“Does it have a seal?”

The judge laughed so hard he fell off his chair. The sheriff bought João a beer. And Dona Isolina’s photograph on the mantelpiece glowed with approval.

Dr. Albuquerque stroked his chin. “That is… bizarrely sound logic. Case dismissed. The land belongs to João Pacífico and his legally sentient donkey.”

Juca spat a seed into the dirt. “Then we’re doomed. Unless…” He sat up. “There’s a loophole. An old imperial law from Dom Pedro II. If a man can prove his donkey understands the concept of ‘property,’ he cannot be evicted.”

But as he turned to leave, Carranca got up, walked calmly to the coronel’s shiny car, and kicked a dent the size of a watermelon into the passenger door. Then he returned to his spot and closed his eyes.