"For now, there is no hurry," Papa said. "Winter is beginning at home. There will be no fighting until the summer." He gave Micky a hard look. "But I must have the rifles by the end of October."
That look made Micky feel weak at the knees. He leaned against the stone parapet of the bridge to steady himself. "I'll see to it, Papa, don't worry," he said anxiously.
Papa nodded as if there could be no doubt about it. They were silent for a minute. Out of the blue, Papa said: "I want you to stay in London."
Micky felt his shoulders slump with relief. It was what he had been hoping for. He must have done something right, then. "I think it might be a good idea, Papa," he said, trying to hide his eagerness.
Then Papa dropped his bombshell. "But your allowance will stop."
"What?"
"The family can't keep you. You must support yourself."
Micky was appalled. Papa's meanness was as legendary as his violence, but still this was unexpected. The Mirandas were rich. Papa had thousands of head of cattle, monopolized all horse dealing over a huge territory, rented land to small farmers and owned most of the stores in Santamaria Province.
It was true that their money did not buy much in England. Back home a Cordovan silver dollar would get you a slap-up meal, a bottle of rum and a whore for the night; here it would hardly stretch to a cheap meal and a glass of weak beer. That had come as a blow to Micky when he went to Windfield School. He had managed to supplement his allowance by playing cards, but he had found it hard to make ends meet until he befriended Edward. Even now Edward paid for all the expensive entertainments they shared: the opera, visits to racecourses, hunting and whores. Still, Micky needed a basic income to pay his rent, tailor's bills, subscriptions to the gentlemen's clubs that were an essential element of London life, and tips to servants. How did Papa expect him to find that? Take a job? The idea was appalling. No member of the Miranda family worked for wages.
He was about to ask how he was expected to live on no money when Papa abruptly changed the subject and said: "I will now tell you what the rifles are for. We are going to take over the desert."
Micky did not understand. The Miranda property covered a big area of Santamaria Province. Bordering their land was a smaller property owned by the Delabarca family. To the north of both was land so arid that neither Papa nor his neighbor had ever bothered to claim it. "What do we want the desert for?" Micky said.
