Suzanna (2 page)

But this strife was directly traceable to, and quite overshadowed by an epoch-marking economic change which was destined to make history. Namely, the secularization of the Indian neophytes.

By one means or another, the decree of the Spanish Cortes, ordering the secularization of the Mission Indians, had not been published in California until 1821. Since that time it had been a burning topic of conversation. And since it affected every man in the province, it followed, as a matter of course, that revolutions, bitterness and distrust came.

One heard talk of the rights of peons, of Indians, of the sins of the friars—and this in a land where the Franciscans had been supreme for some fifty years, administering the moral, and oftentimes the civil law. They had preached the salvation of the soul; but, intellectually, the mission system had accomplished nothing. The red men were virtually slaves. They worked up wool, tanned hides, prepared tallow and produced the major amount of California's exports. Economically, therefor, the missions were the life and blood of the province. Secularization meant the freeing of the Indians, the restoring to them of the rights of freemen.

Republican ideas were abroad even at this early date in California. This element acclaimed the new order with triumph. The adherents of the Church, on the other hand, viewed it with consternation. It meant the passing of the missions; the loss of a kingly ransom to the papal coffers. In addition to these two parties there was a third, the owners of the great haciendas. Unhappily, this class was divided among itself. The freeing of the Indians was certain to affect them more than it would any other class in the province. Some said that secularization meant cheap labor, and they were for it on that account. Others saw the complete independence of the peon as the next step, should the neophytes be freed. Giving the peon the rights of freemen meant the establishing of him as a social as well as economic equal. The patrician dons revolted at this. Almost equally they resented the heavy hand of the Church, and so, as a compromise, they had espoused the cause of a strict military dictatorship.

The storm of revolt against the old régime was not to be denied, however. The Republicans arose and drove Victoria, the military governor, out of the state. The Franciscans, realizing that the inevitable was about to happen, were plundering and destroying the Mission property. It was the beginning of the end. A new régime, “less mild, less hospitable, less contented; but better tempered for the building of a state” was about to be inaugurated.

It may be surmised from the foregoing that more than one family found its members set against each other. It was so with the House of Gutierrez. Ramon, as can be judged from his talk, was violently Republican. His father, the aged Don Fernando—a true Castillian grandee—a royalist and conservatist without brook or hindrance. Between them there was the clash of unbending wills.

This square jawed, dancing-eyed boy was the son of his father. The head of the House of Gutierrez drew what comfort he could from that thought. Hot words had passed between them already. Young Alvarez, the lawyer's son, had heard the old Castillian threaten to disinherit the boy for his revolutionary ideas. Ramon had smiled.

As the little cavalcade moved across the valley Miguel thought of his friend's ability to smile in the face of such a calamity. He knew that he, for one, would have been among the last to smile. The old order of things quite satisfied young Alvarez. His father had risen to a position of dignity and some affluence through the good graces of his wealthy patrons and the protecting arm of the Church. Miguel had no ambition beyond striving to emulate his honored sire. Ramon's free speech filled him with resentment. He did not doubt but what time would show his friend the folly of his ways. And Miguel took a secret pleasure in hoping that when enlightenment came it would sink its barb deep enough into Ramon's soul to cure him of his cocksureness about everything in general.

The heat became so intense that the boys' conversation languished. Not until their horses began climbing the benchlands which led up to the pass ahead of them did Miguel speak again. Ramon slept in his saddle, swaying easily from side to side with the motion of his horse. The peon guard lounged along in the rear of the wagon, eyes closed, oblivious to any possible danger.

Miguel glanced ahead to where the cool, inviting shadows of the pass met the eye. Its coolness called to him in vain. He knew there were narrow defiles and sharp turnings beyond which were made to order for the highwayman. Pulling up his horse, he dropped hack until he rode beside Ramon.

“
Ea, ea
, brave one,” he exclaimed. “Do we go on without taking any precautions whatever?”

Ramon yawned provokingly before replying.

“
Si, muchachito
,” he murmured sleepily, “for your sake we will take every precaution.”

Ramon's tone was keenly sarcastic. Miguel's face flushed as he saw him wave his guards ahead with an extravagant gesture.

“Ruiz,” the boy heard him address the grim-visaged leader of the peons, “we will wait in the open until you sound the bell,—that is if friend Pérez has not stolen it, clapper and post.”

Old Ruiz's lips parted in a mirthless grin. His master jested; but Ruiz had heard tales of bandits carrying off the bells placed in the passes. These bells served the purpose of signals to the wagon-trains waiting in the more open country where they were less liable to be pounced upon. The custom was, as in this instance, to send ahead a mounted guard to explore the defile. When this advance guard had made sure that no foe lay in waiting, the bell would be sounded and the teams would dash through to the succeeding valley.

Ramon caught the look in the old man's eyes. “
Madre de Dios
,” he cried sharply. “We are not three leagues from the rancho. My father can muster a hundred men, if needs be. Do you think Pérez or his like court fighting against such odds? If this senseless talk keeps up we'll all be slinking about the hacienda itself come another month. Get off now, and look to it that your own shadow is not sending you back a sniveling
paisano
.”

Some ten men remained behind with the wagon. They were mounted, and now formed a circle about the train. Ramon smiled at Miguel as he saw the men take their places. “Art satisfied now, reckless one?” he demanded.

Poor Miguel trembled in impotent rage as his friend baited him on. “I hold my head to better things than prowess with a sword or accuracy with a pistol,” he answered wrathfully. “Had I but to please myself, as you so boldly do, I, too, had time for the graces of a
caballero
. Your Republican ideals but mock you in shaming me for having held my nose to books that I might win a place for myself in this new world.”

Miguel's words rubbed the smile from Ramon's face; his eyes filling with contrition as he saw how deeply his friend was hurt. Impulsively he placed his hand upon the boy's shoulder. “Forgive me,
compañero
,” he pleaded. “'Twas all in fun, and well you know it. Stick to your books say I. Indeed shall we need the like of you. The time comes when we shall be done with Mexico even as we were done with Spain. We shall have our own laws. And you,
jovencito
, shall help to frame them.”

“There you go!” Miguel cried with a toss of his head, “tempering your humbleness with farther empty boastings. Your talk is well calculated to lead you to the gibbet, yet. I, for one, would not——” Miguel did not finish his admonition. His keen eyes had caught the movement of Ramon's hand as he reached for his sword. He saw the boy's mouth straighten, his body stiffen; and poor Miguel, dreading to confirm his instant suspicion, turned and gazed at the dark pass ahead of them.

“
Virgen santa!
” he muttered, the words almost strangling him. Subconsciously he made the sign of the cross.

Four men had broken from cover and were dashing toward the wagon-train. They waved their guns and gave voice to a series of wild, blood-chilling cries as they rode. At first Miguel look them for Ruiz and his guard; but as the boy continued to stare at them, mouth open, eyes wide with terror, the four men became eight, ten, twelve, fourteen!

“Pérez!” broke with a shriek from the boy's lips as understanding flashed within him. “It's Pérez and his band of cut-throats!”

A curse escaped the lips of the youthful leader as he perceived that Miguel spoke the truth. The peon guard was panic stricken already. The boy's mouth straightened as he observed them. He was in for a fight, now, and although his party outnumbered the other, he realized the calibre of his men. That they would stand up before Pérez and fight was not to be hoped for. And yet, as the bandit crew dashed toward him, Ramon determined to resist them.

He found time to ask himself what had happened to Ruiz and his men. Ruiz was too wary to walk into a trap with his eyes open. The boy fumed at his stupidity in having sent his best men ahead. With hope born of desperation, he drew his sword and made ready for the oncoming outlaws.

“Fool!” Miguel cried. “Don't you see that it is Pérez?”

“Croaker, you are right for once! He's ridden in between Ruiz and us. Well, look to yourself now! Close your ears to those cries; they've driven off more men than his guns ever have.”

“But we are only a handful! These peons will not fight. We had best run while we can.”

Ramon shook his head slowly. “No,” he snarled, his eyes narrowing; disgust for the other's cowardice contorting his mouth. “I stay! Run, you with your rabbit's soul! My father has already called me fool.
Por Dios
he'll not write coward after my name. I am going to fight!”

CHAPTER II

P
ÉREZ
and his band began to circle when they were still some three hundred yards away. It was a well-known Indian maneuver long since adopted by road-agents. It reduced the morale of those at bay to the minimum. Also, it resulted in a surprisingly small loss of life among the attackers.

Ramon hurled orders at his peons as he saw himself being surrounded. The poor devils had no heart for this affair. All of them were supplied with guns and had some minor skill with them; but the boy realized how little he could expect from them as they glanced at him, the whites of their eyes showing, their muscles seemingly atrophied.

“When I give the order,” Ramon cried, “you fire. I'll run my blade through the heart of the one who throws down his gun. Ruiz will hear the shooting. If his party has not been captured, he'll come to our aid. Take to the ground, now!”

The mules and horses had been hobbled and thrown. Using their bodies as a sort of breastwork, the little party crouched behind them and waited.

The wily Pérez stayed the advance of his men when he deemed that their circle had narrowed sufficiently. Without waiting for the order, his men threw themselves to the ground even as their quarry had. Pérez smiled as he viewed the preparations of the besieged.

“Well, Pablo,” he said with a grunt of appreciation to his lieutenant, “the boy is no fool. And yet, the cattle he counts on to win his battle will but defeat him. Indeed 'twill take but a little well-placed lead to bring those quickly hobbled mules to their feet. I'll wager my head that when they begin plunging the señor's carbineers will take to their heels. Let's be at it.”

The men who rode with Benito Pérez were old hands at this game. A satisfied grin sat upon their leader's face as he watched the effect of the firing which followed. It was as he had foreseen. The improvised hobbles were kicked off as the wounded animals struggled to get to their feet. Once upon all fours, the mules and horses limped or galloped off, leaving the peons exposed to their enemies. Slow as their mental faculties were, it took Ramon's men no great time to digest the fact that theirs was a most unhappy position, and that it mattered little whether they remained where they were, to be shot down by Pérez and his band, or died by their leader's sword in attempting to escape.

Whatever advantage the scales held inclined in favor of the latter chance. Pérez would most certainly kill them; Don Ramon, on the other hand, might take compassion on them.

Hope springs eternal, and a chance is always a chance whether it falls to the lot of don or peon. Enough that they became obsessed to get themselves elsewhere. A stealthy, calculating look toward their leader and they were off, the music of Pérez's guns to speed them on.

This defection came so quickly that Ramon was left inert for a minute. Pérez saw him get to his feet. The bandit grinned as he heard the boy curse his men for the cowards they were. And then, as he watched, he saw him empty his pistol at the fleeing wretches.

“
Par Dios
, Pablo,” Pérez laughed, “see him! There's good stuff in the boy, I tell you, even though his aim is not the best. He'll handle a sword better than he does a gun. And that other one, that sniveling clown beneath the wagon—'tis the lawyer's cub, is it not?”

Pérez chuckled to himself. “Well he trembles,” he added. “He has the many threats father lawyer has made upon my head to console him.” The bandit chieftain got to his feet boldly. “Let you and the others stay back,” he ordered. “I'll have speech with our young knight.”

With a dignity that was little short of regal, for all his barbaric splendor, Pérez strode toward the wagon. The boy suffered him to approach to within ten yards of the spot where he stood before he spoke to him.

Although Ramon had never met the man, he knew from a hundred descriptions of him that he faced Pérez. There was a certain swagger to the man, a sense of poise and conceit which was not lost on the boy.

A devilish leer to the once handsome mouth, a light in his eyes as cold as snow-capped mountains, and the sagging cheek muscles of one who drank too much, were not enough to conceal the fact that the man had once been a highly promising gentleman.