Timely Conquest

By Jerry P. Martinez

Luciano de Herrera was born 1832, fourteen years before the U.S. Army marched into the territory and claimed it for the U.S. under the Manifest Destiny belief. Luciano realized that changes were coming, he felt that the laws of the frontier no longer applied. Americano law would now govern the territory.

When Luciano caught his wife of two years in bed with another man, he faced a difficult decision. With a gun drawn ready to kill the intruder, his friend Chato stopped him. He spared the man's life and spared himself life in an Americano jail. This action set off a series of events that would bring great misfortune to Luciano and his family. For the rest of his life he struggled to maintain hsi sense of honor.
In Timely Conquest Jerry tells the story of his great-grandfathers, Luciano and Jesus as they adapt to life under U.S. control. They fight in the Civil War here in New Mexico's Glorieta Pass, they experience love and loss in a fascinating snapshot of a time in the American West.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669806240

Jerry P. Martinez

Jerry Polito Martinez was born in Coyote, New Mexico in 1939 and grew up in Santa Cruz, New Mexico. He got a BBA from the College of Santa Fe and an MBA from Loyola Marymount of Los Angeles. Jerry is the father of three sons and two daughters. Retired from TRW Space and Defense an aerospace firm located in Redondo Beach, California in 1999. He currently resides in Orange County, California, with his wife, Laura and youngest daughter Andrea.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

My ancestors settled in the northern part of New Mexico almost four hundred years ago. They endured the land and the hardships associated with their settlement on Indian lands. How they managed to survive in a world far removed from Spain and Mexico, the birthplaces of their parents, is incredible. Very little is known regarding how my ancestors managed to survive, because only a few family records written by them exist.

Priests who accompanied the settlers kept most of the records on the settlers that moved into the area. These records are the main sources of information that show how the nuevomejicano survived all those centuries in the harsh land. My maternal great grandfather, Luciano Herrera, lived from 1832 to 1929, and my paternal great grandfather, Jesús Maria Martín, lived from 1846 to 1926. This story is based on tales they told their children that eventually reached me. However, I did not write their life story. Rather, I chose the period between 1846 and 1870. It is an era when both experienced the changes brought about when the territory of New Mexico was taken over by the United States.

Colonel Stephen W. Kearny led the US Army into New Mexico in August 1846, changing the future of the people living in the territory. The timely conquest of New Mexico and the West became part of the United States and gave strength to Manifest Destiny. New Mexico would no longer be ruled by absentee governments of Spain and Mexico. Absentee government was replaced by one ruled by the American Constitution. The inhabitants of the conquered land experienced changes in politics, law, language, and religion. When the United States took over the territory, language became a barrier for most. English was now the official language in a land where the Spanish language once ruled. Even the courts generally made decisions favoring those that spoke the English language.

Religion played an important role, for it was during this time that many clergy left New Mexico, returning to Mexico and to Spain. The void of qualified priests to administer Catholicism greatly affected the people. The Catholic faith experienced a big change when the friars left the country, giving rise to the Penitente brotherhood. Later in 1851, religion as practiced by the nuevomejicanos was impacted when Bishop Lamy, a Frenchman, was transferred to la villa de Santa Fe.

The arrival of the Americano also meant that goods used in the United States would now be available to those in the conquered land. The volunteer militias who once protected the land were replaced by the American army. Numerous changes in education, government, and land ownership reshaped and rejuvenated many of the inhabitants after years of stagnation. Many others remained loyal to the nuevomejicano way of life refusing to accept the new government.

NAÏVTÈ BETRAYAL

He had broken many stallions before and knew that this one was about to give in. The bronco was getting tired. Luciano could sense it. This would be his last ride, the last mustang he would break this time around. But the bronco kept going for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally, he stopped bucking. The once-wild animal was now broken and ready for the saddle. The vaqueros standing or leaning on the corral shouted approval as he rode the pony out of the penned area. The next rider was already mounting the next wild stallion, and Luciano was dismounting his.

Luciano learned about horses growing up in San Ildefonso amongst nuevo mejicanos and Indian boys. He learned to ride on the wide-open prairies between San Ildefonso and la villa de Santa Fé down to Española along the Rio Grande. Often they would ride up to the beautiful canyon in pursuit of wild game. On numerous occasions, he accompanied his father Francisco on buffalo hunts and learned how to shoot the Mexican buffalo rifle his father gave him. He and his good friend Chato made a living by rounding wild horses and on several occasions claimed horses without a brand, branding them with his own mark.

Luciano rushed to the room adjacent to the house for a much-needed bath and a change of clothes. He had been away from home for twenty five days. Now he’d be going home to his lovely wife Isabela. Anxious as he was, he soon realized that he didn’t need to hurry, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to see his wife. They were several days ahead of the schedule set by the owner of the ranch, Señor Chacon. The men branded the calves and broke the stallions in record time. Isabela didn’t expect him for another five days.

After he cleaned up and changed his clothes, he ate what his body would allow. He was anxious, and it showed. The others teased him and joked with him. One cowhand even jokingly said, Your wife is probably with another man. She hasn’t seen you for over a month. They laughed knowing that nobody dare cross Luciano. But the thought had crossed his mind. Those lonely nights gave him plenty of time to think. He was suspicious of a Frenchman by the name of Julio. Isabela had mentioned Julio’s name several times. Most of those thoughts of his wife being with Julio or another man were soon replaced with more pleasant memories.

Daylight would soon be replaced with darkness. He thought about staying the night at the ranch until daybreak, then starting the journey home. Before he married, Luciano was happy and carefree and probably would have stayed the night gambling and getting drunk. Now the opportunity was there, but he was anxious to go home to Isabela and couldn’t wait another night. If he hurried and pushed on he would be home in a few hours.

A short distance from his home was his favorite hangout. The Sena bar was lively tonight. Actually, it was lively almost every night. Before the gringos came to Santa Fé in 1846, the bar would stay open as long as it had customers. But it was different now. Six years later, the bars, per Americano law, had to shut down at a certain time usually around midnight.

Luciano decided to stop for a drink and maybe a card game. The bar was a favorite hangout for many of the locals. It was a good-sized hole-inthe-wall room built out of adobe. Luciano tied his horse on the hitching post and made his way inside the poorly-lit bar. He noticed that some of his friends were playing carcaman while others were playing chuzas, the locals’ favorite games of chance. Luciano was invited to join them, but he decided against gambling. Instead, he just observed and chatted with them as he drank his whiskey. He was getting ready to leave when Chato, a half-Spanish, half-Tewa Indian, Luciano’s long time friend from San Ildefonso, walked in.

Luciano spotted the tall and lean half-breed Chato the moment he walked into the bar. Luciano and Chato were surprised to see each other. He couldn’t leave now that Chato was there. After exchanging pleasantries, Luciano bought a round. They talked for a long time, bringing each other up to speed on their exploits. After a couple more rounds, the bartender told them he was closing and asked them to leave. Chato didn’t have any plans nor did he have a place to go, so Luciano invited him to stay with him and Isabela.

Chato tried to object, but his nearly drunken friend insisted. They talked about old times and tried to sing a few verses as they headed to Luciano and Isabela’s house. The silhouette of the three-room adobe house that Luciano had built for Isabela was clearly visible. They rode toward the barn and corral and located a few yards away from the main house. Luciano didn’t want to wake Isabela, so he and Chato walked the horses toward the corral. Chato would sleep in the barn on the haystack. It was not what Luciano wanted, but Chato insisted.

Luciano entered the darkened house he knew so well, lit a match to guide his way to the kerosene lamp, and applied the same match to the wick. Years of stalking game taught him to walk quietly, and the earthen floor made his approach possible without waking his wife. He made his way to their bedroom guided by the light of the lamp. He laid the lamp on the nightstand located at the foot of the bed.

Isabela screamed in horror when she saw the figure of a man standing at the foot of the bed. Her scream awakened the man next to her. Luciano hadn’t noticed the man at first, not until Julio sat up. Luciano recognized the intruder, Julio Ferran, the Frenchman. At first Luciano was confused upon seeing Julio in his bed. After a few moments Luciano, half drunk with alcohol and half drunk with rage, shouted, Desgraciado! as he pulled out his gun with the intent of killing Julio. Isabela jumped out of bed to try to stop Luciano from shooting Julio and tried to grab his arm. In the process Luciano smacked her with the back of his left hand and sent her sprawling against the wall. Julio attempted to reach for the gun but couldn’t react fast enough. Luciano smacked him with the barrel of the gun firing it. The bullet missed Julio’s head by a fraction of an inch. The hard blow sent him to the floor. Luciano rushed over to the fallen foe and administered a solid kick to Julio’s groin. He meant to kill Julio, but just as he lifted his gun Chato grabbed him from behind locking his arms, lifted him off the floor, and carried him away to the adjoining room.

Luciano, listen to me, don’t do this. Beat the hell out of him, but don’t kill him. We are not part of Mexico anymore. Amigo, if you kill him you’ll wind up in a gringo jail.

Gringo jail or not, Julio must pay! I’m going to kill him! Luciano shouted. Chato held on to Luciano until he cooled down some.

The laws under Mexican rule for killing an adulterer would be more lenient with Luciano, but this was not Mexico anymore. Luciano thought long and hard. He didn’t want to spend time in jail; he was too free spirited. He reached down for Julio grabbed him by his ankle, and dragged him outside the house. He ordered Julio to leave the premises. Julio mumbled that he had no clothes on.

You’re lucky to have your life. Luciano shut the door paying no further attention to Julio.

Isabela came out of the bedroom and pleaded with Luciano not to kill anybody. Isabela didn’t look beautiful anymore. Luciano could see traces of blood where he had hit her. Tears flowed as she asked for forgiveness. She was scared. Isabela had seen Luciano in fights before; she knew what he was capable of. But he had never before said a cross word to her. She had always been his love, his Dulcinea, his queen.

She trembled with fear as he approached her. He half mumbled, Why did you do this to me? His knees were weak as he began to tremble. He grabbed his head, and when he noticed that the gun was still in his hand, he holstered it. He felt nauseated. The liquor coupled with the distressing event weakened his control. He rushed to where the night bucket was kept and vomited. He walked to the front of the sala, opened the door, and took in some fresh air.

Still trembling, he turned to face his unfaithful wife. She flung herself toward Luciano hoping to embrace him. He stepped aside and grabbed her by the arms. Her momentum and his strength sent her flying through the kitchen and across the room where she fell against the wall. She lay there numb with shame and fear. She was helpless and weeping. Luciano started for the door, paused for a moment, and turned around for one last look at his once-beautiful bride.

He wanted to embrace her and make love to her. His pain was so severe he wanted to scream. But all he could do was stare at her as he quietly questioned how anybody could betray him as she had. He mumbled, You have two days to get out of the house. Those were the only words that emerged from his mouth. Having said that, he staggered over to where the matches were kept, grabbed a handful, and walked out into the windy night out of her life forever.

Isabela Pacheco realized that she had lost the one man that had stood up to her powerful father. She heard the door slam as Luciano and Chato left the house. Still she didn’t move as childhood thoughts occupied the moment taking her back in time. She was the third of five children born to Pablo José Pacheco and Maria Ygnacia Sena. She was their only daughter and one of the most beautiful young ladies in Santa Fe.

She had learned to read and write from her mother and her aunt, Margarita Pacheco. The Mexican government didn’t have a well-established school system in its most northern province. If education or higher learning was desired, the wealthy had to send their kids to Mexico. But she had no desire to go off to Mexico to get her education. Instead she took private lessons from one of the few French ladies living in Santa Fé. Mrs. Ferran had accompanied her trapper husband, François, west from the Louisiana territory. Mrs. Ferran, an educated lady herself, recognized the need for a school, a place where young ladies could go to learn of the arts. When she tried to open a school for children, the Mexican governed city balked. Instead she tutored young ladies on an individual basis.

Isabela learned to be a lady from Mrs. Ferran. When she was seen in public, usually in the company of her father and brothers, she made heads turn. She was the talk of Santa Fe, but she was the daughter of Pablo Pacheco, one of the most influential and powerful men in the town. Because of who she was, she soon realized how troublesome it would be finding a man her father would approve of.

Isabela continued to reflect back willing to remain on the floor. The pain was of the heart, the pain of betrayal, of shame and guilt.

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts. The wind was blowing harder now and had knocked a tree branch on top of the house. She moved only to wipe some of the blood mixed with tears from her face. How would she explain what she had done? How would her father react? These thoughts brought more tears, and she began to sob louder, finally turning to screams of horror. Her legs were cramping, and she finally started to move. Isabela struggled to get up but eventually made it to the bed where the scent of Julio was still present. The pillow with his fragrance was near. She grabbed it and flung it away from her. She smothered her face with another cushion wishing that this was only a nightmare.

She met Julio when she was taking lessons from Mrs. Ferran. She was only fourteen and he was twenty-two. When she first met Julio at his mother’s house she pretended to be unimpressed with him. Her heart pounded a bit differently at the sight of him and beat even faster when Mrs. Ferran introduced him. He was different from the Spanish, Mexican mestizos, and the few Gringo kids she knew. He was taller than most kids and very attractive. His mannerisms were unlike any she had ever known.

The house held back the blustery weather better than she could hold back her tears. They continued to stream down her cheeks, down onto the pillow, drowning the fragrance of her lover. Julio once again occupied her thoughts. Isabela had been taking lessons from Mrs. Ferran for four years and this would be her last. La Señora Ferran spoke often of her son. Isabela was not impressed with what she heard. Besides, her father would forbid her to be courted by a non-Spanish man.

Julio lived part-time in Taos near Picuris Pueblo with his Indian wife. His trading business required that he travel extensively, which brought him to Santa Fé. On several occasions when Mrs. Ferran was unavailable, he would tutor Isabela. Those were some of the best days she spent learning. Eventually the lessons ended. Now the temptation to be with this French gentleman would diminish. In her own mind, she realized that he was not right for her. The whole situation was an infatuation and nothing else.

The long night was giving way to the dawn. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking to the sobbing that wouldn’t stop. Her mind drifted to the time she first laid eyes on Luciano. He was a good-looking man, with handsome characteristics about him. His hair was a long, medium brown and wavy; his eyes were alive with a touch of hazel with some brown. His face was a weather-beaten tan, no facial hair, and an infectious smile accented by white teeth. The annual fiesta celebration attracted the people from the surrounding villages of Santa Cruz, San Ildefonso, Los Alamos, and Chimayo. A huge dance was held every night at the Plaza square.

The Mariachis were playing her favorite song as she strolled down the park with her family. Suddenly, to her delight, Luciano emerged out of the crowd. She recognized him as he walked toward them and stopped in front of Pablo and asked permission to dance with his daughter. Pablo was shocked that such a man would have the gall to do what Luciano had just done, but at that moment he had passed muster. He recognized Luciano and gave his permission with a slight nod.

The annual Fiesta celebration included numerous contests. The one held earlier in the day was "La Corrida del Gallo." Teams from several villages participated in the contest, each with high hopes of being declared the best. The team from San Ildefonso with Luciano entered for the first time ever. Other teams from as far away as Taos also entered. There were twenty different teams in the contest. The contest lasted all day and didn’t finish until the winner was declared. A live rooster was buried in a pile of sand on the ground. Only the neck protruded from the sand. The goal was for one of the caballeros riding his horse at full gallop to scoop the fowl up by the neck and race to the finish line, avoiding the opposing team from plucking the rooster away from him. However, should the opposing team pluck the rooster away from the rider they could carry it across the finish line for the win. It was up to the team to protect the caballero that plucked the rooster out of the sand grave. The game had its origin in old Spain, and all the participants knew the rules. They governed themselves, and disputes were handled by all participating teams. Liquor was forbidden until after the contest, but that didn’t stop the riders from tipping a few before the Corrida. The teams challenged one another until only the final two remained. At the end of the race they would go to the dance. The winners didn’t have to pay while all the losers shared the expenses of the dance.

Luciano was the youngest member on his team. He was also the best horseman of the lot. The oldest member was twenty-two-year-old Toval Jaramillo who was four years older than Luciano. The others were brothers Nasario and Donaldo Martinez, Epifano Valdes, and Luciano’s best friend Chato. Except for Chato, they didn’t live in San Ildefonso; rather they had come from Coyote to participate as teammates with Luciano. They knew him well and knew that there was no better horseman in the contest. Their role was to protect him from the onslaught once he retrieved the rooster.

Teams were not rated, at least not officially; however, each had a reputation based on past performances. The team from La Cienega had won the previous contest and naturally was the favorite to repeat. The Santa Fe team was the favorite amongst the locals. They were well known because they represented some of the best families from Santa Fe. They had lost to the team from La Cienega in 1849, but they had won most of the other times. Besides this was 1850 and they were determined to become the champions this year; they would avenge the loss and become the kings of La Corrida de Gallo once again.

Representing the Santa Fe team was Santiago Pacheco the talented son of Pablo and older brother of Isabela. The teams also included: Leon Lucero, a private in the Santa Fe militia that had not yet proved muster; Diego Sena, the best known horseman in Santa Fe with a mean reputation; Donaciano Martin, another private in the militia; José Maria Martinez, the oldest member and the most experienced of his teammates; the last member and the least experienced was Encarnacion Chavez. With the exception of Encarnacion, the team had been together for four years now, so naturally they were very confident.

The defending La Cienega team had first pick of opponents. The team had evaluated the competition and chose the team from San Ildefonso. La Cienega wanted a warm up match before the contest became more difficult. The remaining teams were chosen at random with each team having to approve its opponent. This process took but a few moments. When the pairs of contestants were determined, the defending team from La Cienega determined the order in which the competitors would compete. La Cienega would take center stage first against the unknown San Ildefonso team. After the first round, the winners advanced and the process of picking opponents continued.

Luciano’s team planned to be aggressive from the start. The element of surprise was on their side. The defending champs were so confident that they allowed San Ildefonso to get the first crack at the rooster. This was exactly what Luciano had hoped for, because now they would apply the pressure on La Cienaga and whip them. Luciano would pluck the rooster from its grave and head for the finish line protected by his amigos. El Diablo, a black beauty mustang he had personally trained, would out maneuver and outrun any horse the Cieneganos had. His teammates had been trained to protect and shield both the horse and rider.

Hundreds of spectators lined the streets; they came in wagons, on foot, and on horseback. The team from La Cienega made its appearance as they paraded past the line of spectators toward the starting line. They were followed by San Ildefonso, which was led by Luciano. His Diablo sensed the atmosphere and danced and pranced to the approval of the crowd.

Isabela noticed the proud rider atop this magnificent animal. She was instantly overcome with emotion at the sight of such a manly specimen. Instinctively she threw her manta as they approached the small Pacheco stand. Luciano was startled. He had never witnessed this before, but he knew what it meant. El Diablo stopped in front of the Pacheco stand, Luciano dismounted and bent over and picked up the manta. He walked toward the stunning Isabela. The crowd went silent anticipating the worst from Pablo Pacheco. He sat next to his wife, and Isabela was stunned at what had just transpired. Luciano advanced toward Isabela unaware of anybody else in the stand. He took off his sombrero and handed the manta back to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She took it and handed him one of her silk, laced handkerchiefs, and he stretched out his arm so she could tie it around his bicep. Pablo didn’t move, still astonished with Isabela’s action. The crowd roared its approval as Luciano mounted El Diablo.

Every time she recalls that moment when Luciano picked up the manta her heart beats faster. Luciano was brave to retrieve the manta in front of her father and the approving spectators and even more courageous to walk over and hand it back to her. Her father didn’t interfere which meant he approved of the young Luciano. He is nothing but a memory now for she realizes that she has driven him away.

Her jaw was swollen where she had felt Luciano’s anger. Soon daylight would envelope the countryside, it would signal not only the start of a new day but an agonizing day. How was she going to reason with her father? He would disown her for bringing shame to his household. She heard the front door open; her heart started to beat harder and harder, faster and faster. Julio stood at the doorway to the bedroom holding a rifle. Isabela was relieved to see him and instead of Luciano.

Her belongings were quickly stuffed into a petaquilla (a small trunk). The suitcase was lifted onto the wagon, and Julio had hitched to her pair of horses. She prepared a hastily written note to her father. She would drop off the note in her father’s secret compartment located in her bedroom.

Dawn was in the horizon, and she didn’t expect her father to be up yet.

LIMBO

Luciano and Chato rode toward Tesuque, the moon aided the path with her dimly reflected light. Again he wanted to turn back; nevertheless, Diablo kept walking. At the bottom of the hill they found a spot to spend the night. He was too weary to build a fire and extremely exhausted. He unsaddled Diablo and threw the saddle on the ground where he would sleep for the night. The bottle of whiskey he carried in the saddlebags for such an emergency was a welcome companion. He sat down and took a healthy swig. The whiskey burned as it flowed down his throat, but it felt good. He passed the bottle to a silent Chato.

His mind was numb, his future in doubt, and his life in limbo. Isabela had seen to that. He gulped another drink and another; he was beginning to feel the effect of the drink. His head rested on the saddle, and he pulled the saddle blanket over to cover himself. He turned to the northeast where the silhouette of Stone Man Mountain was barely visible. The sight of the mountain helped him relax. This immense mountain was part of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, which was believed to be sacred by his Tewa Indian friends. He would visit the area in the near future. Hopefully there his mind would become clear and his soul would find some solace.

I am not afraid, but I don’t have the right

To take from a person, to take away a life.

That I am a coward unable to kill you

for the wrong you’ve done to me.

Because I didn’t kill you, I will pay for life.

They say I’m afraid and that I’m not a man

Out to the desert is where we have come;

Indian says the truth will have won.

Luciano’s mother taught him and his siblings to pray the rosary. His view on Catholicism however was never strong. His Tewa spirited friends gave him a different perspective on religion. But this time El Padre Nuestro flowed from his mouth as he recited the rosary. He surprised himself, because he didn’t remember the last time he recited the prayer. He recited the Lord’s Prayer over and over until he fell into a much needed sleep. Mañana es otro día, tomorrow he would work things out.

Mother earth gave Luciano comfort, the heavens provided the beauty, and Chato and Diablo provided companionship. Luciano was ready to accept whatever fate awaited him. First he would visit his mother. He readied Diablo for the trip to San Ildefonso where he would reclaim his spirit. Chato didn’t say much. He could feel his friend’s sorrow. The pueblo, once populated by Hispanics and Tewa Indians, was mainly Hispanic now. None of his childhood friends remained. They left their ancestral home for Jemez where wild game was abundant. Chato, his only true friend remaining, was a mestizo and therefore more free of Catholic dogma than of ancestral customs. But here he was, back in his childhood home, a place he’d left long ago in search of an identity which was now in limbo.

The Nambe stream was within sight. Diablo and Luciano welcomed the cool water that flowed down from Stone Mountain. Chato and his pinto did the same. Diablo was washed down and set out to roam the familiar grounds. Luciano washed himself and readied for his mother. His younger sister Cruz, now a twenty-year-old lady, would be happy to see him. He wondered about his younger brothers, Guadalupe now thirteen years old and Antonio sixteen years old. He hadn’t been in touch with them for over two years, not since his wedding to Isabela. Luciano picked up the saddle and all his belongings and placed them on his shoulders. Diablo chose to follow Luciano instead of roaming. Chato rode his pinto, engaging his friend in small talk hoping to cheer him up.

Antonio was chopping wood when he noticed a man making his way toward him and another on horseback. At first he didn’t recognize Luciano or Chato. Antoñio recognized Diablo, then, realizing that it was Luciano that was approaching, swung the ax hard imbedding it in the log. He shouted, Luciano is here! as he ran to embrace his older brother. The commotion brought Cruz out of the small three-room adobe home. Cruz walked slowly across the portal down the three steps to meet Luciano. He noticed her huge belly, and he brushed Antoñio aside and waited for Cruz to reach him. They embraced hard, Cruz holding on tight to her older brother, not wanting to let go. She finally released the hold as tears streamed down her face. No words were exchanged, only stares between the two. He wondered about the man who was responsible, she whether he would accept her pregnancy. Luciano broke the silence asking for his mother and Guadalupe.

Doña Josefa, Cruz informed him, dragged Guadalupe with her to the church. This was the first Friday of the month and the Catholic Church held services according to doctrine. The afternoon sun slowly disappeared behind the cumulus clouds; a mid-spring thundershower was nearing. Doña Josefa and Guadalupe should be coming home soon, hopefully before the rains came. Generally, the Mass was held earlier in the day, but today it was celebrated later than usual. The priest made the rounds through the local capillas, saying Mass with San Ildefonso as his last stop.

Luciano walked toward the house flanked by his brother and Cruz. Chato, still riding atop his pinto, followed. They climbed the short steps leading to the porch and sat on the long, wooden bench their great grandfather had carved out of a cottonwood tree. The smell created by a few raindrops on the parched earth permeated the air. The distinctive aroma brought a sense of relief to Luciano. The huertas the locals planted with corn, chile, and other vegetables would benefit as well.

The Pueblo churchgoers were starting to leave the small church, and soon his mother would be coming out. Doña Josefa never left early, preferring to stay until the priest concluded the Mass. Eventually he saw his mother and little brother walking fast hoping to reach shelter before the showers reached the earth below.

Doña Josefa made corn bread and chile made with dried venison combined with beans with chicos. After dinner ended, Cruz served coffee and apricot pie made from dried fruit. Luciano felt at home if only for a moment. He momentarily forgot yesterday’s incident. Eventually, Luciano got up and walked outside and sat on the bench. His mother followed hoping to hear what brought her son to her. Missing from the exchange was Isabela; he didn’t mention her once. The omission indicated to Doña Josefa that the marriage was in trouble, but being a patient woman she would wait until he was ready to share the news with her.

The rain had cooled the air, so they decided to go inside. Antoñio and Guadalupe asked permission to leave to meet their friends at the local hangout. As they started for La Cantina, Luciano shouted instructions of caution. Chato joined them. They looked back and smiled as they disappeared into the dark night. Cruz remained waiting for Luciano to ask the question. He, on the other hand, waited for her to initiate the conversation. Doña Josefa anxiously waited for the exchange. Cruz had shamed the family and had completely dishonored her mother, so she was just a bystander now. Cruz finally broke the silence. She spoke her heart out. She shared how difficult it was for a girl to meet a man in that God forsaken country, how she had met this man Remijio Ortiz from Chimayo. They met at the dance celebrating Santa Clara day. She had been captivated by his sweet talk and good manners. They continued to see each other almost daily for several days, and she was eventually seduced. He promised to marry her, and she believed him. Now she waited. She wept as she continued the tale.

Luciano reached over to her feeling his own pain and the effects of his own betrayal.

Don’t worry, hermanita, I’ll take care of your child, he assured Cruz. She could feel his powerful arms as he held her close to him.

Cruz, Luciano addressed his sister in stern voice, I will visit Remijio. I will go to Chimayo and square things out for you. I have to do a few things first, esta bien, hermanita? In the meantime, I will take care of you and the baby. With that encouragement from her brother, Cruz smiled and asked to be excused. Dona Josefa had been waiting patiently to be alone with her beloved son Luciano. She craved answers about Isabela; she knew that Luciano wouldn’t be visiting her unless his marriage was in trouble.

Luciano talked for a long time. When he stopped, she knew of the betrayal, but there were more questions whirling in her mind. How was Pablo Pacheco going to react when he found out, or did he know? What was he going to do now? What would become of the house Luciano had built for his wife? His mother was extremely anxious for answers. She spoke, this he knew, because her lips were moving, but his mind was far away. Every once in a while he would catch a word that blurred out of her mouth.

Si, Mama, he answered, when he felt it proper to respond. She finally realized the futility in trying to get an intelligent response from him. It was getting late, and Dona Josefa, full of questions and few satisfactory answers from Luciano, was undecided whether to retire for the night or stay up with Luciano. At the same time she realized that he was unable to say much about his wife’s infidelity, so rather than probe any further she chose to go inside her house.

Mama, dispenseme con perdon, he assured her that his problems would be handled and she need not worry. Buenas noches y que Dios la bendiga, (Good night and God bless you).

Just then his younger brothers returned from Don Victor’s cantina. Chato decided to stay with a female friend he hadn’t seen in a while. Antonio handed Luciano a bottle of Taos moonshine he brought.

The evening air got colder forcing Luciano inside the house. He didn’t feel comfortable inside, so he grabbed his winter jacket and a blanket and went back outside. The sky was lit by a partial moon, and the stars shined on the now cloudless sky. The Taos moonshine burned his insides, but what a welcome relief to the soul. The more his thoughts drifted back in time, the more remorse he felt and the sips of moonshine became gulps. Dona Josefa, sensing that he was asleep, took a blanket and pillow out to him.

Señor Pacheco grabbed Luciano by the cuello of the jacket and yanked him off of the bench. Luciano, half asleep, was startled. He was half hung over from the moonshine and one hundred percent shocked. He didn’t recognize his father-in-law when Señor Pacheco spoke. He didn’t hear when his mother and Antonio both armed with rifles came out of the house; nor did he hear the rooster crowing from his perch above the corral. All he remembered was the hard yank. He was incoherent, and it took a while before he woke up. Before he regained his senses, Luciano grabbed Pablo’s hands and pushed him back so hard, that Pablo fell backwards and off the porch. Santiago rushed to his father’s rescue, grabbed Luciano, and held him firm. Luciano was unarmed or the worst