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Franco shooed the voice away. He straightened in the saddle andfixed on Michele. The man rode loosely, as if he had been drinking. The caravan grew closer, the singing louder.
The air carried the song of thebraccianti, the sweet fragrance of the lemons, and the salty smell of the donkeys. The caravan was almost in range.
Franco raised his rifle, ready to give the order. Arabo shifted in anticipation, and the other horses tossed their heads.
“Vai!” Franco charged through the trees, followed by Roberto and his men. He shot Michele off his horse, and thebracciantiscattered in fear. Roberto and his men ran them off, then gathered the donkey carts packed with lemons. The ambush was over in no time, and Roberto’s men whooped, firing into the sky.
Franco rode over to make sure Michele was dead, but the man lay moaning in the dirt, his chest dark with spreading blood.
“Franco,” Michele said, blood bubbling from his mouth. “Baron DiGiulio won’t... take care of my family. Will... you?”
“Yes.” Franco took out his pistol and shot him.
Franco looked over at hisbrother. They sat in front of Baron Moravia’s villa, which they had gotten for next to nothing, as sole bidder. Roberto was brooding, which annoyed him. “Robo, what’s bothering you?”
“You know.”
“Michele, again? I told him we’d take care of his family, and we will.”
“He was one of us.”
“He quit.”
“We gave him no choice. He couldn’t pay the increase.”
“He didn’t even try to talk to Baron DiGiulio or thecontadini. That’s weak, and we can’t have a weak man in our family.” Franco touched his arm. “Did you see the way he rode that night? His answer to fear was the bottle. I’m glad he’s gone.”
“I don’t agree.”
“You don’t have to,” Franco shot back. “You said your men are your authority, and I conceded. Running the business is my authority. You must concede to me.”
Roberto looked over. “But that makes you the boss.Myboss.”
“Yes, it does.” Franco eyed him. “Robo, there can only be one man in charge. Otherwise it confuses the lines of authority. You’re my deputy, but I’m the head of the family.”
Roberto blinked. “Even overme? I’m your blood, yourtwin.”
“Publicly, yes. Privately, I love you and consider you my equal.”
“What’s your plan now?”
“My original plan was to buy land, but my thinking is changing. I don’t need to own the land to control it, and I control thegabellottiwho manage the biggestlatifondi. So I control the Conca d’Oro, as a practical matter. Who owns the land is a technicality.”
Roberto fell silent. “You want to be king of the mountain.”
“Yes.”
“All this because you’re five minutes older than me?”
“That’s not why. It’s because I want it more than you.”
Roberto thought it over. “But we own the business and villa equally, right?”
“Yes.”
“And we earn the same money?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
