The Day of the Moon Read Online Free

train had run into stoppages and interruptions. The coaches were packed beyond capacity. Hordes of
peones,
most of them armed, clung to the roofs of the wagons, lugging their possessions and even their women and children.
    â€œWelcome to Chihuahua. I hope your trip was not too unpleasant.” Flavio’s voice was low, and his smile told her that he knew what she had experienced.
    â€œIt was not too difficult.”
    As usual, Brígida found herself short of words; it always was a hardship for her to speak more than she thought necessary. She examined her brother and saw that he had grown taller since she had last seen him. His body had become muscular and his skin, naturally as white as hers, was tanned by the northern sun. When he removed his hat, she saw that his hair was blonder than she remembered, as was the handlebar mustache that shadowed his full upper lip.
    Flavio also took time to inspect his sister. Her blue eyes sparkled as they had when she was a girl. The features of her facewere elegant, finely chiseled, and when he slid his gaze down from her throat, he thought that she was somewhat tall for a woman.
    â€œI know you’ll be happy here.”
    Flavio bent over as he brushed her cheek with a kiss. She smiled in return, and he saw that her teeth were even and white. He was pleased because he intended that Brígida be the center of his hacienda until his marriage with Velia Carmelita Urrutia. After that, he would acquire a husband for her. It was encouraging to see that she was attractive, despite her having somewhat passed marriageable age.
    The driver and two Rarámuri natives loaded the luggage and parcels onto a wagon while she and Flavio waited under a shaded porch. When the men were finished, the driver signaled that they were ready to leave. Flavio took his sister by the arm and helped her into a carriage. They rode in silence until they reached the gates of the hacienda. Flavio Betancourt had prospered over the past five years. He had expanded the horse ranch into a vast hacienda that spread out toward the skirts of the Sierra Madre on the west and downward along the Sierra Tarahumara. His land covered territory north almost to Ciudad Chihuahua and south nearly reaching Ciudad Creel. The Urique River watered the flat parts of Hacienda Miraflores before it disappeared into Urique Canyon.
    The herds that Anastasio Ortega had gambled away had, under their new owner, multiplied into thousands of saddle horses and pack mules. Flavio Betancourt now socialized and did business with powerful families—the likes of the Terrazas, the Urrutias, the Reynosos, and even the Manriques. His stock was traded in markets and auctions reaching north as far as the copper mines of Cananea in Sonora and south to the silver mines of San Luis Potosí and Guanajuato. His
peones,
horsebreakers, and Rarámuri natives numbered in the scores. They were all his. He had made them grow. He had known how to deal with the armies of the Revolution that came and went through Chihuahua.
    He looked at his sister out of the corner of his eye. Telling the driver to stop, Flavio stretched his arms wide, pointing to the buildings that loomed in front of them.
    â€œThis is your home. I’ve called it Casa Miraflores.”
    He jutted his chin in the direction of a mansion surrounded by an arched cloister. Other sheds and huts, some small, others larger, circled it, clinging to the pink residence like flowers under the shade of a huge tree. But Flavio’s cocky gesture was cut off when he turned to face Brígida. She looked at him, and the boldness of her stare startled him; his self-confidence began to erode. He realized that she was not awed by him, nor by what she was seeing.
    â€œYou haven’t asked about our father. Aren’t you curious about him?” Brígida’s tone of voice caught him off guard. It was cold, threatening, and he did not like it. He had grown used to being the only one to