"I'll order him to leave the hacienda." Raul slapped the side of his boot with the palm of his hand. "I've had more than enough of Pedro."
"I'm with you," cried Gabriel. "Let's get him out of here as soon as possible."
Raul grabbed the priest's arm, and squeezed it. Gabriel's eyes glittered, and he stood up and said: "I remember the talks we've had in this room. I'll help you see that our people are treated right at Petaca. The Americans fought for their liberty.... Their war brought freedom! God will bless your decision, Raul. We'll work together."
"I'll talk to my father," said Raul, rising.
"Perhaps we should wait till Dr. Velasco comes," said Gabriel.
"I'd rather not."
"The shock may be too much for Don Fernando. I'd wait." Gabriel hesitated.
"You're wrong. Father will fight. He won't give in to me, in spite of his stroke. Let's talk to him before Velasco comes. Come with me."
"I suppose we may as well," sighed Gabriel.
Together they crossed the cobbles, a mangy yellow dog trailing them, sniffing the priest's robes. Entering by the veranda, they went directly into Don Fernando's bedroom. He was asleep. Gabriel bent over him, made the sign of the cross, and counted his pulse, the old man's skin cold to his fingers.