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Updated: May 2, 2025
The local bitterness heightens into quarrels over spoils. Judge Philip Hardin, well-versed in the Secession plots, feeds the ever-burning pride of Valois. From Kansas, from court and Congress, from the far East, the murmur of the "irrepressible conflict" grows nearer. Maxime Valois is in correspondence with the head of his family. While at Lagunitas, the Creole pushes on his works of improvement.
He has now several agents ready to open up the mines. A liberal use of the income of Lagunitas has buoyed up his sinking credit. But his stock-gambling has been desperately unlucky. Hardin revolves in his mind the displacement of old "Kaintuck." The stage sweeps down the San Joaquin to the station, where his team awaits him. An unwonted commotion greets him there. His arrival is opportune.
As the two gentlemen ride on, Hardin uses the confidential loneliness of the trip to prove to the Creole that war and separation must finally come. "We want this rich land for ourselves and the South." The young man's blood was up. "I know the very place I want!" cries Valois. He tells Hardin of Lagunitas, of its fertile lands sweeping to the San Joaquin.
A certified copy of the transfer recorded by Hardin, of the Lagunitas mine, is sent on by Jaggers, directed in his trip by Hank Daly from the mine. In five days a despatch from Tallulah gladdens the miner, who longs for Paris: "Found and examined baggage. Original letter in my hands. Coming with all. Many other papers. On the Virginian's arrival Judge Davis instructs the friends.
He has much to do to stem the resentment of the pursuers. The head of Joaquin and the hand of Three-fingered Jack are poor, scanty booty. Not as ghastly as the half-dozen corpses swinging on Lagunitas' oaks, and ghastly trophies of a chase of months. The prisoners are lynched. Far and wide, cowardly avengers butcher suspected Mexicans. California breathes freely now.
This will give society to the dark-eyed beauty by the Lagunitas who waits eagerly for her Miguel's return. At the Presidio the Commandante is feasted. In a few days his business is over. Riding over to the Mission Dolores, he finds a missionary priest from Acapulco. He is self-devoted to labor. Father Francisco Ribaut is only twenty-five years of age. Born in New Orleans, he has taken holy orders.
On Ernesto Villa Rocca's handsome face is the pallor of death. Lagunitas and its millions are his by right of power and cunning. Marie Berard's avenger is thousands of miles away from her grave, and his cunning plan already woven to ensnare the Italian when off his guard. Yet Hardin's blood boils to feel that "the secret for a price" is buried in Marie Berard's grave.
There is but one ridge between it, now, and Lagunitas. Maxime calls up his aids. He gives them his rapid directions. Only the previous knowledge of the ex-pathfinder enabled him to throw his men behind the sheltering ridge, unseen from the old Don's headquarters. In case of meeting any robbers, the subordinates are to seize and hold the ranch with ten determined men.
Over the beautiful hills, fanned by the breezes of sunset, the softened shadows fall. Twilight brings the hush and rest of early evening. The stars mirror themselves in the sparkling bosom of Lagunitas. Watching the wounded leader, Padre Francisco's seamed, thoughtful face is very grave. His thin fingers tell the beads of the rosary. Prayer after prayer passes his moving lips.
Ignorant of new laws and strange language; strong only in his rights; weak in years, devoid of friends, Don Miguel's hope is the sage counsel of Padre Francisco. The latter trusts to Valois' legal skill. As adviser, Valois repairs to Lagunitas. Old patents, papers heavy with antique seal and black with stately Spanish flourish, are conned over.
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