Days after Ana Rodriguez started working for the Belles, feeding the chickens had become a part of the morning routine: her bosses’ youngest daughter, Jordan, would fetch a scoop of pellets from the plastic tub in the pantry. Ana’s daughter, Sofía, watching from the in-law unit above the garage, would bolt outside the moment Jordan exited the house. The girls would meet by the coop. Usually, Ana waited inside for the delivery of the eggs, speckled blue and white and brown, with bright orange yolks, courtesy of Sunny, Moonbeam, Punky, Clucky, and Cosmo. Wednesday morning, Sofía insisted that Ana come along instead of staying in the kitchen. Ana’s left wrist ached, the old bruise faded but tender. Ignoring the throb, she followed Jordan into the backyard, where windblown leaves and twigs scattered on the ground. Jordan—who seemed more fish than girl, her bobbed blonde hair tinted green as old pennies—walked with a confidence that Ana wished for her own daughter.…