The Nine Guardians by Rosario Castellanos — Read

"So that's how things are. So the Indians want me to swop Ernesto for another teacher. The simpletons think they'll benefit by the change, and I'm not going to undeceive them. I brought Ernesto and I'll stick up for him because he's to my liking. I'm head of this house and I'll show it. Damn it, the principle of authority stands above everything else. Now these poltroons want rope to hang themselves. I've made enough mistakes to please them. Let them go and inquire at the other farms, see how they treat their comrades the other Indians there. Jaime Rovelo for instance. On his farm things went straight to the point. The first that felt like insubordination he gave a good share of whippings and that ended the matter. He's got them where he wants them, gentle as lambs. But I I. . truth to tell I've no stomach for such goings-on. Besides, the thing that weighs against me is that in Chactajal the habit of being severe was dropped some years back. Not that my family was all that Catholic. Mother yes, she used to go to church and pray. She saw to it that the Indians on the farm were baptized. But Father no. He was good by nature. They happened to live in better times, a fact that has to be reckoned with. The Indians were docile and put themselves out to do their duty conscientiously. But I'd like to see that Estanislao Argüello now, the one that was said to be so famous and such a civilizer. I'd like to see him in my place and see if he'd go on preaching tolerance and kindness or whether he wouldn't be fixing his problems the only possible way. I've not yet made up my mind, not quite. I know I can count on some of the boys, but I don't want to. Those white-collar Indians are capable of betraying Judas himself. But supposing Abundio and Crisóforo and that lot's on my side, it's still not much comfort, because we're fewer in any case than those Felipe's been inciting. How can I speak to that fellow Felipe without seeming to be looking for a truce, without cheapening myself? He's not so tough that he wouldn't be bought off with a few cows. Man alive, maybe things can wait. And let's have no fuss now, not just this moment when the grinding's going to begin. Because all in all, what the devil does it matter to me whether Ernesto's the teacher or not? I wouldn't hand him over when the Indians came to ask it, but that was only so's not to give them my arm to twist. Though this precious Ernesto's certainly turning out a broth of a lad. And a drunkard to cap it. Well, the poor fellow didn't steal that particular quality, he got it by inheritance. If my brother really did kill himself, it was in a drinking bout. And the two of them aren't even drunks with some spunk in them like those that send sparks flying from the horses' hoofs and brighten up the fiestas. Oh no, all alcohol does is make them more lily livered than ever. And they go about nice and foolish slinking in corners, not wanting to eat they're so gloomy. I swear the boy's turned out the spit of his father. Ernesto was my brother, and it's better to let the dead lie, but meaning no offence he was a ninny. All that nonsense about not wanting to live on the ranch, just because it's sad. Naturally, because they're not capable of busting broncos or going to the fields or swimming the river. They shut themselves up indoors all day long and of course it's sad then to see the twilight fade. But after work is done, how pretty it is then to watch the sun set. That's life though, there are people haven't these things in their blood. Zoraida's bored here. She won't admit it because she knows I'll scold her, but she's bored to tears. Well, I can understand it in her case. She was never a ranch woman till she married, not of a ranching family either, and she's happened on bad ranching days at that. She'd like to push one into acting foolishly. She thinks because I've controlled myself and tolerated so much nonsense I'm scared. It's not true. Whatever happens, one must keep one's head screwed on and act cautiously. Of course if it rested with me I'd have told all those rebellious boys long ago what they were worth. But slow and sure wins the race. Just now it's better not to take risks. I'm doing a lot even by just living here. Look at the other patrones sitting pretty in the Frontier Casino in Comitán, leaving it to their foremen to fight the evil. Jaime Rovelo himself, very brave he is, beating the Indians and putting them in the stocks! But he's such a weakling he stays in Bajucú and waits for things to happen. My cousin Francisca, now there's a lass to wear the trousers. A real Argüello. But it's a risky business what she's up to. One day those very Indians who have so much respect for her because they think she's a witch will stick a knife into her and it'll be the end of the story. Besides in a woman such tricks don't look so bad, but a man must face things fair and square. And in this place I'm the one who must do it. I'd like to take a trip to Ocosingo and have a word with the Municipal President. He's a friend of mine. I'd explain the situation and he'd help me. But on the other hand he might make out he'd be compromising himself by helping, that orders come from above and that the policy of Cárdenas is all in favour of the Indians. That's what he'll tell me, no doubt, but I'll answer back we're so isolated no one will know what we're doing. That precious Gonzalo Utrilla must be inspecting other districts by now, and one might persuade him to come over on to our side at that. If things don't get worse.

"Uncle César. ."