There was an inn in the Plaza de San Pablo, a square not far from the Plaza Mayor — the center of power in the Captaincy of Venezuela. The place was run by a woman and her three children. Rumor had it that the father had died at the hands of bandits along the Magdalena River, a story that earned the family some pity. After all, the three women were strikingly beautiful; people joked that the late husband must have lost his luck after marrying the wife.
"Miss María, do you need help with that?" the young man asked as he looked around. "Where's your son?"
Miss María sighed. "Young Oscar, yes, could you help me carry these supplies to my house? That useless boy is probably wasting money gambling in some filthy tavern."
Oscar frowned. "If you want, I can bring a few friends and teach him a lesson. Maybe then he'll learn to respect you."
Miss María smiled kindly. "Don't worry, Oscar. At least he's not gambling our money. It seems he only bets what he earns from his new job."
