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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 02/04/2025
American Girl (Texas)
Born 1966, F, from Sarasota/Florida, United States.jpeg)
Gabriella del Barrio became a citizen of the Republic of Texas on March 2, 1836. She did not become a citizen by choice but rather by circumstance. Coahuila y Tejas, provinces of Mexico, split away to govern alone. Her family had a choice to move further into Mexico or become Texans. Rather than uproot themselves from their home, they decided to stay.
Gabriella's mother owned and operated a desert cantina. It was the only place for travelers to eat or quench their thirst for miles. They could board in the bunkhouse for the night and stable their horses for one peso. It was a lucrative business since people traveled great distances along the Texan trails.
Gabriella and her sister, Inez, served meals to their guests. During the evenings, men gathered in the bar. They became rowdy most nights, singing drunken songs and grabbing at the girls. Mama oversaw them and intervened when the situation became too rough. Gabby took them in stride, laughing and teasing playfully. For her, it was all fun. She knew the men and knew they would never harm her.
Mama wore a long red dress with white applique flowers on the flounces. Her ruffled top exposed her caramel-colored shoulders, and her long black hair shimmered in the lantern light. When the mood took her, she clicked castanets and danced amongst the cantina's patrons. Gabriella perched on the bar playing her guitar, and Inez shook the maracas.
The del Barrio family appeared to enjoy life, but Gabriella was concerned. Her beloved Papa was with the Texas Defenders at the Alamo's Mission in San Antonio de Bexar. A rider had passed by earlier with news that Santa Anna had the Alamo under siege. Her mother assured her that Papa was safe. After all, he always came home. She insisted they push their fears aside and run the cantina as usual.
"Mama, are you sure Papa's all right?" Gabby asked. She had followed her mother to the storehouse when she went to get more tequila.
"My Jose is safe, Mija," Mama stated, cupping Gabriella's chin and looking into her deep brown eyes. "Have you ever known your Papa to not return? You will see him riding across the desert any day now with that remarkable grin covering his road grimy face."
"Yes, Mama." Gabby hugged the bottles her mother handed her. She plodded back to the cantina, still worried about her father.
"No tears, Mija." Mama turned toward her at the cantina's back door. "Don't worry Inez, and no solemn faces for the customers, okay?"
"Yes, Mama." The tequila bottles clattered together as she entered the saloon. Her mother took them from her quickly and set them on the shelves behind the bar.
"Happy faces, remember?" A slight smile crossed Mama's lips.
Gabriella nodded. She stepped behind the bar and began serving drinks. Inez moved between the crowded tables, taking orders and delivering libations. She smiled brightly, but her eyes told a different story.
The cantina remained open long past the regular closing time. If their customers went home, Gabriella del Barrio knew the midnight silence would unnerve them. The little family would never sleep, not knowing what was happening at the Alamo. They sang and danced while the men drank and told wild stories.
"Are you all right?" Inez asked under her breath as they passed between the tables.
"No," Gabby sighed, glancing furtively toward Mama. "I could burst into tears any moment."
"Me too." Inez's voice hitched. "If Mama ever closes this place, I'll collapse."
"I don't think she's going to close, not tonight," Gabriella whispered. "She doesn't want to face her desperate thoughts."
The girls bustled around each other, one heading toward the tables, the other the bar. When dawn appeared over the horizon, only two bar patrons were left. The two men slumped in their chairs, their hands pillowed on their arms.
Gabriella and Inez stood in the doorway, watching the sunrise. Mama stood behind them, wiping dirty glasses until they shone. Her face reflected the sadness she'd hidden all night. Inez snuffed her nose, and then, turning, she buried her face in Mama's shoulder.
"There, there, Mija." Mama held her younger daughter close.
"Why did Coahuila y Tejas have to separate from Mexico? Weren't we happy living in Mexico?" Inez wailed. "Aren't we Mexicans?"
"Because Mexico abolished its constitution, among other reasons," Gabriella stated before Mama could answer. "We're Texans now, Inez. Papa wants it that way."
"Did he have to go away?" her younger sister asked. "Couldn't he stay here and quietly become a Texan?"
"Papa is doing what he believes in, my sweet." Mama caressed her younger daughter's hair and pressed her head against her shoulder. "We must always do what we believe in. Regardless of the circumstances, it strengthens us."
"Will Papa die?" Inez solemnly asked.
"That is up to fate." Mama sighed. "We must pray for his safe return or his soul."
Mama crossed the cantina and led the girls into their living quarters. They gathered in the alcove and knelt before the prie-dieu—the mother in the center and the girls flanking her. Crossing themselves, they bent their heads in prayer. Gabriella felt a sense of peace descend upon her as she prayed to Virgen Maria. The sorrow in her heart lifted, and she could almost see her father riding across the desert toward the cantina.
Feeling relieved, Gabby helped her mother and sister clear the tables and clean the glasses. They would open the bar as usual that evening. Another night of waiting and pretending all was well awaited the little family. Gabby didn't know how she could manage it. She worried about Inez. Her sensitive sister made it through one night. Would she get through another?
At noon, a half dozen hungry travelers appeared. Inez served enchiladas and beer. Eagerly hovering near their table, she hoped to catch some news about the Alamo. They didn't seem to know anything new about the crisis at the old mission.
The atmosphere in the cantina was somber that evening. Gabriella and Inez moved among the tables, delivering libation. The men talked about the crisis in hushed tones. The Alamo remained under siege.
"Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett will save the day," one boisterous man exclaimed. "Santa Anna doesn't stand a chance with those two around."
Gabby's ears picked up the famous names. They were brave men known for their courage throughout Tejas and the United States. She felt relieved to know they were fighting alongside her father. Inez heard, too, and showed her relief.
"Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett are at the Alamo, Mama," Gabby stated, rushing to the bar. "Papa's all right if he's with them."
"I hope so, Mija." Mama reached to grasp her daughter's hand.
On the morning of March 7, 1836, a lone rider appeared at the edge of the desert. Riding hellbent for leather, he raced toward the cantina. Gabriella and Inez waited impatiently beside their mother in the doorway.
"Slaughter at the Alamo," the man gasped, doubling over and grasping his knees. "Bowie and Crockett are dead along with most everyone else."
The color drained from Gabriella's face. Inez's knees buckled, and she sank to the ground. Gabby knelt beside her sister, tears streaking her cheeks. Mama covered her face with her hands and wailed. The sound seemed to reverberate across the desert.
"I'm sorry, ladies," the man soothed, looking downward.
"Papa was there," Gabriella managed to say. "May the Lord have mercy upon his soul." Hanging her head, she wandered into their living quarters and sank to her knees before the prie-dieu. Her lips moved in soundless prayer. Mama appeared beside her instantly with Inez.
Although revived from her faint, Inez's cheeks remained pale, and her lips barely moved as she uttered her prayers. She slumped against Gabriella and lost consciousness again. Mama lifted her gently and placed Inez on her bed.
"Poor little lamb," Mama muttered, smoothing her hair from her forehead. "Papa loved her best, I think."
"Yes, Mama," Gabby agreed. She loved her Papa, too, but Inez held a special place in his heart.
"If there's anything I can do to assist, Senora," the stranger asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway, "I'm happy to stay around for a few days."
"I'm sure that isn't necessary," Mama remarked politely. "I'm closing the cantina. I'm going to San Antonio de Bexar to collect Jose's body. He deserves a decent burial."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Senora," the man stated, turning his hat in his hands. "I don't expect it's safe for women and, uh, children." He glanced toward Gabriella and Inez."
"We're not children," Gabby snapped without thinking.
"Yes, Senorita," the man conceded. "Don't take your daughters into danger, Senora, and don't go there yourself."
"My husband deserves a decent burial," Mama repeated.
"Suit yourself, Senora." The stranger bowed his head reverently. "I'll stay with you, nonetheless. It's possibly not safe even here."
"Gracias, Senor." Mama bowed her head in acceptance.
The days passed, and the cantina remained closed. A few patrons stopped by to offer condolences. Mama accepted them silently and kept her eyes downcast. The girls sat on the tiled porch beneath colorful umbrellas and stared into space. Life had lost its luster for them. They would never see Papa ride across the desert or watch him embrace Mama following a long, hard ride. His laughter wouldn't ring out across the cantina while he enjoyed drinking and exchanging stories with his amigos.
Gabriella felt listless beneath the hot desert sun. She wanted a glass of water but couldn't stir herself to get one. The land seemed to shimmer beneath the heat, and everything appeared dry. Lethargically, she wondered if Inez could use a drink, too. Her sister barely spoke, and dark circles appeared beneath her dull brown eyes. Gabby tried to form an encouraging smile but couldn't.
"Look, Gabby." Inez pointed toward the shimmering desert. "There's a rider."
Gabriella peered into the heat. For a moment, she saw a mounted man in the distance. He instantly faded into the landscape.
"It's a figment, not really there." Gabby sighed.
"No, it's real," Inez insisted. "He's there again."
Gabby looked. Her eyes focused and captured the man on his horse. The closer he came, the more real he seemed. She finally looked away.
"More bad news, I expect," she stated glumly.
"Probably," her sister agreed.
The horse and rider drew closer. Gabby couldn't see the man's features beneath his filthy hat. The horse seemed to carry him without the rider's commands. The man tilted sideways, tried to right himself, and tilted further. The horse finally came to a halt in front of the cantina. The rider tilted far to the left and slid from the saddle.
"Mama!" Gabriella yelled, racing from the porch. She knelt beside the man, sure he was dead. She lifted his head onto her lap and pushed the hat away from his features. "Mama, rapido, rapido. Quickly, Mama! It's Papa!"
"Papa!" Mama appeared in the cantina doorway. Throwing aside her dishtowel, she raced across the dooryard. Kneeling, she gazed into her husband's travelworn face. "Jose, Jose."
"Lucia, my Lucia," Papa muttered, struggling to sit up.
"We thought you were dead, Papa," Inez stated, falling to her knees beside him. "We thought you were dead," she repeated mournfully.
"I only pretended I was dead," Papa muttered wearily. "I crawled away from the Alamo when I thought it was safe. I came…home…as fast as I could." He fell back, breathing heavily.
"Is this your man, Senora?" the stranger asked, rounding the cantina's corner.
"Yes, Senor," Mama responded, nodding.
"I know you," Papa stated, eyeing the man. "You're Matthew." Papa thought for a moment. "Matthew Brent. I spoke to you in San Antonio de Bexar."
"You asked me to look after your family if anything happened to you. You told me where they were but not who you were," Matthew answered, smiling.
"Did I neglect to tell you? Arrepentida. I'm sorry. I had many things to worry about," Papa answered. A slight smile covered his face.
"I understand." Matthew bowed his head.
Matthew Brent assisted Jose del Barrio into the bedroom. His wife and daughters tended to him until he regained his strength. Matthew remained to help with the cantina and the chores.
The years passed. The cantina thrived in the desert. Mama clicked the castanets and danced when the mood came upon her. Gabriella sat on the bar playing her guitar, and Inez shook the maracas. Papa sat amongst the men, drinking tequila and telling wild stories. Matthew Brent stayed on, eventually marrying Inez. Gabby grew attached to a young cantina patron, Alessandro Santiago. If he proposed, she knew she would say si senor.
Gabriella del Barrio became a citizen of the United States of America on December 29, 1845. She accepted her new status as a matter of course. Deep in her heart, she knew she was a Texan first and foremost.
el Barrio
American Girl (Texas)(Lea Sheryn)
Gabriella del Barrio became a citizen of the Republic of Texas on March 2, 1836. She did not become a citizen by choice but rather by circumstance. Coahuila y Tejas, provinces of Mexico, split away to govern alone. Her family had a choice to move further into Mexico or become Texans. Rather than uproot themselves from their home, they decided to stay.
Gabriella's mother owned and operated a desert cantina. It was the only place for travelers to eat or quench their thirst for miles. They could board in the bunkhouse for the night and stable their horses for one peso. It was a lucrative business since people traveled great distances along the Texan trails.
Gabriella and her sister, Inez, served meals to their guests. During the evenings, men gathered in the bar. They became rowdy most nights, singing drunken songs and grabbing at the girls. Mama oversaw them and intervened when the situation became too rough. Gabby took them in stride, laughing and teasing playfully. For her, it was all fun. She knew the men and knew they would never harm her.
Mama wore a long red dress with white applique flowers on the flounces. Her ruffled top exposed her caramel-colored shoulders, and her long black hair shimmered in the lantern light. When the mood took her, she clicked castanets and danced amongst the cantina's patrons. Gabriella perched on the bar playing her guitar, and Inez shook the maracas.
The del Barrio family appeared to enjoy life, but Gabriella was concerned. Her beloved Papa was with the Texas Defenders at the Alamo's Mission in San Antonio de Bexar. A rider had passed by earlier with news that Santa Anna had the Alamo under siege. Her mother assured her that Papa was safe. After all, he always came home. She insisted they push their fears aside and run the cantina as usual.
"Mama, are you sure Papa's all right?" Gabby asked. She had followed her mother to the storehouse when she went to get more tequila.
"My Jose is safe, Mija," Mama stated, cupping Gabriella's chin and looking into her deep brown eyes. "Have you ever known your Papa to not return? You will see him riding across the desert any day now with that remarkable grin covering his road grimy face."
"Yes, Mama." Gabby hugged the bottles her mother handed her. She plodded back to the cantina, still worried about her father.
"No tears, Mija." Mama turned toward her at the cantina's back door. "Don't worry Inez, and no solemn faces for the customers, okay?"
"Yes, Mama." The tequila bottles clattered together as she entered the saloon. Her mother took them from her quickly and set them on the shelves behind the bar.
"Happy faces, remember?" A slight smile crossed Mama's lips.
Gabriella nodded. She stepped behind the bar and began serving drinks. Inez moved between the crowded tables, taking orders and delivering libations. She smiled brightly, but her eyes told a different story.
The cantina remained open long past the regular closing time. If their customers went home, Gabriella del Barrio knew the midnight silence would unnerve them. The little family would never sleep, not knowing what was happening at the Alamo. They sang and danced while the men drank and told wild stories.
"Are you all right?" Inez asked under her breath as they passed between the tables.
"No," Gabby sighed, glancing furtively toward Mama. "I could burst into tears any moment."
"Me too." Inez's voice hitched. "If Mama ever closes this place, I'll collapse."
"I don't think she's going to close, not tonight," Gabriella whispered. "She doesn't want to face her desperate thoughts."
The girls bustled around each other, one heading toward the tables, the other the bar. When dawn appeared over the horizon, only two bar patrons were left. The two men slumped in their chairs, their hands pillowed on their arms.
Gabriella and Inez stood in the doorway, watching the sunrise. Mama stood behind them, wiping dirty glasses until they shone. Her face reflected the sadness she'd hidden all night. Inez snuffed her nose, and then, turning, she buried her face in Mama's shoulder.
"There, there, Mija." Mama held her younger daughter close.
"Why did Coahuila y Tejas have to separate from Mexico? Weren't we happy living in Mexico?" Inez wailed. "Aren't we Mexicans?"
"Because Mexico abolished its constitution, among other reasons," Gabriella stated before Mama could answer. "We're Texans now, Inez. Papa wants it that way."
"Did he have to go away?" her younger sister asked. "Couldn't he stay here and quietly become a Texan?"
"Papa is doing what he believes in, my sweet." Mama caressed her younger daughter's hair and pressed her head against her shoulder. "We must always do what we believe in. Regardless of the circumstances, it strengthens us."
"Will Papa die?" Inez solemnly asked.
"That is up to fate." Mama sighed. "We must pray for his safe return or his soul."
Mama crossed the cantina and led the girls into their living quarters. They gathered in the alcove and knelt before the prie-dieu—the mother in the center and the girls flanking her. Crossing themselves, they bent their heads in prayer. Gabriella felt a sense of peace descend upon her as she prayed to Virgen Maria. The sorrow in her heart lifted, and she could almost see her father riding across the desert toward the cantina.
Feeling relieved, Gabby helped her mother and sister clear the tables and clean the glasses. They would open the bar as usual that evening. Another night of waiting and pretending all was well awaited the little family. Gabby didn't know how she could manage it. She worried about Inez. Her sensitive sister made it through one night. Would she get through another?
At noon, a half dozen hungry travelers appeared. Inez served enchiladas and beer. Eagerly hovering near their table, she hoped to catch some news about the Alamo. They didn't seem to know anything new about the crisis at the old mission.
The atmosphere in the cantina was somber that evening. Gabriella and Inez moved among the tables, delivering libation. The men talked about the crisis in hushed tones. The Alamo remained under siege.
"Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett will save the day," one boisterous man exclaimed. "Santa Anna doesn't stand a chance with those two around."
Gabby's ears picked up the famous names. They were brave men known for their courage throughout Tejas and the United States. She felt relieved to know they were fighting alongside her father. Inez heard, too, and showed her relief.
"Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett are at the Alamo, Mama," Gabby stated, rushing to the bar. "Papa's all right if he's with them."
"I hope so, Mija." Mama reached to grasp her daughter's hand.
On the morning of March 7, 1836, a lone rider appeared at the edge of the desert. Riding hellbent for leather, he raced toward the cantina. Gabriella and Inez waited impatiently beside their mother in the doorway.
"Slaughter at the Alamo," the man gasped, doubling over and grasping his knees. "Bowie and Crockett are dead along with most everyone else."
The color drained from Gabriella's face. Inez's knees buckled, and she sank to the ground. Gabby knelt beside her sister, tears streaking her cheeks. Mama covered her face with her hands and wailed. The sound seemed to reverberate across the desert.
"I'm sorry, ladies," the man soothed, looking downward.
"Papa was there," Gabriella managed to say. "May the Lord have mercy upon his soul." Hanging her head, she wandered into their living quarters and sank to her knees before the prie-dieu. Her lips moved in soundless prayer. Mama appeared beside her instantly with Inez.
Although revived from her faint, Inez's cheeks remained pale, and her lips barely moved as she uttered her prayers. She slumped against Gabriella and lost consciousness again. Mama lifted her gently and placed Inez on her bed.
"Poor little lamb," Mama muttered, smoothing her hair from her forehead. "Papa loved her best, I think."
"Yes, Mama," Gabby agreed. She loved her Papa, too, but Inez held a special place in his heart.
"If there's anything I can do to assist, Senora," the stranger asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway, "I'm happy to stay around for a few days."
"I'm sure that isn't necessary," Mama remarked politely. "I'm closing the cantina. I'm going to San Antonio de Bexar to collect Jose's body. He deserves a decent burial."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Senora," the man stated, turning his hat in his hands. "I don't expect it's safe for women and, uh, children." He glanced toward Gabriella and Inez."
"We're not children," Gabby snapped without thinking.
"Yes, Senorita," the man conceded. "Don't take your daughters into danger, Senora, and don't go there yourself."
"My husband deserves a decent burial," Mama repeated.
"Suit yourself, Senora." The stranger bowed his head reverently. "I'll stay with you, nonetheless. It's possibly not safe even here."
"Gracias, Senor." Mama bowed her head in acceptance.
The days passed, and the cantina remained closed. A few patrons stopped by to offer condolences. Mama accepted them silently and kept her eyes downcast. The girls sat on the tiled porch beneath colorful umbrellas and stared into space. Life had lost its luster for them. They would never see Papa ride across the desert or watch him embrace Mama following a long, hard ride. His laughter wouldn't ring out across the cantina while he enjoyed drinking and exchanging stories with his amigos.
Gabriella felt listless beneath the hot desert sun. She wanted a glass of water but couldn't stir herself to get one. The land seemed to shimmer beneath the heat, and everything appeared dry. Lethargically, she wondered if Inez could use a drink, too. Her sister barely spoke, and dark circles appeared beneath her dull brown eyes. Gabby tried to form an encouraging smile but couldn't.
"Look, Gabby." Inez pointed toward the shimmering desert. "There's a rider."
Gabriella peered into the heat. For a moment, she saw a mounted man in the distance. He instantly faded into the landscape.
"It's a figment, not really there." Gabby sighed.
"No, it's real," Inez insisted. "He's there again."
Gabby looked. Her eyes focused and captured the man on his horse. The closer he came, the more real he seemed. She finally looked away.
"More bad news, I expect," she stated glumly.
"Probably," her sister agreed.
The horse and rider drew closer. Gabby couldn't see the man's features beneath his filthy hat. The horse seemed to carry him without the rider's commands. The man tilted sideways, tried to right himself, and tilted further. The horse finally came to a halt in front of the cantina. The rider tilted far to the left and slid from the saddle.
"Mama!" Gabriella yelled, racing from the porch. She knelt beside the man, sure he was dead. She lifted his head onto her lap and pushed the hat away from his features. "Mama, rapido, rapido. Quickly, Mama! It's Papa!"
"Papa!" Mama appeared in the cantina doorway. Throwing aside her dishtowel, she raced across the dooryard. Kneeling, she gazed into her husband's travelworn face. "Jose, Jose."
"Lucia, my Lucia," Papa muttered, struggling to sit up.
"We thought you were dead, Papa," Inez stated, falling to her knees beside him. "We thought you were dead," she repeated mournfully.
"I only pretended I was dead," Papa muttered wearily. "I crawled away from the Alamo when I thought it was safe. I came…home…as fast as I could." He fell back, breathing heavily.
"Is this your man, Senora?" the stranger asked, rounding the cantina's corner.
"Yes, Senor," Mama responded, nodding.
"I know you," Papa stated, eyeing the man. "You're Matthew." Papa thought for a moment. "Matthew Brent. I spoke to you in San Antonio de Bexar."
"You asked me to look after your family if anything happened to you. You told me where they were but not who you were," Matthew answered, smiling.
"Did I neglect to tell you? Arrepentida. I'm sorry. I had many things to worry about," Papa answered. A slight smile covered his face.
"I understand." Matthew bowed his head.
Matthew Brent assisted Jose del Barrio into the bedroom. His wife and daughters tended to him until he regained his strength. Matthew remained to help with the cantina and the chores.
The years passed. The cantina thrived in the desert. Mama clicked the castanets and danced when the mood came upon her. Gabriella sat on the bar playing her guitar, and Inez shook the maracas. Papa sat amongst the men, drinking tequila and telling wild stories. Matthew Brent stayed on, eventually marrying Inez. Gabby grew attached to a young cantina patron, Alessandro Santiago. If he proposed, she knew she would say si senor.
Gabriella del Barrio became a citizen of the United States of America on December 29, 1845. She accepted her new status as a matter of course. Deep in her heart, she knew she was a Texan first and foremost.
el Barrio
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Denise Arnault
02/06/2025Another well researched and well written historical piece.
You did a great job of showing the fate and feelings of those left behind when others go off to war. This tale of the past made me think about our future as well. The ladies in your tale faced great polical upheaval, just as we are beginning to see these days.
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