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Updated: May 2, 2025
I want you to look these letters over." He hands him several letters from Hardin and from the priest. With tender delicacy, his hands close on the last words of affection from the gentle dark-eyed wife, who brought him the great dowry of Lagunitas, and gave him his little Isabel. Peyton reads the words, old in date but new in their crushing force of sorrow to the husband.
Under questioning of the padre, whose honorable French blood boils at the domain being made a nest of assassins, the Don describes Joaquin's lurking-places. With one or two mozos, Valois visits all the old camps of the freebooters, within seventy-five miles. He leaves his men at Lagunitas for safety. He threads the fastnesses of the inviolate forests.
They go down before the rush of the wolf pack, hunting gold, always gold. Taking the precaution to leave men to bear to him any messages from the padre, Maxime leaves Lagunitas for Stockton. The affairs of the community call him home. Property, covered by his investments, has been exposed to fire and flood at Sacramento. Sari Francisco has been half destroyed by a great conflagration.
Would he dare to take the convent pupil away from her? Perhaps. A devilish smile plays on her lips. She will let him steal his own child; the other, the REAL Lady of Lagunitas, he never shall know. Gods! If he should be aware of it. It must be prevented. Whom can she trust? No one. Villa Rocca? Triumph shines in her eyes!
Judge Hardin's counsel opens the case, Hardin passes Natalie in the court-room, with one last look of warning and menace. There is no quiver to her eyelids. The graceful figure of a veiled young girl is beside her. When Hardin's advocate ceases, counsel rises to bring the contest for the heirship of Lagunitas to the judicial notice of the Court.
Joaquin played skilfully upon Don Miguel's hatred of the Americans. He knew of the lurking places behind Lagunitas. From these interior fastnesses, known to Don Miguel from early days, Joaquin could move on several short lines. He thus appeared as if by magic. With confederates at different places, his scattered bands had a rendezvous near Lagunitas.
As far as the eye can reach, the sparkle of lovely Lagunitas mirrors the clouds flaking the sapphire sky. Valois fixes his eyes once more upon his happy home. Peace, prosperity, progress, mining exploration, social development, all smile through this great interior valley of the Golden State. No war cloud has yet rolled past the "Rockies." It is the golden youth of the commonwealth.
It's the way of Paris. The priest is much disturbed in mind. Since his conversations with Armand Valois he feels a vague unrest in his heart as to the young artist's rights in Lagunitas. Does none of that great estate go to Armand? Is this equitable? There must be some share of the domain, which would legally descend to him.
He has, now, peace for his schemes. No petticoat rule now. No prying eyes. As the winter rain howls among his trees, he realizes that the crash of the Confederacy will bring back clouds of stragglers from the ruin yet to come. He must take legal possession of Lagunitas. He has a good reason. Its hidden gold will give him power. His public life is only cut off for a time.
He headed, himself, the last departing band of the invaders. The roads were safe to all. No trace of treasures of Joaquin was found. Great was the murmuring of the rangers. Were these hoards concealed on the rancho? Search availed nothing. Valois spurs down the road. Lagunitas! He breathes freer, now that the avengers are balked, at Lagunitas. They would even sack the rancho.
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