Free Trail Hand by R. W. Stone

how he read with disgust the letters from home, and the discussions with my mother about how my uncle was ruining the land and mismanaging things. I vowed someday to create another hacienda , one where my father could finish his days doing what he most loved, raising fine horses.
    “I have been blessed with many things duringmy life, not the least of which was Rosa’s mother. My beloved wife Gloria worked, struggled, and fought by my side, year after year, until we finally established a fine ranch, one my father could be proud of. One that would bring honor to our name. I even imported horses from Andalusia, the finest in the world.”
    “I won’t argue that point with you, Don Enrique.”
    “ Gracias .”
    “And then he joined you, your father? He helped you finish breeding this herd?” I asked.
    “Unfortunately no. Papa died the very same month that the horses arrived. It was not a good time for us. My wife also died that year, soon after giving birth to Rosita.”
    “I’m sorry. I know how much it hurts to lose one’s family.”
    “Were it not for Rosa María, I might have given it all up, but having a daughter to care for gave me instead more determination. I wanted to leave her something important. Wealth and power are important, sí , but they are not everything. I also wanted Rosa to have a sense of honor and pride, and a sense of obligation to others.”
    “If you’ll allow me, sir, from what little I know of her, I think it’s safe to say you succeeded at that.”
       
    Don Enrique smiled and nodded. “Rosa has worked the hacienda alongside of me all her life, and I am proud to say the vaqueros respect her as much as they would any man.”
    “Well, Chavez for one sure seems awfully protective of her,” I added, remembering the clouthe’d given me. “Mind if I ask you if there’s anything between the two of them? You know…romantically?”
    “ ¿El caporal y Rosa? No. They are more like brother and sister. Chavez’s father worked for me as my first caporal , and the two children grew up together. I am not sure who fell off more horses or who had more black eyes as a child,” he said, laughing, “but I do remember they were constantly fighting, as most siblings will. When his father died, Chavez took his place as caporal . He is very protective of us both, especially of Rosa, I will admit, but he is engaged to another girl named Caridad Luz. I love him as I would a son and I owe him a great deal more than loyalty. I owe him my life.”
    “I understand that he got that scar in a knife fight?”
    “Sí.” Don Enrique sighed heavily and stared off into space. He hesitated so long I wasn’t sure if he was going to continue or not, but he finally took another sip of coffee and explained.
    “Some time ago we were taking money to our bank when a band of thieves attacked us. Chavez’s father was shot down right in front of his son, and I in turn shot the outlaw.” As he spoke, Don Enrique’s right arm brushed instinctively against his revolver. “But two others rushed me from behind and knocked the pistola from my hand. They had knives, and one of them would have surely killed me on the spot had not Chavez suddenly thrown his own knife into the man’s back. He then fought the other one barehanded.”
    “And that’s when he got cut?”
    “ Sí . But even so he still fared better than the other. Chavez killed that ladrón with his own knife. From what they tell me his fiancée, Caridad, has been very understanding and still loves him very much, but sadly Chavez has not been the same man since the wound.”
    “A little too much on the serious side?” I suggested.
    “It is understandable. I suppose one cannot blame him much for that. But he is a good man and an excellent caporal .”
    “I guess you’re right,” I said. “But he sure doesn’t give new folks much of a chance.”
    “I forgot to mention”— Señor Hernandez paused— “the thieves at the bank…they were of your