Rosa had been forced to give up her baby. She’d been raped by her cousin but could never tell anyone. The whole place was full of secrets like that, and worse. Secrets and lies and lies about the secrets. They were like salt on soil and nothing good or sincere would grow. Only mutual distrust thrived, jungle thick.
You could trace it back further than the Colonel’s land theft of course. There were lies told to the King’s agents and to priests. Layers of lies told to the earliest investors. New lies excuse and protect old lies. Lying becomes normal coping behavior. Lies and misconceptions just keep growing and going. Like the New Mexico State Motto: It grows as it goes. They meant tall tales, the liars.