The Son

Chapter Sixty-five. Ulises Garcia

He had heard and then seen her jet land yesterday; it was quite a sight, a plane that looked as if it might carry thirty or more people, landing to discharge a single person. It was a Gulfstream. The same one the narcotraficantes preferred. A car picked her up from the runway.

Even watching her from a distance gave him a nervous feeling. He had worked all day, but had not been able to eat lunch.

Later he saw her being driven around the ranch, sitting in the back of her Cadillac. Her chin held high, surveying all she owned. Near dinnertime he had made a point of passing by the house, just to get a glimpse of her, when he noticed an old person sitting by herself on the vast porch, looking at some papers.

He rode up and tipped his hat. “Good evening. I am Ulises Garcia.”

She looked at him. She was annoyed at being interrupted. But he smiled at her and finally she couldn’t help herself. She smiled back and said: “Hello, Mr. Garcia.”

He couldn’t think of anything more to say, so he wished her a good night and rode off cursing himself.

THE NEXT DAY the plane was still there. The sun was going down and he was heading back to the bunkhouse. He supposed it was now or never. Of course if she rejected him, he would have to leave. It was a good job, Bryan Colms liked him, the other hands liked him, even if they thought he was a showoff.

Of course he was a coward if he didn’t try. After dinner, he changed into his good shirt and packed his papers into a small leather bag his grandfather had given him.