Several years passed. The Batista Hacienda was gone, and the land was taken over and sold to new owners by the new American government. The vaqueros had moved on. Only Santiago, LeRue and Jed remained.
The three men were now staying at the mission. It was late in the afternoon, and the three of them were sitting at the table under the tree by the mission cookhouse. “I have decided to head north,” said LeRue. “I"ve never seen that country. I hear there are trees so tall they reach to the heavens.”
Santiago stretched out his legs and sat silently examining his hands. Finally, he said, “It is no longer the same. The gringos have taken the land, and our way of life here is over. I have a good horse and enough money to get me to Mexico. I will find Señora Batista, and perhaps she will have a
