Juan de Sosa kills Diego Menchaca
(DRAWING BY JACK JACKSON)
RIGHTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES
What do a young Indian woman kept as a slave and the wife of a famous East Texas settler have in common? Both became involved in legal cases that had to be decided by royal officials. Like other women in Texas, they had to obey Castilian (Spanish) laws. These laws gave women in Spain and Spanish America many rights, but they also required them to live within the rules of society.
What specific rights did women have in Texas? Did officials take women and their legal rights seriously? What happened to women who broke the law? These questions and others will be explored in this chapter. Here you will meet a variety of women. Some were good people, who benefited from the legal system. Others committed crimes and were punished for their actions.
In the late 1400s, the kingdom of Castile, a part of present-day Spain, was ruled by Queen Isabella. In 1492 she agreed to help pay for Christopher Columbus’s famous voyage. She and her husband, King Ferdinand of Aragon, also supported three other voyages to America by Columbus. But Castile claimed the lands that Christopher Columbus discovered on his four voyages.
Long before Columbus discovered the New World, women played important roles in early Spanish history. This was especially true during the long wars (711–1492) between Christians and Muslims. They were settlers, wives, mothers, and “vital members of new … communities” on the frontiers of Spain, just as they later were in new towns on the American continents. Because they risked their lives on dangerous frontiers, Spanish women were granted special rights under Castilian law. They did not have equal status with men, but they had greater legal protection than most other members of their sex in the world at this time in history.
When Spaniards began coming to America to set up colonies, they brought their Castilian laws with them. In Texas, Spanish governors served as chief judges. Although governors of Texas were always military men, rather than trained lawyers, this was not as big a problem as it might seem. Castilian laws were very detailed and covered almost every possibility. So governors simply had to find the appropriate law and apply it to individual cases.
All women, even those who were poor and uneducated, were protected by Spanish law. It is interesting to note that women on the American frontier seemed to know a lot about their legal rights. This information was passed down, generation after generation, from grandmother to mother to daughter. One thing seems certain—women in Spanish Texas had a good idea of what they could expect from the legal system. They also knew what their society expected from them.
Most women were expected to marry and bear children. But because men fought battles with Indians, women faced the reality of widowhood. If that happened, the widow was supposed to honor her husband’s memory for a year. Then she should remarry. Until she did, she had to take care of the children, property, and other family matters. Even women who did not lose husbands had to handle the family’s affairs while the men were away from home.
Women also played a major role in forming family ties in the Spanish Empire. Remember that Louis St. Denis probably married Manuela Sánchez at least in part because she was a member of the powerful Ramón family, although the couple apparently were attracted to each other as well. Nevertheless, Louis St. Denis clearly understood that having the right relatives could improve a Frenchman’s chances for success on the Texas-Louisiana frontier.
For men, making a proper marriage also meant that they might collect a dowry. This was money or property that a bride brought into the marriage as a gift to the groom. Remember that the Marqués de Aguayo acquired his titles and wealth through marriage. The resources of the marquesa allowed her husband to head the expedition that re-occupied East Texas in the early 1720s, established a mission-presidio complex on the Gulf Coast, and strengthened the San Antonio area.
In San Antonio, marriages were especially important in tying the community together. As discussed in Chapter 15, Béxar in the 1730s was divided by quarrels among the original colonists, the settlers who moved there from East Texas, and the people from the Canary Islands.
At first the Isleños (Canary Islanders) controlled much of Béxar—the agricultural lands, water rights, and town council positions. But their numbers were so small that they had to seek husbands and wives among the American-born settlers. An example is the offspring of Canary Islanders José Leal and Ana de los Santos. The couple’s six daughters and three sons all married non-Isleños.
Within three generations, many of the people at San Antonio could claim ties to the Canary Islander families. Indeed, there was no one left at Béxar who was pure-blooded Isleño. Marriage to Isleños also helped other colonists gain higher positions and more power within the community.
Besides marriage as a means for social betterment, what did marital status mean for colonial women? Under Castilian law, women could definitely own property in their own name. Sometimes the bride brought property into a marriage as a dowry for her husband. But she kept any other property that she already owned. This was not the case in the English colonies that became the United States, nor was it the case in most European nations.
When Spanish men and women married, the husband began managing their possessions. Castilian law, however, tried to protect the wife from having her belongings mishandled or wasted by her husband. For example, the husband could not sell any property his wife had before they married without her permission.
Castilian law also contained the concept of community property. Under this arrangement, as in Texas today, the husband and wife had equal ownership of all the wealth and property that they acquired after they were married. They were also both responsible for any debts they made while married. This meant that a wife had to pay her share of anything that she and her husband owed.
María Melián is an excellent example of a woman who owned property. She and her husband, Lucas Delgado, were Canary Islanders. They were both poor. Neither had any property when they married. But they got rewards from the crown for agreeing to move to San Antonio. By the time Lucas Delgado died, the couple had several head of cattle among their possessions.
Later María Melián wed Juan Leal Goraz. She gave him one cow as her dowry. She did not give him “any of the five [cattle] which the king gave me when I came as a settler” to Béxar. This shows that a woman could bring a dowry into a marriage but also keep her own personal property.
Castilian laws also tried to prevent a husband from selling property that belonged to both without his wife’s permission. For an example of this, there is the case of María Alexandria de los Reyes. Maria’s husband, Pedro de Regalado de Treviño, signed a contract to sell a lot and house they owned. Doña María had to swear in writing that she would not oppose the sale “by reason of my marriage, dowry,” or other rights. She also had to swear that her husband had not threatened her or forced her to agree to the contract. It is clear that don Pedro could not sell the property without his wife’s approval.
Affairs of the family of José de Urrutia also reveal a great deal about wives, daughters, and property. When Mission San Francisco de los Tejas was abandoned in 1693, don José chose to live among the Tejas Indians, rather than return to New Spain. He later rejoined Spanish society, and became commander of the fort at Béxar in 1733—a post he held until his death in 1740.
During his long life, don José married twice within the Catholic Church. His first wife, Antonia Ramón, brought no dowry or property into the marriage. The couple had one daughter. After don José’s first wife died, he wed Rosa Flores y Valdés. She too had no dowry or property at the time. This marriage produced a number of children, including four daughters.
The will of José de Urrutia mentions eleven legitimate children. (Legitimate means that the parents were legally married at the time that the children were born). These eleven were to “share and share alike” in most of don José’s estate.
One of José de Urrutia’s sons, Joaquín, was a soldier at the presidio of Béxar. He wanted to sell his share of a house and lot in Saltillo that was part of don José’s estate. In order to make the sale, Joaquín had to get the approval of his wife, Josefa. Once again, a woman had to be consulted and give her permission before property could be sold.
Juana de Urrutia was a daughter from don José’s second marriage. Later in life, she was a widow who lived at Béxar. In 1745 she sold her share of a house and lot in Saltillo to her brother Pedro for eighteen pesos. In the following year, doña Juana sold some property that had belonged to her and her dead husband. This included a lot in San Antonio with a house and sixteen peach trees.
By studying the settlement of José de Urrutia’s estate, we can learn a lot about women’s legal rights. Legitimate daughters could inherit property equally with legitimate sons. A son who inherited property from his father had to have his wife’s consent to sell it, but a widow could sell inherited property whenever she wanted. Compared to English and Anglo-American law, these were astounding powers for women to have.
Another case at Béxar involved Josefa Flores y Valdés. She was an early resident who had married twice, but she outlived both of her husbands. There were people at San Antonio who owed debts to doña Josefa’s dead husbands, and she wanted to collect what was due her. So Señora Flores de Valdés gave her power of attorney (legal right to represent her interests) to Francisco de Liñán of Coahuila. He was supposed to collect any money, livestock, water rights, or other valuables owed to her husbands when they died.
Doña Josefa also gave don Francisco the right to file lawsuits and swear oaths for her. To do this she had to state in writing that she gave up her rights under the laws “in favor of women.” She also had to promise to go along with whatever Francisco de Liñán decided.
Papers concerning doña Josefa and her business affairs show that women were also involved in buying and selling “human” property, as well as real estate. On October 29, 1743, Señora Valdés sold Luis, a black slave, to Governor Justo Boneo y Morales. She had gotten the slave from her first husband, Miguel Núñez Morillo.
In making the sale, dona Josefa had to pledge that the slave would belong to Governor Boneo y Morales “for all time.” Should anything go wrong, such as the slave having a hidden injury that would prevent him from working, she had to return the sale price of two hundred pesos. On that same day, October 29, 1743, doña Josefa bought a thirty-three-year-old slave from don Justo for 279 pesos. Thus, a woman could be both a seller and buyer of black slaves.
Under Castilian law, women had impressive rights, such as those discussed above. We also noted earlier in this chapter that women seemed to be well informed of their rights. They fully expected the legal system to protect them.
In actual practice, did Castilian law really work for women of all classes? Would the legal system provide justice even for poor women who could neither read nor write? What would happen when a woman from the lower class was involved in a dispute with someone of higher social position? Or what if the woman seeking justice was not even Hispanic?
To answer these questions, we need to look again at the affairs of doña Josefa Flores y Valdés. She was involved in an earlier incident with Antonia Lusgardia Hernández. Antonia was a free mulata, a woman of mixed African and Spanish ancestry. Her case shows that a woman’s rights were protected under Spanish law, no matter how poor she was.
Antonia Lusgardia Hernández presented a petition (written appeal) to Governor Manuel de Sandoval in 1735. Nine years earlier, Antonia and her daughter had moved into the home of Josefa and her first husband, Miguel Núñez Morillo. While living there, the mulata gave birth to a son. Doña Josefa became very fond of the boy and became his madrina (godmother).
Antonia claimed that she received no pay while she worked in the Núñez Morillo household. She also suffered “from lack of clothing and mistreatment.” To escape from this awful situation, the young woman left and took her two children with her. However, the mulata claimed that don Miguel secretly entered her new home, stole her son, and took him back to doña Josefa.
Naturally, Antonia was very upset. In her complaint to Governor Sandoval, she stated that her son, Ignacio, was “the only man I have and the one I hope will eventually support me.” Antonia called herself a “poor, helpless women whose only protection is … a good judicial system.”
Governor Sandoval ordered don Miguel to appear and read the petition to him. Not surprisingly, don Miguel disagreed with Antonia’s version of events. He stated that the mulata had asked doña Josefa to be young Ignacio’s godmother. According to don Miguel, Antonia “gave her the said boy” and gave up any rights to him.
Don Miguel also insisted that the boy had left his mother of his own free will. “Without being carried or encouraged by anybody,” the child had walked to the Núñez Morillo home. Don Miguel argued that the boy wanted to be with doña Josefa more than he wished to be with his own mother.
It appears that the boy was returned to his birth mother, Antonia, by order of Governor Sandoval. This royal official upheld the rights of a lower-class woman of color to her child over those of a Spanish woman with a higher social position. In this case, the legal system worked for an illiterate (unable to read or write) female of mixed ancestry.
An even more impressive example of Spanish law protecting women involves a young Indian slave. María Gertrudis was a Native American of the region near Camargo. As a baby, she was sold to José de la Peña of Saltillo for fifty pesos. Don José gave her his family name, De la Peña. María Gertrudis de la Peña was passed on to two more masters before she arrived at San Antonio. At that time, she petitioned Governor Domingo Cabello for her freedom.
María’s story is indeed a sad one. She did not know her exact age or even remember her parents. At the time that she presented the petition, the young Indian woman was living in the house of Angel Navarro. In that household, she was called Esclava (Slave). She claimed to have suffered “many ill-treatments” from the family and especially from don Angel himself.
Before coming to Béxar, María Gertrudis de la Peña had lived as a daughter of José de la Peña at Saltillo. But things had changed when she turned sixteen. As her body matured, José became attracted to her, and she became pregnant by her adoptive father. Wanting to avoid a scandal, he sold María to a soldier at Presidio del Río Grande.
This soldier also claimed the Native American as his daughter, not as his slave. For two years María lived with him, until he became angry with her. The soldier then took all of her clothes and sold her to Angel Navarro. Because Navarro had paid for her, he expected work in return. The new master promised to free María Gertrudis after three years. María had originally agreed to those terms but changed her mind after being subjected to “the temper and style of the household.” However, when she announced that she wanted to leave, don Angel would not let her go.
This young Indian woman begged Governor Cabello for “mercy, justice, and goodwill.” She also expressed the hope that at Béxar “there would not be an absence of justice as there had been at the Presidio of Río Grande.”
Again the legal system worked to provide justice. In his decision, Cabello noted that Spanish law “greatly favors the freedom of Indians.” María Gertrudis was “free by nature” but still had been sold as human property. The governor declared that this was illegal, and he granted María Gertrudis her freedom. No longer would she have to serve in the Angel Navarro household. Cabello then advised the former slave to return to Camargo and join her relatives, if she could find them. If, on the other hand, she chose to stay at San Antonio, she must live with “orderliness” and cause no trouble.
Cabello’s warning to María Gertrudis de la Peña illustrates another important aspect of Castilian law. Women expected and indeed received protection under the law. They were also expected to behave properly. Failing to do so, they could be punished like everyone else.
Of particular interest in this regard is a case involving adultery. Adultery, which is forbidden in the Ten Commandments, involves a married person having sexual relations with someone other than the spouse (husband or wife). This was a crime punishable under Spanish law.
At San Antonio a sad triangle of love and hate came to light in 1744. It involved a woman named Rosa Guerra and her husband, Matías Treviño, as well as her supposed lover, a man named Antonio Tello. On August 21a badly wounded Treviño staggered into Mission San Antonio de Valero. He was bleeding from a single bullet wound, and he had also been severely beaten about the head and shoulders with a gun barrel. The dying man stated that he was attacked by Antonio Tello, who screamed, “Now you’ll see, cuckold”—a term used for the husband of an unfaithful wife.
Don Matías claimed that two days before, on August 19, a heated conflict had broken out in his household. It started when he scolded his wife because he suspected she was having an affair. Doña Rosa denied this and replied in anger, “I’ll have you killed.” Don Matías ended his deathbed statement by saying that it was “well known and rumored” that Antonio Tello had had sexual relations with his wife, doña Rosa.
A soldier at the Béxar presidio supported don Matías’s version of events. He told officials at Béxar that Antonio Tello had built a log house for doña Rosa while her husband was out of town. Don Antonio apparently let her live there free of charge, but he was always there too.
Based on the evidence, Béxar officials arrested Rosa Guerra on the day of her husband’s murder. They placed her in handcuffs and locked her in a room. Under questioning, doña Rosa stated that her husband and Antonio Tello had never quarreled. She also insisted that she had paid for the house that don Antonio built for her. She likewise denied that they had a secret affair. She did admit, nonetheless, that in the recent past a local official had told her three times to “throw him [Tello] out of her house.”
As for the accused lover, Tello took refuge in Mission San Antonio de Valero. From there, he sent word to officials that he was not guilty of Treviño’s murder. Three days later, Béxar officials got permission from the priest to remove Tello from the mission. However, by the time that they surrounded the church, Tello had already escaped, and they could not find him.
Unfortunately, the documents relating to this case do not tell us what finally happened. Nevertheless, the fact that Rosa Guerra was arrested and confined shows that women had to behave responsibly or face serious consequences.
Another case involving suspected adultery occurred almost thirty years later. It also resulted in murder, but teaches us a different point of law about the conduct of women during the Spanish period.
In April 1772 Juan de Sosa admitted that he had murdered Diego Menchaca. As it turned out, the dead man had lived for a while in the Sosa household. Both men were soldiers at the Béxar presidio. But problems began between them when the husband became jealous of his wife, Gertrudis Barrón, for he suspected that she had her eye on Menchaca.
Matters got worse one day while Juan de Sosa was beating his wife out of jealousy. Menchaca tried to protect the woman, and in doing so managed to slightly wound Sosa. The angry husband then ordered don Diego out of his home and told him never to return.
Don Juan, however, still suspected that his wife and Menchaca were meeting secretly. One night the husband discovered that Menchaca, a sentry (guard), was not at his assigned post in the presidio. Suspicious of what might be going on, Sosa went looking for his wife. At first he could not find her or the missing sentry.
Then Sosa saw his wife’s dog, which always followed her. Realizing that his wife had to be nearby, the frantic Sosa continued his search. At about nine o’clock in the evening, Juan de Sosa found the couple alone in another house. When he entered the place, don Diego tried to throw him out. The angry husband then struck the other soldier three times with his sword, killing him.
After the deadly attack, Sosa admitted that he had committed the crime, but he stated that he had only intended to use the broad side of his blade. He certainly had not planned to kill his wife’s lover. Menchaca’s death was an unfortunate accident.
In the meantime, doña Gertrudis “sought protection in the sacred place” of Mission Concepción. Luis Antonio Menchaca, captain and judge at Béxar, asked permission to have her removed from the mission, “not to be immediately punished or charged with any [crime], but only to protect her.”
Captain Menchaca wanted to make sure that those responsible for the murder were punished. With the permission of the local priest, Gertrudis Barrón was removed from the mission and placed under arrest. Captain Menchaca decided that the case was serious enough to have her imprisoned. So he placed her in leg irons and locked her in a secure house until the matter was settled.
Juan de Sosa kills Diego Menchaca
(DRAWING BY JACK JACKSON)
A lieutenant at Presidio Béxar defended Juan de Sosa’s actions. He declared that the man should be freed, because the crime was committed to “save his honor.” The officer added that “any man has the right to defend his honor, [and] his wife.”
This case went on appeal all the way to a high court in Mexico City. An advocate general (defense lawyer) acting on Sosa’s behalf said there were times when it was acceptable to commit murder. If a man and woman were found in an isolated place at night, that in itself was sufficient proof of adultery. The advocate general reminded the judge that Juan de Sosa had ordered Diego Menchaca and Gertrudis Barrón not to have any contact. Indeed, Sosa himself was the injured party. He had every right to do what he did.
At the end of the case, the point was clearly made that under Spanish law a husband who found his wife committing adultery had the right to kill her lover! He could do this even if there was only strong suspicion of that act. In Sosa’s case, there was no real proof that his wife had been unfaithful. The situation, however, did explain his being so “mad at that moment, blinded by anger, and deeply hurt” that he acted without thinking. Therefore, orders came from Mexico City that Juan de Sosa should be released. As of May 1773, his sentence was changed to time already served. Interestingly, upon his release, Sosa was ordered to pay for twenty-five Masses to be said in the Catholic Church for the soul of Diego Menchaca. He did this, but probably was not happy about it.
The way that this case turned out illustrates “the unwritten law” of a betrayed husband’s rights. By those rules, a husband who found his wife committing adultery had the right to kill the other man. He could not, however, kill the wife. Instead, she must be handed over to a judge for punishment. This so-called “unwritten law” of a husband’s rights carried over into twentieth-century Texas.
The act of adultery by a man’s wife was considered a serious offense and an insult to his honor, as we have seen. If a husband wanted to avoid using violence to separate a wife and her lover, he could appeal to the legal system for help. Antonio Gil Ibarvo, the famous colonizer and Father of East Texas, used this approach in the 1760s.
Gil Ibarvo’s wife, María Padilla, was publicly carrying on an illegal affair with a soldier named Andrés Chirinos. When other measures did not work, Governor Angel de Martos arrested Chirinos. The man was accused of public drunkenness and immoral relations with Gil Ibarvo’s wife. At first, the soldier was released but sent far away to the presidio at La Bahía, and Chirinos was sternly warned never to return to Los Adaes.
Apparently the lure of María Padilla proved too great. When the soldier reappeared at Los Adaes, he was quickly arrested and again ordered to leave the capital. But within a short time, Andrés Chirinos returned yet again to Los Adaes.
Gil Ibarvo was fed up. He again petitioned Governor Martos for relief. Don Antonio asked to be spared the shame of having everyone know that he and his wife “were living in a constant state of … anxiety and discord on account of Andrés Chirinos.”
Efforts to separate the adulterer and Gil Ibarvo’s wife within Texas had obviously not worked, according to don Antonio. So he asked the governor to send Chirinos to a “distant location” or to grant him “license to move” with his family “from this presidio.” Gil Ibarvo believed that only one or the other of these solutions would improve his marital problems and bring peace to the family.
The governor decided that removing Chirinos was a better choice than letting the Gil Ibarvo family move away from East Texas. That was an important decision, especially when one considers the role that Antonio Gil Ibarvo would play in East Texas in later years.
Governor Martos’s decision was to sentence Andrés Chirinos to serve the crown without pay for four years at El Morro, a fort in Havana, Cuba. Sending the soldier so far away would hopefully allow don Antonio to have some peace in his marriage. And Gil Ibarvo would not have to resort to murder.
The story of María Padilla, her husband, and her lover reminds us that not all women lived in San Antonio. After the founding of modern Nacogdoches in 1779, the East Texas town grew rapidly. By 1783 it had attracted some undesirable elements. Antonio Gil Ibarvo was concerned, saying, “Disorders of all kinds are spreading … amongst persons of both sexes.”
As lieutenant governor, he issued a set of laws for the colony. These rules and regulations may well have been influenced by problems with his wife, María Padilla. Gil Ibarvo’s criminal code had specific sections that applied to immoral women and their lovers. Don Antonio spelled out what would happen to any women having sexual relations with a man other than her husband. The penalties became more severe if the woman kept repeating the crime. Harsh punishment at Nacogdoches awaited those guilty of adultery.
Obviously, don Antonio hoped that threats of severe penalties would keep women from acting immorally. He also wanted to protect women from being the victims of crime. Under Gil Ibarvo’s legal code, anyone who violated “a maiden” faced the death penalty. “Rape in a secluded and deserted place” could cost a man his life. So could committing violence against “a woman living honestly.” Likewise, allowing one’s wife to be a prostitute, a woman paid for having sex with others, carried stiff punishment. In East Texas, as in San Antonio and elsewhere, the rule of law was imposed on both women and men.
Women who were involved in the legal system in Spanish Texas were a varied group. Some early pioneers, like Canary Islander María Melián, owned cattle that they had received from the crown for coming to San Antonio. Others, such as the widow and daughters of José de Urrutia, inherited property. Josefa Flores de Valdés bought and sold human property (slaves), while María Gertrudis de la Peña was freed from slavery. These women enjoyed important rights under Spanish law.
Still others ran into trouble because of their suspected immoral behavior, as in the murder case involving Rosa Guerra. On other occasions, such matters were settled without violence, as happened with Antonio Gil Ibarvo, María Padilla, and her lover.
In conclusion, women in the Spanish empire had many rights not enjoyed by females elsewhere. To again quote María Gertrudis de la Peña, they could and did expect to receive “mercy, justice, and good will” from royal officials.
Women also had to answer for their actions and live with “orderliness.” They enjoyed the benefits of Castilian/Spanish law but faced the burdens as well. This was true whether the laws were transplanted from Spain to America or whether they were written on the East Texas frontier. It was also true whether the females were Spanish, French, castas, Native Americans, or African Americans.
Materials used in preparing this chapter are described below. You can find more information about these sources in the Bibliography at the end of the book.
The best information on women and the law in colonial Texas is found in Donald E. Chipman and Harriett Denise Joseph’s chapter “Colonial Women” in Notable Men and Women of Spanish Texas. Also important is Charles R. Cutter’s The Legal Culture of Northern New Spain, 1700–1810.
Quotes in this chapter are from the following sources: Heath Dillard, Daughters of the Reconquest: Women in Castilian Town Society, 1100–1300; A Criminal Code for Nacogdoches, 1783, Robert Bruce Blake Research Collection, Center for American History, Austin, volume 45. Quotes are also from the following documents from the Béxar Archives Translations: Last Will and Testament of María Melián, December 3, 1740, Reel 2; Contract for Sale of Lot by Pedro de Regalado, June 25, 1745, Reel 2; Petition of Antonia Lusgardia Hernández to Governor Manuel de Sandoval, August 9, 1735, Reel 2; Decree of Governor Manuel de Sandoval [August 1735], Reel 2; Writ from María Gertrudis de la Peña to Governor Domingo Cabello [January 25, 1785], Reel 6; Testimony of María Gertrudis de la Peña, February 7, 1785, Reel 6; Order Issued by Governor Domingo Cabello, March 3, 1785, Reel 6; Deposition of Matías Treviño, August 21, 1744, Reel 3,• Deposition of Rosa Guerra, August 21, 1744, Reel 3; Summons Issued for Gertrudis Barrón, April 23, 1772, Reel 7; Summons to Priest of Mission Concepción to Deliver Gertrudis Barrón, April 24, 1772, Reel 7; Defense of Juan de Sosa by Joaquín de Orendáin, May 19, 1772, Reel 7; Summation of Proceedings by Domingo de Valcarcel, February 25, 1773, Reel 7; Petition of Gil Ibarvo to Governor Angel Martos, July 2, 1766, Reel 4.
Written records relating to women in colonial Texas, such as lawsuits, estate settlements, wills, and petitions, are contained in the Béxar Archives at Austin and the Béxar Archives Translations (microfilm holdings in various libraries). Also useful is Jean A. Stuntz’s “The Persistence of Castilian Law in Frontier Texas: The Legal Status of Women” (master’s thesis, University of North Texas, 1996).
