I see these guys as an unruly horde of gauchos in ponchos, sombreros and mustachios thundering across the pampas on their cayuses and waving ancient muskets around. Many of these vaqueros together are uncontrollably excitable. One by himself is taciturn and remote.
About these guys there should be a romance that appeals as much to the aristocrats as to the peasants. They're not like the ghastly GuevarianDeathSquads or the squabbling urban communist revolutionaries; they are an elemental force, representing everything that is good about Guevarian machismo and self-reliance.