The Coyote Under the Table/El Coyote Debajo de la Mesa (8 page)

The dozen eggs produced eleven young hens and one rooster. In a year's time the hens were all laying eggs of their own and hatching out more babies. The man sold all the eggs he could, and then began selling the chickens as well.

With the money he made he bought a cow, and the cow had two calves. They grew and had young of their own.

He sold some of the cattle and bought sheep. Then with the money he made from selling cattle and sheep he bought land.

He became one of the wealthiest men in those parts. But he always told everyone, “Part of this belongs to my old friend. It all comes from my friend's dozen eggs. If I ever see him again, I'll divide it with him.”

At the village fiesta ten years later, the friends met again. As before, they shook hands, and the man who had stayed home invited his friend to spend the night. They went to the big house where the villager now lived. It stood in the middle of fertile green fields. Beyond the fields, sheep and cattle were grazing.

“Do you remember the two coins you gave me to buy eggs that morning ten years ago?” the one friend asked the other. “All this comes from that dozen eggs.” And he explained just what had happened. “And now,” he told his friend, “I want to divide everything with you. Half of all this is yours!”

But the friend from far away said, “No. You're mistaken. If all this comes from the two pesos I gave you to buy eggs, it all belongs to me. I won't settle for anything less.”

“But that isn't fair,” said the other. “I've worked hard all these years. I've invested your dozen eggs wisely. I've managed the growth of our business carefully. I'll keep half of everything.”

“I say it's all mine,” said the traveler, “and if you won't give it to me of your own free will, I'll take the matter to court.”

Of course the hard-working friend wasn't willing to give everything away, so the other man went looking for a lawyer. He had no trouble finding one. In fact, he found two. They both saw a lot of profit for themselves in the case.

As for the unhappy friend who had worked so diligently all those years, no one wanted to defend him. Every lawyer he talked to was on his friend's side. A date was set for the matter to be placed before the judge.

The day before he would have to go alone to the court, the hard-working friend sat in front of his house with his head bowed down, lost in his sorrow. An old Indian man from the neighboring pueblo came walking past.

“Amigo,” the old Indian said, “why are you so sad? Has sickness come to your family?”

The man shook his head.

“Did somebody die?” the old Indian asked.

Again the man shook his head.

“Then, what is it? It can't be all that bad. You must have a good life with all this land and this big house. What can be making you so sad?”

Then the sad friend told the Indian the whole story of how he had acquired everything because of the dozen eggs his friend had never returned to eat, and how he was about to lose it all.

“I can't even find a lawyer who will present my side of the case,” he told the man.

“Let me be your lawyer,” the old Indian said. “I can win this case for you. How much will you pay me?”

“If you can save me from my old friend's greed,” the man said, “I'll pay you a hundred acres of land and a hundred cattle to go with it.”

“That's too much,” the Indian said. “Just pay me a bushel of corn. I'm too old to take care of a hundred acres of land.”

It was agreed. So the next morning the Indian met the landowner in front of the courthouse at nine o'clock.

Under his arm the Indian had a pot of cooked beans, and every so often he would take one out and eat it.

When the proceedings began, the Indian sat beside his client eating beans and staring off into space. First one lawyer stood up and made a long speech on behalf of the wandering friend. And then the other lawyer spoke. The judge listened carefully, nodding his head as if he agreed with every point they made. The Indian didn't seem to be listening at all.

When the two lawyers had finished, the judge turned to the Indian. “What do you have to say for your client?” he asked.

The old Indian stood up and shuffled slowly to the front of the court. “Let me ask this man something,
tata juez
,” he said, pointing at the friend who had moved away. “Tell me, what did you ask your friend to do with the dozen eggs that morning ten years ago?”

“We already know that,” the judge said. “He asked him to fry them for breakfast.”

The Indian nodded. And then he said to his client. “What did you do with those eggs your friend gave you money to buy?”

The judge was growing impatient. “We know that too. His wife fried them. Do you have anything new to say, or shall I give my decision?”

“Before you do that,
tata juez
,” said the Indian, “I want to ask you something. Could you lend me an acre of land to plant some beans?”

With that the judge lost his patience. “What are you talking about?” he roared. “Finish what you have to say about this case so that I can make my decision. Don't be talking nonsense.”

The Indian nodded. “I understand,” he said. “But I am asking you to lend me an acre of land so that I can plant some of these beans.” He pointed at the beans in his pot. “With the beans in this pot, I will grow another crop.”

The judge pounded his gavel and shouted. “Stop this foolishness, and stick to the point. What does an acre of land have to do with this case? We're not here to talk about planting beans. And furthermore, who ever heard of growing a crop from beans that are already cooked?”

The Indian shrugged his shoulders, “But,
tata juez
,” he said, “I thought that if you could believe that my client's wealth grew from a dozen eggs that were already fried, maybe you would believe I could grow a crop from boiled beans.”

The judge held his gavel in mid-air. He thought for a moment. Then he turned to the two lawyers. “Take your client and get out of my court! This honest man owes him nothing but a dozen eggs.”

“Did you forget something about the eggs,
tata juez
?” the old Indian asked.

“Oh, yes,” added the judge. “The eggs must be fried!”

Éste es el cuento de dos amigos que se criaron juntos en el mismo pueblo. Cuando ya eran grandes, el uno se casó y se quedó en el pueblo, ganándose la vida como podía, cultivando sus campos y haciendo cualquier otro trabajito que se le presentara. El otro abandonó el pueblo para trotar por el mundo y probar suerte en el extranjero. Terminó viajando muy lejos. Los amigos no se vieron durante muchos años.

Luego, un año, en la fiesta del pueblo, el amigo poblano se encontró con el amigo viajero. Los viejos amigos se estrecharon la mano.

—Qué alegría verte—dijo el amigo poblano—. Ven a mi casa. Puedes quedarte conmigo y mi familia esta noche.

Así que los dos amigos fueron a la casa para pasar la tarde hablando de tiempos pasados. En la mañana el amigo viajero dijo que tenía que reunirse con un hombre sobre algún negocio.

—Pero vuelvo enseguida —dijo. Metió la mano en el bolsillo y sacó dos monedas—. Toma estos dos pesos. Ve y compra un docena de huevos. Pídele a tu esposa que los fría para nuestro desayuno. Cuando regrese, comemos todos juntos.

Así que mientras el uno se fue para su reunión, el otro corrió al mercado para comprar huevos. Su esposa los frió. Pusieron la mesa y aguardaron la llegada del amigo. Al final de una hora, como el amigo no había regresado, el hombre le dijo a su esposa: —Es mejor que comamos los huevos nosotros. Parece que mi amigo ha olvidado regresar.

—Pero tu amigo pagó los huevos —dijo la esposa—. Realmente, no son nuestros.

—Ya sé qué voy a hacer —dijo el marido—. Tan pronto terminemos el desayuno, voy al mercado y compro otra docena de huevos.

Así lo hizo. Pero estos huevos no los frieron, sino que el hombre los puso en el nido de una de sus gallinas para que ella los empollara.

—Llevaré la cuenta de todo lo que salga de estos huevos —el hombre dijo—y, si algún día vuelvo a ver a mi viejo amigo, lo reparto con él.

La docena de huevos produjo once gallinitas y un gallito. Al final de un año las gallinas ya estaban poniendo sus propios huevos y empollando sus propios pollitos. El hombre vendía todos los huevos que podía y luego comenzó a vender pollos también.

Con el dinero compró una vaca y la vaca tuvo dos becerritos. Estos crecieron y tuvieron sus propios críos.

El hombre vendió algunas vacas y compró borregos. Luego con en dinero obtenido de la venta de las vacas y borregos compró terreno.

Llegó a ser el más rico de esas partes, pero siempre decía a todos: —Una parte de todo esto es de mi viejo amigo. Proviene de su docena de huevos. Si vuelvo a verlo, voy a darle la mitad.

Diez años después, en la fiesta del pueblo, los amigos se volvieron a encontrar. Como en la otra ocasión, se dieron la mano y el que residía en el pueblo invitó al otro a pasar la noche en su casa. Fueron a la casona en que el poblano ya vivía. Estaba en medio de fértiles campos verdes. Más allá de los sembrados pastaban vacas y borregos.

—¿Te acuerdas de las dos monedas que me diste para comprar huevos aquella mañana ya hace diez años? —el uno le preguntó al otro—. Todo esto viene de esos doce huevos. —Y le refirió todo lo sucedido—. Y ahora quiero repartirlo contigo. La mitad de todo será tuya.

Pero el amigo viajero dijo: —No. Te equivocas. Si todo viene de los dos pesos que te di para comprar huevos, todo me corresponde a mí. No me conformo con nada menos.

—Eso no es justo —replicó el otro—. He trabajado duro todos estos años. Invertí tu docena de huevos prudentemente. Dirigí el desarrollo del negocio con cuidado. Me quedo con la mitad.

Yo mantengo que todo es mío —dijo el viajero—, y si no me lo quieres dar por las buenas, pongo el asunto ante un juez.

Por supuesto que el amigo trabajador no quería darle todo, y el otro fue a buscar un abogado. Le fue fácil encontrar uno. En efecto, encontró dos, pues los dos vieron gran beneficio para ellos mismos en el pleito.

En cuanto al amigo infeliz que había trabajado tanto durante todos esos años, nadie quería defenderlo. Cada abogado con quien habló estaba de parte de su amigo. Se fijó la fecha para presentar el asunto ante el juez.