The rainy season had come, forcing everybody to stay indoors for weeks. When it finally ended, the small settlement of La Cañada wanted to celebrate.
The matriarch of the community everybody endearingly called La Cuata (the twin) because she had a brother who was 10 months younger than her volunteered a kid goat.
Her neighbor down the hill volunteered to be the maestro for the matanza. Everybody pitched in, from elders to child above toddler age. If you wanted some meat, you had to work.
The goat was soon cooking in a big iron pot full of red chile. Everybody stood around waiting for it to be done so they could take turns scooping up the residual sauce. The smell of cabrito asado wafted throughout the valley. Every creature could smell it.
As they were taking out the meat to serve everybody, the most feared man in the valley appeared, Don José Perez, known by his preferred moniker, Tio Pepón. The mood immediately turned dark.
Tio Pepón was a tall man with broad shoulders and big hands. What was most intimidating about him was his expressionless face and the big 45 caliber pistol he always wore. La Cuata was his only sibling.
He had fought in the Mexican Revolution as a teenager and come back many years later estranged from his home. His disposition was invariably that of a man contemplating murder. Everybody stayed away from him.
And here he had just arrived in his quarter horse and 50 caliber rifle sticking out from a sheath strapped to his saddle.
La Cuata walked up to him and invited him to eat.
“But you have to do some work, like everybody, to earn a serving,” she told him.
Tio Pepón looked down at her from his horse a long while before dismounting.
Without responding to her, he walked to the cauldron, grabbed a tortilla from a child who had been waiting his turn in line, and pinched a big serving of goat meat into the tortilla.
“Pepón, I said you have to work for it,” La Cuata protested.
He waved her away.
La Cuata’s eyes opened wide in anger.
As Tio Pepón was walking away, La Cuata rushed up to him.
“Ya stufas,” she said as she put her foot in front of him, grabbed the back of his collar and tripped him.
Tio Pepón went down and smeared the taco of goat meat on his shirt.
“I said you have to work for it!” La Cuata admonished him while he was still down.
Everybody held their breath, expecting the worse.
Tio Pepón got up, dusted himself off, put his hat back on, and straightened his pistol holster. He then remounted and galloped away without saying a word.
From then on, everybody made sure to work for their serving at a matanza.
