Three workers held him back.
“You’ll die!”
Then they heard something.
A deep cracking sound.
And through the smoke came Benedita.
She was carrying a wooden box.
Not coffee.
Not money.
Papers.
Documents.
Joaquim’s records.
Land papers.
Debt records.
And something else.
A small leather pouch.
She handed it to Joaquim.
“What is this?”
“Your father’s letters.”
Joaquim froze.
He had believed those letters were lost years ago.
“How did you find them?”
“In the office.”
She smiled weakly.
“They were hidden behind the wall.”
THE LETTER
Inside the pouch was a letter written by Joaquim’s father many years earlier.
Joaquim read it under the light of a lantern.
The final paragraph stopped him cold.
His father had written about a Black carpenter named Manuel.
A man known throughout the region for designing stronger carts and agricultural tools.
Manuel had a daughter.
A very tall girl.
