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Updated: June 28, 2025
Diego Delcasar and Felipe Delcasar, brothers, were two who owned houses in the Old Town and farms nearby, who stayed in the country and held their own for a time and after a fashion. Diego Delcasar was far the more able of the two, and a true scion of his family. He caught onto the gringo methods to a certain extent.
When my uncle is dead I will pay you the five thousand dollars which the estate owes you!” The old man studied him, showing no trace of excitement save for the brightness of his eyes. “You swear this?” he demanded. Ramon stood tall, his head lifted, his eyes bright. “Yes; I swear it,” he replied, more quietly now. “I swear it on my honour as a Delcasar!”
Delcasar?” she enquired in an innocent manner that must have concealed malice. “I don’t know him,” Ramon admitted, “Who is he?” Mrs. Roth permitted herself to smile. Gordon Roth came graciously to the rescue. “Maeterlinck is a great Belgian writer,” he explained. “We are all very much interested in him.…”
Don Jesus Christo Delcasar, who was then the richest and most powerful of the family, was suspected of being a party to the conspiracy which brought about the Taos massacre—the last organized resistance made to the gringo domination.
In his heart he felt that the gringos had beaten one more Delcasar. The next few days Ramon spent quietly and systematically drinking whisky. This he did partly because he had a notion that it was an appropriate thing to do under the circumstances, and partly because he had a genuine need for something to jolt his mind out of its rut of misery.
All the ceremonies and procedures, religious and legal, which had been made necessary by the death of Don Diego Delcasar, were done. The body of the Don had been taken to the church in Old Town and placed before the altar, the casket covered with black cloth and surrounded by candles in tall silver candlesticks which stood upon the floor.
Usually in each generation of a large and long-established family there is some one individual who stands out from the rest as a leader and as the most perfect embodiment of the family traditions and characteristics. This was especially true of the Delcasar family.
As he stood up behind his desk, clad in a light grey suit, large and ruddy, radiant of health and prosperity, he was impressive, almost splendid. Only the eyes, small and closeset, revealed the worried and calculating spirit of the man. “Mr. Delcasar,” he said when they had shaken hands and sat down, “I am glad to welcome you to this office, and I hope to see you here many times more.
The Indian slave girls who lived in their houses bore the children of their sons, and some of these half-bred and quarter-bred children were eventually accepted by the gente de razon, as the aristocrats called themselves. In this way a strain of Navajo blood got into the Delcasar family, and doubtless did much good, as all of the Spanish stock was weakened by much marrying of cousins.
Then the will had been read and had revealed that Ramon Delcasar was heir to the bulk of his uncle’s estate, and that he was thereby placed in possession of money, lands and sheep to the value of about two hundred thousand dollars.
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