Eduardo Delgado sat in the saddle, not commenting but watching the young men take care of the morning routines. He could speak, but he wanted his sons to be prepared to take over the maintenance of the land freeing him to focus more on the business aspects of the organization. Thus far, his sons had not disappointed him. Eduardo’s eyes traveled to the young woman, Diadra, whom his son brought home. Thus far he didn’t really know what to think of the young lady and would reserve judgement until he had a better handle on what she stood for since he had no real way of telling.
“Mounting! On to Seventeen!” Yuñior called out.
Angel returned to the horse. Diadra removed her foot from the stirrup, giving him room to slip his boot in the holder. She also offered him her hand since the saddle didn’t have a pommel to grip. Angel took her hand, pulling a little before hoisting himself up into the saddle and throwing his leg over the animal. They were moving before she had a chance to say a word.
The ride wasn’t a very long one before Yuñior called out seventeen. At the edge of a field, near a well, an entire family prepared a morning meal over an open fire. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the smell of sausage sizzling made her mouth water. The small home was modest but had indoor lighting and plumbing. The daughters of the father of the home poured cool cups of water and passed it out to each family member as they stepped down from their mounts. Diadra was nervous on how to get down from the horse. Angel spotted the anxiety displayed on her face.
“Foot in stirrup, hold my left hand, swing your leg over, step down,” Angel told her.
Diadra followed his instructions, getting to the ground without falling on her butt or making a fool of herself. Until now, she hadn’t realized that Isabella had been on the horse with her father, swaddled in an African styled Kanga. Ryanne also had one wrapped around her body to hold Catarina. Diadra was uncertain of what to do, so she watched The Lady of The Lands. Ryanne greeted each family member, praising them for the hard work, the preparation of the food, and accepting a cup of coffee. A milk cow that appeared to have seen better days, stood quietly as Angel tugged on her teats to secure a cup of milk to mix with the morning coffee. Diadra was having loads of doubts about drinking any of it, but Ryanne gave her a smile.
“Thank you,” Diadra said to the lady of the house and accepting the coffee. “Everything smells amazing; estoy muy hambriento.”
The Spanish the woman spoke in return was foreign to her ears. It was a mixture of old world Colombian Indian Spanish mixed with a Central America Spanish with a few words here and there Diadra understood. Accepting a plate of scrambled eggs mixed with sausage and a version of sweet potatoes with a side of rice, she took a seat on a handcrafted chair with no back. Diadra held onto her plate until Ryanne ate. When Ryanne started to eat, she did as well.
Isabella wanted to be free and run to play and had no plans to eat any of the food. She slipped past her father, skirting his grasp, but Diadra caught her by the hand. Isabella’s face contorted in a frown, looking as if she were ready to throw a tantrum.
“I am so hungry, Isabella, but I don’t think I can eat all this food by myself. Do you want to help me?” she asked the little lady.
“It’s not that much food,” Isabella said.
“No, but it’s too much for me to eat by myself.”
“Then I shall help you,” Isabella said, climbing into her lap. An additional fork was requested as they sat quietly on a small chair sharing a plate of food. Diadra would take a forkful, followed by Isabella until it was all gone. The excitement of the morning was taking its toll on the little girl who had entered the back hallways of the home just after dawn.
It didn’t take long for the child’s eyelids to start drooping. She climbed into Diadra’s arms, cradling her head into the breasts of the woman her brother seemed to really like, and she drifted off to sleep. Diadra held the child as she slumbered, sipping on the worst coffee she’d ever drank in her life, imagining her sweat soaked body under the jets of a cool shower, and a fresh piece of fruit and possibly a seafood dinner at an air-conditioned restaurant in Brooklyn tonight. All of the jaunts into nature and beauty of another country was cool, but there was nothing like the noise of the big city with car horns honking, people yelling out of windows, and the smell of food wafting down the streets.
Diadra didn’t notice all of the eyes which watched her carefully with the child since she’d disappeared into her own mind. Isabella continued to sleep as the family thanked their hosts and climbed aboard their horses, preparing to leave. The movement of the others jolted her from the daydream as she looked up to see Yuñior watching her closely. She offered him a warm smile as he pointed at the child in her hands. Diadra looked down at Isabella, thinking the child had to be the most adorable thing she’d ever seen in her life. Instinct kicked in as she lowered her head and planted a soft kiss on top of the child’s head before rising to her feet and passing the toddler to her father on the horse.
Eduardo Delgado had nothing to say to the woman as she walked over to his youngest son, took the boy’s hand, stuck her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle behind him as if it were a thing she did every day. Yuñior called out twenty-seven, and they were off. Eduardo admired the manner in which Diadra handled his daughter, and it brought back a fond memory of Ryanne and the way she’d handled Angel and Micah the first time he rode into the fields with her to do a tasting.
He understood what Yuñior saw in the woman. He understood it all. Yuñior’s choices were going to be a problem and the start of a series of events no one could have predicted. It would take the strength of the entire family as well as the cartel for the story to have a happy ending.
At this point, Eduardo Delgado didn’t see that happening.
Chapter Two- Might
Anya Fernandez walked into the kitchen poised for a fight. She had questions and wanted answers. She fully expected Ryanne to comply with her request. The Lady of the Lands, a title which was once held by her only daughter, had been bestowed upon this woman, whom she’d had spent little time in her presence, and never fully had a conversation with on a personal level. Today, the conversation was going to become very personal since it revolved around her oldest grandson.
The hairs on the back of Ryanne’s neck stood on end the moment the grand lady entered the kitchen. Instinct told her to prepare to fight, and common sense told her to make tea, breathe deep, answer the questions, and get it over with. A conversation which should have happened years ago was going to take place this morning, but Ryanne grew up in Texas with an old Army Sergeant as a father and a mother who was one of the best interrogators the Central Intelligence Agency ever employed. Anya Fernandez didn’t scare her one bit.
“That was some ride this morning,” Anya said, taking a seat at the large wooden table. Her neatly trimmed and polished nails tapped on the mahogany tabletop as if she were counting down the moments before she pounced and ate Ryanne alive.
“We have grown accustomed to the rides and I truly look forward to getting out of the house and into the fields to meet the workers,” Ryanne said. “I usually only have the honor of visiting their homes at the birth of their children to enter the names and birth weights into the records, but coffee tastings are becoming near and dear to my heart.”
Anya offered a less than genuine smile as Ryanne sat a tea tray on the table with a small saucer of peanut butter cookies and two teacups. A tea bag was added to the cup by Anya, who poured in hot water, lifting and lowering the bag and watching the water darken. Her left hand slid across the tabletop.
“I remember when my daughter had this table crafted from the Massaranduba trees in the deep woods of this land. It is such a gorgeous table and has stood the test of time,” Anya said giving another lopsided smile.
“This is not the same table that was in the kitchen. That table was moved to the dining room once I got Tonda to repair the imbalance in the legs. The table wobbled something awful, but it is all bette
r now, and out of sight,” Ryanne said. “This table, is also South American Red Wood, or Massaranduba as you called it, but I bought this one in Bogotá and had it shipped here.”
“Oh really?” Anya said.
“Yes, it is a nice table. It is very similar to the one that was here before and the children didn’t notice the difference,” Ryanne replied.
“Oh yes, the children; speaking of which, I find it odd that my grandson, who is engaged to a simpleton of a woman, has chosen a black American woman as an amante. Do you not find the correlation between his father’s choice of a wife and his choice to be a bit...disturbing?”
“I find it odd that you would consider Yuñior to view me as an Oedipal mother when the woman before Diadra, his amante, was named Melissa and she was blond with blue eyes. The one before Melissa was an Italian researcher, he met in chemistry class at the University. The one before that one was a Colombian girl who worked at a jewelry store in Medellin,” Ryanne said. “He’s twenty and feeling his oats. This really is probably only the tip of the iceberg with what he does when he is at your home in Argentina.”
“He has not been to Argentina in a while, since he started working with his father,” Anya said.
“Is this what you wish to discuss? Yuñior is twenty and in less than 16 months, he is going to get married. He has not discussed with us whether he plans to live here, in Paraguay with his betrothed, or in Argentina,” Ryanne offered, “and we haven’t asked.”
“Why haven’t you asked, Señora?” Anya wanted to know.
“For the same reason you’re having this conversation with me versus having it with your grandson. It’s really none of our business.”
“My grandson is the future of the cartel.”
“Yuñior, more than anyone, is aware of who he is and what he must do, but he thinks differently from his father, his brothers, and even his uncles. He is looking at a different future,” she added.
“Yuñior should be focused on becoming the Czar and not adding lemon oil to bug repellant. Those tasks are beneath him. It is his father’s lot in life to claw about in the dirt manufacturing poisons for the public to ingest so they can feel better about their lots in life, not my grandson,” Anya said, tapping her nail on the tabletop.
“It seemed as if Eduardo Delgado was good enough for your daughter to marry and give birth to your four grandchildren,” Ryanne said, trying to maintain her calm.
“Eleon chose Eduardo. I did not. I did not think he was good enough for my daughter and I was right. She ended up strung out on the poisons he manufactures here and gave birth to two damaged children,” Anya chided, holding her chin high. “My grandsons are my world, Señora. I love them and wish only the best for each of them, but Eduardo Delgado will not be given an opportunity to damage any more of my line.”
Ryanne hid her anger. She held the handle of the teacup so tightly that she felt the porcelain began to give under the pressure of her grip. The presence of her husband was close by and she could feel him, which gave her strength. He would not enter the room, but remained close by in case he should need to step in, but Eduardo was listening.
“Those children are not damaged,” Ryanne corrected. “Angel and Micah are strong, resilient young men who are treated as equals to all of Eduardo’s children. Each child has a role to play in the continuation of the Delgado lineage and he will train his sons as he sees fit to live in a world where having money and privilege does not exclude an individual from personal responsibility or accountability. The choices we make in an hour of loneliness or doubt does not mean others are obligated to provide support for another person’s bad choices.”
Anya’s nails tapped on the table, as she listened to Ryanne, who was not as she expected her to be. Smart. Savvy. Intelligent. She wasn’t a breeder looking for a handout, but appeared to be a helpmate.
“You are not as I expected,” Anya said.
“I get that a lot, but please allow me to be clear. Those children are not mine by birth or by blood, but I will fight you tooth and nail if I ever hear you refer to those boys as damaged again. Angel is smart, loving, and brilliant in ways few can understand. I’m still learning myself the things he is able to do on his own. Micah is a genius with numbers and me holding a doctorate in numerical sciences, we speak the same language. Don’t count my boys out of the race that you still have yet to understand they are running.”
“Listen at you coming at me all Mama bear. Did you do the same when Yuñior brought in that young woman?”
“Until two days ago, we had no knowledge that she existed, but if you listen to her speak, she understands your grandson far better than you do,” Ryanne confessed. “She too knows that he leaves her life when and if he sees fit. If he chooses to leave her life at all.”
Anya lifted the teacup, looking inside the delicate porcelain like she was reading the loose tea leaves. “The look on his face when she held your oldest daughter while the little girl slept...that look I have seen before. He does not plan to let her go. It could mean trouble for us all,” Anya said.
Ryanne smiled at Anya with a genuine heartfelt emotion exuding through the facial action. “Yuñior is so much smarter than you or anyone else gives him credit, Señora Fernandez. He is a planner, a plotter, and a calculator. You underestimate him. You underestimate them all, including my husband.”
“Your husband...,” Anya said with her lips downturned.
“Yes, my husband, whom I support and stand behind 100%. If anything, or anyone comes on this land for him, or any child in this house born of him, Mama Bear is going to eat them alive,” Ryanne said, staring her in the face.
“Hmm,” Anya replied, pushing the cup away and getting to her feet, “thanks for tea. Nice chatting with you.”
“Anytime,” Ryanne replied watching the woman glide away as Diadra bounded into the kitchen. The young woman offered a smile to Yunior’s Grandmother, passing her and setting her backpack by the door. Diadra sat down at the table with Ryanne while waiting for Anya to get away from earshot before leaning across the table and whispering.
Diadra said in a low voice, “Is it me, or does she remind you of the Ma figure in those Mountain Man movies, where she holds a shotgun threatening any Hatfield that wanders onto McCoy land?”
“She is something, and a woman you should be careful when dealing with Diadra,” Ryanne cautioned. “She is not done with you.”
“You’ve managed okay.”
“Barely, but I do not stand between her and her grandchildren. She is protective over them and rightly so. Her son is not able to have children, and these are the only grandchildren she has, which poses more than one problem for this family,” Ryanne said.
“Should I know the problem now or wait until he tells me?”
“You should wait until he tells you,” Ryanne said.
“If I ask you questions outright, will you answer and provide me with a choice on how I wish to proceed with the information?”
Ryanne said nothing but watched Diadra’s face closely. She gave no facial expressions and her body language offered nothing for Diadra to read. It was a trait she would later learn to mimic. In the meantime, she proceeded with her course of inquiry.
“If Ed’s Uncle is unable to have children, that means that his mother’s brother will not inherit the grandfather’s title since he cannot produce heirs,” Diadra said.
“Correct,” Ryanne replied.
“Ed can’t be the Crotalus of Argentina, I think that was the right snake, since he already wears the symbol of the Bocaracá, and Andres has begun to receive his ink as well,” Diadra added, picking up a cookie. “But can Ed’s son?”
Ryanne arched an eyebrow, impressed with the perception of the young woman. She offered a warm smile as she stared into the brown eyes, which gleaned a great deal based on very little information. It was becoming obvious to Ryanne what Yuñior saw and valued in the young lady.
“You’re very astute. It was wise of you to watch me this morning
as we rode in the fields to take cues on how to comport yourself,” Ryanne said, her eyes scanning the kitchen. “Any of those men in the living room last night, Yuñior can claim their titles should anything befall their sons. He can assume the role as leader of any of those countries, if need be, until his son is born who will them be given the title and the ink upon his 18th birthday. His son will be the Crotalus of Argentina, either way.”
“Whoa!”
“Yes, whoa. Yuñior is a powerful man,” Ryanne said. “Choose your path with him carefully but choose wisely. His might comes with a great deal of responsibility.”
“The real question is will he give me a choice?”
“He will always give you a choice, Diadra. He will never take away your ability to choose for yourself the life you want, whether it is with him or without him,” Ryanne said, pushing back from the table at the sound of Catarina’s cries. “It has indeed been a pleasure to meet you, Diadra Parsons. Have a safe journey home.”
“Thank you for everything, but mostly for making me feel welcome,” Diadra said, staring out the back window at the black car which drove up. It was time to go home, and she was ready.
ON THE PLANE, DIADRA was quiet. There were so many thoughts competing in her head that it became difficult to hold a solid idea in a steady stream of cold water if the notion came with two rubber handles. Yuñior said nothing as well. He held a tablet making notes as Gunther sat in the rear of the plane, staring at Diadra. The constant gawking was freaking her out.
“Dude! Gunther, man, either you need to say something or come on over here and kiss me, but the staring is weirding me out,” she told Gunther.
In response, Gunther stood, walked over to Diadra, bent, and kissed her on the cheek. Yuñior stopped tapping on the tablet and looked up at him. His lips were pressed tightly together but he still said nothing.
Becoming the Czar Page 2
