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“No, we don’t.” Gaetano met his eye with new concern. “If Tonelli works for Don Bruno, we have to try a safer approach.”
“How, then?”
“I’ll explain over breakfast.”
Dante stood with Gaetano inthe sunny piazza, which was lined with small stone houses, their shutters open now. The town had come to life with families returning from Mass, and women headed to and from the bakery. Men took up chairs in front of the houses, rolling the first cigarettes of the day and starting card games. Children ran back and forth, kicking a ball. Two otherbracciantiwaited by the tree, their raggedy clothes betraying their need for a job.
A man who could only be Enrico Tonelli swaggered into the piazza, leading a large mule. He had close-set eyes that narrowed to slits in the sunshine. His nose had a hole at the tip, and the skin on his face was dark and lined. His build was wiry, and he wore a dirty white shirt and brown pants. Faint yellow dust covered his beat-up boots.
Dante struggled to maintain his composure. He was about to meetthe man who kidnapped him fifteen years ago, derailing his life. It took all of his self-control not to unleash Monster.
Tonelli pointed at Dante, even before he’d reached the piazza. “You.”
“Me, what?” Dante asked, surprised.
“You want to work in the mine, right? What’s your name?”
“Dante.”
“You’re hired, Dante. You can help our kiln men.”
“My brother Gaetano needs work, too.” Dante gestured to Gaetano, since they were pretending to be brothers, a story Gaetano had fabricated at the bakery.
“No to your brother.” Tonelli dismissed Gaetano with a wave. “I don’t need another man.”
“Signore, please,” Gaetano interjected quickly. “I need the job and I can do anything. Pick, carry, do office work. I can read and write—”
“Listen to that accent!” Tonelli snorted. “You literate, Palermo?”
“Yes, I was a lawyer before I went to prison.”
Tonelli burst into derisive laughter. “A lawyer behind bars? You weren’t a very good one then!”
“I don’t disagree.” Gaetano forced a chuckle.
“What’d you go in for?”
“I served fifteen years for breaking into a law office and hitting a fewcarabinieri.”
“Impressive!” Tonelli snorted. “You know, I spent time in prison myself.”
“You did? Maybe we had some friends in common. Did you know Big Feet, Talks Too Much, Pox—”
“I knew Pox. Anyway, what are you two doing here?”
“We’re on our way east and need to make some money. I can also keep ledgers and do bookkeeping. Or if you need legal advice, I can do that, too. I’d like to stay with my little brother.”
“Okay, Palermo. You’re both hired. What’s your family name?”
“Catalano,” Gaetano supplied.
Tonelli gestured to Argent and Toto, hitched nearby. “Are those yours?”
“Yes.”
“Nice. Get on and let’s go.” Tonelli mounted his mule, and the other twobracciantirushed Tonelli, both talking at once.
“Signore, put me to use? I’m strong and I work hard!” “My family needs to eat! I’ll do whatever you need done!” “Signore, Signore!”
