Lorenzo's Revolutionary Quest (8 page)

Raven Feather hid in the shadows of a ranch outbuilding and peeped around a corner.

Lorenzo Bannister and his men herded cattle toward an empty corral. She had tracked them for many nights now, watching their suspicious activity. People said there would be a cattle drive soon.

Lorenzo dismounted, tied his reins to a hitching post,
and opened the gate. He spoke to a soldier perched on a corral rail.

In the distance, Soledad rode between the man with red hair and an old woman.

Raven Feather pressed her lips together to hold back a growl of disgust. What a traitor Soledad was! Leaving the tribe. Adopting the invader's ways. Taking a Spanish name. Even her mother had betrayed the tribe by working on a hacienda as a cook after her husband's death. Raven Feather touched the knife hanging at her side. Someday she would make Soledad pay for turning her back on her people.

Lorenzo leaned on a corral rail and watched his men head back to the herd. To keep them busy and out of trouble, he had put them to work on Doña María's ranch.

His attention went to Red, Soledad, and Doña María on horseback. They had heard that a coyote had attacked a cow and were checking it out.

“Red was at my house again last night,” Miguel said.

“Why break with tradition?” Lorenzo asked with a wry smile.

Miguel forced a smile. “I must say he is persistent. It doesn't help that Doña María is encouraging him to court my sister. I must have a little chat with her about that.”

Ever the romantic, Doña María gave Red tips on how to win Soledad's heart and sacrificed countless flowers from her garden so he could give his sweetheart bouquets. She even served as chaperon when military duty called Miguel away.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Captain, but the sooner you leave, the better. My sister has been through a lot. If she becomes too attached . . .” His voice trailed.

Lorenzo admired Miguel's concern for his sister's
welfare. Before he could respond, Ambrosio, an elderly half-Spanish half-Comanche vaquero, rode toward them.

“Morning, Señor Bannister. Lieutenant.”

Both tipped their hats and greeted him.

“How's the family?” Lorenzo asked cheerfully.

“Good. I hear you're planning a cattle drive.”

“That's right.”

“They say you're paying good money.”

Lorenzo nodded. The Continental Congress had authorized him to pay vaqueros twenty Spanish pillar dollars a month. Money for their salaries would come down river by flatboat. When the cattle drive reached the rendezvous point on the Mississippi River, everyone would get paid. The vaqueros would return to San Antonio and their old jobs.

“You need another hand?” Ambrosio asked, stroking a week's growth of gray whiskers.

Lorenzo had hired the best vaqueros he knew, seven mestizos he had worked with on Doña María's ranch. He had all he needed. Still, he felt sorry for Ambrosio, an old man who could barely feed his eight children on a ranch hand's salary. “Still drinking?”

“No, señor. Not a drop in six months.”

“On the trail, I'll inspect everyone's baggage.”

Ambrosio nodded. “I won't have nothing on me.”

“You're on the payroll.”

Relief swept over Ambrosio's wind-burnt face. He turned and rode away.

Miguel clucked in disapproval. “You're a soft touch, Captain. You just hired the town drunk.”

“I know. But he's an excellent cow herder.”

“When sober.”

“He'll stay sober on the cattle drive,” Lorenzo said with a small smile. “There's no place between here and the Mississippi to buy liquor.”

Raven Feather jumped down from her horse and tethered it beside her husband's. She saw three of her friends tanning a hide and lifted her hand in greeting. They looked at her briefly, then talked amongst themselves without returning the sign.

Their action surprised her, but she was too excited to worry about that now. She rushed to her teepee and found two warriors standing guard. Confused, she stepped inside. Chien d'Or and the remaining four French smugglers sat in sullen silence. She knew better than to speak without her husband's permission, so she stood with her fingers laced tight behind her to keep from fidgeting.

After several minutes, Chien d'Or acknowledged her. “You may speak.”

“Good news, husband! A cattle drive will leave San Antonio soon.”

“When? Where are the cattle headed?”

Raven Feather frowned at the ground. “I don't know.”

“Find out.”

She nodded. “There is more news.” She tried to look distressed. “Soledad has betrayed your dead brother. The traitor lives with the red-haired bear who killed your men.”

Chien d'Or flushed with anger, as she knew he would. She touched the knife hanging at her waist. “Let me kill her, husband. Let me avenge this insult to your dead brother's honor.”

His jaw clenched. With a wave of his hand, he said, “Do whatever you wish.”

“Chien d'Or!” a male voice thundered from beyond the teepee walls. “Come out. Chief Iron Bear has determined your fate.”

Iron Bear adjusted his eagle feather headdress and massaged his temples where a headache pounded. For the first time since becoming chief eleven summers earlier, he had to expel someone from the tribe. Wiping all emotion from his face, he exited his teepee and headed to council.

The entire tribe ringed the clearing in the middle of camp. This was a momentous event, and no one wanted to miss it. They stepped aside to let Iron Bear through.

Chien d'Or lay face down in the dirt, arms spread to his side, eyes closed.

Absolute quiet ruled. No one moved. Even the children were silent.

Iron Bear spoke Chien d'Or's sentence in an even tone, although emotions roiled inside him. “Your actions shame the tribe and shame the mother who taught you the Lipan way. From this moment on, you are part of this tribe no more forever. The people will never speak your name.” He nodded to the warrior on his left, who handed him Chien d'Or's bow and quiver. Iron Bear emptied the quiver and broke the bow over his knee. “The bond is broken forever. The Nameless One is banished.” He turned to Raven Feather. “You are banished as well.” He addressed the four Frenchmen. “All who share his teepee are banished. If he returns, he will be killed upon sight.” He paused. “Go, Nameless One.”

Being an outcast was the worst fate that could befall a man. Living without the tribe's protection was a virtual death sentence.

Chien d'Or did not protest the decision. He lifted himself from the ground, straightened himself, and walked away.

His wife and the four Frenchmen followed close behind. They got on their horses and left.

Iron Bear hoped he would never see any of them again.

Days became weeks. Lorenzo put the time to good use, training his men, stocking the supply wagon, and buying range horses. Each man selected two mounts, one for day riding, one for night. Still, waiting for the messenger to return from Mexico City stretched Lorenzo's patience to the breaking point.

Red put the extra time to good use as well. Every night he cleaned up, put on what he called his “sparking clothes,” and headed to Soledad's house.

The two of them were inseparable. They were seen together at mass. At gatherings in Doña María's house. At social events around San Antonio. People began to say their names in one breath. Red and Soledad. Soledad and Red.

After a week, Red asked for her hand in marriage. Father Pedro Fuentes y Fernández, the parish priest, conducted a marriage investigation and determined there was no impediment as both were single and Catholic. The engagement was announced at mass on August 10, and the marriage banns posted on the church door. Friday, August 15, was the Feast of the Assumption, a holy day of obligation, and counted as the second announcement. The third came two days later at Sunday mass. Red and Soledad were married later that afternoon.

After the ceremony, Lorenzo congratulated Red and shook his hand.

Miguel, misty-eyed, kissed Soledad on both cheeks, then turned to Red. “If you ever mistreat her, you're a dead man. Welcome to the family.”

Two weeks later, on September 1, Lorenzo and his vaqueros herded cattle bearing the mission brand into holding pens on the outskirts of Doña María's ranch.

Miguel, perched on a corral rail, kept an official tally.

“If my calculations are correct,” Lorenzo said to him, “that makes an even five hundred.”

Miguel shrugged. “Steal one or steal five hundred. Either way, you'll hang.”

Lorenzo scowled at Miguel. “I'm not going to hang.”

“I wouldn't be so sure.”

Lorenzo considered himself a good judge of character. Something about Miguel rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

“Menchaca may be the least of your worries,” Miguel said. “Lots of Indians live between here and New Orleans.”

“I've made the trip twice without mishap.”

“Dumb luck, Captain. Sheer dumb luck.”

Lorenzo tamped down his aggravation. Tomorrow, the cattle drive would leave, and he wouldn't have to tolerate Miguel any further.