Everything had unfolded exactly as Narciso López had expected. His real employers were the Southern slaveholder bloc; otherwise, how could an exiled politician abandoned by his family possibly scrape together a force of several hundred men?
On the other side of Cuba Island, de la Concha stared blankly at the map before him. The officials around him found it strange as well. After all, this governor was normally known for his hard-line ways—why was this operation so peculiar?
In truth, before Narciso López joined forces with the local resistance groups, he had not amounted to much of a threat. Even after absorbing those so-called resistance organizations on Cuba Island, their strength was still not worth mentioning.
Their earlier rout at the hands of the local garrison in the east was the best proof of that.
Yet against such an enemy, de la Concha had stubbornly refused to send out troops. The island's gentlemen were quite pleased by this; with de la Concha's army guarding them, they no longer had to worry about Narciso López and the rebels breaking in.
To keep de la Concha stationed in Havana, the island's gentlemen had paid out no small amount of money.
To these people, whether they swore allegiance to Spain, the Austrian Empire, or America made little difference. What mattered most to them was their land, their property, and the way of life to which they had grown accustomed.
But being placed on equal footing with those rebels—even with mixed-bloods—was something they could never accept.
Though de la Concha made no moves, western Cuba was far from peaceful. As Narciso López's exploits spread, the resistance groups originally scattered across Cuba Island were greatly encouraged.
These people lacked the ability to attack cities or heavily defended estates, but they had their own distinctive means