Basque Fact of the Week, Diaspora, History

Basque Fact of the Week: The Basque History of Boise

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Boise, Idaho, is one of the centers of Basque culture in the United States. The home of the Basque Block, which features the Boise Basque Center, the Basque Museum and Cultural Center, a fronton, the Basque Market, and the restaurants Bar Gernika and Leku Ona, it is also home to the Oinkari Basque Dancers and Jaialdi. With about 16,000 Basques, Boise has one of the largest Basque communities outside of the Basque Country. As one can imagine, this vibrant culture is a reflection of a long history in the area.

Photo from the Basque Center.
  • Basques first came to Idaho in the late 1800s, attracted by the promise of silver and gold with discoveries in places like DeLamar (1889) and Silver City (1890). However, many quickly found themselves working as sheepherders. Others found work in timber or even building dams. Antonio Azcuenaga claimed to be the first Basque to reach southwest Idaho – he was trailing sheep in the area in 1889. By 1897, The Idaho Statesman was describing how John Archibal brought sheep down to the city.
  • With the influx of Basques to the region, they need places to stay and people to help them get settled. As in other places, boarding houses popped up in Boise. What is now known as the Cyrus Jacobs/Uberuaga House began as a Basque boarding house in 1910. Even earlier, in 1900, Azcuenaga, who lived in Jordan Valley, Oregon, built the Oregon Hotel to cater to Basque immigrants. By 1920, there were nearly a dozen boarding houses in Boise. These included the Star Rooming House, Bicandi’s Boarding House, Anduiza’s, Uberuaga’s, and Bilaustegui’s. The last of them, the Uberuaga’s, closed in 1978.
  • While Catholicism was an important aspect of the cultural heritage of those Basques living in Boise, young Basque immigrants tended not to attend church regularly. So the first Bishop of Boise, Monsignor Alphonse Glorieux, requested a priest to serve the Basque community in Southern Idaho and Eastern Oregon. Father Bernardo Arregui arrived in Boise on July 11, 1911 to serve the Basques of Idaho, Nevada, and Oregon. In 1916, he was named Spanish Vice Consulate in the United States. In 1918, he became pastor of the Church of the Good Shepherd, the only Basque parish in the United States. The Good Shepherd was dedicated in 1919. The church closed its doors in 1928 when the then-Bishop decided there shouldn’t be separate churches for different ethnicities.
  • Boxing played an important role in the history of the Boise Basques. In 1954, three Boise Basques – John Bastida, Zenon Ysaguirre, and Teles Hormaechea – hired Vicente Echevarria, the Welter Weight champion in the Basque Country. They sponsored fights once a month, which drew spectators from as far as Nevada. Even though gambling was illegal, some places promoted betting on the fights. The proceeds went to maintaining and renovating the Basque Center.
  • At one time, Boise had four frontons. Of those four, only one still exists: the Anduiza fronton that was built in 1914-15. In its heyday – the 1920s to 1940s – games were played every day at Anduiza. The Anduiza actually closed in 1943, bought by an engineering company, but in 1972 they agreed to restore it for pelota. In 1993, Adelia Garro Simplot and Richard Hormaechea bought the building and kept pelota alive in Boise. The other frontons were at the Star Hotel, the Hotel Iberria, and at Domingo Zabala’s.
  • The Basques of Boise formed a tight group. They had specific societies to help one another. In 1908, the Basque men’s society Socorros Mutuos was founded to help with medical and funeral expenses. By the 1920s, there were at least two more: the Mutual Aid Society and the American Basque Fraternity. But these all catered to men. In 1930, a group of Basque women, including Escolástica Arriandiaga Ondarza, saw the need for a society dedicated to their needs and they formed the Subsidiary of the American Basque Fraternity. This was the first of several Basque organizations dedicated to Basque women.

Primary sources: Church of the Good Shepherd, Boise, Idaho, USA, Gloria Totoricagüena Egurrola; Totoricagüena Egurrola, Gloria Pilar. Estados Unidos de América. Idaho. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/estados-unidos-de-america-idaho/ar-27125/; A Travel Guide to Basque America, Nancy Zubiri; Home Away from Home, Jeronima Echeverria.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 72

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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

Donny screamed, his hands covering his face as the bright light shooting from Kepa’s hand blinded him. 

Kepa rushed over to Santi, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Sorgina!” exclaimed the older Basque. “Witch!” he said as he trembled and cowered away from Kepa’s reach.

“I’m no witch!” yelled Kepa as he tried to grab Santi and pull him to his feet. “At least, I don’t think I am,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, he added, “We need to go, now! Before he recovers.”

Kepa pulled Santi up and led him to one of the horses, Donny’s yells and curses filling the night air. As he got Santi up on the horse, he could see the other two cowboys rushing to Donny’s side.

“Boss…?” began one. 

“Forget about me!” screamed Donny. “Kill them!”

Kepa pulled himself onto the horse and gave it a slap as a few gunshots flew by. He could hear them ricocheting off of the rocks. 

“We won’t make it,” cried Santi. “It’s too far. They’ll catch us and kill us.”

“No they won’t,” bellowed Kepa. “Just hang on.”

For a moment, the gunshots died off. Kepa pushed the horse into a hard run as they flew across the hill side. The town seemed like forever away, but Kepa knew that if they had any chance of surviving, he had to reach town. It wasn’t long, however, before the gunshots resumed. Kepa stole a glance backward and saw one of the cowboys in pursuit. He couldn’t help but think what would happen if their horse got hit by one of the bullets. They would all go down, maybe even crushed by the large beast. And if they weren’t, he shuddered to think of the cowboys catching up to them.

As he gritted his teeth and urged the horse on faster, he felt the fire return to his finger tips. Stealing a glance at his hand, he saw it glowing again, just like it had when he attacked Donny. A bullet grazed his thigh and he yelled out in pain. Without looking, he aimed his hand behind him and let the light flare from his fingertips. He heard one scream pierce the night and the bullets stopped. For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the other rider’s horse, but he shook it off and kept riding.

“Zer zara zu?” asked Santi, almost delirious from the pain and loss of blood from his shoulder. “What the hell are you?”

“Laguna naiz. I’m a friend,” was all Kepa said as he pushed the horse forward.

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful, though Kepa never let up on the horse. He knew there was at least one more cowboy likely following them and Donny would be on his tail as well. He could only hope that they wouldn’t catch him before he and Santi reached town.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, History, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Jeanne d’Albret, the Queen of Nafarroa

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The history of Europe, with its myriad kings, queens, and royal intrigue, is confusing and convoluted. There were some 19 Kings of France named Louis and at least 4 Henrys. The same Henry could be number III or IV depending on which title you consider and which period of his life you examine. On the Spanish side, there are at least 10 Phillips and Alfonsos. In the middle of all of this, both literally and figuratively, sat the Kingdom of Nafarroa. The last active ruler of the kingdom was Jeanne d’Albret (Joana Albretekoa in Basque). She ruled as Jeanne III or Juana III from 1555 to 1572.

Photo from Wikimedia.
  • The girl that would become Queen of Nafarroa was born on November 16, 1528, to of Henry II, King of Navarre, and Marguerite of Angoulême. In 1512, the Iberian part of Nafarroa was conquered by Ferdinand II, leaving the kingdom that Henry II ruled over comprised of what is today Lower Navarre or Nafarroa Beherea. The final border between the two was established only a year after Jeanne was born, in 1529 by the Treaty of Cambrai.
  • Jeanne’s position as the heir to the Kingdom of Navarre meant that she and her future were the pawns of powerful forces. While Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, proposed that she marry his son, Philip, she was forced to marry William “the Rich,” Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg and the choice of the French king Francis I, her uncle. She was only 12 years old at the time. She protested her marriage, signing documents of protest and having to be physically carried to the alter. This marriage was annulled four years later when the alliance between Spain and France ended.
  • In 1548, she married Antoine de Bourbon, with the goal of joining territories in France. In 1555, her father died, and Jeanne and Antoine became co-rulers of Nafarroa. They also ruled over the principality of Béarn. In fact, the seat of the Kingdom of Navarre, after the loss of Pamplona, was in Pau, the then-capital of Béarn. Their kingdom also included the territories of Ultrapuertos, Zuberoa, Albret, Armagnac, and Foix.
  • Jeanne’s upbringing and the influence of her mother had inclined her toward religious reform and she converted Calvinism on Christmas Day 1560. In her attempts to bring the new religion to her subjects, she commissioned Joanes Leizarraga to do the first translation of the New Testament into Basque. Leizarraga’s translation was published in 1571, when Jeanne made the official religion of Nafarroa and Béarn Calvinism.
  • She was viewed as a leader of the French Huguenot‘s, which placed her in the middle of the French Wars of Religion. Despite great pressure — including visits by Papal envoys — she never renounced her new religion. There was even a plot by the Pope to have her kidnapped and turned over to the Spanish Inquisition, a plot that was actually opposed by both the French and Spanish because they disliked the idea of the papacy interfering with their own affairs. The wars ended when Jeanne negotiated the Peace of Saint-Germain-en-Laye in 1570, which, amongst other things, allowed Protestants to hold public office in France and arranged the marriage between Jeanne’s son Henry and Marguerite de Valois, the sister of King Charles IX of France.
  • Jeanne died suddenly not much later, in 1572. While some thought she may have been poisoned (through gloves provided by her perfumer) by her rival and Marguerite’s mother, Catherine de’ Medici, an autopsy indicated she had died of natural causes. When Henry III of France died in 1589, Jeanne’s son became King Henry IV of France. Under his reign, what remained of the Kingdom of Navarre was joined with the Kingdom of France, essentially ending the independence of the kingdom.

Primary sources: Estornés Zubizarreta, Idoia. Juana III de Navarra. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/juana-iii-de-navarra/ar-64464/; Adot Lerga, Álvaro. Dinastía Albret. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/dinastia-albret/ar-153853/; Jeanne d’Albret, Wikipedia.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 71

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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

Torch in hand, Kepa walked to the sheep wagon. He stood there a moment before opening the door. Inside, he could see the simple bed and the belongings they stored there. He held up the torch.

“Ez!” cried Santi. “No!”

Kepa looked over and saw the older herder nearly in tears as he clutched his shoulder. But Kepa suspected that burning the wagon would be even more painful. All of Santi’s worldly possessions were in that wagon, including all of his photographs of his family from the Basque Country. He couldn’t fathom the loss Santi would feel.

He stole a glance back at Donny, who was watching him intently, his revolver still pointed at Santi. Donny made a nod at the wagon. Kepa threw the torch inside. He watched as the torch flew through the air in a fiery arch and landed on the bed with a soft thud. Almost immediately, the bedding caught fire, the flames licking up the side of the walls. 

Feeling as though he’d just taken a punch to the gut, Kepa mindlessly stumbled back to his chair. Santi just glared at him, the tears streaming down his cheeks. Kepa couldn’t look at him and instead turned to look at the wagon, which was beginning to go up in flames.

“Good boy,” smirked Donny as he watched the flames grow. Turning to the two herders, he asked rhetorically “And now what to do with you two?” His wicked grin made it clear he already had an idea.

Kepa seethed inside. He had never felt so hopeless, so powerless in his life, at least not since that day as a young boy when his aita died. He had never felt so alone and that feeling was resurfacing, flooding back in waves of grief. He trembled as he clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. Ashamed to look at Santi and not wanting to show his grief to the bastard sitting across the fire pit, he just stared at his shaking hands. He was surprised to see that the tips of his fingers were starting to glow.

“You,” Donny said to Santi, “you I’m going to let go. You can take one of those horses back to town, tell the other herders what happens when they trespass on cattle land.” He then turned to Kepa. “But you,” he continued, his mouth contorted into the most evil smile Kepa had ever seen, “I think we need to make an example of you. Show the other herders just how serious we are.” Turning back to Santi, he said “I want you to see this, and I want you to tell the others what you saw.”

“Get up,” Donny barked at Kepa, waving his revolver. 

As he stood up, Kepa whispered to Santi in Euskara “Prest egon. Be ready.” Santi just stared at him, a mix of hate and fear in his eyes. Kepa couldn’t help but sigh inside, frustrated that, in the end, he had made an enemy of his partner.

“Over there,” ordered Donny, pointing his gun to the clearing on the other side of the campfire. Kepa walked slowly to the spot Donny pointed to, his hands clutched to his side. When he got there, he turned to look Donny in the eye.

“You’re pretty tough with that gun in your hand. But, we both know how pathetic you are without it,” hissed Kepa, his hatred dripping off of every word.

Donny just shrugged. “You can put on a brave face if you want, but the end is going to be the same. Now get on your knees. I want you to beg for your life.”

Kepa hesitated for a moment. Donny shot at the ground at his feet. 

“I said, on your knees.”

Kepa fell to his knees. 

“Now,” he continued, putting one foot forward, “kiss my boot. Beg for your life.”

Kepa simply glared at the man in front of him before walking slowly forward on his knees toward Donny, the rage building with every step. He kept his hands clenched, but he could feel the warmth building, almost as if his fingertips were on fire. When he got close to Donny’s outstretched foot, he began to bend over, making as if he was going to kiss Donny’s boot. But, at the last second, he thrust his hand up as high as he could. 

“Kiss this,” he said as a blinding flash of light erupted from his hand.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: Basque Proverbs

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Proverbs capture traditional wisdom and common sense, and every culture has their own set of proverbs. Back in 1994, Jon Aske posted a collection of Basque proverbs he had gathered from a variety of sources. With his permission, I collected them and posted the full list of Esaera Zaharrak on Buber’s Basque Page. These proverbs relate to a range of every day experiences, from friendship and relationships to wealth and health. Some of them are even contradictory, indicating that the best advice depends on the circumstances. Here are some of my favorites.

Lunch with family and friends, taken by Blas Uberuaga.
  • A number of these proverbs relate to the role of religion and priests in the community and people’s lives.

Elizatik hurreanena, paradisutik urrunena.
“Those who are closest to the church are farthest from paradise.”

Jaten duten santuekin, ez dago fidatzerik.
“Don’t trust those who eat with saints.”

Abadearen lapikoa, txikia baina gozoa.
“The priest’s pot is small but his supper is tasty.”

  • Friendship and gathering are of course important to Basque culture and several proverbs reflect on friends.

Adiskide onekin, orduak labur.
“Time flies when you are among friends.”

Adiskidegabeko bizitza, auzogabeko heriotza.
“A life without friends means death without company.”

Guztien adiskide dena, ez da inorena.
“One who is everybody’s friend is nobody’s friend.”

Lagun onak, ondu; gaiztoak, gaiztotu.
“A good friend makes one a better person, a bad friend makes one worse.”

  • Basques are also known for, and take pride in, their industriousness and many proverbs warn of the perils of being lazy.

Alferrak, beti lanez beterik.
“Lazy people are always busy.”

Alferrarendako lanik ez, eta astirik ez.
“The lazy person has no work, but has no time for anything else either.”

Geroa, alferraren leloa.
“‘Later’: The lazy person’s motto.”

  • And, related to that, there is the idea of responsibility:

Bi etxetako txakurra, goseak jan.
“A dog which belongs to two homes dies of hunger.”

Idia adarretik eta gizona hitzetik.
“You should hold oxen by their horns and people to their word.”

Ihaurk egin dezakeana ez utzi besteri egiten.
“Don’t let anyone else do what you can do yourself.”

  • And perhaps my two favorites:

Izena duen guztiak izatea ere badauke.
“Everything with a name exists.”

Izenak ez du egiten izana.
“A name doesn’t make something true.”

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 70

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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

“What about us?” hissed Kepa, his anger barely contained. Though he had mostly hated his time up in the hills, he had still grown attached to his life there, even to Santi and the sheep if he were honest with himself.

“Don’t you worry,” answered Donny. “I’ve got plans for you. And your girl ain’t here to protect you this time.”

Santi turned toward Kepa with a look of anger. “Zer egin zenuen?” he asked in Euskara. “What did you do?”

“Ezer ez,” hissed Kepa. 

“Now, now,” interrupted Donny with a smile that then turned into a scowl. “You are in America now, and you better be speaking English.”

Donny turned to the other two cowboys. “Jimmy, Bobby, you two watch the perimeter. We don’t want to be interrupted.”

The other two cowboys nodded as one went back toward the horses and the other crossed the camp in the other direction.

“Now, then,” said Donny once the other two were in position. “You can put that thing away,” he added, waving his own revolver at Santi and his shotgun. “I know you ain’t going to use it.”

Santi reluctantly placed his gun on the ground next to his chair.

“Good boy,” smiled Donny. “See, that wasn’t so hard. If you had just listened in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”

“You were just going to let us go, were you?” asked Kepa.

“Oh, you’ve figured me out,” laughed Donny. “Of course not. We need to make examples of you damn herders and you two will do as well as any. Better than most,” he added, with a piercing stare at Kepa.

“Fine,” said Kepa. “If this is personal, between you and me, let him go.” He nodded his head toward Santi. “He has nothing to do with you.”

Donny shrugged. “True. But, he’s here with you. You know, guilty by association. And he’s still a damn sheep bastard.” He paused and then chuckled lightly. “You know, I heard that the reason they hired you Basquos to herd the sheep is because you stink so bad, you keep the coyotes away.”

Santi growled, but Kepa put his hand on his partner’s arm, trying to calm him.

Donny grabbed something from his hip and threw it at Kepa, who caught the twirling stick in the air as it came at him. It was a stick with some kind of sticky resin at the end. Kepa looked at Donny. “What is this?”

“A torch.” He waved his revolver almost nonchalantly at the fire. “Light it.”

Kepa stood up and placed the pitch-end of the torch in the flames. Within an instant, the end of the torch was ablaze.

“Now, throw it in your wagon.”

Kepa looked at Donny in shock. “Ez,” he growled. “No.”

Donny shrugged again. Kepa heard the bang and Santi’s scream before he realized what had happened. Santi was holding his shoulder; blood was pouring down the sleeve of his shirt. Kepa nearly dropped the torch to run to Santi’s side when Donny barked at him. “Stop!”

“I heard you Basques were stubborn, but I didn’t think you were so stupid,” he said. “If you don’t want your friend to take another bullet,” he continued, his voice dropping into a menacing snarl, “you’ll throw that torch into the wagon.”

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Art, Basque Fact of the Week, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Goya’s Basque Connection

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Francisco de Goya y Lucientes is one of the most recognized and celebrated painters in the world. A romanticist, he is considered to be one of the greatest portraitists of his time. His paintings often depicted the reality and brutality that surrounded him, a darkness in his style that became particularly prevalent after a sickness left him deaf in 1793. His first surname, Goya, is clearly of Basque origin — the modern spelling is Goia and means “up” or “summit.” Goya is also one of my favorite painters of all time.

A self-portrait Goya made in 1795, from Museo del Prado.
  • Goya was born in 1746 in Fuendetodos, Aragon, though his parents were from Zaragoza, where they returned in 1749. His father, José Benito, was a gilder — someone who decorates surfaces by applying a thin layer of gold — while his grandfather was a notary, who could perform legal actions.
  • Goya’s great-great grandfather, Domingo de Goya y Villamayor (originally Echeandia), was born in Zerain, in the heart of Gipuzkoa, in 1578, in the baserri Mantxolatxiki, which still stands. He was a master builder (maestro de obras) and moved to Aragon, first to Fuentes de Jiloca sometime before 1625 where he was commission to build the tower of the church, and then to Zaragoza where, ultimately, Goya’s father was born. Little is known about Domingo, other than he may have proven his nobility, by virtue of being Basque, in Valladolid in 1578. It seems that, when he moved to Aragon, he changed his maternal surname from Echeandia to Villamayor.
  • Near Zerain, there is a mountain alternatively called Oa, Oamendi, or Arripillaeta which was known for its red sandstone with dark streaks. These stones were prized by stone masons, and it seems that Domingo may have learned his craft from visiting craftsmen. Several young villagers of Zerain became stone masons and craftsmen this way.
  • Whether Goya himself was much aware of his Basque ancestry or not is not obvious. However, it seems that in 1792 he began the process to prove his “vizcainía,” or his Basque origins, with the goal of establishing his nobility and obtaining the privileges and rights it would provide to himself and his son. It seems he did not complete the process of proving his nobility. It’s also possible he was appealing to the nobility of his mother’s family, or both sides, when he made this request.
  • However, Goya certainly included Basque elements into some of his paintings. For example, in his Portrait of the Marchioness of Santa Cruz, the lyre is decorated with a lauburu. He painted some twenty-five portraits of people with Basque origins, though many were important figures of the time and their Basque origins may have been irrelevant to him. He also painted a scene from a witches’ Sabbath, entitled El aquelarre, but that may have been a common phrase at the time and not revealing of any special connection to the Basques. In the end, whether Goya identified with his Basque ancestors is unclear.

Primary sources: Ascendientes vía paterna de Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes; Labayru Fundazioa; Wikipedia; Museo Del Prado

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 69

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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

Donny dismounted from his horse and walked forward until his face was illuminated by the last remaining flames of the fire. Santi had his gun at hand the whole time, not directly pointing it at the cowboy, but aiming it in his general direction. Donny seemed not to notice. The other two remained on their horses, but Kepa noticed how their hands stayed at their hips.

“My boys and I,” said Donny as he grabbed a few logs and threw them on the fire, “have been riding all day and could sure use a rest.” He looked up as he sat down next to the fire, the dancing light of the flames giving his face a menacing look. “Besides, this is our land.”

Santi shook his head. “Ez. No. We are sure not to cross in your land.”

Donny shrugged. “I’m not sure what to tell you, then. But, really, all of this land is ours, no matter what the government says.”

“That is not fair!” exclaimed Santi. “We need to live too.”

“You should have stayed in your own country, then” said Donny as he spat in the fire. “This is our country and we make the rules.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” said Kepa. “We will leave first thing in the morning.”

Santi gave him a disgusted glance but then nodded. “Yes, we will leave.”

“In the morning?” laughed Donny. “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait that long. I don’t want to spend the night here making sure you leave. I think you should leave now.”

“But, we can’t guide our horses and the wagon at night,” replied Santi. “And we have to collect the sheep.”

“Oh, are the sheep a problem?” said Donny with a wicked smile. “My boys can help with that.” He raised a hand. The other two men, who were still on their horses, dashed off toward the band of sheep that was huddled nearby, pulling their guns as they went. Soon, the night air was filled with the sounds of gunfire and the bleating of sheep. 

“No!” exclaimed Santi as he started to move toward the band. 

“Sit,” said Donny calmly, his own revolver pointing at the sheepherder. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Santi, pain in his face, reluctantly sat down. 

“You too,” said Donny as he waved his gun at Kepa. “And don’t think I don’t remember you, boy. We have our own score to settle.”

“What did you do?” hissed Santi as Kepa sat next to him at the fire. All Kepa could do was shake his head, his hands clenched in fists to prevent them from shaking as well.

The gun shots continued as Donny stood up and walked over to the coffee pot. He grabbed a cup and poured himself the last of the bitter coffee. Taking a sip, he walked back over to his chair. “Not the worst I’ve tried,” he said as he sat. 

Kepa and Santi simply glared at him, wincing each time they heard another gunshot. Soon, after more shots than Kepa could count, the shooting stopped and the other two cowboys rode back to the camp. As they dismounted and stood behind Donny, all they could hear was the dying cries of more than a few of the sheep.

“The ones we didn’t shoot ran off,” said the cowboy to Donny’s left. 

Donny nodded. “Good enough.” He turned his attention back to Santi and Kepa. “And now, what about you two, eh?”

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.