Laced & Leather Chaos

Prologue: 1

Twelve-year old Trent Larson glanced about him at the city of Santa Cecilia he and his family had just come to; and not from another part of Mexico, from Texas and their own large farm. In some ways, this wasn't much different, a small town and community just outside a major city, but in a lot of ways it was.

Learning better Spanish to survive would be one, and the fact that his sandy blonde locks stuck out a bit as he glanced about him. The choice of city hadn't been completely random, and there was a reason the Larsons were here and not Mexico City to start with.

Well one Reason and a Coincidence.

Reason; the Riveras were such good shoe makers their legacy spanned to the border even and when Trent's father had been transporting some cattle. Ever since it had been settled in the western days of frontier grabbing (Trent lost track, was it his great-great-great grandfather, or his father who had claimed it...) the family had raised their own cattle and run their own tannery. Real and high quality leather even now; so a family that made shoes still all together and with tradition had grabbed Mr. Larson's attention and respect.

They could also be the tipping point of hanging on, and in this age of digital, Mr. Larson could afford to go and see while the tannery still ran in Texas, and run things from calls. It was still only a handful of employees at a factory for outside family running, and moving the family, and cattle, essentially moved the business.

They were in the hotel/house looking stage, but Trent wasn't opposed per se, as he glanced about. Just not sure yet. Though the decision didn't really lie with him.

The Coincidence was Trent's maternal grandfather had come from Santa Cecilia, before he left at Sixteen for some sort of fortune making that Trent forgot the nature of and...well that family here, two great-grandparents, were long gone; or so his mother said. She had lost touch herself and hardly knew. True border crossings weren't what they were in those days, but still it shouldn't be that hard even if they had to go back to check up on the actual tannery.

But that was all his father's buisiness running logistics, Trent was just along for the ride.

As Trent glanced about, getting a picture of Santa Cecilia, and while his father was off looking up the Riveras, he heard a distinct guitar strum over the crowd. For one, the market wasn't that crowded to begin with, and also, playing the trumpet himself, he just figured he had an ear for music. Well, one had to to play...

Trent picked up his own trumpet case (nice leather of course, with carvings done by Trent himself; if he had one leather skill, he could carve pretty well for his age) and glanced about, finding the direction.

He wasn't so presumptuous as to imagine playing with the musician...at first...before throwing some little kid charm; just investigating at the moment. The strumming came from the center pavilion of the plaza...and was a kid his age, Trent noticed! Or about.

The other boy stood there, watching and listening a bit, a smile coming. He should walk up and tell the fellow preteen musician he was really good...or...

Slowly setting his case down, and opening it, trying to be inconspicuous, just for the fun of such, Trent took out his trumpet and began a hearty mariachi tune to fit what the other boy was strumming (and hoped he wasn't insulting an entire culture...but again his grandfather had been from this town...). As he walked up, the other paused to glance to him, then a smile spread over his face too and he continued with his guitar, matching Trent's tune even better from his before idle strumming.

Trent's smile almost messed up his playing, but he recovered, finishing out the tune at least and a few bars of improvised tune, ending with a trumpet flare. As he lowered his instrument, he let his smile and laugh out. The other laughed too, beckoning him up to the pavilion.

Skipping the steps as fast as he could, Trent walked up.

"Bien! Not bad Amigo!", the boy said, then shifted his guitar to hold out a hand, "Miguel Rivera".

Rivera...

Trent blinked. Had he found a kid of the family they were looking for? Wow! And he hadn't been trying!

Yet he decided not to bring up boring business, at the moment anyway. "Trent. Trenton Larson", he shook, "and that was very good yourself!".

"Are you...visiting Santa Cecilia...?", Miguel seemed to regret how that came out soon as he said it, but Trent just laughed, "Just moved here...well or looking at it...". He paused, but it had officially come up, so best go on and explain, "We...uh, my dad was looking for some famous Rivera shoe makers actually. We...well he, has a leather business. Tannery. And cows...", Trent broke off.

"Oh...", Miguel took all this in, then smiled, "Well yeah, that would be my family! But I didn't know we were heard of in...".

"Texas, outside Houston", Trent supplied, "and yeah, I don't remember how he heard, but he said he had to meet your parents and at least...discuss it", Trent paused, "and sorry...I didn't know all this when I came over, honest".

Miguel laughed, "Well how would you?". He paused, then his smile grew with a thought he left unsaid, but Trent thought he could guess it.

And maybe this could work out well for them...

"Uh, come on, I'll introduce you...and if you want to find your dad...", Miguel went on.

Trent shrugged, "Even if he hasn't found the house yet, I'll tell your parents or...", he hadn't really signed up to do the business transaction...

Miguel smiled again, "It'll be my Abuela, Mama Elena, my grandmother, you'll have to convince", he said.

Trent nodded he caught the term, and his smile grew again, "Sounds about right. My grandmother still tells my dad how to run the business, and he's technically the one in charge".

Both boys laughed over fully understanding this set up. "Come on!", Miguel then waved, and lead the way to his house.