A Case of Two Husbands
Heinz Lawrence Ang
“Well, Romulito,” the Teniente Rafael Hurtado began. “It’s very good of you to visit this old hombre, eh, no? If only I hadn’t drunk my private
stash last week—”
But the criollo officer hardly gave the impression of being old. True, white strands were already creeping into his hair, beard, and mustache even though he was only in his thirty-eighth year,
and his former Spanish military uniform was more dirtied and frayed than ever. Yet the Teniente’s limbs still moved with ease as he gesticulated in conversation, and his dark eyes still
pierced with the same mixture of humor and raw shrewdness that Romulito, now of the Guardia Civil in Manila, remembered from six years ago. And the comandante of the cuadrilla, who mixed the local
beverages as
