Karia, our maid, had told me the story. She said the men with jute sacks slung on their backs who walked outsIde our yard at sunset were moneymakers. Children were inside the sacks. The men took them to a bridge built of bones and there cut off their heads, then squeezed blood from their bodies.

That was what money was made of, the children's blood. Karia showed me a bright new coin of reddish gold. She said moneymakers did not like the blood of older people because they no longer had the innocence needed to make good, shiny coins.

Before she told me the story I spent afternoons outdoors watching the sunset. There were guava trees growing in the yard. I could sit on a top branch to watch the orange sun take back the light it gave to the farm all day. At about five o'clock the yellow heat changed to cool colors of honeysuckle. Then the gray dusk came and all the happy pink, orange and lavender tints gathered together on the borders of clouds behind mountains, until they all melted into the sun. When all was gray except for a few gold-hemmed clouds, the sun, like a bright coin, would slip away into a slot at the slope of the green mountain.

After Karia told me about the moneymakers I was too scared to stay outdorrs. I kept to my room i the afternoons, waiting for them to pass. Always, there was at least one who did, with sack and scythe, his face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. As soon as he was in sight, I'd lock my door. When I was alone I'd squeeze into the corner of the room. From a crack in the wall I'd watch, keeping as quiet as possible. I never asked Lola Marta about these men because my grandmother did not like questions. My father answered questions, only, when he was around. I forgot to ask them, there were so many other things to say. He came every Sunday, stayed only a few hours, then went back to the city.

So I had only Karia from whom to ask what the moneymakers did with all the money they made.

"They buy food and clothes. They have houses and families."

"Do they kill their own children?"

"Not often. There are many others."

One afternoon, I saw two moneymakers approaching from a distance. One was not wearing a hat. That would mean I could see his face when he came closer. For sure he would have red eyes, and I imagined what the rest of his face would look like. Once our parish priest had preached about "the gaping caverns of hell." That was what moneymakers must look like.

The hatless one separated from the other and crossed the boundary of our yard. He was coming close to our house, I could hardly move or breathe. When he took the path that passed right by the wall of my room, I began to sweat and feel cold at the same time.

But what a disappointment his face was! Black hair, dark eyes, flat nose, just enough mouth, correct ears, just like any other face. Of course moneymakers could probably change their appearance, just like witches could. Still, I thought, the color of his eyes should have been red, since eye colors never change.

His young, ordinary face had all my attention, so I did not immediately notice Karia standing some meters away, also watching him. She had on her red silk dress with silver buttons all the way down the back. She never wore that dress except when she went to town with Grandmother and me.

She was smiling, not at all afraid of him. I was not surprised, anyway she was too old to be made into money. He walked to where she was. Their lips moved but, hard as I tried, I could not hear anything. Once he looked up in my direction and I pressed tightly against the corner of my room even if I knew he could not see me. He and Karia talked some more and then he left.

I was bent over, clutching my stomach, and when I could not stand it any longer, I called Karia, whispering her name through the crack in the wall. She was still watching his back and probably did not hear me, so I opend the window a little and called her again.

I puller her into the bedroom.

"Did he had children? Did he?"

"Children?"

"Yes, in the sack. To make into money."

"Oh, that," she smiled. "No, he is not a moneymaker. He is Tino."

"What did he have in his sack then, if he is not a moneymaker?"

"Rice he just harvested."

"That's why he did not have a hat like the others?"

"Yes, that's right." But Karia wasn't paying attention.

"Karia, listen. Do you think moneymakers have red eyes?"

"Why should they?"

"I don't know. . . because they kill?"

Karia still seemed to have her mind on something else.

"Karia, why do you have your special dress on, are you going anywhere?"

"No, where would I go?"

"Then it is for Tino."

"Of course not," she smiled. "I have to go get supper ready."

Tino now stopped by our house every afternoon at about the same time the moneymakers passed farther away. One day he came earlier than usual. I was not very sure that I was not afraid of him, even if Karia did say hhe was not a moneymaker. But I knew I would never find out what he really was unlesss I joined them outside the house. First I made Karia swear by all the elves in the mounds that no harm would come to me.

As they talked and laughed I tried to make out what was inside his sack. He must have noticed because before he left he asked if I wanterd to see what was in it.

When I shook my head he smiled, "You don't really think I am a moneymaker, do you?" Karia has told me, but look into this sack and you'll see."

Karia nodded. She had promised that no harm would happen, so I looked inside. It really was rice.

"Is it yours?" I asked. A strange look shadowed Karia's face and then neither of them was smiling.

"Yes." He sounded angry.

Grandma always woke early than I did. She read in her room or took a short walk in the yard. I cannot remember any day that she did not have breakfast with me. But that morning when I came to the dining room she was already taking her last cup of coffee.

She said she had to hurry to the granary to portion out the shares of the rice harvest to the laborers. I had never been to the granary although I had heard so much about it from our friends in town, how the palay almost spilled out of the doors, and the great wealth that was stored inside.

I asked Lola Marta if I could go along but she sad she could not wait. I should have my breakfast, then ask Karia to take me there after she had finished washing the dishes.

From the window I could see Grandma as she walked away. She carried Lolo Pepe's cane which Karia said he had never used, just kept hidden in his closet. Now that he was dead, Grandma kept it, the dried tail of a pagi, a sea creature. The cane was old and brown, its slim length covered with knots and knobs. Karia said anyone whipped by the cane, no matter how lightly, would get thinner and wither away. Because Grandma was frail she needed protection, so it was right she should have it with her when she went out alone. Although in reality, even with the cane, everyone was afraid of Grandma.

We walked to the granary as soon as Karia was done with the dishes, taking a short cut across rice paddies. The granary was a few hundred yards away from the rice fields, under coconut trees. I walked behind Karia along the narrow trail of the plantation.

On the ground were plenty of young fruit blown down by the wind. The size of eggs, they hardly looked like the coconuts into which they could have grown. On one end they had hard petal-shaped covers which could be broken off, and once removed, revealed the smooth surface crowned by a ring of pink.

Karia asked me to hurry. She appeared quite impatient and although there were some questions I wanted to ask, she looked so serious, I thought it better to tease her first into good humor.

I started peeling a nut, singing as I tore each petal off, "You love him, you love him not. . . "

She said nothing. "You love Tino, you love him not, you love Tino!" Finally, she smiled. "Aha, you love Tino, you love Tino!!!" I threw the nut as far away as I could.

"Karia, why do they become moneymakers?"

"Who?"

"The moneymakers," I said impatiently.

"Oh, you're still thinking of them?"

"Of course. I watch for them every afternoon from my room."

We had reached the granary. There was dust billowing around the mounds of gold. In one of them Tino stood, knee-deep. Of course it was only rice, but from a distance it did look like gold. Tino glanced at us as we entered, but he did not smile.

Now and then he passed his hand over his brow and fiercely shook sweat from his fingers. I steeped closer to touch the rich swell of flowing rice but Grandma motioned me away. "The dust will get in your lungs."

Three men were measuring the grain, using big cans. Grandma seldom took her eyes off them except to quickly note down numbers in her notebook. I soon tired of just standing there, not being allowed to touch anything. Grandma was like that, always forbidding me to do the things she forced others to do.

I left to play in the yard outside the granary. Karla stood by the door but her eyes were often on Tino. It was past midday when they finished. The shadows of the coconut trees had moved from left to right and my own shadow had crept from behind me and now squeezed ahead as we walked away ­ Lola Marta, Karia and me.

We were crossing the rice fields, walking on the raised edge of the rice paddies when Tino came hurrying behind us. I thought he came because of Karia but instead he followed a step behind Grandma. I was a few paces ahead and could hardly hear what they said.

Once Grandma's voice rose. "What can I do?" she said. "It's your fault. You should not have borrowed last year. You must learn to live with what you earn, not spend beyond your harvest."

Tino sounded angry. I looked back quickly. His face was turning red. "You say that. You have never tried to live on so little."

First Grandma's voice was low, Tino's a growl. Then loud and firm she said, "You're not getting any more rice or money from me so you can marry her. And if you think I will forger her father's debts and let her go without serving her time you are wrong!" She sounded very angry.

I looked back at Karia who had stopped walking, but could not read anything in her face. Tino had turned away, taking a short cut across the paddy, his bare feet sinking into thick piles of dried grain stalks. Suddenly he turned towards us, a terrible fierce expression on his face. He shouted at Grandma. "You are killing us. But you will not get your way, you greedy old usurer. You'll see!"

I shivered in the sun, as I waited for Grandma to say she had never killed anyone. But all she shouted was, "You imbecile, get out of my land!" as she brandished the pagi cane threateningly in the aid.

She seemed so proud and brave standing there, her white hands waving Grandpa's cane. Although she was tiny she appeared taller than Tino, who stood at the center of the sunken paddy, his dark face shining with sweat in the noonday sun.

That night it did not take much persuading from Karia for me to go to bed early. As she pulled the blankets over me I took her hand but did not known what to say. She stroked my head and looked like she was going to cry. But I was so sleepy and tired I did not even know when she put out the kerosene lamp and left the room.

I woke up the next morning before dawn. The day began like all other days on the farm. The cocks were just starting to crow. From my bed the mountain was still a solid dark green form, giant clouds about its peak. I reversed my position in bed, and with pillow under my chin, waited for the yello-pink light of morning to awaken the mountain so that the purple and pale yellow and fresh green hues would emerge.

A quiet hum of voices came from downstairs. Every morning, farm hands passed by the house and stayed a few minutes before they continued on their way to the fields. There was nothing unusual about it, nor the hush, when it came. These sounds and silences were always part of the morning stillness. Lavender was spreading over one side of the mountain. I was following its progress when the new, but familiar voice carried to my room. I jumped out of bed. I was sure it was Papa, although I knew it was not Sunday yet. I ran to the window. His car was there.

I almost tripped on my long flannel nightgown, running down the stairs and into the hall. Quite a few of our workers were there, some sitting on benches, others squatting on the floor. But unlike other mornings, they were strangely quiet. Only the overseer and his wife talked together, in one corner of the room, but quietly so even if I have been interested I could not have heard what they were saying. "Good moring," I smiled at everyone. Only a few smiled back.

"Where's Papa?" I asked. One of the men pointed to Grandma's room.

"Papa," I called even before I entered.

Almost at the same time, he was at the doorway, "Sssh," he had his finger to his lips. Grandma could not be asleep at this hour I thought to myself.

I was glad to see my father to ask about what was happening. But as he bent down to kiss me, and I put my arms around his neck, I saw Grandma's room.

A nurse was leaning over Lola Marta's bed so all I could see of her was her face, pale and wrinkled. When she was asleep, everything about Grandma's face seemed small, and now it had shrunk even more. Her eyes were tight slits, her nose tiny, and there were no lips to see.

On the floor by Grandma's bed was the white tub in which I used to float my ducks and boats. Now it was half-filled with cotton and gauze, red and messy with blood. There was dried blood on the sides of the tub, blood stains on the floor. I was frightened and tried to stop my trembling by holding in my stomach and keeping my shoulders straight.

"She will be all right," a voice said from behind me. Our doctor entered the room. "The blows she gave him were surprisingly strong, breaking his skin. But neither he, nor your mother-in-law, are in serious condition."

"Did he say why he did it?" Papa asked.

"He says Karia had asked him to beg Doña Marta again about the money they owed. But when he entered the room she sprang at him with the cane. He came back at her with a blade, although he says it was only at the cane."

My father was silent.

"Are you sending him to prison?" asked the doctor.

I recalled how the day before Tino and Grandma had fought, while he raised his fist and she her cane.

Papa had not answered the doctor, I touched his arm. "It's Tino, isn't it? He was very angry yesterday, he called her a . . . usurer. What does that mean?"

He looked at me but I could not tell if he was listening. "He also called her greedy and said she was killing them. That's not true, is it?"

Still he said nothing. "You should have seen Lola Marta. She shouted and scolded and waved her cane, telling him to get out."

Papa put a finger to my lips and glanced at the doctor who had walked to the window, his back to us.

"Papa, did Lola Marta ever kill anyone?" I whispered.

"Of course not."

Grandma groaned and he approached her bed motioning me away. I remained by the door, trying to put it all together. Tino wanted money. Grandma had not wanted to give any. Had Tino tried to kill Grandma? There was all that blood in the tub. Suddenly, it all became clear.

"Papa," I called softly. He waved me away.

I had to tell somebody.

Where was Karia? She was the one who would really understand. I bunched my nightgown at the waist so the hem would not gather dust outside the hall. In the kitchen some women were busy rolling cigarettes and weaving sacks. Only Karia was idle. She sat on the floor, near the door, her chin resting on her knees, staring at her toes.

"Karia, I think Tino is a moneymaker," I said. She looked at me, then at the window with its square of morning blue sky. "You said moneymakers made money only out of innocent children, but I think Tino was going to try and make money out of Grandma, wasn't he?" Her face twitched as if she was going to cry. I felt sorry for her.

"Stop that!" Papa said as he entered the kitchen. But he did not know what I knew. Karia's hunched shoulders were shaking. Her head was bowed, her face hidden.

Papa laid his hand on her head. "He will get well, Karia, and we will help him," he said.

Karia's shoulders continued shaking. "The cane, the buntot pagi, she hit him with the pagi."

Her eyes were full of fear. Tino would get thinner and thinner.

I wondered if it was better to die while being made into money or to slowly wither away. I put my arms around Karia, loving her. She hugged me and broke into loud sobs.