The Delicate Prey: And Other Stories

“In San Lucas do you think they’d throw stones at me?” he shouted.

“Why?” she called. “No, no! Claro quenó! For boys it’s all right.”

The next few days were sunny, and they came each afternoon to the pool.

One morning, the other little envelope in his pocket, Nicho went into the center of town to Don Anastasio’s shop. The old man seemed very glad to see him. He opened the envelope behind the counter and lookd carefully at its contents. Then he handed Nicho a peso and a half.

“I have no change,” said Nicho.

“The tostón is for you,” said Don Anastasio gruffly. “There’s a cinema tonight. Come back next week. Don’t forget.”

Nicho ran down the street, wondering when he would have the chance to fill another envelope for Don Anastasio. It was about time for Señor Ong to make a trip to Tlaltepec.

A moment before he got to the bridge a tall woman stepped out of a shop and confronted him. She had very large eyes and a rather frightening face.

“Hola, chico!”

“Si, señora.” He stood still and stared at her.

“Have you got something for me?”

“Something for you?” he repeated blankly.

“A little envelope?” She held out two pesos. Nicho looked at them and said: “No, señora.”

Her face became more frightening. “Yes. Yes. You have,” she insisted, moving toward him. He glanced up and down the street: there was no one. The shop seemed to be empty. It was the hot hour of the day. He was suddenly terrified by her face. “Tomorrow,” he cried, ducking to one side in order to dart past her. But she caught hold of his neck. “Today,” she said roughly; her long fingernails were pushing into his skin. “Si, señora.” He did not dare look up at her. “On the bridge,” she grated. “This afternoon.”

“Sí, señora.”

She let go and he walked on, sobbing a little with anger and shame for having been afraid.

In the sala Señor Ong and his aunt were talking excitedly. He did not go in, but climbed into a hammock in the patio and listened. Don Anastasio’s name was mentioned. Nicho’s heart skipped ahead: something had happened!

“Now I am almost sure,” Señor Ong said slowly. “It is two weeks since he has been here, and Saenz tells me he is perfectly happy. That means only one thing: Ha must be supplying him directly.”

“Of course,” said his aunt bitterly. “You needn’t have waited two weeks to know that. Three thousand pesos dropped into the river. What a waste! Qué idiota, tú!”

Señor Ong paid no attention to her. “There’s also the Fernandez woman,” he mused. “She should have been around a few days ago. I know she has no money, but so far she has always managed to scrape together something.”

“That old hagl” said his aunt contemptuously. “With her face now, she’ll be lucky if she can raise twenty, not to speak of fifty.”

“She can raise it,” said Señor Ong with confidence in his voice. “The question is, has Ha already found her and is he giving it to her for less?”

“Don’t ask me all these questions!” cried his aunt with impatience. “Go to Tlaltepec and ask the old man himself!”

“When I go there,” said Señor Ong in a quiet, deadly voice, “it will not be to ask him anything.”

At that moment a knock came at the front door; his aunt immediately left the room, shutting the door behind her, and went through the patio into the kitchen. For a few minutes Nicho could hear only the confused sound of low voices talking in the sala. Presently someone closed the front door. The visitor was gone.