Ponceterra had called young Ramon into the darkened room. There are many things you must understand, mijo, in order to become a man, he would say, his rough hands grabbing at the boy ’ s nightshirt. But Ponceterra had become a man and built his world around him as all men must do.

He had received a few more reports and checked with his sources in town earlier that evening. They had made inquiries at the various brothels and learned that, indeed, two gueros a bit unlike the rest had been seen. They had spent money and previewed but hadn ’ t partaken, not that he ’ d learned so far, anyway. This was not unheard-of, but it was not usual, and now it concerned him. He ’ d learned that they ’ d spread cash around, had also paid cash at the motel, and though they seemed to have left, he didn ’ t take for granted that they actually had. Other than that, there was no real information to be gained. Only that they had been seen in the company of a young local named Victor Colon. He ’ d asked Esteban to try to find Victor, to see if he had anything to volunteer on the subject. Esteban had not yet turned up this Victor. But he would. He always did. He had never let Ponceterra down. This thought eased his mind. He listened to his wife ’ s steady, ignorant breathing and finally the hold of the day relaxed, and he began his own drift toward the territory of sleep.