The maestro dismounted and walked hurriedly to the corral.
“That one,” he said pointing to one of the steers being held there.
“The white face?” asked one of the men who had been awaiting his arrival.
“Siról,” the maestro said and walked away.
The men followed him.
“The roasting pit here,” the maestro pointed to the ground where he was standing.
“Órale. Let’s start digging. Big enough to fit the whole steer,” one of the men ordered.
The maestro walked back to his ride, pulled out an ornate tooled leather bag and, from it, pulled out a set of knives and a narrow sword. He had made everything by hand, including the leather bag. He was a maestro of everything. He could build anything, leather, metal, wood, adobe, whatever. He was also a go-to mechanic and electrician, and he was renowned locally for domesticating broncos. He had come to serve as the maestro in charge of sacrificing and barbecuing a steer for a big wedding the following day.
“I’ll lead the steer to the courtyard, sacrifice it on that canoe board. You vatos haul it all to the hanging tree and hoist up the carcass for quartering,” the maestro instructed.
“The barbecue pit should be finished and the firewood blazing in it by the time we’re done.
“Make sure to have enough water to douse the fire and a pile of smooth rocks to line the hole and encase the meat when we put it in. The meat should be cooking underground before sundown.”
His followers carried out his orders as instructed, and the meat was indeed underground and cooking before sundown.
“That’s it! Get your birrias. All there is to do now is wait until sunup to dig out the meat,” the maestro said.
But soon after nightfall. Thunder rolled above them. Rain began to fall before midnight.
“What do we do now, maestro?” the men asked, seeing the pit they had just covered begin to slump and puddle.
“Cover the firewood to keep it dry,” was all the maestro said.
The rain kept coming down hard for hours and didn’t completely let up until just before dawn.
“Órale, take the dirt layor off and start a big fire on top of the rocks as the heavens ordered,” the maestro said.
The fire blazed until all the wood was spent. The embers were still glowing hot when the bride’s elderly father, who had contracted the maestro, arrived at dawn to check on their work.
“Any problem with the rain last night, maestro?” the old man asked.
Showing neither wear nor worry for the long night, the maestro nodded toward the pit.
The maestro’s followers uncovered the meat and handed the old man a chunk.
“Mmmm. Very good!” the old man said and walked away.
The maestro nodded silently.
“Pinche maestro de amadres!” his followers cheered.
