The frontiersmen/women of the Romero family, apparently married indigenous people of certain tribes in the area or prior to migrating to the area, hence their racial traits being outlined as mestizo.  Diego Romero married a Bojorquez, also mentioned as a mestizo.  It could have also happened in the middle part of the 15th century when numerous Spanish Males married "Aztec's" and produced a new race of people, the Mexican(mestizo).  So, it is possible that the Romero males carried their proud heritage straight through to their immigration to northern Sonora.

When their history is studied, it will show that they prospered in the cattle industry, adopted numerous indigenous children, probably to protect them from being killed, as was the deadly custom during the settler/tribal wars in the middle 1700's.  Diego Romero's home in "Santa Barbara" is a national shrine.  Nicolas Romero lived in the Tubac area during the height of the settler/tribal wars.

So, the bloodlines of the Romero family are; Spanish, Basque, Indigenous Tribal persons.  It could be any tribe, as I cannot find the records. (Ignacio Romero was a witness, below, mentioned that he spoke the Pima language).  He was the son of José Romero and Isabel de Figueroa.  The father Jose, was the brother of Diego Romero.  

One of the remarkable "things", is how the marriage/witness interaction between the Romero's-Pacheco's and Bojorquez's, in that time period.

by Donald T. Garate    Diego Romero was a mestizo. He was highly regarded by his neighbors, Spaniards, mestizos, and Indians alike. He and his family were the first to set up permanent residence in the upper Santa Cruz Valley. That most likely happened in the spring of 1727 when Juan Bautista de Anza, the newly appointed captain at the Presidio of Fronteras permanently dispatched Diego’s brother, José, to the San Luis Valley to protect Spanish interests there. Although the Romeros’ residence was located just south of what is today the international border between Arizona and Sonora, Diego found himself on the Arizona side of the line in search of horses and mules with the “diamond pitchfork” brand, illustrated above, the following spring of 1728. A Yaqui Indian had delivered a letter to him dated May 5, 1728 at the hacienda of San José de Jamaica on the Río Moctezuma, two hundred and fifty miles southeast of Diego’s newly established Santa Barbara Ranch. The letter was signed by the Alcalde Mayor, or “lieutenant governor,” of Sonora, Don Gabriel Prudhom Butrón y Mujica, instructing Señor Romero to take whatever number of horses and peones, or “workers,” he needed to gather up the animals and return them to Jamaica. The lost livestock were evidently somewhere in the Santa Ritas or the Catalina Mountains. Apaches had stolen them from an estancia, or “ranch,” belonging to Don Gregorio Álvarez Tuñón y Quirós in the Moctezuma River Valley between Jamaica and what was then the capital of Sonora, the town of San Juan Bautista. The raid had occurred in the wee morning hours of Wednesday, January 28, 1728 during the full moon. Although they had prevented many horses and mules from being stolen, Yeguero, or the “keeper of the brood mares,” Juan Francisco Villa and his Opata helpers, Visencio, Nicolás, Andres, and Felipe, had been powerless to hold the entire herd against the superior number of Apaches. Several hundred animals had been lost that night. Although Apaches were known to eat horsemeat and had undoubtedly butchered some of the stolen livestock, the count was far too large for them to have slaughtered them all. The animals had been tracked to the Pimería Alta north of Diego Romero’s place at Santa Barbara where they were being loosely held. So, in reality, Diego and his caballeros would not only be gathering the herd, but would be stealing them back from the Apaches – a task somewhat more hazardous than an afternoon trail ride! Apaches were always a problem in those years, and always a serious danger to life and property. Regardless of how we might view them in the 21st century, however, they were a relatively mild danger compared to today. Percentage wise there are twice as many of us killed on the highways in our time as were killed by Apaches in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The real danger that Diego and his men had to fear in their day was epidemics of a variety of diseases of which small pox and measles were the most prominent. Being relatively isolated in the San Luis Valley they probably had not felt the full wrath of the debilitating and mysterious plague that had been devastating Sonora that winter. According to one source, it had already killed “infinite numbers of people.” It was raging so bad in eastern Sonora that guards had been posted around the capital at San Juan Bautista to warn travelers not to enter the infected city. In fact, it was this “infectious pestilence” that was the immediate reason for Diego having received the letter from the Alcalde Mayor to gather the diamond pitchfork horses. Don Gregorio, their owner, had just died in the epidemic. He was the former capitán vitalicio, or “lifetime captain” of the presidio at Fronteras. He had recently been removed from that capacity and replaced by Captain Anza. Don Gregorio had been ordered to stand trial in Mexico City for numerous misuses of the presidial soldiers and the kings funds. The trial had not gone well for him and extremely heavy fines had been levied against him. Even though he had managed to make himself a very wealthy man by taking illegal advantage of his commission for the nearly twenty-five years he had been in charge at Fronteras, it appeared that the fines and claims of other creditors would leave little for his heirs. Like other individuals who betray the public trust, Don Gregorio’s intrigues eventually caught up to him and his life ended in misery. He was barely fifty years old when he contracted the deadly sickness in early March. His first wife, María Magdalena de Miranda, and their small children, Ignacio, Gregoria Andrea, and another little sister, had all died several years previously. Gregorio had remarried to a lady named María Margarita Ortiz Cortez. They soon had a baby boy, who also died shortly after birth. In just a few short years Margarita was also dead, but she had left Don Gregorio two daughters, Ana Victoria and María Martina. Although they were both under the age of eight, they were his only living descendants and heirs. Don Gregorio had become so sick with the plague that he called for a priest. Padre Juan de Echagoyen rode over the mountain from Aconchi on March 21st and took his confession and wrote down his last will and testament as he dictated it. In the early morning hours of March 30th, Gregorio’s father-in-law, Antonio Ortiz Cortez, sent a message to Nicolás de la Torre, deputy alcalde mayor at San Juan Bautista, asking him to come quickly. Don Nicolás mounted his horse and trotted the dozen or so miles down the mountain to Jamaica, arriving there by nine o’clock that morning. Don Gregorio was unable to lift his head or speak and the signs of imminent death were present. A priest, Juan Ignacio Rodriguez Soto, the father-in-law, and two of Don Gregorio’s foremen were at his bedside, where they all remained until he slipped from life about five o’clock that afternoon. The body was clothed in the habit of San Francisco Xavier and carried on the shoulders of Don Gregorio’s employees up the mountain to San Juan Bautista where it was buried beneath the floor of the parish church the next morning. Also on that morning, workers at the hacienda at Jamaica opened the doors and windows of the room where their boss had died to air it out. Various perfumes that were thought to inhibit “pestilence” were spread around the room. The workers also took the mattresses and bed coverings outside in the sun to remove the “infectious vapor that hung over the deceased.” Alcalde Mayor Prudhom was notified at Motepore of the death and was asked to come immediately to take charge of the estate, which he did, riding via Aconchi and over the mountain, bypassing the still seriously plague-ridden capital. It was his administering of the estate that had prompted the letter to Diego Romero a month later. Although no one was saying anything in public and, certainly, everyone grieved for the two little daughters, secretly most of the residents of Sonora were glad Don Gregorio was gone. He had fought with most of his neighbors and his stranglehold on the presidio and the local government had caused misery for everyone. The fight to have him removed from office had been carried on mainly by the gachupines, or “peninsular-born Spaniards,” so Diego, as a mestizo, had not been directly involved with the litigation that ran from Sonora through Guadalajara to Mexico City. He was good friends with Anza and associates, however, and was highly esteemed by them. There is no doubt where he placed his loyalty – and it was not with Don Gregorio. One can only imagine the thoughts running through his mind as he and his helpers were out making one of the first large horse drives in what is today Arizona. A new day was dawning. There was a young new captain in charge of protecting the frontier. Settlement was truly getting underway in the new and undeveloped valley of the upper Santa Cruz. Don Gregorio would no longer cause anyone any trouble. And here Diego was, being paid by his estate to gather up his horses and mules!

He was married to Andrea Bojorquez, and their three children, who fled with them to Terrenate after the outbreak of the Pima uprising of 1751, were fourteen, ten, and four years old. The two oldest had been baptized at Suamca by Father Keller. The youngest was baptized by Father Garrucho at Guevavi. Father Garrucho had also buried two of their children in the church at Guevavi. A deputy justicia mayor, it was Ignacio Romero who should have issued the warrant for Pedro Chihuahua's arrest, if one was to be issued. He felt that the soldiers had authority over him, however, in a state of war. He pointed Pedro out to them in the large crowd that was fleeing to Terrenate, but he did not know then and did not find out until after the execution why the arrest was taking place. Ignacio was dispatched to Terrenate by Captain Menocal and was not present at the execution. He was not convinced of Pedro's guilt and claimed that their children were playing together when the arrest took place. His son, Cristóbal Ivislao, and Pedro's son, José Cristóbal were the same age. We do not have Ignacio's exact birthdate but he was over forty in December, 1753. He made the following statement concerning the Pima uprising during the investigation of 1754:

Luis arrived at the house of the Padre who had been advised of his arrival by a servant. The Padre was occupied with me. I had gone there for a particular negotiation and was making the same in the presence of the said Francisco Gil, domestic of the Father. Because of this the Father told the servant to tell Luis to wait a little and then he could come in. While Luis was waiting Father Keller told me that he did not want to speak to that Indian without witnesses, and this was why he was detaining him. Then Luis entered. He greeted the Father, who returned his greeting and asked where he was going. Luis said, ?On a campaign with Captain Don Santiago Ruíz de Ael.? The Father asked if he had been directed or commanded to do so, to which he responded, ?No.? The Father added that he also knew nothing, and that the captain had left a day and a half before, but that he had taken cattle to feed the Indians who went as auxiliaries from Suamca, and would, thus, not be able to travel very fast. Because of this, if Luis knew the road he could take a short cut and catch the captain in Bavisi or Quiburi. To this, Luis responded that his people did not come with him to Suamca, but that he had come only in the company of Captain Luis of Pitic and a boy servant of his. Then the Father charged Luis to pay close attention, and said that if he went on the campaign, the Father did not want him bringing testimony against his neophytes, saying that they were in league with the Apaches like he had falsely done against Captain Caballo before the Lord Examiner, who had ordered Captain Don Francisco Bustamante to interrogate him. That resulted in charges and a sentence being passed against Captain Caballo, for whom Father Keller had testified. The Father told him that he should not be of bad heart, stirring up the Spaniards against the Pimas, or the Pimas against the soldiers. This was not the way of good captains, nor those that have a good heart. Hearing this, Luis twice lied to Father Keller, saying that it was not so -- he had never done such a thing against Captain Caballo. Upon hearing this, the Father did not treat him like a dog, or say anything to infuriate him, or disturb him, but with total control, responded: ?My son, I have the letters in my possession that were written for you by José Ignacio Salazar to Don Miguel de Urrea wherein everything I have said is written. Nevertheless, I lie and you tell the truth.? Then the father added, ?Listen, My Son, if you want to go on the campaign, do not bring testimony against my children, because I will defend them. Look. Do you know this Spaniard that is sitting here (pointing to me)?? ?Yes,? he replied. ?And, do you know,? added the father, ?that he understands the Pima language well?? To this Luis also replied, ?Yes.? Then the Father said, ?Well, look. I detained this Spaniard, who came here on business, as a witness, knowing that you would deny what was said here and bring testimony against me like you did Captain Caballo.? To this, Luis made no reply. Then the father also accused him of consenting to the many robberies of the Pimas in the west, especially at Sicurisuta, the hacienda of the heirs of Captain Anza. He said that good captains who have good hearts do not consent to such things, and that the Father cannot support him when he says he is Captain General but consents to such acts. He said that he cannot indulge Indians who claim the title of hunter and walk through the mountains and across the valleys killing cattle that belong to another person without even asking. And, in case they are unable to ask the owner, the mountains have deer and rabbits and other animals that they can hunt. They do not have to maintain themselves by stealing. The Father also made one other accusation in which he said that if Luis wanted to go on the campaign like he was, carrying a leather vest, musket, shoulder belt, sword, and Spanish arms that he did not know how to use, it would just serve more to embarrass him than cause damage to the enemy. The Father further asked how many times he had gone on the campaign being supplied by the Fathers with food, horses, and other equipment and everything necessary for the fight against the Apaches, only to return when the supplies were used up, while spreading falsehoods and accusations against his own people. Nothing else was done or said by the Father that would hinder his having said everything in front of witnesses and having detained me. He then also said to Luis, ?If your coming here was so that you could go with Captain Don Santiago, traveling in his company, then it is not your duty to command, but his. And likewise with my neophytes, only he should command them. Indeed, both yours and mine should go subject to Spanish arms on all campaigns. However, it is not clear to me who has command in the North of your arms, which are the bow and arrow. Clearly, in the past there was no one to take command, but now I do not know who it is because of the division which you see in your wanting to be in charge of everything.? This is all of what I heard Padre Keller say to Luis of Sáric. I would add that if this is why Luis was resentful, it was because he was admonished about his faults, or I suspect because they still have his mischievous letters on file, or because during the conversation the Father neither asked him to have a seat or gave him any chocolate as they were accustomed to doing for him in other places. Certainly his resentment was not caused by the Father having said that he was a dog, coyote, or a woman, or anything even similar. Indeed, nothing like that was said. This has always been my declaration to Lord Governor Parrilla during the repeated times his secretary, Peralta, has interrogated me. Santa María de Suamca, October 14, 1754 (AGI, Guadalajara 419, 3m-11, pages 40-43)