Chapter-1: The Old Business of Men
The bank closed at 5:00 p.m. And, Amado Aguilar didn’t show. For Diego, it was a poor start for the weekend. In contrast, thirty minutes prior: five clerks, two couriers, two guards and one assistant bank manager left early with a much better start.
Outside, the sun worked on bringing the day to a close. It cast long shadows on the wooden walk ways, cobblestone roads and side dirt paths of Mexico City.
Most businesses closed for the evening, while, other establishments were just getting started for a night of excitement. Still, other shops continued working past there approximate closing hours.
At 5:01 p.m Diego handed the leather satchel, with Amado’s letter, to his best courier, Juan Delgado: a seasoned man, strong, hard working and with an above average appearance. And, typical of his dress, Juan’s uniform for today: black boots, tanned pants, white sleeved shirt, walnut coat and a black cattleman hat.
At 5:02 p.m, Juan galloped away on one of the bank’s horses: a chestnut Arabian horse that enjoyed side stepping, if it remained stationary for too long.
Juan and his horse picked up speed and headed up Guadalupe Road. Diego waved and waited, expecting Juan to turn right at the intersection, and head toward Amado’s hacienda. Instead, goose flesh rippled across Diego’s body.
Juan reached the intersection of Guadalupe and Santos, and stopped, and shook his head. He circled about on his horse a few times, leaned back in his saddle and rode back toward the bank.
Diego moved forward with slow steps to meet his courier. He stopped next to the fountain, lifting his palms up at Juan.
“Unbelievable, Señor Diego, Don Amado is riding up this way.”
Diego looked up the road and his eyes widened, Amado Aguilar rode on his favorite horse, Caprichosa.
The beautiful appaloosa horse made its way to the bank, walking at a smooth pace. Diego shook his head at the horse. The back half of Caprichosa shined fudge brown, while the front half of the horse had dark mud colored spots. Under the stretched spots, a white bright coat spread across the front half of the horse and into the front legs. It is a nice horse, thought Diego. He grimaced and faced his courier.
“Thank you, Juan.” Diego reached for his pocket watch and rubbed it with his thumb. “Please wait around back until our business with Don Amado is finished.”
A flinched expression spread across Juan’s face. He looked over his shoulder at the approaching rider and replied with an exhale of annoyance,
“Not a problem, Señor Diego, I’ll be in the back with the horses. I suppose I could clean the horse stalls and the rifle range.”
Diego waved and nodded, and Juan passed him on his right. Other horses clicked and clacked and whinnied around Diego. He ignored them and tried to search for a bit of relief. He took deep breaths and exhaled slow, and rubbed his pocket watch. Calm down, he thought as he flipped open his pocket watch, 5:05p.m. With deliberate breaths, he aimed his patience at Don Amado.
Caprichosa bobbed her head and snorted as she approached.
Diego wiped sweat from his forehead. And, he glared at his appointment from head to boots, trying his best not to judge.
Amado Aguilar wore: a white egg shell gambler hat; a burgundy ornate business coat with matching vest; a pearl white collared shirt; black dress pants and pearl white ankle high boots, with silver spurs.
At a ripe old age of sixty five, Amado’s frosty blue eyes complemented his husky build. Most of Amado’s hair still grew black, except for his mustache that connected to his white beard. And, though he spent most of his days in the sun, his skin had an even light tan.
Aside from his gift of business, Amado also possessed an incredible amount of grip strength—ripping a stack of fifty two at the end of business meetings or at the end of playing poker.
Caprichosa neighed to a halt. And, the lucrative demon of business, Amado Aguilar, arrived four hours late to his 1:00p.m meeting.
Diego’s face strained to force a smile. He waved and greeted the biggest money client of his bank, mustering all the professionalism he could manage.
“Good evening, Señor Aguilar,” said Diego without too much resentment. “I was beginning to think a band of bandidos killed you; and, left you in the open sierra, near a dried bush or a Joshua tree.” The congenial expression on Diego’s face reached its limits. His smile fell apart, and he stood with an expressionless face.
Amado noticed the irritated tone. He stared at Diego with a concentrated hellish look. Even a passerby that glimpsed at Amado’s face, along with Diego, shivered with goose bumps. In a flash, Amado smiled and dismounted, and then patted Caprichosa. He side glanced at Diego, and smirked.
“Buenas tardes, Diego, you’re such a comical man. The sun is plenty high for hard afternoon work, hombre. Que Bandidos? Nonsense, I am not that kind of man. The bandidos wouldn’t make an easy target of my will … no, señor.”
Amado smacked his chest with his left hand and laughed aloud. Swift in his movements, he tied the reins of his horse to a post under the full shade of an elm tree.
“See,” Amado pointed to his Spencer rifles on his horse, “I always travel with two beautiful prudent ladies; and I never hesitate to put them to work. No man can resist their beauty at four hundred meters or less. These women demand attention; and they always get it with their precise charm.”
His bloodlust waning, Don Amado opened a small bag behind his saddle and removed a green sour apple. He fed it to his horse and patted her with his free hand.
“Tranquila, Caprichosa, I’ll return in a short while. Don’t let any man or beast mount you in my absence. You know how jealous I am.” Caprichosa ate the green apple in three quick chomps, whinnied and bobbed her head. Amado patted his horse a few more times and air kissed at her twice.
He handed his black leather satchel to Diego and turned, and removed his two rifles from his horse.
The two men walked side by side to the bank. But, Amado stepped faster and advanced ahead. He stared at the bank’s entrance and nodded. Patricio held the doors open to the bank and the Don grinned.
Amado’s pearl boots sent a heavy clanging and thumping sound into the late afternoon. He moved with the bravado of an elite bandido, tasting victory with each step closer to the threshold of the bank.
Diego walked a breath behind Amado, his face tight and serious. The swagger of this man irked him. But, he held his tongue and watched Amado Aguilar strut into his very own sanctuary, Banco De La Republica.
Amado entered with an overflow of roaring confidence: an expert king on women, worship and wealth. Or, as Amado preferred to call his expertise over the world: the old business of men.
Thank You for your time. Next, Monday I will post the first part of Chapter-2: The Bird and The Cat, from my novel Guerrero of Passions.
Total Consciousness 