"You imply...." The old man's voice climbed; he wanted the peace of his own folly.
"I came to talk to you about this." Raul tapped his shoulder where a bandage bulged under his shirt. He thought it would be easy to say, but the words choked in his throat.
"Don't accuse me of attempting to assassinate you!" Fernando screamed.
"I'm leaving for Colima in an hour or so. I'll have a talk with the police. I'll have Pedro picked up and jailed," Raul said, forcing himself to keep calm.
"Who'll be your overseer?"
"Salvador."
"Salvador, the oxcart maker! Jesús, use your head!"
"I like honest men."
With tense fingers, Raul emptied and filled his pipe; his eyes took in the smooth, familiar bowl and stem. Neither man spoke and the chatter of servants crossed the room; a child called: "Run, Lupe, run."
"You may as well get it into your head that I didn't send Pedro after you."