Before taking his cages to Raul, he prayed in the chapel. Kneeling, he let the whiteness of the room take him: he had been a lover of Mary ever since he could remember: without a doubt She had saved his mother during the black plague. Strains of music he had played through the years came to him, as he knelt. Stepping toward the altar, he touched the glass dome covering the Virgin: her rubies, emeralds and diamonds never changed. Some night, as the dawn arrived and birds began their day, She would speak and Jesus would gently remove him from this life. Friends would wash him and borrow the hacienda grave box. Back on the veranda, he picked up his cages, knocked, and asked for Raul. A new servant from Ameca said harshly: "You wait on the veranda. No, go round to the kitchen. Get along, wait in the kitchen." "I'll wait right here," said Alberto, and turned away, to sit on the steps. Raul overheard, came outside, and accepted the cages. Together they hung them in the patio. Alberto had ideas as to what kinds of birds should be put inside. Raul understood how much the old man prized his gift. He led him into the kitchen for something to eat. His bearded face, through the closing door, brought to mind the man decorating the hill cross and his own resolve to assume the hacienda responsibilities. On the veranda, Raul talked with the stonecutters. In a short time the house would be repaired. This afternoon, he had to ride to the pond in Sector 17; the quake had cracked the dam and released most of the water. A group of workers was already there, but the job had to be pushed before the dry season. Oxcarts creaked across the court, each loaded with stone for the veranda. One cart was new, made by Salvador, and pulled by his _garbanza_-colored oxen. Salvador drove his cart and young Esteban rode another, his goad over his shoulder, spear-like, his team black and white. Pigeons fluttered about the carts, as if they hoped for grain. Salvador greeted Raul with a friendly grin. "It's hot this morning." "It's hot to haul stone," Raul said. "These loads will give us enough to finish the veranda." "Who supervised the cutting?" "Alejandro." "He's doing a good job," said Raul, and started into the house, pleased with the progress. "Ah, before you go ... I'd like to say that Isidro found sixty pesos in the stable. They must be yours. I have the bills." He dug into his back pocket and drew out his red bandanna, the pesos knotted inside. "As far as I know, I haven't lost any money," said Raul. Salvador held out the cash to Raul, and mopped his face with the bandana, puffing loudly. "I'll see. I'm pretty sure it's not my money," Raul said. "Keep it in the tienda, till you know. None of us lost it," said Salvador, and laughed his silent, rocking laugh, his eyes dancing. "Where would we get so much money?" "Salvador, where did you say Isidro found it?" "In a stall, by a feedbox."