had been years before, when the general
first fought in the Pampas as a young private. Agriculture, immigrant farmers,
and sheep herders had changed the face of the region. Cities and towns had
sprung up where only pulperias, or small villages, once stood. The gauchos
were forced to live under a different set of so-called civilized rules, on ever-
51
JAMES McCREATH
shrinking ranges. They were men of fierce passion and loyalty, once a person
had gained their respect. The general had used their skills to scout against the
Indians many times, and had learned their traits and customs, as if he were one
of them.
Propped against the wall in the corner of the coach sat a beautiful
cherrywood guitar. San Marco reached out and caressed it gently now. He said
that one could not understand the gaucho without listening to their music.
Lonfranco looked on in amazement as the general’s fingers moved with
velvet strokes over the strings and a plaintive chorus flowed from his lips. He
had never heard anything like it before and was surprised by the richness of the
general’s voice. The hours passed too quickly for his liking, but he soon found
himself in an elaborate carriage at the gates of estancia ‘Buenos Recuerdos.’
“Good Memories,” the general explained while pointing to the carved
wooden sign that arched between two huge stone gateposts. “That is what I
have when I think of life here, so the name seemed fitting.”
They sat on a slight rise, overlooking a vast expanse of checkerboard fields.
As far as the eye could see, there were only wide open spaces. The country air
was exhilarating to Lonfranco, and he basked in the view that the warm sun
illuminated before him, filled with wonder and anticipation. He had found a
new home, a new vocation, and a new family, all within a month of receiving
that terrible letter from Livorno. There could not have been a better birthday
present imaginable, and Lonfranco De Seta considered himself to be the luckiest
sixteen year-old alive.
The ensuing six years brought days of magic and merriment, mixed with
hard work and hands-on education in the operation of the estancia. Lonfranco
was placed under the watchful eye of old Roc Sena, the legendary head gaucho.
It was under his tutelage that the Italian received all the knowledge and training
required to immerse himself in his new lifestyle.
The newcomer bunked in a small one-room adobe ranchero with several
other men, not in the main residence with the general and his family. It was the
way both the general and the young boy preferred it. Lonfranco had to prove
himself worthy of the general’s trust and confidence, and he neither asked for,
nor received any special privileges. He had in Roc Sena perhaps the greatest
living mentor of the Pampas lifestyle in all the country.
Orphaned as a young child, Roc had stolen his first horse to escape
incarceration in the provincial youth facility at the age nine. He killed his first
52
RENALDO
man at twelve, fathered his first child at thirteen, and signed on as a military
scout in return for whisky and rifles at sixteen. Years of Indian wars and political
revolutions increased his folk hero status. It was said that he had more wives
and children than even he could remember. Whenever responsibility became
too constricting for his liking, he would simply saddle up and move on.
He had met General San Marco when the future general was a young
captain seeking to end the Indian raids on the estancias once and for all. San
Marco relied on the famous scout’s ruthlessness and daring to bring about a
swift, but extremely brutal, end to the hostilities. The natives that survived
the slaughter were driven south to Patagonia or west into the Andes, never to
return to the Pampas.
The general was hailed as a hero by the Porteños, and this popularity
ensured a meteoric climb through both the military and social ranks of
Buenos Aires. Nevertheless, he could
first fought in the Pampas as a young private. Agriculture, immigrant farmers,
and sheep herders had changed the face of the region. Cities and towns had
sprung up where only pulperias, or small villages, once stood. The gauchos
were forced to live under a different set of so-called civilized rules, on ever-
51
JAMES McCREATH
shrinking ranges. They were men of fierce passion and loyalty, once a person
had gained their respect. The general had used their skills to scout against the
Indians many times, and had learned their traits and customs, as if he were one
of them.
Propped against the wall in the corner of the coach sat a beautiful
cherrywood guitar. San Marco reached out and caressed it gently now. He said
that one could not understand the gaucho without listening to their music.
Lonfranco looked on in amazement as the general’s fingers moved with
velvet strokes over the strings and a plaintive chorus flowed from his lips. He
had never heard anything like it before and was surprised by the richness of the
general’s voice. The hours passed too quickly for his liking, but he soon found
himself in an elaborate carriage at the gates of estancia ‘Buenos Recuerdos.’
“Good Memories,” the general explained while pointing to the carved
wooden sign that arched between two huge stone gateposts. “That is what I
have when I think of life here, so the name seemed fitting.”
They sat on a slight rise, overlooking a vast expanse of checkerboard fields.
As far as the eye could see, there were only wide open spaces. The country air
was exhilarating to Lonfranco, and he basked in the view that the warm sun
illuminated before him, filled with wonder and anticipation. He had found a
new home, a new vocation, and a new family, all within a month of receiving
that terrible letter from Livorno. There could not have been a better birthday
present imaginable, and Lonfranco De Seta considered himself to be the luckiest
sixteen year-old alive.
The ensuing six years brought days of magic and merriment, mixed with
hard work and hands-on education in the operation of the estancia. Lonfranco
was placed under the watchful eye of old Roc Sena, the legendary head gaucho.
It was under his tutelage that the Italian received all the knowledge and training
required to immerse himself in his new lifestyle.
The newcomer bunked in a small one-room adobe ranchero with several
other men, not in the main residence with the general and his family. It was the
way both the general and the young boy preferred it. Lonfranco had to prove
himself worthy of the general’s trust and confidence, and he neither asked for,
nor received any special privileges. He had in Roc Sena perhaps the greatest
living mentor of the Pampas lifestyle in all the country.
Orphaned as a young child, Roc had stolen his first horse to escape
incarceration in the provincial youth facility at the age nine. He killed his first
52
RENALDO
man at twelve, fathered his first child at thirteen, and signed on as a military
scout in return for whisky and rifles at sixteen. Years of Indian wars and political
revolutions increased his folk hero status. It was said that he had more wives
and children than even he could remember. Whenever responsibility became
too constricting for his liking, he would simply saddle up and move on.
He had met General San Marco when the future general was a young
captain seeking to end the Indian raids on the estancias once and for all. San
Marco relied on the famous scout’s ruthlessness and daring to bring about a
swift, but extremely brutal, end to the hostilities. The natives that survived
the slaughter were driven south to Patagonia or west into the Andes, never to
return to the Pampas.
The general was hailed as a hero by the Porteños, and this popularity
ensured a meteoric climb through both the military and social ranks of
Buenos Aires. Nevertheless, he could
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