“Their predecessors had already left their energetic mark on the estate: outside in the patio, which was transformed into a dung heap; on the walls, stripped down to the raw adobe; on the floors, cracked under the hooves of their animals; and in the orchard, turned into a pile of wilted leaves and dry branches. From the moment one entered, broken-off furniture legs and chair backs and bottoms were scattered about, and everything was covered with dirt and slop. At ten at night, a very bored Luis ...Cervantes yawned and said good night to Towhead Margarito and War Paint, who were drinking nonstop on a bench in the plaza. He walked back to the barracks. The only room with furniture in it was the main hall. When he came in, Demetrio— lying down on the floor, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes—stopped counting the beams up above and turned his head: “Is that you, curro? What’s going on? Come on in, have a seat.” Luis Cervantes went first to trim the candle. Then he pulled up a chair, the back of which was missing and the wicker seat of which had been replaced with burlap.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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