The Squatter and the Don. María Amparo Ruiz de Burton

that you are building on my land.”

      “Your land if you get it,” was the answer.

      “If you knew the condition of my title I don't think that you would doubt that this land is mine. However, all I wish to do is to prevent you from spending money here and then naturally get into litigation with me to defend your property,” said Don Mariano.

      Darrell thought of his wife, and her earnest injunctions. He wished to keep his promise to her. He said:

      “If the courts say that this land rightfully belongs to you, I shall pay you for your land or vacate.”

      “But, Mr. Darrell, you will get me into litigation with you, and I wish to avoid that.”

      “No, I shall not get you into any law suit with me. I shall buy your land or leave.”

      “Very well, Mr. Darrell, I shall rely on your word. I shall remember what you say; please do the same.”

      “I am not in the habit of forgetting what I say.”

      Don Mariano and his two sons lifted their hats, bowed slightly, turned their horses' heads and moved off.

      Darrell returned their bow, muttering to himself, “They take off their hats and bow like gentlemen, anyway.”

      While he was talking with Don Mariano, Mathews, Hughes, Gasbang, Miller and Pittikin had come. They heard all that was said and looked disappointed. They evidently had counted upon Darrell to help them to fight the rightful owner.

      “Did I understand you to say to the Don that you will not maintain your claim, if the attorney general dismisses our appeal?” asked Gasbang.

      “I don't know what you understood, or what you did not understand. What I said was that if the Don's title is decided to be right and legal, I shall not contest it. Why should I, if the land is his? I came here to take up government land, believing his title was rejected. He says it is not.”

      “He lies; it was rejected,” Gasbang said.

      “That is why we appealed,” Mathews added.

      “Very well; we will wait. For my part, I think that if his title was rejected he will find it hard to get it back,” said Darrell.

      The fact of his going on with his building ought to have been sufficient proof to the other settlers that he had cast his lot with them. But it was not. They feared that at any time he might pay the Don for his land, and cease to be one of them; cease to be a “squatter.” These doubts, these fears, were the perennial theme of endless discussion with the settlers of Alamar.

      With date of February 14, 1872, the Honorable Legislature of California passed a law “To protect agriculture, and to prevent the trespassing of animals upon private property in the County of Los Angeles, and the County of San Diego, and parts of Monterey County.”

      In the very first section it recited, that “every owner or occupant of land, whether it is enclosed or not,” could take up cattle found in said land, etc., etc. It was not stated to be necessary that the occupant should have a good title. All that was required seemed to be that he should claim to be an occupant of land, no matter who was the owner.

      Before this law came out, Don Mariano had already had a great deal of trouble with the squatters, who kept killing his cattle by the hundred head at times. After this law passed, he had the additional annoyance of having to pay money for the release of cattle taken up by occupants who would not fence their ten-acre crops. Thus, the alternative was, that if cattle were not taken up, he was sure to find them shot dead by some invisible hand. He had hoped that the Legislature would pass a law saying that “unless occupants of land put fences around their fields, they would not be authorized to take up cattle.” But, instead of this, the above-mentioned law was enacted.

      This was, of course, ruinous to Don Mariano, as well as to all owners of cattle ranchos where settlers had seen fit to locate homesteads. Now any one man, by planting one acre of grain to attract cattle to it, could make useless thousands of acres around it of excellent grazing, because it became necessary to drive cattle away from the vicinity of these unfenced fields.

      In view of all this, and seeing that the new law would confirm the right to plant fields without fencing, and take up cattle, horses or any other animals found therein, Don Mariano thought he would call together all the settlers in his rancho, and make some proposition to them that would be fair to everybody, and by which he would save his cattle from getting killed or captured (when he must ransom them) all the time.

      He told his idea to Mr. Mechlin, who thought it was a good plan, and volunteered to see some of the settlers with whom he was acquainted, thinking that these could see others, and in this manner a meeting be arranged. He started in the morning on his errand, and in the evening Don Mariano called to learn the result.

      “These men are meaner and lower than I had supposed,” said Mr. Mechlin, whose very fine nervous organization ill-fitted him for the rough contact of Gasbangs. “Would you believe it, they suspected I wanted to lay a trap in which the innocent lambs would fall, and you—the wolf—catch them. If it had not been that I saw Darrell, I would have been utterly discouraged. And I suspect he would not have been half so polite and considerate but for the influence of his son, who has just arrived.”

      “I heard he had. You saw him?”

      “Yes; and a very gentlemanly, handsome young fellow he is. He made his father promise to go with him to see the settlers in person, and arrange for you to meet them; he will report to me in the evening the result of their embassy.”

      Clarence kept his word to Mr. Mechlin, and immediately after breakfast he had his buggy and horses (a fine turnout he had brought from San Francisco) at the door. Darrell smiled, and good-naturedly took his seat beside his son, saying it would be best to begin by seeing Gasbang and Mathews. Fortunately they met these men, who were driving to see him, to ask his opinion about agreeing to meet Don Mariano. Darrell promptly told them that he thought no one of the settlers should refuse a request so easy to grant.

      “But don't you think there is a trap in it?” Mathews asked.

      “None whatever. We are not children,” Darrell replied.

      “But suppose he makes us promise something?” Mathews argued.

      “How can he coerce any one against his will,” said Darrell.

      “No one will be obliged to accede unwillingly,” said Clarence. “Let us at least be courteous.”

      “Certainly. Have you any idea what it is that he wants to say?” asked Gasbang.

      “He wants to make some proposition to the settlers, by which he hopes that the interests of all concerned will be subserved,” said Clarence.

      “Visionary!” exclaimed Gasbang, tapping his forehead with his forefinger; “not practical.”

      “But his intentions are perfectly kind and fair,” Clarence said.

      “That is to say, Mr. Mechlin thinks they are.”

      “Why shouldn't they be? He certainly can't coerce anybody. Here we are on what he believes to be his land, and we don't think it is. Well, what of that?”

      “He certainly won't propose to fight us single-handed. We are the majority,” said Darrell.

      “All right. We'll see Hager and Miller, and the other fellows in that valley. But we think Mr. Clarence will do better with Hancock, Pittikin and Hughes. The female element is strong there, but it will weaken in his hands, and in that malleable condition, he can shape it to suit himself, with one look out of his eyes at the whole troop of girls,” said Gasbang.

      “Goodness! You don't suppose I would go to play the sweet fellow to those ugly old girls, and make a fool of myself,” said Clarence, with so genuine a look of thorough disgust, that it made John Gasbang indulge in one of his loudest fits of hilarity. “Don't be alarmed, my young friend. There is no harm for you there.