Alejandro Cruz's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Alejandro folded the map in his head and started for the nearest cluster of circles. The trail bent inland through vines and low palms. He walked an hour before the trees opened into a grove heavy with mango. Fruit lay thick in the grass. He grinned, filled both waterproof bags, and hoisted them onto his shoulders. Ten steps in, he understood the trouble. Two bags held maybe forty mangoes. The grove held thousands. The next grove was farther. The shore was farther still. Mather wanted three full loads in the boat by week's end, or the boat went back to Mather and the deal broke. Alejandro could not carry a harvest on his back. Not from here. Not before the fruit turned. He dropped the bags and swore at the trees. A shadow crossed the grass. He looked up. A bald eagle sat on a dead branch above him, white head sharp against the leaves. It held something in its claws — a strip of leather, cracked and old. The bird shifted, and the leather fell. Alejandro picked it up. A harness strap. Cut, not rotted. Someone had used pack animals here. He followed the eagle's line of sight through the trees. The bird lifted and glided low over the brush, then landed again fifty yards on. Alejandro pushed after it. The ground firmed under his boots. He hit a flat track, wider than the meerkat path, rutted deep. Wheel ruts. He broke through a wall of vine and stopped. A red barn stood in the clearing. The roof sagged. Hay spilled from an upper window. The double doors hung crooked but shut. Alejandro drew the machete and pushed one door open. Inside, dust hung in the light. Stalls ran down both walls. Empty. But the smell of animal was still in the wood, and a cart sat under a tarp at the far end. Two wheels, a long bed, shafts for a beast. He pulled the tarp off. The wood was sound. Something moved in the last stall. He raised the machete. A girl stepped into the light, blonde, blue-eyed, thin, holding a bucket like a shield. She could not have been more than twenty. "Don't," she said. "They're mine. The horses. I came back for them." Alejandro lowered the blade slowly. "I have paper on this island," he said. "Signed. Witnessed." Her mouth tightened. "Then you have paper on my father's barn." He looked at the cart. He looked at her. The eagle called once outside. "I need to move fruit," he said. "Fast. Before it spoils. You know this place." "I know all of it," Jen said. "And you don't." He held out his hand. She did not take it. But she did not leave either. The cart sat between them, and the harvest waited.