"I just spent two months with a bunch of old patriots. I heard all the stories and I can be inspired by them," Tyler said, "or by Charlie Burke. Charlie, standing before that firing squad, turning his head to spit."

"To show his contempt," Amelia said.

"No, it was so he wouldn't be lying there dead with tobacco juice dribbled down his chin. Charlie Burke had more sand than any man I know. Or outside of those old patriots." "Did you know Victor was one of them?" "Charlie never told me, but I figured it out." "Do you see a change in him?"

"You mean now he isn't your servant anymore?" "He never was," Amelia said. "We're friends." "Then what's bothering you?"

Something was, and she took her time now.

"I think of the way he used to speak to me, even telling about awful things, the Volunteers murdering people, firing into a theater…"

"The Villanueva," Tyler said.

"Yes, and Victor was there, he saw it. But whatever he told me, it was always in a quiet tone of voice, never sounding mean or vengeful. So I believed, yes, this is his manner." "But now," Tyler said.

"He's changed. Not a lot, but I can tell."

Tyler drew on the cigarette, giving himself time, not understanding why she didn't see it. He said, "You're used to him looking at the ground when he speaks. Maybe not to you but to most people and that's how you think of him, that nice old man. But see, now he doesn't have to act nice if he doesn't feel like it, same as you and me. He's joined to fight the war again, picked up a gun and it makes him a different person."

"I understand that," Amelia said. "I feel I know the man, but for some reason I'm not as sure of him as I was. It was a year ago he asked me, "What's the point of you?" He saw me as a lady of leisure, not doing a damn thing with my life, and he must've thought hmmmm, maybe I can use this girl."

"You felt that?"

"Of course I did, I'm not dumb. I let him use me. I'd listen to Rollie and his buddies talking about the situation-it was always the way the Spanish saw it. Or it was about things people in the government told Rollie they were going to do. Rollie always saw General Weyler when we came to Havana. The general talked about the honor of retaking a town in the east, Victoria de las Tunas, no matter how many men it cost. Victor said, "Las Tunas? Who cares about that place?" I never had much to tell that I felt helped the cause. But living here, I see what's happening to the people. I saw two men murdered. I did, I saw that Guardia, Tavalera, shoot them both in cold blood. And I began to think, what can I do? You must've felt the same way to bring in guns, risk your life for people you don't even know. I wanted to do something with my life. I mean short of losing it; I'm not a martyr."

Tyler liked the way she talked about how she felt, serious but showing she was human.

"Then when you were put in prison I thought, that's it, get you out. I talked to Victor about it for weeks and finally he said the time was right."

"Bless your heart," Tyler said. "You know I'm in your debt forever."

She was done with her somber mood, getting a keen look in her eyes as she said, "You mean it?"

"I'm here," Tyler said. "I have to collect from Boudreaux before I ever think of leaving."

"We do too," Amelia said. "I'm talking about the hostage money. We tell Rollie I'm being held by insurgents. He pays it or he never sees me again."

"I wondered about that. How much you asking?"

"Eighty thousand dollars."

Tyler took a moment to wonder what it would look like, all that money in stacks of U.S. scrip, before he said, "You think he'll pay?"

Not a question she seemed to expect. But then got that keen look in her eyes again and said, "Wouldn't you, if you had it?"

Showing a good deal of confidence in herself.

"I don't know," Tyler said. "Maybe."

Right there, she lost some of her spunk and gave him a shrug. "It doesn't matter."

"But if I didn't pay," Tyler said, "I'd never know what I'd be missing, would I? Was me, sure, I'd pay."

It put a nice smile on her face, a child getting what she wanted. She said, "I'll tell you this, Rollie knows what he'd be missing."

"He'll do what you want, huh?"

"He generally does."

Like she had gentled him, this millionaire, slipped a hackamore over his wavy hair and led him around by it.

"He pays," Tyler said, "and the revolutionary army gets the money. If that's the plan, I'll help you any way I can."

"Later on, after Victor gets back," Amelia said, "we'll write the letter. If you have any doubts about it, let me know, all right?"

Walking back to the farmhouse she took his arm, though he didn't offer it, the blanket folded over his other shoulder. Like they were coming back from having fun. Along the way she handed Tyler her revolver, saying she was better with a rifle, if he wanted it. Tyler stuck the. 44 in his waist. Neither one spoke after that until the house came into view, candlelight showing in the barred windows. Tyler said, "Victor came to Charlie Burke for horses. Even though it's his boss buying them, Victor wanted five hundred dollars for his part. Charlie Burke said it was the way it's done here, like in Old Mexico, you set up the deal you expect a cut. See, what I'm wondering, if the hostage idea is Victor's, maybe that's why you feel different about him. Something tells you not to trust him."

She said, "I hadn't thought of that, Victor wanting some of it for himself."

"Or all of it."

She shook her head. "I can't imagine that."

They walked toward the lighted windows, the land beyond shapes against the night sky, empty and desolate.

"It was Victor's idea, wasn't it?"

She said, "No, I thought of it myself."

Virgil believed he might've eaten too many of those goddamn black bananas, he didn't feel so good, but said he'd better go clean himself up. He spoke in a loud young voice, though sounded shy asking Amelia was it all right he used her soap. Tyler handed him the bar of lilac. Virgil stepped outside, stood listening a few moments and came back inside. "Somebody's coming."

The weapons they'd brought from Atars were on the table: the Maulers and a matched pair of. 44 Smith amp; Wesson Russians. Amelia handed Virgil a carbine and picked one up for herself. She said to Tyler, in the doorway now, "Can you tell how many?"

He said, "Three," looking out at the dark, waiting for them to come into view. Virgil, close by, threw the bolt on the carbine as Tyler said, "It's Fuentes," and there he was.

Fuentes in his town clothes and two riders trailing close behind who could be farmers in their white cotton, but farmers with rifles, cartridge belts across the chest, the brim of their big straws turned up in front, Fuentes telling the house, "Friends coming!" Shouting it out and saying it again as they appeared out of the dark. In the yard he stepped down from his horse and stretched and then gestured for them to come out of the house.

"Please, my friends want to see what you look like. They come from Islero." He gestured again. "We meet on the road back there. Come on, we friends."

Tyler and Virgil stepped out to the yard, Virgil turning his head to Tyler as he said in a raspy whisper, "They're Negroes," maybe a little surprised. Amelia stayed in the doorway. They watched Fuentes untie a gunnysack from his saddle and turn to them, shaking out two lifeless chickens, their necks wrung. The mambis sat their horses without moving or saying a word, rifles across their laps, looking this way but mostly, Tyler believed, at Amelia in her blue bandanna.

"I meet these old friends," Fuentes said, "and they tell me where to steal the chickens." Fuentes in a good mood, not showing any wear.

Amelia said, "Are they staying for supper?" Asking the question, nothing more.