Musings and Misadventures

Gifts of Prose

A landed caballero and hacendado of colonial Chihuahua accompanied by his vaquero retainers riding the wild Llano Estacado of northern Tejas, a land that was once of their fathers but now was as unfamiliar to them as the Texans who through the force of arms, fate, and the iron will of their Protestant God, inhabited it.
They crossed this savage land returning from Santa Fe, where they had delivered a herd of cattle.
They rode, carrying the heavy golden proceeds of the sale of the longhorned cattle, colored like the calico of the skirts of the senoritas at the time of their quinceaneras, riding horses of pure blood in proud splendor in spite of secretly fearing the Commanche, the true lords of the llano, as well as the Texans, from whom they had stolen and then sold the cattle their lucre represented. They rode with the uneasy trepidation of one who knows he is not in his own country. The feeling, that of an unwelcome visitor returning, after many years, to the place of his birth, a place that had been lost in battle; a battle in a war that had also been lost.

-Anonymous Son of Texas-

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