Shared Daughter-in-Law novel · Chapter 2 of 12

Chapter 2: The Creek

Yoselin disappeared down the hallway before Rufino Mata got out of the truck.

I washed my hands in the sink, buttoned my pants, and put water on to boil.

By the time he walked through the kitchen door without knocking, there were already two cups on the table, and I was standing with my back to the stove, calm.

"Good morning, compadre," he said.

"Good morning, Don Rufino."

Rufino Mata was sixty years old, with a belly cinched by a leather belt with a silver buckle.

A white hat, a signet ring on his pinkie, and a big-toothed smile that hid his eyes.

He owned the neighboring ranch, El Corozo, and half the debts in the county.

He sat down without being invited and looked at the two cups.

"So early, and you already have company."

"The coffee is mine."

"And the other one?"

"Mine too."

He laughed and stirred his coffee with a little spoon.

"Look, Eleuterio. I'm here for the usual thing."

"There's a month left."

"There are sixty days left. Forty thousand dollars, plus interest." He set down the spoon. "But I'm a reasonable man. I have a better offer for you."

"I don't need any offers."

"Sell me the creek."

I looked at him.

"El Samán is mine."

"The water rights. Nothing more." He raised his hands. "I'll leave you the land downstream. I only want the sluice gate. In exchange, I'll forgive your debt."

"Without the creek, I'll have no livestock."

"There are other ways."

His gaze shifted toward the hallway door.

He stared at the small, wet footprint of a bare foot on the cement.

Then he looked at me.

His smile didn't move.

"What a lovely morning," he said. "And what a pretty daughter-in-law you have, compadre. Always up early."

"She's in her room."

"Of course, of course."

He finished his coffee, stood up, and shook my hand with a sweaty palm.

"I'll think about it, compadre. Two months."

I walked him to the gate and didn't breathe again until his truck disappeared into the dust.

That afternoon, the heat beat down mercilessly on the plains.

Nelson had left early for Calabozo, with the excuse of buying medicine for the livestock.

The house was deserted.

I went down to the creek to check the water level.

It was a small river, with dark, icy-cold water that wound between enormous saman trees and white sandbanks.

I saw her from a distance.

A figure in the water, submerged to the waist, with wet hair clinging to her back.

Yoselin was bathing.

Naked.

She'd taken off her dress, which hung from a branch, and was rinsing her breasts with both hands, her back to the sun.

I stood still among the trees.

She turned her head.

She smiled.

"I knew you were coming."

"You didn't know anything."

"You always come at this time to check the water." She swept her hair back. "And I come to see you looking at me."

I took off my boots.

Then my shirt.

Then my pants.

I stepped naked into the creek, and the cold water stole my breath.

I reached her in three strides.

I took her by the waist and kissed her.

Her mouth tasted like water and sunshine.

Her hands roamed over my chest, then moved lower.

She took me in her hand beneath the water.

"You're hard."

"It's your fault."

"I want to look at you."

She dragged me toward the sandbank at the foot of a saman tree, where the sun fell in patches.

She made me sit on the warm sand, my back against a smooth rock.

She knelt in front of me, between my legs.

Her wet hair fell over my thighs.

"Yoselin."

"Be quiet, Daddy."

She took me between her lips.

A hot, greedy mouth that took me all the way to her throat.

I threw my head back against the rock with a growl.

She sucked me with such innocent, filthy devotion that my thighs trembled.

Her tongue worked its way up me from base to tip, while her honey-colored eyes looked up at me without blinking.

I took her hair in both hands.

"Slow down."

She sped up on purpose.

I thrust deep into her mouth.

I felt like I was about to lose control.

I lifted her by the armpits and sat her astride my lap.

"Now it's my turn."

"Yes, Daddy."

I entered her like that, sitting with her on top of me and the creek water licking at our ankles.

She moved up and down, holding on to my shoulders, her breasts swaying at mouth level.

I sucked them, one after the other.

I bit them.

"Harder."

"Like that."

"More."

I gripped her ass and helped her ride me, fast, with sharp, hard thrusts, while the birds in the woods stirred noisily in the branches.

She came with a long cry that sent a flock of egrets flying.

I came seconds later, buried deep inside her, my face pressed into her neck.

We stayed wrapped around each other, sweaty and wet.

She stroked the back of my neck slowly, laughing.

"I don't regret it," she said.

"Neither do I."

"Good."

She kissed me on the forehead.

That was when I heard the snap.

A sharp sound from the other side of the river, among the bushes.

I looked up.

Something glinted on the opposite bank, among the branches.

A reflection off a lens.

And behind it, a white hat.

Rufino Mata lowered his binoculars slowly and raised a hand, as if waving.

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