“What do you think?” José called out to our son with pride as we followed him.

“He’s wonderful!” He wrapped his arms around José’s legs. “Thank you!”

José looked at me, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “It’s about time we taught him how to ride.”

I huffed. “When I was his age, I was already training horses.” I got on my horse, holding Teresita in front of me. “What will you have us do?”

“Put on a good show for the people of Salto,” José said.

We rode through the streets, followed by the Redshirts, then the Uruguayan army behind them. The people cheered, throwing flowers in our path. I watched Menotti in front of me. His large, genuine smile made him look like a miniature José.

That night the town threw a large fiesta in our honor. The whole garrison came out and mingled with the townspeople. Lanterns crisscrossed over the town square, making a canopy of light. We sat at the head table, flanked by the new mayor and the Uruguayan general who would be making Salto his home. The mayor, a short bald man, was anxious; he kept wiping his forehead with a damp handkerchief. His eyes darted all over the party and his hands shook as he reached for his wine. “He’s so nervous,” I remarked, watching as he loosened his collar.

“Well, I would be too, given what happened to his predecessor.” José leaned in toward me. “The Argentinian army hanged him. It’s the first thing they do when they come into a new town. It’s how they establish their dominance.”

The women of the village began delivering dishes of roasted vegetables and mounds of Spanish scented rice and black beans.

“They were cut off from all their supplies. How do they have so much food?” I whispered to José.

“This feast that they are parading before us is the last of everything they have from every village from here to Brazil.” He nodded toward the food. “When Argentina swept through Uruguay, they burned all the villages, instructing the people to move to the other side of the river in Argentina, because they were now a part of the great South American empire.”

“Only the people didn’t go to Argentina,” I said, looking over the crowd that had gathered.

“No. They didn’t,” José said. “There is one thing about the Uruguayans that Rosas has yet to learn: They will never do what they are told.”

After we ate, the villagers pulled out their guitars and accordions.

José pulled me by the arm, twirling me around in the center of the impromptu dance floor. Lost in my laughter, José pulled me close to him, kissing me passionately in front of everyone, making me blush.

“I need water,” I said, catching my breath.

José nodded. He followed me back to the table where Teresita stood dancing with some of the children of the village. After taking a swig of water José picked up Teresita in one big swooping motion. “If you don’t mind, I will be dancing with my other lovely lady.” He kissed Teresita’s cheek as he brought her out onto the dance floor with him.