Friendly Betrayal Page 5

  Chapter 4

  “One day, great cities will be built here.”

  The friar had left the relatively progressive comfort of Zacatecas a few days before. Its paved, well maintained streets were alive with people; vibrant with the daily clamor of carts, people, and related market activity. Many such hubs of civilization offered sanctuary to travelers in New Spain. Therefore, he was mentally unprepared for what he found at his destination. It went beyond any contemplation he could have imagined. It was a dismal sight.

  The main square was surrounded by muddy paths deeply marked by cartwheels. Most were half full of water from a recent rainstorm. A wide array of animals – chickens, donkeys, horses, and cows -- trekked aimlessly from puddle to puddle drinking the murky water. Several thick swarms of mosquitoes and flies hovered throughout the encampment attacking both beasts and humans.

  Makeshift shacks lined two opposing sides of the main road. There were a few unfinished stone buildings. The small building on the east side he knew was the chapel. It pleased him that it looked as if it was one of the buildings appearing to be more habitable than the rest.

  The closer he got, he could discern a small wooden cross above the front door of the chapel. He then figured correctly that the alcalde’s office was across the plaza. The other two sides contained several half-finished stone buildings.

  To the holy brother, the array of mud and stone brick houses seemed like abandoned properties in various stages of disrepair. He correctly discerned that most buildings were in the process of being completed.

  Javier quickly realized that buildings surrounding the main plaza were living quarters of the upper crust members of the village. If the rich members of this community, he thought, did not have secure shelter, their servants probably had less. The town square had another set of straight paths leading away from the village. Some contained small jacales (shacks). To the south and west, partly fenced planting fields stretched for as far as one could see.

  The village was one of several villas located on the banks of the lower Rio Grande. By Spanish royal decree, Count José de Escandón had led a massive settlement of the area. His efforts were meant to signal other European powers, such as France, that Texas and the Gulf of Mexico were indeed part of the Spanish empire. To the west, no significant European settlements existed as yet, except for the San Juan Bautista Presidio and its mission. Beyond, were the towns of San Elizario, El Paso, and Santa Fe, further north in the land of Nuevo México.

  Although the lower Rio Grande was still fairly unknown to the Spanish, it was already on record as an inviting settlement territory. The first to note the river was one of the most famous of the Spanish explorers, Cabeza de Vaca himself. He had crossed the Rio Grande in 1535 as the leader of a small party of shipwreck castaways. They crossed the Rio in what is now Falcón Dam.

  After being rescued in 1536, he wrote about the people and the land they had encountered. For nearly eight long years, they trekked throughout the northern part of what is now Mexico and Texas. They finally reached Mexico City to describe their incredible ordeal. Since the news had also interested the other super powers in Europe, serious exploration of the area by the Spanish began in earnest in the early 1700s. By the 1750s Spanish authorities directed the establishment of a number of permanent settlements in the lower Rio Grande. Revilla was such a village.

  Coming into view of the townspeople, Brother Javier was swarmed by several of them reaching for his hand. Others reached for the leather pouch with the mail. A man scurried up the ladder of a makeshift two-story lookout tower made of timbers. With a thick wooden paddle, he banged on a metal tube suspended by an iron chain. The sounds resonated throughout the small village, alerting citizens to gather in the plaza.

  “He has arrived. He is here. El padre is here”, he shouted in his loud bass voice. Meanwhile, a tall man wearing a tri corn hat intercepted the visitor and led him to a small stone house. The man in charge closed the door behind them, motioning to Risueño to wait outside.

  “Please excuse my appearance, but it’s just that we are rebuilding the enclosure for our cattle. Several sections were destroyed by the storm. You know, if we leave our cattle in the open range, the locals think that they are free for the taking, just as if they were buffalo herds.”

  He rolled up the sleeves to his white cotton shirt and washed his hands and face with clean water from a basin. Drying himself with a small white towel, he continued.

  “Welcome, I am José Roberto Gutiérrez, Alcalde of this town. Padre, we have been expecting you.”

  “I am sorry, but I am not a priest.”

  “What? But, we were expecting…”

  “Yes. That was the plan. The priest who was to join you was taken ill in Monterrey and died shortly afterwards. One of the letters in this bag is addressed to you and explains the situation.”

  “So, who are you?” the alcalde asked as he reached for the leather pouch.

  “I am Brother Javier, a Franciscan. More precisely, I am only a temporary fill in for the priest who is to be named later. I am to stay with you as deacon for as long as needed.”

  “Well, I have a favor to ask of you, then.”

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “Let’s not tell them that you are not a priest. At least, we won’t tell them until Sunday mass. They have been waiting for so long for a priest that they will be greatly discouraged. As we speak, there is a line forming outside the chapel. They are anxiously waiting for you so that they can resume their normal religious customs.”

  “But I’m not allowed to hear confessions. I am non-ordained. In other words, I am not a priest.”

  “Only you and I know that. As the alcalde, I serve as juez (judge) and also as alguacil (bailiff). At the moment I fill a religious role, too. I have less religious training than you and I have been listening to their confessions. I could use some help. Am I getting through to you? Extraordinary situations call for extraordinary solutions, Brother.”

  “Yes, I guess so.” Javier was intrigued and so he also peeked out the window. Sure enough, a line of people was gathering outside the chapel.

  “I must again insist that I am only a brother – and a beginner at that. Although I have learned a few prayers, I have yet to master saying a complete mass.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Brother. But, to start with, listen to them quietly. That is the equivalent of hearing their confessions. Do what I do. Tell them to have faith, to be strong, and most importantly, not to be afraid. Some are disheartened and are at the point where they wish to return home. Your counsel will do much to allay their fears.

  “Then, lead them in quiet prayer and bless them. Afterwards, they will think they are absolved if they hear you murmur prayers in silence. They do not have to know you are not a priest. It will do wonders for their souls. I know what I’m telling you. If it makes you feel better, you are merely being asked to do what your brotherhood is bound to do in dire circumstances. Are you not dedicated to the gospel life? Aren’t you supposed to serve your community through prayer? Are you not a “brother” to those seeking salvation?

  “Let me remind you. Our citizens are good people. Don’t take their confessions too seriously. Their level of sin is minor. As you can see in front of you, there is no room here for major sin. So, just listen and do what you must to absolve them. As to the mass, I have all the religious books you need. There are certain parts that you modify when there is no priest present; at least that is what we do around here. Anyhow, it’ll be good practice when you get to be a priest.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t intend to become a priest.”

  “In that case, you have nothing to worry about. By the way, I am assuming you brought holy bread and water from the bishop?”

  “Yes. I have them right here. But, I’m only carrying small quantities of both. They’re not going to last. Does your chapel have a tabe
rnacle?”

  “Don’t worry. The inside of the church was one of the first things we finished building. Also, there are ways to make the holy bread and water stretch to last us until the real priest shows up.

  “We may not have a priest, but yes, we do have a tabernacle. Looking around you, it may not seem possible, but the bishop himself consecrated it. There is a part-time caretaker at the church who will show you around. Don’t worry. Because of our isolation and dire circumstances, all church procedures we use here have been sanctioned by the bishop in Zacatecas. One last thing. Always close the door behind you when you enter or leave one of the buildings.

  The Indios (Indians) think an open door is an invitation. Also, they help themselves to anything they find unattended. They don’t mean any harm. They have a community approach to most everything in life. In an odd way, that’s what has allowed them to exist for thousands of years. Anyway, don’t say I didn’t warn you if your things disappear.”

  As if thinking aloud, the alcalde added, “Brother, this may not look like much, but one day, great cities will be built here.”

  Javier scanned the sight in front of him and with a deep sigh murmured “if you say so, sir.” Before leaving, Javier thanked the alcalde for his son’s generosity the night before. As both men walked out, they nearly stumbled on Risueño who had sat right in front of the front door. The guide motioned to the friar that he wished to return to Zacatecas.

  “But, you haven’t rested”, he tried to reason with his new found friend. Putting his forearms together, Javier raised them to his own head and closed his eyes to show Risueño he needed to sleep. Risueño immediately understood Brother Javier’s sign language.

  “I am not tired”, he seemed to be saying in his language. Pointing to his own eyes with the fingers of his right hand and then pointing to Javier, he motioned that he would see the Brother at a later time. They shook hands and hugged each other. The young guide started his return trip by carefully jumping over the puddles of muddy water. After a few paces, he turned, smiled to Javier and trotted off.

  As soon as Brother Javier reached the door of the small chapel, a woman dressed in a fancy gown and resting an open frilly parasol on her shoulder addressed him.

  “Captain”, she said. “We are ready. Send your men to fetch the rest of our trunks. Our family is returning to Monclova. I have decided that I’ve had enough of this place. Miranda, my oldest daughter went on ahead, you know. She left early to prepare a welcoming feast for us. You, of course, will be invited to help us celebrate.”

  Before Javier could respond, he noticed the alcalde trying to get his attention by pointing his finger to his temple. Javier assumed that the mayor was telling him that the woman was at best having a tough time adjusting to her new life. He then recalled the conversation he had with José Manuel, the alcalde’s son. This must be Miranda’s mother, he thought. He hoped that the woman’s problem was temporary, because Miranda and her siblings needed a mother in this place.

  Assuming her normal identity, the troubled woman asked, “Well, Padre, are you going to hear my confession or not? We have been in line for hours.”

  “Yes, of course.” Motioning to the rest of the faithful, he entered and they followed him into the chapel. Once again, a feeling of self-doubt overtook him. What was he doing here? He looked back for moral support from the alcalde, but he quickly realized this was now his domain. The leader of the small community was already off to mend fences.

  Chapter 5

  That is not the way to Zacatecas”

  The Compañía Volante concept (flying squadron) was a creative way of providing security for area ranchos. It is said that necessity is the mother of invention, and so it was with this extraordinary idea. It must be noted that Escandón’s settlement venture consisted of only civilians and no presidios or military force. In other words, it was up to them to assure their safety in facing public threats, such as attacks by unfriendly tribes or bandits.

  The idea of citizen soldiers was uniquely efficient and effective. It was simply brilliant. The system depended on settlers looking out for trouble as they worked their fields. When observing suspicious activity, a rider on a fast horse rode ahead to sound the alarm and warn other ranches. Squadrons of well-armed citizens were then quickly assembled and took care of bandit and Indian attacks in their assigned area. Most necessities were thus done in that self-sufficient manner.

  Both men and women worked equally to tend the household, plow, plant, reap, and perform the myriad other tasks around the rancho. The children pulled their weight as well, with the older ones being given jobs that could have been better done by adults. However, there was no choice. It was the tendency for young children to assume responsible roles that constantly put them in peril. Pulling their weight was a must.

  Stories abounded about scores of white children being captured by unfriendly natives and kept as slaves or sold to other tribes. While some were rescued, many never returned. Others returned later after experiencing harrowing ordeals to survive. Adept at the skill of concealment, natives often took the children just a few feet from the main house while tending to their daily chores. That is why safety and security of the community were paramount. Military help was nonexistent and there was no such thing as a dedicated police force.

  As such, each able-bodied member of the settlements had two primary roles. One was to provide for the well-being and security of their own families. The second was to extend that role community-wide and serve as a member of the group’s security force – the compañía volante. While most of the primary membership came within a short distance within each separate rancho, augmenters often came from as far as thirty to fifty miles, depending on the needs of the job at hand.

  Don José’s compañía volante was hot on the trail of the indigenous party. Based on the careless clues they found on the way, the flying squadron’s tracker was sure that the group was unaware they were being followed. Older tribe members would have been more careful to hide their trail. At one point, they had stopped to gather and shell dozens of pecans. At another site, they had stripped the bark of several old growth trees looking for worms. Rich in protein and easy to harvest, worms and insects provided an effortless meal. It was just a matter of time. As expected, they caught up to the small group.

  José Manuel spotted them under a large tree. As soon as they approached, the startled group dispersed in all directions. The only ones who remained under the tree were Miranda and Flor.

  “Are you hurt, child?” Asked José Manuel, as he dismounted and went up to the tall girl.

  “No. Why do you ask?” Responded Miranda.

  “People in the village said you had been taken.”

  “No. I came on my own. We’re on our way to Monclova. From there, I will make my way to Zacatecas. That’s where I belong.”

  “Who told you that? That’s not the way to Zacatecas.’

  “They did”, Miranda said as she pointed to Flor.

  “Monclova and Zacatecas are that way”, José Manuel told her, pointing south. “You are going north, straight to Comanche territory. Are you aware of how lucky you are? Do you know how much trouble you have caused your family and friends? Fences are down after that bad storm. My men should be helping to rebuild what has been damaged. I should be there as well.”

  José Manuel’s irritation was beginning to boil over and his voice had increased in volume. He found himself admonishing Miranda as if she was his own child, ready to give her a good spanking. However, he quickly calmed down and consoled the young recalcitrant child. Still showing his displeasure, he shook his head, laughing inside.

  “Well, I am sure of one thing. I am not going back to that pigsty. My uncle tricked my mother by encouraging her to relocate to Monclova and then farther to the Rio Grande. I hate it there. I intend to return to Zacatecas and tell him that myself. Oh, if I was a man; I would show him. Anyway, he tricke
d his only sister in signing over her rights to the mine. He took advantage of my mother. That is why she is not herself any longer. We are miners not ranchers.”

  “But, Miranda. You are only twelve. You are a child…”

  “Will … you … take me there, then? Will you?” She coyly asked.

  “Young miss, the only place we are going to is home. This is the end of your adventure. Thank God nothing happened to you.”

  “But, it’s a pigsty, I told you.”

  “You only think it’s a pigsty when it rains. Besides, everyone misses you.”

  Miranda was mature beyond her young years. Yet, rather than speak with her as if she was an adult, José Manuel consoled her as he would his own child. He put his arms around a sulking Modesta and helped her onto the spare horse. She did not resist and welcomed his acts of kindness.

  “What about her?” Miranda asked after she had mounted the horse, referring to Flor.

  “Well, she’s got two choices. She either follows us or follows her husband.”

  “Her husband is dead. Those are her brothers who ran away. They are leaving her in our care for now. Also, I happen to know that the church caretaker needs a helper. I have been asked to help, but it’s not what I want to do. After she has her baby, she can help the new padre. I have more important things to do.”

  “Don’t you think her kin will mind?”

  “No. Anyway, I am sort of their chief, now.”

  His curiosity too much to handle, José Manuel asked, “What do you mean?”