Hacendado

[alaterdate]

Title: Hacendado
Rating: G
Word Count: 786
Genre: Historical Fiction

Pale red bricks of the hacienda walls stand out against the deep grey sky of the morning. Leather reins stretch taught in my hands as I lead the boss’s prized horses out to the fields to graze; the sun having just risen enough for someone to be able the guide them, though I could have done it in the dark by the time I turned ten. I round the corner of the outskirts of the property. Twenty-five hectares of estate belonging to one man and his family, but worked on by countless others. I try to keep my distance from the owner’s family, but as I pass the mansion my eyes always turn toward it. I can’t help it because I know el hijo will be there. There he stands, every morning, under the high arches. The sunlight can not shine on his features there, but I know his face. How could I not? He is the son of the hacendado and my future patrón. He wears his white cotton shirt tucked into his black linen trousers, but the westward winds still blow the loose material around him. His figure ripples against the red background of the brick walls like a cloud at dawn. He pretends to watch the sunrise in the east, but I feel his eyes on me. I know he watches me lead his precious riding horses to the pastures. He watches from the moment I come around the corner, until I pass the dairy cows and the steers out to the verdant hills where the horses can run freely at their best. Even in the summer heat tengo la piel de gallina porque sus ojos. For the longest time I can’t bring my own eyes to look at him except from out of the corner of them. His father sent him here to gain experience because he will take over one day. If I ever offend him and he comes to hate me, kicks me off his land, where will I go? To another hacienda? He could smear my name all over México and beyond.

A parade of colors go by my feet. Red, orange, and black; repeating dangerously. One of the two horses in my care, Bravo—always so fast to act—kicks up a storm of dirt. Canela, his sister, rears up and yanks me off balance. The impact of my shoulder into the dirt sets my mind whirling. Sparks of colors burst before my eyes. The snake is watching me. Large black eyes that watched me fall. Waiting. Then hooves come crashing down. I close my eyes and gasp. La serpiente muere al impactor, but the horses and I live through the commotion. Scrambling to my feet I pluck the reins back from the air, but only manage to catch Bravo’s. I watch helplessly as Canela saunters away. Red dust covers my clothes and I keep breathing it in as I try to calm down. After my coughing fit passes, through my blurry eyes I see el hijo coming straight toward me. His hands snatch Bravo’s reins from mine, fingers twisting roughly around my wrist, burning me with shame inside and out. His hand raises, catching the full rays of the sun. I wince. This is it; first a beating and then exile from the estate. The beating never comes. I peek and see his hand had come down firmly on Bravo’s muzzle, calming him.

“¿Hablas Español?” He asks.

“Si, suficiente.” My voice sounds hollow and I don’t even notice my lips moving, it’s as if they don’t belong to me and all this is happening to somebody else.

“What’s your name?”

“Moctezuma.”

“Really, Moctezuma?” His face scrunches up like my name is distasteful in his mouth. “I’ll just call you Monty.” His eyes crinkle up and glint as if he’s done something clever.

I only nod, the silt I breathed in settled on my tongue and dried it out.

“This horse—my horse—saved your life.” He rubs his hands up and down Bravo’s caramel colored muzzle. “So, you owe me.”

The taste of dirt on my tongue becomes heavy enough that my jaw goes slack. The only sounds are the snorting from Bravo and the cantering steps of Canela freely circling us and waiting to go beyond the hacienda up to the hills. I stand there gazing at him with my mouth hanging open. His light eyes and light skin glisten in the sunlight—criollos’ features. What was I, but a mestizo raised solely by an indio mother who had died already and left me alone? I didn’t understand what he was trying to get out of this. He already owned my life before the snake intruded.

Comments

[sideways]

Ooh. The narrator's habitual wariness paired against the heir's casual arrogance makes for some interesting tension >:3

[alaterdate]

Thanks! I was thinking of expanding this (past it being a flash fiction piece) with them going to a lake. They'd either become friends or one of then would die 🤔 You know how it is lol

[sideways]

Yep... yep... that just how it be when you're a protagonist.