MARIAN L. MARTINELLO & SAMUEL P. NESM
W ill- , •. ~ ~t
-)
DomiwoLeal
in -Sal) Anto1)io
1734.
MARIAN L. MARTINELLO & SAMUEL P. NESMITH
WITH DOMINGO LEAL IN SAN ANTONIO, 1734
Writer and Educational Consultant
Marian L. Martinello
The University of Texas at San Antonio
Principal Researcher
Samuel P. Nesmith
The University of Texas
Institute of Texan Cultures at San Antonio
Stories for Young Readers
Copyright 1979
The University of Texas
Insti.tu te of Texan Cultures at San Antonio
Jack R. Maguire, Executive Director
Pat Maguire, Director of Publications and Coordinator of Programs
Tom R. Stephens, Production Coordinator
Marilyn Lowther, Design and Illustration
Preliminary for this story originated with the work
of a former Institute intern, Mary A. Barrera.
Library of Congress Number 78-57797
Hard Binding International Standard Book Number 0-933164-52-1
Paperbound International Standard Book Number 0-933164-40-8
This publication was made possible, in part, by grants from The Levi Strauss Foundation
and The Houston Endowment, Incorporated.
Printed in the United States of America
Almost 250 years ago, a group of 56 Canary Islanders settled
in the Villa de San Fernando de Bexar along the banks of the
RIO San Antonio de Padua - the place that is now the city of
San Antonio, Texas.
By 1730, land was becoming more and more scarce in the
volcanic Canary Islands. The Is/enos ,;, requested the King of
Spain to allow them to settle in a Spanish colony. About the
same time, King Philip was hearing rumors that the French in
Louisiana were getting closer to Texas. The Marques de Aguayo
suggested that -the two problems might be settled at once by
offering the Canary Islanders a chance to settle in New Spain.
That is what the king did.
* Islenos - islanders
Ten families accepted the king's offer of his best ships to take
them to the New World where they would be well taken care
of. He promised the head of each family money for one year
plus cattle, goats, sheep, farming tools, supplies and their own
land in the new settlement. He even promised to give the new
settlers titles of nobility. They would be called hijos de algas or
hidalgos, meaning "sons of something" or someone important.
Therefore, each man could add the title Don to his name .
The Islenos set off from the Canary Islands on a journey that
would last almost a year. They stopped in Havana, Cuba, then
came to Vera Cruz, Mexico, and traveled overland through
Saltillo on their way to Texas.
During a rest stop at Quautitlan, Mexico, on November 8 ,
1730, a list was made of the members of the group . Sixteen
separate households were named:
First Family
Juan Leal Goras, 54 years, grandfather of Domingo Leal
Sons: Vincente Leal, 18 years
Bernardo Leal, 13 years
Second Family
Juan Curbelo , 50 years
Wife: Garda Perdomo y Umpiennes, 46 years
Sons: Joseph Curbelo, 25 years
Juan Francisco Curbelo, 9 years
Daughter: Marfa Curbelo, 13 years
Third Family (the subjects of this story)
Juan Leal Jr., 30 years, son of Juan Leal Goras of the
first family, native of Lancerota, medium
build , broad shoulders , dark complexion,
long face, thick beard, sharp nose, curled
hair, black hair, eyes almost grey
2
<
Wife: Garda de Acosta, 30 years, also called Marfa de
Acosta, daughter of Pedro Gonzales Cabezas and
Francisca de Acosta, native of Teneriffe, tall
full-faced, fair complexion, light grey eyes, black
hair, pointed nose
Sons: Manuel Leal , 12 years, native of Lancerota,
round face , dark complexion, aquiline nose ,
light grey eyes, chestnut curled hair , scar above
left eyebrow
Miguel Leal, 10 years, native of Fuerteventura,
round face, large grey eyes, meeting eyebrows,
light chestnut hair , thin nose, scar at the end of
the left eyebrow
Domingo Leal, 7 years, native of Palma Island,
round face, fair complexion, black eyes , reddish
hair, flat nose , freckly face
Pedro Leal, 5 months old, native of Havana,
round face, fair complexion, black eyes, black hair
Daughter: Marfa Leal, 6 years, native of
Fuerteventura, round face, dark complexion,
grey eyes, black hair
Fourth Family
Antonio Santos , 50 years
Wife: Isabel Rodriguez, 34 years
Son: Miguel Santos, 17 years
Daughters: Catharina Santos, 12 years
Marfa Santos, 7 years
Josepha Santos, 2 years
Fifth Family
Joseph Padron , 22 years
Wife: Marfa Francisca Sanabria , 22 years
Sixth Family
Man uel de Niz, 50 years
Wife: Sebastiana de la Petia, 42 years
3
Seventh Family
Vincente Alvarez Travieso , 25 years
Wife: Marfa Ana Curbelo , 18 years, daughter of Juan and
Garda Curbelo (second family)
Eighth Family
Salvador Rodriguez , 42 years
Wife: Marfa Perez Cabrera, 42 years
Son: Patricio Rodriguez, 15 years
Ninth Family
Francisco de Arocha, 27 years
I
Wife: Juana Curbelo, 14 years , daughter of Juan
and Garda Curbelo (second family)
I Tenth Family I
Antonio Rodriguez, 18 years
Wife: Josefa de Niz, 19 years
. Eleventh Family
Joseph Leal, 22 years, son of Juan Leal Goras (first family
Wife: Ana Santos, 15 years
Twelfth Family
Juan Delgado, 19 years
Wife: Catarina Leal, 16 years, daughter of Juan
Leal Goras (first family)
Thirteenth Family
Joseph Cabrera, 50 years
Son: Marcos de Cabrera, 6 years
Daughter: Ana Cabrera, 13 years
Fourteenth Family
Marfa Rodriguez-Provayna, 27 years, widow
Sons: Pedro Rodriguez Granadillo, 12 years
Manuel Francisco Rodriguez Granadillo , I
3 years
Daughter : Josefa Rodriguez Granadillo, 10 years
4
Fifteenth Family
Mariana Meleano, 30 years, widow
Sons: Francisco Delgado, 16 years
Domingo Delgado, 2 years
Daughter: Leonor Delgado, 4 years
Sixteenth Family
Felipe Perez, 20 years
Joseph Antonio Perez, 19 years
Martin Lorenzo de Armas, 20 years
Ignacio Lorenzo de Armas, 22 years
The two pairs of brothers were grouped together
because they were traveling as a family.
In Vera Cruz, a tropical fever killed Juan Rodriguez and Luis
Delgado. Luis Gutierrez had been trying to leave the ship
from the beginning of the voyage, because he wasn't sure he
wanted to settle in New Spain. When the group arrived in Vera
Cruz, he decided to leave with his family. No one knows where
they went. .
At Saltillo, the settlers were issued supplies. Men were given:
2 shirts
2 pairs of white drawers
( underwear)
2 vests with sleeves
2 cravats (ties)
1 cloak
1 short loose jacket
for riding
1 waistcoat
1 pair pantaloons (pants)
2 pairs of wool stockings
2 pairs of shoes
1 hat
1 mattress
2 sheets
1 pillow
1 pillow case
5
1 quilt
2 horses
1 cushioned saddle
with stirrups
1 bridle bit
1 bridle with reins
1 horse halter with fastener
1 pair of spurs with straps
2 sheep skins (for bedding
and saddle pads)
1 pair of boots
1 broad sword with belt
1 gun with cover
1 shoulder belt with flask
for powder
balls and flints
1 packsaddle
The women received :
2 chemises (slips)
2 white underskirts
2 pairs vests with sleeves
2 handkerchiefs
2 pairs silk stockings
2 pairs thread stockings
2 pairs shoes
1 wool skirt
1 flannel short cloak
1 veil for mass
1 outer skirt
2 horses
1 pack saddle
1 side saddle without
stirrups
1 bridle bit
1 bridle and reins
1 horse halter
with fastening
2 sheep skins
1 mattress
2 sheets
1 quilt
1 pillow
1 pillow case
For their homes, the Canary Island families were given:
Copper cooking pots , with
covers which could be
'used as frying pans
10 big pottery dishes
~ 10 camping tents with
attachments
2 axes
2 spades
2 cutlasses (knives for
cutting brush)
2 crowbars
10 saws
10 adzes
10 chisels
Each person also received 50 cents a day for spending money -
quite a lot of money in 1730.
6
On March 9, 1731, at 11: 00 a. m., the Canary Islanders
arrived at the Villa de San Fernando de Bexar in the Spanish
province of Texas. They found there the Mission of San
Antonio de Valero and a presidio ':' where they were welcomed
by Captain Juan Antonio Perez de Almazan. For the first few
months, the men lived in tents pitched outside the San Antonio
de Bexar Presidio. The women and children lived in adobe
buildings inside the presidio.
Each family was given a plot of level land near the presidio
for home building and gardening and a piece of land along the
banks of the San Antonio River for pasture land and farms.
Captain Almazan taught them how to plow and how to plant
crops because these Islenos had not been farmers. They had
worked on the Islands as mule-drivers, goat-hair weavers, water
vendors, potters, ditch-diggers and tanners . Few of the people
liked farming but it was necessary if they were to eat.
A city government was set up on July 20, 1731. Juan Leal
Goras was elecfed the first regidor or city councilman by the
new landowners or vecinos, according to Spanish custom . The
following mGmth, two members of the council were elected
alcaldes by the rest of the council. They served as a
combination of justice of the peace, sheriff and mayor. Juan
Leal Goras and Salvador Rodriguez were elected.
"' Presidio - an army garrison
7
Juan Leal Jr., son of Juan Leal Goras, came from Lancerote
in the Canary Islands to San Antonio when he was 30 years
old. He brought with him his wife, Marfa Garcia de Acosta, one
daughter and four sons. Domingo Leal was 7 years old when
the family arrived with the others in 1731. He was described
then as having a round face, fair complexion, black eyes,
reddish hair, flat nose and freckly face.
This story of a day in Domingo Leal's life takes place three
years after the family arrived at the Villa de San Fernando on
the banks of the Rio San Antonio de Padua. Like Domingo,
many of the characters in the story actually lived at that time.
Others are fictitious as are the conversations and Domingo's
activities on the day of his life we have portrayed. However, the
content of this story is based on knowledge of the people who
lived and events which did or could have occurred in the Villa
de San Fernando, the mission and the presidio of San Antonio
in 1734.
1. LEAL HOUSE
;2.. LEAL PASTURE
3. SMITHY AT MISSiON
4 BARRAcKS AT MISSiON
5'. TREVINO /10U$E
~. LOPEZ. /-lousE
7 PEDRds FISHING> PLACE
8 ISLAND
q IND/A~WATERIN& PlACE
10. PLACE WHE'RE DOMINGO
. AND CORPORAL HERNANDEZ
MEET
11. P/..A.Q:: WHEF.<E.WMINGO
AND CORPORAL HERNANDEZ
SEARCH POR INDIANS
8
With Domj1)~o Leal
inSaIJ Anto1)io 1734.
A ray of morning light was spreading its way through the slats
in the rectangular space that made a window in the Leals' half
built new stone house . As Domingo turned sleepily on his
pallet, a beam of light crossed his eyes and startled him awake.
Domingo rubbed his eyes and looked about the room. The
other pallets in the room were empty.
"Manuel and -Miguel must have gone to the river for water
and Marfa must be helping mama," Domingo thought.
~
"Domingo!" He heard his mother call . He jumped from bed,
pulled on his close fitting pantalones and headed in the
direction of his mother's voice. His loose shirt flapped as he ran
to the front of the stone house. The cool feeling of the morning
air indoors turned warm against Domingo's skin as he bounded
through the front door. Purposefully stomping into the mud
puddles that had formed in the last three days of rain , Domingo
splashed mud on the house and on himself.
Mother was cooking by the front porch. She knelt on the soft
ground, her blue skirt covering her bare knees. Marfa ground
corn in the metate ,;, and kept a watchful eye on their youngest
brother, Pedro , not yet four years old.
Every time Domingo looked at Pedro, he remembered the
long journey from the Canary Islands. Pedro was born during
the stop the 56 Islenos made in Havana. The rest of the trip
through Mexico to Texas had been extra hard with a small baby
to care for.
' metate - a grinding stone
9
Domingo watched his mother as she took the masa ,;, and beat
out flat, round patties between the palms of her hands. "Mama
does not have much time for me any more," he thought.
"Watch that Pedro does not get too near the fire under the
griddle or the one under the cooking pot," her mother
cautioned Marfa.
"~Me llamaste , mama?" Domingo asked. "Did you call me 7"
• masa . ground corn meal
Flipping one patty on the hot griddle, his mother waited for
the other two to brown into the familiar tortillas before turning
them over. Then lifting the finished ones carefully, she dropped
them into her apron. She looked up at Domingo from her
crouched position.
"jSf!" His mother frowned when she saw Domingo's mud­splattered
pantalones and feet. She sighed and said, "Your papa
and your older brothers are already at work on our house.
Before you paint it all with mud, run to the pasture and watch
the cattle. Look at the garden on your way. And take a dry
corn stalk with you to drive off any cows that wander into the
field. They'll damage the crops."
11
-~-- ' - .
Domingo scowled.
"Now do not tell me that you're too young," she added.
"You're already ten years old, big enough to help your papa.
Now don't complain, he told me to send you to the pasture."
"Yes, mama, "Domingo answered qUickly. "I know papa
expects me to help." He turned and stepped into a large puddle
of mud.
"jCuidado, Domingo! Be careful!"
"I' m sorry, mama.." . "
His mother handed him a tortilla and motioned to the
bubbling pot of frijoles.
"They've been cooking for some time now. You may fill your
tortilla," she suggested.
Domingo bent over the pot of beans to enjoy the delicious
aroma, helped himself to a ladle full and wrapped his tortilla
around them . With scarcely time for the beans to cool, he
stuffed the tortilla into his mouth as he started off towards the
garden behind the house.
"Mingo,"* Marfa called. "Don't try to milk those wild cows."
His sister was teasing again. Her large grey eyes danced in
fun. He knew that those funny looking animals in the pasture
were too ornery to be milked. The camels he had known back
in the Canary Islands were ornery too but at least he
understood them. In the three years his family had lived at Villi:
de San Fernando, he still hadn't gotten used to the Longhorns.,
I
• Mingo - a nickname for Domingo
12
neighbor's lot.
omingo headed toward the far right end of the
field , walking in between rows of sprouting
seedlings. He stopped at a point that his father
had told him set the Leal land apart from their
He looked around . Other stone houses like the Leal house
were being built around the Plaza de las Islas.* Some of the
people, however, had chosen to remain in adobe houses or
their jacales ,;, of mud and sticks with thatched roofs, even after
Captain Almazan had given grants of land to the settlers. Cattle,
mules, sheep, goats and horses stood grazing on pasture land
that was green from the past few days of rain.
The Leal pasture land was a choice spot, situated by the Hlo
San Antonio de Padua. The four Longhorns pastured there
were grazing quietly. Domingo found a shady spot where he
could watch them. Aimlessly, he began scratching on the
ground with his corn stalk.
"I wonder~ how my name would be written," he thought. "I
suppose that Domingo Leal wouldn't be too hard to write. It
doesn't sound like a hard name to write. Maybe someday I'll ask
Vincente Travieso or Francisco Arocha to show me how.
They're the only two Islenos who know how to read and write .
They went to school in the Canary Islands. Too bad there's no
school for us here. I'd rather learn to write my name than watch
those funny looking animals. "jQue tercos! Gosh,
they're stubborn!"
Finding a dry place, Domingo sat down, drawing his knees
close to his chest. As he rested his head on his arms he began
thinking of home in the Canary Islands.
"This is such a strange land - such a strange country,"
Domingo thought. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to it. I'm not
sure that any of the Islenos like this Province of Texas. Some
have been talking of leaving, mainly because of the Indian
< Plaza de las Islas - present location of Main Plaza in S an Anto nio
¢ Jacales - simple huts
13
attacks. During the three years we've been here, it seems that
the Indians have been attacking the villa more and more. Even
the soldiers of the presidio seem afraid. I wonder if we should
have stayed in the Canary Islands. I had more fun there. I had
more friends my age to play with. Mama and papa used to take
me to the market in town . I remember watching the fishermen
bring in their catch. Here, all there is to do is watch cattle .. . "
A sound caught Domingo's attention. He turned just in time
to see one of the cows heading towards the neighbor's pasture.
Scanning the ground, he searched for a rock. He found one
about the size of his hand, picked it up and moved closer to the
cow, ignoring the mud that oozed up between his toes. When
he was about ten feet from the cow, he drew in a breath and
screamed out his most ferocious yell:
"jAAAAAAA-YY, vayase vaca! Get out, cow!"
Domingo threw the rock at the cow. It startled the animal.
Wi.th his corn stalk, Domingo waved the cow back onto the Lea
pasture. He waited to make sure the cow was well within the
boundaries of the pasture. He sat down again. Flies swarmed
around him, landing on his sweaty arms. A slight breeze cooled
his back, also damp with sweat. The sun, now directly
overhead, made Domingo's hair feel as blazing red as it looked.
"jLa comida, Mingo! Lunch time!"
Domingo turned at the sound of his brother's voice.
Miguel was walking toward him, holding one of their father's
tools in one hand and a cloth bundle in the other. Domingo
noticed that although Miguel was only three years older than
himself, his brother acted like their father. "He even walks like
papa." Domingo observed.
14
"Are you hungry?" Miguel motioned to the bundle he was
carrying. "Mama sent this for us. After lunch, papa wants you to
take this adze* to Senor Juan Banul to be fixed. See, the
wooden handle is cracked. We can't use it to trim and smooth
the wood. We can't trim the beams for our new house. You
take it to the blacksmith and I'll tend the cows. Tell him to mark
the charge to our account."
"adze - a tool for working wood
Domingo nodded. He was pleased to have the chance to go
to the mission by himself.
The two boys found a dry spot under a tree where they could
eat their lunch. Their mother had sent a bowl of frijoles and
some warm corn tortillas .
"What did you and papa do this morning?" Domingo asked,
wishing he had been with them.
"We added part of a wall for a new room on the house. Then
abuelo, our grandfather Leal Goraz, came to talk with papa.
"Why?" Domingo asked innocently.
"Because grandfather's argument with Don Felipe is still going
on. Remember when Don Felipe said that grandfather plowed
over bis corn field and wanted to be paid for the loss of his
crop? That's why the court ordered abuelo kept in his house
be.c ause there isn't a jail in the villa."
"That was a long time ago," Domingo added.
"Over a year ago, but the argument still goes on. Grandfathe
wants papa to tell the alcaldes that Don Felipe stole a horse an
mule from him on the trip here. He says that Don Felipe can't
be trusted."
"jQue tonterias! How silly - all these bad feelings over a little
bit of corn! Why can't the Islenos get along with one another?"
asked Domingo.
"Because grandfather likes a good fight," observed Miguel.
Domingo burst into laughter.
Now Miguel was scolding. "Don't laugh about your
grandfather, Mingo. Run along now. This adze needs fixing ."
16
Domingo forced himself to be serious again, picked up the
adze, mumbled "Adios" to his brother and strode down the edge
of the pasture, trying to walk like papa. When his giggles
overtook him again, he quickened his pace to reach the river
bank where Miguel could not hear him.
17
omingo headed east along the river, following the
route his family used to take every Sunday on
the way to church at the Mission San Antonio
de Valero. These days, Sunday Mass was attended
at the presidio chape!.* Domingo missed the Sunday visit to the
mission. He remembered that mama didn't like him to talk with
the Indians and soldiers there. He had to stay close to the
family when they went to Mass. Today he was alone. He could
talk to whomever he pleased!
He broke into a run but the adze he was carrying slowed him
down. To make the distance seem shorter, he played a game,
tossing rocks into the river ahead of him, trying to reach the
point where they splashed before the ripples drowned. Before
he realized it, he was at the crude log footbridge that crossed
the river. The familiar line of cottonwood trees near the mission
was now in full view.
The Mission San Antonio de Valero was coming awake after
the mid-day siesta. Jacales and some houses of wood dotted
the area.
Indians were working on other buildings and the convent for
the Spanish priests, the only stone building on the grounds.
From where he stood, Domingo could see other groups of
Indians working in the fields. "They do the same things I do," he
thought, "tend the crops and the cattle."
The adze Domingo was carrying began to slip from his hand,
reminding him of his reason for being there. Remembering
exactly where the blacksmith's forge was located, he drew a
deep breath and ran to the place where he knew he would find
Juan Banu!.
Moments later, panting and sweaty, Domingo was at the
smithy. An old Indian was working the bellows which pumped
air to feed the flames that leaped from the adobe brick forge.
Juan Banul worked nearby at the anvil hammering a red hot
piece of iron bar.
' The presidio chapel was just west of the present site of San Fernando Cathedral.
19
"iHo1a , Domingo! Did you come to learn how to make door
hinges? Watch."
Senor Banul formed the rod into a loop and, while it was still
hot, seared holes in the door with the ends of the rod. He
drove them at an angle through the edge of the wooden door
for a mission house.
"I hope I'll be the one who makes the doors for the church
that will be built here."
Domingo's black eyes grew wide. The only blacksmith in
Texas was showing him how to make a door hinge! He felt very
important. He now knew something Miguel didn't know.
20
"Did you bring something for me to fix?" Juan Banul asked,
looking at the adze Domingo was holding.
"Sf, Senor Banul. Papa asks that you fix this handle. He
knows you'll do a better job than he can. Look, it's split!"
The blacksmith smiled. "Leave it with me, Domingo. I'll make
it like new."
Senor Banul thrust another iron rod into the blazing forge for
the second hinge on the door he was preparing to hang.
21
"Do you like living here any better than you did when you
first came, Domingo?" he asked.
"I'm not having as much fun here as I did in Lancarote."
"Maybe you haven't been here long enough," Senor Banul
suggested. "I was here on this day, 16 years ago, when the
presidio was begun, many years before you and your family
arrived with the other Is/enos. Did you know that today, May 5,
is the anniversary date of the founding of San Antonio? I've
seen the town grow since the time the Alarcon expedition *
came here. That's long before you were born. This was wild
country then."
"Why did you come?" Domingo asked.
Senor Banul went on: "When I was a young man, I came
from Belgium where I was born, to New Spain to find a new
way of life and better chances to use my skills. That was almost
twenty years ago. MartIn de Alarcon, the governor of the
pr¥ovince of Coahuila and Texas in 1718, founded this place
near the San Antonio River. I came here with his expedition
and started building the presidio and mission. We always
thought this was a fine place to settle.
"Later the Marques de Aguayo asked me to go and help buil
missions over in east Texas. The marques was then governor (
the province of Coahuila and Texas. He thought that the
French who were in east Texas then might take over Spanish
land here."
"But there are no French people here," Domingo added.
Senor Banul stopped working for a moment. His eyes met
Domingo's and grew bright as he told the story of the 500
Spanish horsemen he rode with to east Texas to push the
French back to Louisiana .
• Alarcon expedition - the Spanish expedition of soldiers and missionaries that founde
San Antonio in 1718
22
_I
"Did you know, Domingo, that it is because of the Marques
de Aguayo that you are here? He thought that Spain should
colonize Texas with settlers, not soldiers, and that some of those
settlers should come from the Canary Islands."
The blacksmith finished searing the second hinge in the door,
leaned it against the side of the adobe wall, thrust an iron bar
into the flames of his forge until it glowed red and began
shaping it with his hammer on the anvil.
Senor Banul called Domingo's attention to this new shape he
was making. "You see how I make horseshoes, Domingo?"
"Here, take the hammer and flatten this shoe for Captain
Urrutia's horse. Corporal Hernandez will be bringing it by soon
to be shod."
Excited by the chance to do blacksmith's work, Domingo held
Senor Banul's hammer with both hands and pounded with all
his strength. The hammer caught the bar at an angle and left a
dent the size· of a man's thumbprint.
"jCon Cuidado! Take it easy, Domingo! Let's try again."
Senor Banul reheated the bar and this time, holding
Domingo's hand, helped him feel just the right amount of
pressure needed to shape the iron.
"Very good, Domingo. I think you could learn how to be a
good blacksmith."
Wondering if his father would like him to be a blacksmith,
Domingo's attention was captured by the clinking sound of spurs
and the smell of horses that now seemed to surround him. He
looked up to see the bulky, muscular frame of Corporal
Hernandez. The horseman held his barrel chest high, shoulders
back in a way that said he was proud to be a presidio soldier.
The even tan color of his skin was outlined by a neatly trimmed
black beard and sideburns. Domingo thought the corporal was
the finest looking man he had ever seen.
23
"Buenos dias, Senor Banul," Corporal Hernandez greeted the
blacksmith. "Can you fix the shoe for the captain's horse now?"
"You're just in time," Senor Banul replied. "Domingo Leal
here has been helping me hammer a horseshoe."
"Gracias, Domingo" Juan Antonio Hernandez' dark eyes
carefully examined the horseshoe Domingo had helped Juan
Banul make. The corporal's black curly hair fell in ringlets over
his forehead. "Perhaps you will become a blacksmith. We
certainly could use another in Texas." The corporal winked at
Senor Banul.
The two men walked to where Captain Urrutia's horse was
tethered, leaving Domingo to look about the smithy.
24
~ /
/
26
he old Indian working the bellows of the forge
had not said a word all this time. Domingo
guessed that he was old enough to have been
around the mission for many years. If so, he
probably understood Spanish, but Domingo wasn't sure.
A little afraid but very curious - because his mother had told
the children not to speak to the Indians - Domingo moved
closer to the old man. His bronze face was lined and weathered.
When his dark eyes met Domingo's, there was a gentleness in
his voice as he said "No tengas miedo. Don't be afraid. I'm a
Coahuiltecan, not one of the Apache devils. The Spanish call
me El Cojo because of my crippled foot."
He continued, "I lived here before Senor Juan Banul came as
he was telling you. Then this place was an Indian village called
Yanaguana . I came to live and work here when Father Olivares
started the miss~on. He was a kind and good man ."
"Do you like it here?" Domingo asked .
"A veces sf, a veces no. Sometimes yes, sometimes no," said
the old Coahuiltecan. "The fathers teach us planting and
building, and how to fix things and tend cattle. It's not a bad
life . Every day of the week except Sunday is the same. We go
to Mass soon after sunrise . Then we have breakfast and work in
the fields. After our noon meal, we take a siesta, work some
more, and attend Mass again. We end the day with story telling,
singing and dancing."
"That doesn't sound very exciting," observed Domingo .
"When you're ten , you want life to be exciting. At my age, it
doesn't matter as long as I know that there will be enough food
and protection from the Apaches. That's why I came to the
mission and that's why I stay. You can go hungry for just so
long. Then giving up your freedom and the old way of life
seems a small price to pay for survival."
27
Domingo remembered being hungry at times, but he'd never
had to go without food for very long. He wondered what it
would be like to be so hungry that he would go to live in a
place with strange people where life would be very different
from what he knew. Then he realized, "Maybe that's why papa
came to New Spain. Perhaps papa knew that we might starve if
we stayed in the Canary Islands!"
"Besides ," the Indian added , "Father Mariano de los Dolores
and the other priests treat us well. They help us elect our own
council of chiefs. Instead of having a chief who gets to be head
of the tribe because he's a good warrior or because his father
was chief, we can elect those we want to be our leaders."
"Not all the Indians who come here stay, you know," the old
man continued. "Just this morning, the soldiers stationed at the
mission went after some who ran away."
"Were they caught?" Domingo asked excitedly .
"Oh yes . The runaways are usually found and brought back.
They can't get very far on foot ."
The thought of runaways being searched for by soldiers
sparked Domingo's imagination . He wondered where he would
hide if he was a runaway Indian and what he would do if
soldiers caught him. "What did they do to them?" he asked .
The old Indian responded , "Runaways are usually talked to
and given extra work to do , but they aren't punished in a harsl
way. The fathers are strict but not cruel . They want to help us
learn to like mission life. They think it's a good way to live."
Fearing that one of the priests might walk by and overhear,
Domingo whispered. "I don't think I would like it."
The Indian's face, which had been expressionless until now,
took on a wry smile not unlike his own father's.
28
"Your life isn't much different from ours. We do the same
things you do. We're learning your ways."
The flash of his own thoughts earlier that day when watching
the Indians tending crops and cattle returned to Domingo. "This
old Indian is very wise ," he thought. His words made Domingo
feel a little ashamed.
29
·
-
~
30
ell, have you decided to become a blacksmith?"
Corporal Hernandez' deep voice came from
just behind Domingo. "Or, would you like to be
a soldier?"
"A soldier!" Domingo thought that would be wonderful. He
could see himself in the corporal's uniform: the white full­sleeved
shirt and the close-fitting blue pants broadly striped in
red down the sides. He could almost feel the short bl ue wool
jacket with red collar and cuffs under the cuera - the leather
jacket worn for protection from Indian arrows. Short boots on
his feet would be covered by the buckskin leggings or botas.
The soldier's black hat would cover the long hair he would
have, like the corporal, pulled together with strips of rawhide
behind his head. He would grow long sideburns and a mustache
- or maybe, a beard.
"I am going to visit my friend who is stationed here at the
mission." Corporal Hernandez continued. "Would you like to
come with me? Senor Banul will need some time to shoe the
captain's horse and fix your father's adze."
Domingo didn't need to think about that for long. He gladly
joined the corporal, trying to match his very long strides. After a
few steps, he settled into a more natural walk as his companion
commanded his attention.
"Look at my cuera, Domingo. We are called so/dados de
cuera because we wear these jackets of quilted buckskin padded
with cotton. They're very good for keeping Apache arrows out
of our backs and chests. They also make good 'mattresses' to
sleep on while we're on patrol. Notice the color?"
"It's the color of a spice mama uses - cinnamon, I think,"
Domingo responded.
"That's right. Do you know why?"
"No," Domingo replied. "No se. I don't know."
31
I
"The cuera is supposed to be white, the shade of natural
buckskin," the corporal explained. "But we frontier soldiers in
Texas and Coahuila have changed that. A light colored jacket
makes too good a target at night . .. "
"And Apaches raid at night?" Domingo guessed.
"Sf, eres muy listo. You're a smart boy, Domingo. I think
Captain Urrutia would like to have you join the soldados de
cuera - when you're older, of course. We can use smart men at
the presidio."
Domingo was seeing himself more and more as a soldier.
"Sergeant Domingo Leal," he thought as he pretended he was
one of the captain's men.
"Buenas tardes, padre. " The corporal's greeting to Father
Mariano'brought Domingo back to the real world of the mission,
"BClenas tardes, Domingo and Corporal Hernandez," the
i padre responded. "Have you come to inspect the soldiers' work
here? You know, Corporal Hernandez, the two soldiers that are
here are doing well. They help us organize the work details of
the Indians, chase after Indian runaways and they protect us
from Apache raids." He waved his arm toward the mission's
unfinished buildings in a manner that reminded Domingo of the
Sunday blessing.
"There are still Apache raids outside the presidio," the
corporal explained. "We've been using more men to guard the
horses, especially at night, and to keep the presidio secure."
"I'll remember them in my prayers," Father Mariano said in a
comforting tone. Turning to Domingo, he asked, "How are your
parents, my son?"
"Mama and papa are well, padre."
"And your little brother, Pedro?"
32
"Est6 bien, gracias," Domingo responded remembering how
his mother had asked all the children to watch over Pedro when
the fever made him sleep for many days and nights. Even
though he was a little jealous of Pedro because his mother gave
him so much attention, Domingo had worried about him when
he was sick.
"It is God's will that your brother is alive ," Father Mariano
observed. As he made the sign of the cross over Domingo and
Corporal Hernandez, the padre bid them "Vayan con Dios,"
then folded his hands in his robes and solemnly moved in the
direction of the mission chapel. Domingo liked to watch the
sweeping motion of the padre's Franciscan robes. It reminded
him of the holy days when the fathers wore colorful vestments
which moved gracefully to and fro as they turned to bless the
people who lined the path of the procession.
33
34
'r
1 !
f
4
i
~
~
t
1 I J
t r 1 !
t
1
I 1
1 he corporal called to his friend who was
watching a group of Indians at work building a
new wall on the convent. "GJacinto Trevino, como
est6? How are you?
"I want you to meet someone who thinks he might become a
so/dado de cuera someday. This is Domingo Leal, grandson of
Don Juan Leal Goras."
"Ah, ha," Private Trevino exclaimed. "If he is like his
grandfather, he will make a lot of trouble - for the Apaches."
Domingo understood the private's wink. Grandfather Leal
Goras had a reputation for being a trouble-maker.
"Talking about Apaches," Trevino grew serious , "they still give
us trouble. The mission Indians fear that a big attack will come
any day now. We are constantly going after groups of mission
Indians who run away looking for a safe place to hide ."
"You can't blame them," Corporal Hernandez responded.
"Apaches are still raiding our horse herds outside the presidio.
Remember when we thought the raids were over. When the
Apaches came to town to trade, they seemed to want peace
and friendship. Then, just last year, that awful thing happened."
''is/! One of the soldiers found stripped of his flesh was my
friend ," Private Trevino said as he made the sign of the cross.
A chill went through Domingo's body. "Stripped of his flesh!"
he thought. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder and
scanned the boundaries of the mission wondering if Apaches
might be hiding somewhere out there, waiting to attack.
Corporal Hernandez noticed Domingo's face and cautioned ,
"Be alert, Domingo, but don't allow your fear of Apache raids to
overcome you. A good soldier must keep his mind clear no
matter what happens."
35
i
"I heard papa and mama talking about the soldiers who were
killed," Domingo recalled, his voice shaking. "But I don't know
how it happened."
Private Trevino told the story: "Three Apache warriors and a
squaw had come to the Presidio de San Antonio to trade .
When they were ready to return to their tribe, three of our
soldiers escorted the Apaches out of the presidio, as is the
custom. We were giving them protection. After all, we had a
peace treaty with the Apaches. As the party was riding to a
small hill overlooking the villa, one of the soldiers spotted a
herd of buffalo. Thinking that all was well because there was a
peace treaty, the soldier returned to the presidio to get help to
hunt the buffalo. The other two soldiers continued toward the
hill with the Apaches. Suddenly, 24 Apache warriors appeared
on horseback. They trotted toward the soldiers who waited for
them, not thinking that the Indians would attack. The Apaches
came at them in two groups, knocking them off their horses and
killing them. The rescue party found the remains of the two
soldiers' bodies."
"We can't trust the Apaches," the corporal added. "We're on
guard, day and night. Not long ago, two settlers from the village
were kidnapped by Indians. We weren't able to save them. I am
glad that Capitan Joseph de Urrutia was appointed by the
viceroy to command the presidio. He is an experienced Indian
fighter, about as old as your grandfather, Domingo. It is because
of the captain that we have more soldiers stationed at the
presidio now than we did when that Apache attack took place."
"The captain thinks that Chief Cabellos Colorados is the
leader of the Apache attacks," Private Trevino added. "They say
he has red hair, like yours, Domingo."
"We probably wouldn't have a settlement here any longer if it
weren't for the captain," the corporal went on. Domingo could
tell he liked the captain very much. "After the soldiers' bodies
were found, many people wanted to leave. The captain helped
calm them down. He's a wise man and an excellent Indian
fighter. He understands how the Apaches think!"
36
~~~---------------------------------
a
",I
),
~
t ,
The corporal's words made Domingo feel better. His heart
wasn't beating as fast as it had been. He could feel the muscles
in his body relax.
Just as he was feeling like himself again, a thunderous noise
beat his ears, rocks flew about him, dirt rained on him and the
screams of the Indians Private Trevino had been watching filled
the air. Domingo dived for the ground . He thought that this
must be the Apache attack.
People scurried around him. He didn't dare raise his head
which he had buried in his arms when the rocks and dirt started
flying. He wondered if Corporal Hernandez and Private Trevino
were still there. Thoughts flew wildly through his head: "Had the
Apaches killed them already? What were the mission Indians
doing? What about the padres and Senor Banul?" Then he
recalled Corporal Hernandez' words: " ... don't allow your fear
of Apache raids to overcome you. A good soldier must keep his
mind clear no matter what happens."
...
37
Curiosity and a little bit of courage caused Domingo to peek
out from under his arms. There were no Apaches standing over
him. No dead bodies were strewn on the mission grounds.
Looking toward the convent, he saw Corporal Hernandez
helping a mission Indian who was holding his head. To his right
was Private Trevino, talking to the other Indians. And off to the
side , shaking his head in displeasure, was Father Mariano.
Domingo jumped up and ran toward the corporal.
"You see, Domingo, what happens when work is not done
properly?" the corporal said as he heard the boy approach him.
"The new convent wall has caved in. The stones weren't fitted
together properly . Just one slipped and all the others came
tumbling down."
38
"A frontier soldier's life is never dull," Private Trevino chimed
in. "If the Apaches aren't attacking us, mission Indians are
running away or walls are falling down. Maybe Father Mariano
would like some advice about training the Indians to build walls.
See his scowl," Trevino cast a glance at the padre who stood,
arms folded in his robes, head shaking in disgust at the sight
before him.
"I had better talk with the padre before he complains about
you to Captain Urrutia," the corporal teased Trevino. Turning to
Domingo, Corporal Hernandez spoke in a normal tone of voice,
"You're in good hands, Domingo. Private Trevino will show you
some of his things. I have business to attend to here."
The corporal started off toward the padre, stopped and called
back to Trevino, "Send the boy back to Senor Banul when
you've finished showing him some of your gear."
39
-
I
40
rivate Trevino waited while Father Mariano
started the Indians working on the wall again .
He paused to mop his brow with the kerchief he
wore as a bandana under his hat. Domingo noticed
that his dark skin glistened in the heat of the day .
"Private Trevino looks like some of the Indians," Domingo
observed . He'd heard his mother and father talk about the
soldiers being of mixed blood. They'd used the word mestizo.
Domingo wasn't sure what that meant.
Before he knew what he was saying, Domingo blurted out,
"Are you a mestizo?"
Private Trevino looked up in surprise. No one had ever asked
him that question . He looked hard into Domingo's innocent
eyes wondering why the boy had asked it. Realizing that
Domingo didn't know the meaning of the word, he answered in
a matter-of-fact way, "Yes. My mother was Indian. My father is
a crio/lo, a Spaniard born on the Mexican frontier . He and my
grandfather before him were soldiers. I was born in the Presidio
del RIo Grande."
The corners of Private Trevino's mouth turned up in the
glimpse of a smile and his expression softened as he
remembered, "When I was your age , no more than eight years
ago, I never thought of becoming anything but a soldier. Come
on, the work on the wall has started again. I'll show you some
of my gear in the barracks."
It was only a short walk. The ground was drying from the
heat of the sun but a few puddles could be found here and
there. They were a temptation to Domingo. He would have
splashed in one if he'd been alone. But he thought the private
would think that was a childish thing to do and, at this moment,
Domingo wanted to act like a man .
"Did the corporal tell you about the cuera we soldiers wear?"
Private Trevino asked.
41
"Sf," Domingo answered. "He told me that the cuera is like
armor, protecting the soldiers from Indian arrows."
"That's right. We also use this adarga , a bull hide shield to
ward off arrows. The soldiers on patrol sling it over their left
shoulders where they can easily reach it when they need it."
He carefully lifted a smooth , slender wooden shaft almost
twice Domingo's height. It had a double-edge iron blade at its
head . Private Trevino said with feeling, "This is my lance . It's
my most important possession. I've named it Teresa."
"Why do you call it that?" Domingo asked.
The soldier smiled. "Because it reminds me of a girl I knew in
Saltillo. You see , I think of my lance as a friend. Besides," he
added with a chuckle , "the Teresa I knew had a sharp tongue."
"This rawhide loop attached to the middle of the lance shaft
fits around my wrist when I am using it ," Private Trevino
contirrued. "The loop is also large enough to sling over my right
shoulder when I am on patrol."
The soldier gently leaned the lance against the barracks wall
in a way that reminded Domingo of his mother putting little
Pedro to bed .
"My second favorite weapon is my espada ancha , my broad
sword," Private Trevino continued. I carry it on the left side of
my saddle . When I am dismounted , I carry it in this leather
scabbard which is attached to a bandolier I wear across my
shoulder and chest."
"I'd like to wear a bandolier like that," Domingo thought as he
traced the letters on it which the soldier told him spelled "San
Antonio de Bexar," the name of the presidio.
42
~~~~--------~------------~--------------------------------------
"Do you use guns too?" Domingo asked. He had heard his
father talk about how the Apaches fight. He had said that they
get their guns from the French, and that they don't stay in one
place and fight. So, Domingo reasoned that lances and swords
weren't of much use for fighting Apaches. He wondered why
Private Trevino talked so much about his lance and sword.
Private Trevino raised his eyebrows with a slight tilt of his
head in a look that told Domingo the soldier didn't think much
of his guns.
"Each soldier," he said, "is supposed to have a musket, but
mine doesn't work. Supplies aren't very good these days. It will
be a few months yet before the paymaster travels to San Luis
PotosI. He makes the trip twice a year, to receive the presidio
payroll and get us needed supplies. Now, only my pistol works .
I wish I could get a French gun from the T ejas Indians in east
Texas. They work better than these with Spanish-style locks."
"How does the pistol work?" Domingo asked .
.
"I can't fire it for you," Private Trevino said. A gun shot will
make everyone think the Apaches are attacking. Besides, we
only get three pounds of gunpowder each year. If we use more,
the cost is taken out of our pay. But I'll tell you how it works. In
the cartridge box I am wearing around my waist, I carry
nineteen paper cartridges. The bullet is molded lead. It's
wrapped with some gunpowder in a piece of paper, cut in the
shape of a triangle. I even have to pay for each piece of paper I
use too."
"This is how I load the pistol," said Private Trevino. "To prime
it, I place the hammer at half-cock and open the frizzen. I bite
off the end of this cartridge and sprinkle some powder into the
pan," he continued. "I close the frizzen and put the rest of the
powder with the molded lead bullet down the barrel. Then I use
a ramrod to tap the bullet and powder down tight into the barrel
of the pistol. Then the pistol is ready to fire."
"How do you fire it?" Domingo asked.
44
II
Private Trevino continued his description of how the pistol
worked. "The hammer is pulled back to full-cock. As you pull
the trigger, the flint in the hammer strikes the frizzen, sending a
spark into the powder in the pan. This ignites the gunpowder
which makes a small explosion to shoot the bullet."
Domingo noticed that Private Trevino handled the gun
cautiously but without the same care which he gave his lance.
45
-
"It gets very expensive to use the pistol," Private Trevino
reminded Domingo. "And they break a lot. This pistol is one of
the few that's still working. That's why I rely on my sword and
lance." As he said this, the soldier pointed to a corner of the
room where his riding gear was laid over a bench. "Look at the
right stirrup on my saddle."
Domingo inspected the wooden stirrup. He noticed a small
cup-shaped object attached to it.
"When I'm riding, I rest the shaft of my lance in that cup. See
how perfectly it fits," the private said as he carefully placed the
end of the lance shaft in the stirrup cup.
"What are these?" Domingo asked, gingerly touching two long
pieces of cowhide which were attached to the saddle horn.
"Those are armas.'" They protect my legs from the rough
brush I must often ride through. The wooden peg on the wall
holds the anquera, the seven panels of leather which I place on
my horse's hindquarters to protect him from thorns and arrows.
"This bridle," Private Trevino continued, "is made of split
rawhide. The iron bit goes into the horse's mouth. I guide his
head by holding the reins in my left hand, leaving my right
hand free to use my weapons."
Domingo was only half-listening. He had found a lariat.
''I see you like la reata, Domingo. If you can rope Longhorn
calves and wild mustangs, perhaps you would like ranching."
"Do soldiers ranch too?" Domingo was amazed.
"We don't get paid very much money, Domingo," Private
Trevino explained to his eager listener. For instance, privates 1
are paid 290 pesos a year. That averages to about 1/4 peso
each day for spending money. The rest is put in my account to
• armas . These leather flaps were the forerunner of cowboy chaps.
46
purchase the things I need. I must buy my horses, uniform,
weapons and all my other equipment. Every month, I'm also
paid 2-1/2 bushels of corn, 1/2 a cow, 1/2 a hog and an
amount of sugar worth 1/4 peso. This may seem like a lot to
you, but it doesn't add up to much when you have a family.
Even though the paymaster keeps 20 pesos from my pay for
each of the first five years of my enlistment to put into a
retirement fund, my retirement pay will not buy everything my
family will need. Prices are high. A bushel of corn is 5 pesos. A
hundred weight of flour is 25 pesos. Cattle are 16 pesos a
head. A skirt for my wife costs 3 pesos. Copper kettles are 10
reales" per pound, not to mention shoes, cloth, saddles and
other equipment. Blankets are sometimes as high as 12 pesos
each if you want good quality. The one hundred pesos in my
retirement fund will not go far. So, you see Domingo, the best
thing I get as a soldier is not money but permission to farm ten
acres of land. I can raise some wild cattle there and keep a
garden. To do thiS, soldiers have to know about ranching and
farming as well as how to fight Indians and guard the mission."
'reales - Eight reales made a Spanish peso.
47
"I don't think I could learn to do all those things," Domingo
was losing some of his enthusiasm.
"Yes you could - if you had to," Private Trevino assured him.
"You learn to be a soldier from the older soldiers. Four years
ago I made the sign of the cross on the paper that said I was
joining the soldados de cuera. Since then I've learned to do
many things I didn't know how to do when I enlisted. In the six
more years remaining of this enlistment, I hope to learn to do
much more. Perhaps, I'll be promoted. I'll probably re-enlist
because, as a soldier, I can improve my station in life. And I
don't have to worry if I need a doctor either. I can always use
the military hospital in Coahuila. I have life insurance to help
my family if something happens to me. If I'm wounded in the
king's service, I can wear my uniform even after I retire."
All the benefits the private was talking about didn't mean
much to Domingo. He wanted to explore the barracks to see
more interesting things. Looking around the room, Domingo
found a small rawhide bundle that was sitting on a shelf. "What's
this?" .he asked .
"You have found my eslab6n, my strike-a-light. Open it.
What do you see?"
Carefully, as if expecting something to pop out at him,
Domingo unwrapped the bundle. Inside he found a small
horseshoe shaped object, a piece of flint and some strips of
shredded cloth.
"That," the private continued, "is something I'm sure you've
seen. Your father must use a strike-a-light to make fires for your
mother's cooking pot. You must have seen him make a small
pile of the shredded cloth or tinder and holding the horseshoe
shaped object in his right hand, strike the flint he holds in his
left hand over the cloth pile. Then, what does he do?"
''Papa, "he answered, " blows on the sparks that enter the pile
of cloth. He blows for a very long time until the sparks catch
48
II
fire. Once he has a small fire going in the cloth pile, he adds
kindling wood. It takes him a long time to build a fire big
enough for cooking."
"Well, it takes me a long time to start a fire too," Private
Trevino d.
ow I must go back to work and you must return
to the smithy. I think the captain's horse must
be shod by now. Before you go, I have a favor
to ask. Do you know where Corporal Lopez'
adobe house stands?"
"Sf, Private Trevino," Domingo nodded. "I have played with
his son , Tomas, near there."
"My wife lives in the jacal west of the Lopez house. I'd like
you to take something to her."
Private Trevino rummaged in a box and pulled out a small
round brass object suspended from a rawhide thong. "See the
figure of St. Anthony on this side and St. Francis on the other?"
the private asked as he turned the medal between his thumb
and forefinger. "I promised my wife I'd send her a holy medal to
wear . Tell her that this one was blessed by the bishop in
Queretaro. Fatner Mariano brought it with him when he came
to San Antonio de Valero."
"iQue lindo! How pretty!" Domingo admired the bronze
medallion as he ran his finger over the profiles of St. Anthony
and St. Francis. He thought that surely Senora Trevino would
feel protected when she wore the medal .
"When you give it to her," Private Trevino added, "tell her
that I will have a short leave in a few days. I just found out
today. It won't be long before I'll be home ."
Domingo was pleased. Respectfully, he said, "I'll be happy to
tell Senora Trevino the good news and take her the medal."
"Gracias, Domingo," the soldier expressed his thanks and
handed the medal to the boy . "I'll see you again, perhaps?"
"Sf, Private Trevino. I'll come see you the next time I'm at the
mission." And, Domingo thought that he would find a way to
come back to the mission before long . He wanted to find out
more about being a soldier.
51
"The corporal and Senor Banul must be waiting," the private
said . He waved to Domingo as he stepped outside the barracks
door and headed in the direction of the Indians who were still
working on the crumbled convent wall.
52
· I
)
he afternoon was half over. Domingo suddenly
realized that he had a lot to do. He ran toward
the smithy. How important he felt to be asked
to deliver the message and a medal blessed by a
bishop. Maybe he would be able to find Tomas Lopez and play
for awhile. He liked Tomas even though he had been told not
to play with the boy. "Mama and papa surely would like Private
Trevino because he's such a nice person ." Domingo thought.
"And, if his neighbors are as nice as he is, why wouldn't they
like them too? I wonder if papa doesn't like them because he's a
'Don' now and they aren't?"
"Well, Domingo," Corporal Hernandez called to him as he
approached the smithy. "Captain Urrutia's horse is ready to
return to the presidio and I believe Senor Banul has repaired
your father's adze. Did you have a good time visiting with
Private Trevino?"
"Sf, Corporal -Hernandez," Domingo smiled his thanks. 'The
private told me about what soldiers do and he showed me his
lance. I want to learn more about being a soldier ."
"Bueno. Good." The corporal was pleased. "Come see me at
the presidio. There are men there who have been soldiers for
many years. They'll tell you lots of tales."
"Gracias, Corporal Hernandez." Domingo suddenly felt that
life in the Villa de San Fernando might not be so bad after all.
Domingo moved qUickly to one side as the end of a huge
log, carried by two Indians, brushed his arm . Other Indians
were carrying timber to the smithy. Senor Juan Banul was
trimming and smoothing the wood with an adze that looked like
his father's but had a much longer handle.
"I told you I'm a carpenter as well as a blacksmith, Domingo.
Now you can see for yourself. I'm preparing this oak for the
houses we're building at the mission." He propped the long
handle of his adze against a pile of timber. He walked to a place
under a tree where he found the Leal adze among some other
53
~--------~----~ -
1
I pieces of work finished that day. "Here's your father's adze,
Domingo. It now has a strong, well shaped handle . Be careful
how you use it. The handle will last if it's used carefully."
Domingo admired the new handle. "Senor Juan Banul is a
good carpenter," he thought.
"Mark our account for the cost of repairing the adze ,"
Domingo said to the blacksmith, recalling his brother's words.
Senor Banul chuckled, "That's what Corporal Hernandez said
too when he came for the captain's horse. Tell your father that
when the crops come in, we'll settle the account."
"Gracias, " Domingo replied . "111 tell him." Domingo was
feeling very important now that he had so many messages to
deliver. He hoped that he wouldn't forget them. "I wish 1 could
write," he thought, "then 1 wouldn't have to memorize things."
"Adios , Domingo," he heard Senor Banul say as he continued
trimming the wood.
"Adios, Senor Banul," Domingo answered . With his father's
adze in one hand and Senor Trevino's medal in the other,
Domingo started off toward the mission gates.
Outside the protective wall of the mission grounds, Domingo
cast a wary look around him for Apaches. The stories the
soldiers had told him made him very cautious. A familiar voice
reassured him.
"I don't see any Apaches, Domingo. Your route is clear." It
was Private Trevino who was now on sentry duty, walking
along the roof of the buildings behind the mission wall.
Domingo looked up in time to see the soldier wave. He
waved back and headed for the river.
The log he'd used to cross the river earlier that day was still in
place. Domingo crossed it more carefully this time. He didn't
want to lose the medal which he clutched in his right hand. He
54
also knew his father wouldn't like the wooden adze handle to
get soaked by a dunking in the Rfo San Antonio . Crossing the
river without difficulty , Domingo began to run again . The sun
was moving westward and he wanted to play with Tomas Lopez
before the Angelus bell reminded him to go home .
Taking the narrow path to Private Trevino 's house in long
strides , Domingo soon came to the Lopez property . As he
passed the corporal's adobe house, he wondered where Tomas
would be .
The Lopez garden looked green and alive from the rains .
"They11 have a good crop," Domingo thought the words his
father used whenever he saw healthy green vegetable growth .
Senora Trevino was rocking a small bundle in her arms in
front of the jaca/. The vertical sticks which formed the one room
dwelling looked damp . The corn stalks that had been used as a
filler between the sticks reminded Domingo of the one he had
used to try to scratch the letters of his name on the ground in
the pasture. He looked up at the thatched roof, made from tall
grass that grows along the river. "It's much nicer to live in the
stone house than in the jaca/ ," he said to himself. "Now we
don't have to worry about animals digging under the wall ," he
thought as he noted the rocks piled around the base of the
Trevino jaca/.
Shyly , Domingo approached Senora Trevino . "Buenas tardes ,
Senora Trevino. Me llamo Domingo Leal."
"Buenas tardes, Domingo Leal."
"Private Trevino asked me to bring this to you ," Domingo
continued. He held out his right hand , carefully opening the fist
he had clenched around the bronze medal. He exposed the
now sweaty profile of St. Anthony to the drying air.
"Ah!" the senora exclaimed. A gentle and very pleased
expression brightened her young face , reminding Domingo of
Marfa , his sister , when she received a present.
55
Senora Trevino lifted the rawhide thong from Domingo's palm
and held the medal in a bright ray of light where she could
examine the figures of the saints.
"It was blessed by the bishop in Queretero," Domingo
continued . "Private Trevino says that it was brought here by
Father Mariano."
"See what your papa has sent us, Jose," Senora Trevino
whispered to the bundle in her arms. She dangled the medal
above what Domingo now saw was a small baby. She turned to
Domingo, "Little Joseph was born on March 19, St. Joseph's
Day. He is too young to understand about holy medals but I
talk to him about the things his papa does because he doesn't
see his papa very often. Someday he will understand."
I was born on St. Dominick's Day." Domingo knew that most
people were named for a saint, especially if they were born on
that saint's day .
"T.hank you for bringing the medal." Dolores Trevino smiled
at Domingo. "Was there any other message?"
Domingo had almost forgotten about the private's leave. "Oh,
yes, senora," he answered, his face turning red with
embarrassment. "Private Trevino said to tell you that he will be
home on leave in a few days ."
CliQUe buenas noticias! What good news!"
"Adi6s, senora."
"Adi6s, Domingo," the private's wife called to him as he
turned toward the Lopez home to find Tomas.
Passing the Lopez garden again, no one was in sight, not
Tomas, his brothers and sister or Senora Lopez. He stopped at
the door of the house and called Tomas.
56
Guadalupe Lopez' short
plump figure appeared in the
doorway moments after she
heard Domingo's call. "She is
even darker than Private
Trevino," Domingo noted as he
looked into
Senora Lopez' kindly black eyes . Her bronze skin against her
long dark hair showed her Indian origins.
"It's good to see you again, Mingo," Lupe * Lopez remarked .
"You must be looking for Tomas." she said.
To be polite, Domingo began talking about the weather -
something his father always did when starting a conversation
with someone whom he hadn't seen in a long time. "How do
you like the rain we've had?" he asked, using the same words
his father had used the other day when a neighbor came to the
Leal house.
Senora Lopez looked surprised at the question . Then realizing
that Domingo was trying to converse as an adult, she smiled
and responded cordially, "It's good . Look how green the garden
is. The weather we've had lately reminds me of home ."
.
"Where is your home?" Domingo asked. He thought that
Senorq Lopez had lived near the Villa de San Fernando for
many years - even before he and his family had arrived.
"Do you know Tlaxcala?" she asked.
"I haven't been there, senora, but I remember hearing the
name when we were traveling on the road to Quautitlan,"
Domingo answered .
"It's near Mexico City," Senora Lopez went on. "The weather
there is not as hot and dryas it is here. In all the time I've lived
here , I still haven't gotten used to this climate ." She thought a
minute and added, "For you it must not be as hot here as it was
in the Canary Islands."
"Sf, senora ." Domingo had run out of things to say about the
weather. "Where is Tomas?"
* Lupe - nickname for Guadalupe
58 :11
J
Senora Lopez nodded her head as if to say, I knew that is
who you wanted to see . "He's at the river , by the dam, fishing ."
"Gracias, senora," Domingo said. He turned and ran a few
steps then stopped , thinking that he had been rude to Tomas'
mother . When he turned back , he saw her understanding look.
This gave him the courage to apologize, "Lo siento. I'm sorry ,
senora. I want to see Tomas before it's time to go home. The
sun is getting lower in the sky ."
"Esta bien. It's all right, Mingo. Go find him. Tomas will be
happy to see you again ."
59
"
n less than five minutes, Domingo was at the
river bank close to the dam where Senora
Lopez said Tomas was fishing . "Tomas," he
called . "jTomas Lopez!"
A small dark face, topped with tousled black hair peered
around the low growing broad-leaf ferns which grew along
the bank.
"GMingo 7" Tomas' voice rose in pitch with surprise.
"Sf, amigo." Domingo answered . "Your mama said I would
find you here. Have you caught any fish 7"
"Some . See!" Tomas lifted a string of perch he had spent the
afternoon catching to help feed his mother, two brothers and
his sister.
"Can I fish t007" Domingo asked .
Tired of fi~hing , Tomas ignored Domingo's question and
pOinted to the small island just west of the dam. "Let's go over
there," he suggested.
Domingo was pleased with Tomas' idea. He had wondered
about that island and, besides, this would give them a chance to
swim. Domingo felt hot and sweaty.
Quickly, the boys shed their clothing and dived into the cool
water of the RIO San Antonio. A short swim brought them to
the green island. Pecan, cottonwood and willow trees were
growing among the ferns which brushed their bodies as they
scrambled ashore. A frog hopped before them, starting the boys
on a merry chase . Unable to catch him, they tumbled, laughing ,
into a sunny spot where they stretched out to enjoy the feel of
the late afternoon sun on their wet bodies.
The frog chase had brought Domingo and Tomas much
closer to the south bank of the river - the side furthest from the
61
settlement - than they had realized . Domingo felt relaxed and
almost sleepy laying in the late afternoon sun and sheltered by
the greenest cottonwood he had ever looked up into. His eyes
traced the lines of the branches overhead. He studied the many
shades of green leaves as they flickered in the sunlight. The fear
of Apache raids Domingo had felt earlier in the day had been
forgotten. Then, suddenly, a horse's snort brought it back.
"What was that?" he whispered to Tomas.
"No se. A horse ?" Tomas was alarmed too.
QUickly but qUietly moving out of the sunny spot, the boys
dashed for a dense growth of fern. Hiding behind it, they
scanned the river bank.
In clear view, to their left, Tomas spotted a horse drinking the
river water. He nudged Domingo. "Look," he whispered . "See
that blanket over the saddle. That's an Indian's horse."
The hair on the back of Domingo's neck bristled as the
meaning of Tomas' words became clear. At the same moment,
another horse appeared, led by a warrior.
"Be still!" Tomas whispered firmly, as Domingo gasped.
Domingo had not seen an Indian warrior this close before. He
was frightened but he had to keep himself from making any
sound that might tell the Indians that he and Tomas were hiding
in the island's foliage. If he got out of this safely, he thought, he
would want to tell his parents. He made the sign of the cross
and began pretending he was a soldier scout. He studied the
Indian from head to foot.
The Indian's long black hair was tied with a ribbon in a braid
behind his back. Red spots were painted on each bronze cheek.
A red stripe ran across his chin and above each eye. His chest
was bare except for the strap which held a bow and arrow
quiver to his ba~k. A silver band around his upper arm caught a
ray of sunlight now and then , like a mirror. A loincloth hung to
his knees fro~m the string around his waist. Buckskin leggings ran
from his thighs to the low moccasins on his feet. The other
Indian returned and joined the first. He looked the same with
one difference - he carried a musket.
"That musket looks strange," Domingo whispered to Tomas.
"My papa says that Indians carry their muskets in buckskin
covers. That must be what the Indian has on his musket,"
Tomas reasoned.
Although only five minutes had passed since the boys had
spotted the Indians, it seemed like hours as they watched,
crouched behind the ferns.
"Will they attack us?" Domingo asked.
"Not if we're quiet," Tomas reminded him.
63
64
Domingo's muscles were twitching from being in the same
position. His fear and discomfort made him whimper . Tomas
clasped his hand over Domingo's mouth. "Shh!" he
commanded. "If they hear us, we may not get out of this alive ."
That was enough to keep Domingo quiet.
Satisfied that their horses had been watered, the Indians led
their mounts away from the river bank.
"We'd better warn the village," Tomas said out loud, pulling
Domingo from the crouch that seemed almost to have locked
his knees. Domingo stumbled but Tomas broke his fall and
pulled him in the direction of the other side of the island . They
ran through the damp fern beds and around trees, ducking
under some low limbs along the way until they were close
enough to the water to dive in. Swimming with all their might,
they reached the place on the river bank where they had left
their clothes. Each dressed hurriedly and, like soldiers,
scrambled to the path where they could run more easily.
"Wait~" Tomas yelled. "My fish!"
Forgetting their haste to warn the village of an Indian attack,
the two boys scrambled back to the river bank, grabbed the
string of fish and started out for help again.
"You head west, toward the villa and I'll go warn mama and
Senora Trevino," Tomas said. "Give me my fish, Mingo. jVaya
con Dios!"
66
I
ir ,~ '
1 ,.-
I
67
68
can be a hero," Domingo thought , running faster
now. He was almost at the Plaza de las Islas
when a soldier on horseback approached.
Domingo pulled his running body to a halt, waving his arms
to call the soldier to him.
"What is it, Domingo?" the soldier asked, pulling his horse up
just in time to prevent a collision with the boy.
With sweat pouring down his face and body , Domingo
panted, "Indians . . . Indians!"
"Catch your breath," the soldier ordered. "Now, slowly tell
me more. "
Domingo thought the soldier sounded like someone he knew.
He looked up into dark eyes he had seen earlier that day.
"Corporal Hernandez!" Domingo exclaimed, excited and relieved
to find a friend .
.
''Tell me about the Indians ," the corporal reminded him.
Domingo began telling the corporal about the Indians he and
Tomas had seen. He described them in detail - from the tops of
their heads to the tips of their toes. The corporal was impressed .
"Come on, Domingo. Get up behind me. We'll ride to the
place where you saw them." With that, the corporal pulled his
foot from his stirrup so Domingo could place his foot in it.
Grasping Domingo's hand, he pulled the boy to a seat on the
horse's hindquarters, just behind the saddle. "Put your arms
around me," he commanded. They were off!
Domingo could feel the horse's gallop quickening underneath
him as he sat astride the animal, clutching the corporal's middle.
The adobe houses and jacales of soldiers' families on the left
seemed to rush by as they passed. The wind cooled Domingo's
skin which was hot from running and imagining Indian attacks.
69
•
A splash of water told Domingo that they had reached the river.
The corporal's horse dashed across the ford, then jumped the
acequia * in perfect stride. They galloped along the far south
bank of the river.
'There," Domingo yelled to the corporal, pointing to the place
where he had spotted the Indians.
Corporal Hernandez pulled his horse to a jolting stop,
dismounted and wrapped the reins around a tree branch.
"Stay where you are, Mingo," he ordered.
"He called me by my nickname!" Domingo thought with
pleasure. Domingo watched the corporal move swiftly and
qUietly through the brush. Then he was gone. A chill went
through the boy. He felt very alone.
In a few minutes, the corporal emerged from the brush that
had seemed to swallow him. "All clear, Mingo," he said. "Maybe
the sight ~of you was enough to scare the Indians off." He
chuckled, patted Domingo's leg and mounted.
"111 take you home," the corporal offered . "Hang on!"
The corporal headed their horse in the direction of the ford.
They crossed the river again, galloping behind the government
buildings which bordered the Plaza de las Islas and turned
toward Domingo's house. The corporal drew up his horse at the
far end of the Leal property. Grasping Domingo's hand, he
helped the boy dismount, turned his horse back toward town
and waved goodby .
• acequia - an irrigation ditch used by the missions
70
omingo rushed toward the house. "Mama, papa,
I saw Indians ," he shouted as he burst through
the front door .
"Hush, Domingo," his mother scolded. "You'll
wake up Pedro."
"But I saw Indians!" Domingo insisted .
Without hearing his words, his mother frowned at him ,
commanding, "Calm yourself. It's time for dinner." She added,
"You're late. If you're not quiet, I'll tell your father that you
didn't come when the Angelus bell rang."
"But , mama ... " Domingo tried to speak but his mother's
frown and his own excitement made that difficult. His father ,
with Manuel and Miguel , arrived just in time .
"What's all this yelling?" his father asked .
"It's Domingo," his mother answered. "He's overexcited."
Turning to Domingo, his father's voice was quiet but stern ,
"What's the matter?"
"I saw Indians. And Corporal Hernandez went to look for
them. I rode on his horse. We couldn't find them , though . I
thought they might attack the villa."
"You have a good imagination, Mingo," Miguel commented .
"Wait," his father said to Miguel. To Domingo , he said, more
gently now , "What did they look like?"
Just as he had done for Corporal Hernandez, Domingo
carefully described everything he could remember about the
Indians - the paint on their faces, the clothing they wore, the
weapons they carried, the way they moved and even the
designs on the blankets thrown across their saddles .
71
"Mingo has seen Indians," his father announced.
Feeling now that his father believed him, even if the others
didn't, Domingo was content to sit at the table. He sat erect,
feeling very important. "I sure wouldn't like one of those arrows
sticking out of me!" Domingo commented. For his sister he
added, "They make you bleed a lot."
"Mama," Marfa complained. "Make Mingo stop talking about
those Indians."
"Mingo," his mother's tone of voice was more gentle now that
his father had accepted his story. "No one wants to be reminded
about Indian attacks. You mustn't frighten your sister."
"Lo siento. I'm sorry, mama," Domingo apologized .
"What are Indians?" little Pedro asked, not understanding
what the famUy was talking about.
"Hush. it is time to say grace," his mother directed.
Father made the sign of the cross as did his mother and the
children. He led the family in giving thanks for the food on their
table. Then his mother served each one beans and freshly made
tortillas, serving first her husband, then Manuel, Miguel,
Domingo, Marfa, Pedro and herself.
"The price of things is very high," his mother changed the
subject. "I've been keeping track of things we need to ask the
presidio paymaster to get from San Luis Potosf when he makes
his next trip. The children need new shoes, but even cheap
ones are 8 reales these days. I also want to buy some cloth to
make new clothes. The Indians weave good cloth on their
looms at the missions, and it's cheaper than that at the store.
We can't afford to purchase skirts at 3 pesos each and
pantalones and shirts at who knows what price now."
72
"If we have a good crop this year," his father observed,
"perhaps we'll be able to get the things you want ."
"It'll have to be better than last year's crop," his mother said
with some anger in her voice . "It is not fair that Marfa Rebaina
de Betencourt has so much and we so little."
"Now, mama!" her husband scolded, "you're angry because
Madam Betencourt inherited 1000 pesos, jewelry, paintings and
silverware and that she did not choose to marry my father , Don
Juan Leal Goras. Even if she had , she wouldn't have shared
her wealth with us."
"She wasn't nice to grandfather," Senora Leal complained. He
would have made a good husband and what does she do?
73
Return the beautiful silver pendant he sent her by sending it
back around the neck of an armadillo in a wicker basket. Then
she married Don Martfn the next day! That's not a nice thing to
do - and she calls herself a lady!"
"That was a long time ago, mama. Forget it," advised her
husband. "Grandfather is many years older than the senora.
She had a right to choose the younger Don Martfn if she
wished. Enough of that!
"Speaking of expenses," father turned the dinner table
conversation back to money matters, "how are our accounts?"
74
"We owe for a comal, " a plow blade and, today, for the adze
as well," Domingo's mother reported.
"Ah, the adze," his father remembered. He turned to
Domingo. "Did Senor Sanul repair my adze, Domingo?"
"Sf, papa," Domingo answered, the color suddenly draining
from his cheeks .
His father looked hard at him , suspecting something was
wrong. "Where is it?" he asked.
·comal· an earthenware griddle
75
"I left it on the river bank when I ran from the Indians,"
Domingo was being as honest as he could be. He didn't
mention Tomas because he knew his parents' feeling about
soldiers' children.
"Oh, Mingo," Marfa chimed in. "How could you forget."
"If you saw Indians, you'd forget too," Domingo snapped at
his sister.
"Quiet - the two of you," their father demanded. "Tomorrow,
at sunrise, I want you to go back to the spot where you left the
adze and bring it home immediately, Domingo."
"Sf papa. I'm sorry I forgot it." Domingo was angry with
himself for forgetting the adze he had been so careful with all
day long. His big black eyes told his father how sorry he was.
I understand, Domingo," his father reassured him. "I'm glad
nothing happened to you, but tomorrow you must find it and
bring it borne. I can't finish the woodwork on the house without
my adze."
The candles on the table flickered, casting long shadows now
that dusk had given way to the darkness of night. Domingo
watched them, his eyes growing heavy. He was very tired.
"A piece of chocolate for each of you," he heard his father
say. He savored the treat that his father had bought from a
wagon that had come all the way from Saltillo. His father had
been saving the chocolate for a time when the children were
good. "Papa must think we've been good," Domingo hoped as
he enjoyed the delicious taste.
"It's time for bed," their father said.
Obediently, the children, each in turn, kissed their father
goodnight. Marfa took Pedro's hand, leading him to the room
76
where all the children slept. Manuel, Miguel and Domingo
followed. Their mother was close behind them. She would lead
them in their evening prayers.
Marfa in her chemise and the boys in their long shirts knelt,
bowing their heads in prayer.
"Remember grandfather, your uncles, and our neighbors and
friends in your prayers," their mother reminded them.
Domingo mentioned all the people in his prayers that he had
met that day, especially Corporal Hernandez.
"Get into bed, now," Domingo heard his mother say and
though he wanted to stay up, his eyelids were getting very
heavy. He was tired out from the day's adventures.
The pallet beneath his body felt good. Better still, was the
touch of his mother"'s hand as she caressed his forehead . It was
good to be home.
Half asleep now, visions of the day flashed through his mind.
There was Senor Juan Banul at his forge, and the old Indian
pumping the bellows. Father Mariano, Private Trevino and his
wife. He thought of Senora Lopez, then of Tomas and their
escape from the Indians at the river bank. Especially, he
remembered Corporal Hernandez and their exciting ride. "So
many different kinds of people are here," Domingo thought .
"And there are so many more to meet, to talk with -lots of
friends to make."
Domingo turned on his pallet and buried his head in the
pillow. A last thought flickered through his head as his body
relaxed and a deep sleep overtook him: "This place by the Rfo
San Antonio is now my home. I think I'm going to like growing
up here."
77
...
801 South Bowie at Durango
P.O. Box 1226
San Antonio, Texas 78294