Finish the story begins with: “The house of Don Francisco sat in a remote part of the desert.”
It was a place that when you saw it you knew where his allegiances lay. The fortifications stood out as a long time reminder of his disputes with neighbours, the government and anyone else he didn’t see eye to eye with.
Underneath the gruff exterior there did lay a kind and gentle man, stubborn when pushed but a man of principles and at time breathtaking benevolence.
Many a lost desert traveller had found sanctuary at his home.
Now some twenty years after his passing I looked at the rundown state of this once majestic home and wondered what Dom Francisco might say of its present state. Where once music and joy had filled the air, now the hot biting wind and creeping vegetation were the only evidence of life.