The Coyote Under the Table/El Coyote Debajo de la Mesa by Joe Hayes Read Free Book Online Page A

wisely. I’ve managed the growth of our business carefully. I’ll keep half of everything.”
    â€œI 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.
    â€œAmigo,” the old Indian said, “why are you so sad? Has sickness come to your family?”
    The man shook his head.
    â€œDid somebody die?” the old Indian asked.
    Again the man shook his head.
    â€œThen, 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.
    â€œI can’t even find a lawyer who will present my side of the case,” he told the man.
    â€œLet me be your lawyer,” the old Indian said. “I can win this case for you. How much will you pay me?”
    â€œIf 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.”
    â€œThat’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?”
    â€œWe 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?”
    â€œBefore 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