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Antonio River. On the edge of the Texas frontier, its population had swelled to more than five thousand, who were attracted to the area by its arid climate and the rich beauty of the surrounding countryside. Wild figs and pomegranates grew here, as well as sugarcane and corn. There was grazing for cattle. Missionaries had seen to the construction of aqueducts that carried water to every major section of town. To the northwest, groves of ash and elm, oak and cottonwood hid springs of cold, clear water from hillside seeps to shaded pools frequented by deer, coyote, bobcat, and other creatures of the wild, including man.
    Civilization had come to the San Antonio River, but it had yet to cross over, at least to any degree.
    “You have chosen a good time to visit San Antonio,” Anabel said. “In three days we will have fiesta. It is a time of much celebration.”
    Ben nodded as they turned onto the Calle de Soledad, the Street of Solitude. Or loneliness. Ben had known both over the past months.
    The town itself, for the most part, was an orderly arranged collection of flat-roofed, one-story houses, thick-walled and constructed of mortar, stone, or adobe brick. The riverbanks were lined with lofty cottonwoods and elms and formed a border on three sides of the town, whose expansion had sprawled westward.
    “That is my brother’s church, San Fernando,” Anabel said. Ben glanced down a side street and noted a whitewashed adobe bell tower rising above the row of shops and homes. “It lies between the Plaza de los Islos and the Plaza de Aroros—Military Plaza, as you would call it. The plazas are the heartbeat of my town. There the children play, there young lovers may meet and walk together, and the old may sit, dreaming and remembering sunlit days and nights of fire.”
    Ben had started to comment that the woman beside him had the heart of a poet, when she turned toward the plazas and headed west along the Calle Dolorosa, the Street of Sorrow. By now the entourage had picked up quite a following. Children had become distracted from their play by the strange procession and now scampered along, peeking into the carriage at the blue-clad officer, then hurrying up ahead to pelt the captured Comanche with pebbles. Spotted Calf rode stiffly erect and would not deign to even so much as flinch at the abuse. Snake Eye managed to at last drive them off with a few well-placed slaps of his quirt upon the posteriors of the troublemakers. The children fell back to a respectful distance. But the townspeople continued to gawk as the Ranger, his prisoner, and the carriage rolled past.
    The storefronts and walkways, roof lines and walls surrounding the plazas were in the process of being decorated, and when Ben inquired, Anabel told him about the fiesta coming up on the fifth of May. The whole town would be one big carnival. Everyone was excited and looking forward to the event. Farmers from the outlying area and people from the smaller settlements to the north and south would be coming to San Antonio to take part in the celebration.
    “There will be much music, much dancing, much laughter, and the food…” Anabel closed her eyes a moment and then smiled. “Breathe in.”
    The air was already heavy with the scent of baking bread and pies, spice cakes, and sugary preserves. As the day drew closer, nearly every street would be filled with mouth-watering aromas.
    “Perhaps I might see you at the fiesta,” Ben suggested.
    “Or sooner,” Anabel replied.
    Before Ben could further pursue the topic, the carriage turned yet again and followed Snake Eye Gandy and his prisoner along the western edge of Military Plaza. They followed the street up to an impressive-looking rock house that had once served as the governor’s palace, before Texas became a republic. The single-story sandstone building housed the Ranger headquarters, as well as providing room for visiting dignitaries like Matthew Abbot.
    Ben immediately recognized the retired general and