Jacqueline Mendez is a freelance writer and is the author of an urban fantasy trilogy and also has a story in the book Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul. Here she shares the first chapter of her soon-to-be published book Soul Tracker.
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Chapter 1- New Mexico, 1821
“We found another cow, boss.” The ranch hand sat on his haunches and poked at the lifeless creature with a stick. Tilting its neck to one side, he noticed two small incisions about an inch apart from each other on its skin. “Carcass was sucked dry again—not a single drop of blood…” he yelled over his shoulder to the foreman dismounting from his saddle.
“Dang!” spat the foreman. A large tobacco wad projected out of his mouth, and plopped on the dusty red New Mexico sand. “The boss isn’t gonna be happy with this—third one this month.” He surveyed the rough terrain looking for signs of bandits. Nothing but the canyons’, red rock walls with its overhanging ledges, towered from the desert sand several thousand feet up in the air. They seemed to touch the flaming sun in the sky. The only thieves there were the ones who aroused his suspicion when he caught the circling route of vultures in the air just two miles away from the hacienda.
“I don’t know why the boss insists on spending so much time breeding and raising these stupid animals. It’s not like they’re ever going to be in demand anyway. The horns themselves are heavier than their brains and they’re so skinny to begin with. I say we let those damn Apaches get rid of them one by one with that pinche witchcraft they like to use so much,” swore the ranch hand. “They’re trying to drive us away like they did Don Jose from Santa Fe. It’s bad enough we have to worry about those damn gringos coming into our territory, now this!” Felipe broke the stick in half on his knee and flung it on the barren desert floor.
“Enough talk about their magic, Felipe. No one is gonna scare us away from this land. Don Ramon is a visionary, and if he says these longhorns are a good investment, then we need to do our best to protect his assets. His family has been here for over two hundred years; they survived the Pueblo rebellion, and they’ll survive this too. No one is going to drive them away. Besides, the surrounding Pueblo have a treaty to protect this family. Afterall, they were the only family who did not subjugate them when the Spaniards arrived.”
“You think Don Ramon and his Pueblo Indian reds are gonna stop them?! He lost his marbles the moment he let that—that—that woman run his ranch!!! What happened to the days when men were men and the women knew their place in this world?! Everything in this place here is upside down. I’ve never heard of such a place where women would be allowed to smoke cigars, get drunk, and much less, own businesses. Why did he have to drag us to this infierno, when we were so comfortable back in good old Mexico City at his senora’s old hacienda. You could drop a seed into the ground and the damn plant would grow all by itself. He didn’t have to drag us half way across the country to this mierda of a place we call home. We’re doomed now for sure I’m telling you…”
“ I think you ought a stop before you pop a vein, my friend. You and I both know we had to leave that place. As I recall, Don Ramon gave all his indios, including us, a choice. 1810 was not a good year for any of the hacendados. That Grito de Dolores stirred up too many signs of a revolution coming to rebel against Spain, and as I recall, you didn’t want to stick around and find out what was going to happen. And need I remind you that Don Ramon has always taken care of us. He gave us land to grow our crops, provided medical treatment, an education, and he has always allowed us to leave when we wanted. If I were you, I’d be grateful, my friend. You didn’t get stuck with an hacendado who beat you and worked you to death. You tend to forget what your place is, and if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut when it comes to Don Ramon’s daughters.”
“Ay whey! I forgot you had a big itch for the oldest one. You think the jefe is actually gonna take you in with open arms for your loyalty? Did you forget who we are or where we come from, compadre? People like that don’t marry indios. They are Creoles, very proud of their Spanish heritage, born and raised in the new world. What makes you think they’d let you dilute their line with your peasant Aztec blood? So if I were you, I’d look the other way. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why don’t you just stick to cattle herding and nobody will get hurt!”
Tsk, tsk, tsk. “I touched a weak spot, eh? Well don’t say I didn’t warn you. And speaking of the devil, here she comes.” He pointed to a cloud of dust in the distance. Daniela, the youngest of three of Don Ramon’s daughters rode in as freely as an untamed wild mustang charging in the wind. Daniela’s long, golden hair took on a gravity of its own as it lifted loosely close behind her. She unloaded her horse, dressed in a long-sleeve buttoned down shirt to protect her porcelain skin from the scorching sun. Her leather chaps and cowboy boots, masked the shape of her hourglass figure.
Felipe clicked his tongue and nodded. “What a waste…” as he whispered into the foreman’s ear. Then, he cast Daniela a golden smile, before removing his straw-rimmed hat.
“Felipe… Esteban… what news do you have for me?” Daniela didn’t see the dead carcass behind the two hired hands.
“Senorita… I’m afraid we have some bad news. We found another one just like the last two…” Esteban looked at her hands and noticed fists clench under her leather-worn gloves.
“Behind you?” Daniela stretched her neck to look over Felipe’s shoulder so she could catch a glimpse of the dead animal.
“It’s best if you don’t, Senorita. I’m afraid it’s not for your beautiful eyes to see,” Felipe interjected as she made a motion for them to move out of the way.
“It’s my animal, Felipe…and I look at what I see fit.” Daniela, a force to be reckoned with, didn’t like being told what to do, or how to run things.
Don Ramon was expecting a boy before she was born. He was to name him Daniel, after his great-great grandfather, who traveled with Juan de Onate in 1598 with 83 wagons, 7000 stock, 400 soldiers and 102 familes on his first expedition to Nuevo Mexico and proud establisher of Don Ramon’s hacienda. Dona Maria hoped that this would be the last child as the second one, Juana, nearly killed her during labor. A petite woman with a weak heart, she gave in after her husband’s many entreaties to try for that male child who would be the sole heir to his two- hundred-year-old hacienda in Nuevo Mexico, and the one to carry his father’s legacy into the next generation.
She was named… Daniela—and she never came to know her mother. The doctor said it was a blood hemorrhage, but Don Ramon knew that it was her weak heart that gave out shortly after her delivery. He never forgave himself for losing the love of his life. And if it weren’t for Daniela’s determined spirit to win her father’s affection, he would have put a gun into his mouth and shot himself when he had the chance. Determined to be the boy he always wanted, she wanted to show him that she could do anything a son would. He indulged her every whim, and in return, she dove into all of her father’s interests, including cattle branding, raising and herding at the meager age of six when they left Mexico City for their established hacienda in Nuevo Mexico.
If it weren’t for her grandmother, Dona Felix, who felt it necessary that she get a solid Catholic and lady-like upbringing, she would have been raised picking fights with the local servants, spitting out in the streets and scratching herself in public. Yes, Dona Felix ran the household with a firm hand and loving heart, but Daniela wanted to make her father proud and that often interfered with her grandmother’s plans to find her a decent suitor—not that she didn’t have trouble turning heads, for her fair skin and beautiful gray-blue eyes were often the main attraction, a fine example of pure Spanish breeding. But finding a man who respected the idea of a woman who herded cattle on horseback without a sidesaddle was like asking him to rain down drops of gold. She didn’t mind the restless nights and lonely days as she made up her mind to be alone than in bad company after her last suitor insisted that she give up ranching for a job more suitable for a little lady such as herself. Some women’s wings just weren’t made to be clipped she supposed.
“Take it and burn it in the pit. We’ll need to double the watch to four men per shift. Comb the area for signs of Apache tracks, and Esteban, do what it takes to stop the losses. We can’t afford to lose anymore.”
“I’m sorry Senorita, but we don’t have enough men to cover the shifts. So many of them have left to work the silver mines, and…”
“Whatever it takes Esteban. I don’t want any excuses, am I clear?”
“Si, Senorita…” He placed his straw hat on his head and tapped the brim before lowering his head with a bow.
Before Daniela mounted her horse she scanned her surroundings and glanced at the untouched trails leading past large barrel cacti, agaves, yuccas, cottonwood trees and spiky ocotillo that dressed the landscape of this barren desert. A coyote’s cry could be heard miles away, and uncertainty flushed her face. What was taking her herd one by one? She wondered. What if the rumors of Apache attacks were true? Would the peaceful Pueblos be strong enough to protect them against vicious Apache raids? She heard about their mystical powers and the savage tactics they used to scalp a man alive—a technique no doubt learned from the early Spaniards. An unsettled wave of fear rumbled in her gut. Whomever or whatever it was, she had to put a stop to it soon. The servants already wrestled with her ability to run the ranch ever since her father made the announcement. Servants were servants but the idea of placing a woman in charge over their security was enough to invite mutiny if things went bad. Signs of revolt were everywhere. Just last week, she received word from a local firewood vendor, whose cousin had come back from Coahuila in Mexico claiming that independence from Spain had been declared. If word got around about this at their ranch, there was no doubt in her mind that the Indians would quickly forget how well her father had treated them, and cause an uprising at the hacienda. She had heard horror stories about hacendados and their familes being dragged from their homes and hung on the nearest trees while their wives and children stood helpless to stop it. Not to mention the humiliating atrocities the women suffered soon after. That image sent a chill running down her spine and she shook it off quickly, hoping to erase the mental picture she had placed of her father and family in that same vicious setting. She placed her foot on the stirrup and swung over her horse, scanning the territory for more signs. Then, in a flash, she rode away.
“I guess we know who wears the pants around here, eh, my friend?” Felipe grinned.
“Why don’t you just shut up and help me put this animal up on the cart, before we get eaten by whatever is killing these things.”
A coyote’s cry howled in the wind, accompanied by the sound of others joining its chorus. Dusk crept its way into the landscape as two golden eyes stared out secretly from behind a yucca plant rooted on the hot desert sand…
Posted on January 29, 2011
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