purpose under Ubicoâs bland stare. Evie wanted to finish for him, to highlight the points heâd missed. Corn exhausts the soil. Wheat can grow at higher altitudes, and requires less water, so it can be irrigated more easily. It can be stored and shipped much more easily. How could he forget all this?
âBut if the coffee isnât saved, then everyone suffers. Then . . .â Ubico paused. âThen
there is no one to buy wheat
.â He showed his teeth, pleased at his logic. âWe are all working for the same thing down here, Mr. Crowder. We are not enemies.â
âNo, weâre not enemies. So perhaps we could come to a friendly agreement.â
âWe already have that, yes. Our friendly agreement is that you come to Xela and make your money and I allow you to do so.â
âNot if you take my workers! I am an honest man, only askingââ
âAs an honest man, it will be better if you see it this way: The Indians belong to the government and we loan them to you ten months of the year. Two months, we ask for them back. We have big projects, roads and trains, and disasters to fix. Projects that benefit you and your business. That is reasonable.â
âNot for someone trying to run a cochineal business.â Father shook his head. âItâs a time-sensitive harvest that requires skilled labor.â
Ubico shrugged. âLike coffee. There is nothing I can do. Your workers stay, then everyone will want their workers to stay.â
âJust one? Can I keep my overseer? Just one man? Judas Vico.â
âIs he literate? Literate is exempt from the draft.â
âYes!â Father shot up to his feet. âHe speaks four languages! He writes Quiché!â
Mr. Ubico shook his head. âQuiché is not literate.â
Father fell back into his seat. âBut my family! What will happen to my family? We wonât have food if we canât harvest this year.â For the first time since walking into the office, Father acknowledged Evieâs presence, pointing at her.
Ubico glanced at Evie, just as she realized she was not sitting like a ladyat all. Clearly unimpressed by her slumped, kicking posture, he said, âI understand you are worried about your family, but there are more important things for Guatemala.â
Evie gave up counting. They were way past Fatherâs prediction now.
âSo I lose my money and my workers.â
âYour workers will still owe you money.â
Father lost his deferential tone. âBut now theyâll owe the coffee planters money, too. Theyâll be indebted to them for years. Do you think theyâll come back to repay me?â
âIt is not my jobââUbico stood up, declaring the meeting overââto think about you and your problems.
My
business is to get these lazy Indians to work.â He tapped the slats of Magellanâs crate and made his way to the door, walking a little funny due to the gun holstered to his hip. Evie had never seen anything like it before, a gun with a nice suit. She stared at it, unable to match the two things in her mind.
Father remained seated, twisting uneasily in the pew. âYou have to make exceptions. I know with all your meetings, all those people in your lobby, all this money moving in and out, youâve made exceptions today.â
Mr. Ubico held the door open, a different one from the one they had come in through. One that led outside. Father took his time leaving, trying to come up with some way to change the manâs mind. He adjusted his suit, dropped his hat, and then fiddled in his pockets for something that wasnât there. His blue eyes were huge and dry, his chin trembling. Evie watched him closely, realizing sheâd never seen him speechless before.
She desperately wanted to leave now, but she became very conscious of walking away from the money in Magellanâs cage. She knew they had no money and that