Gathering Fallen Rocks Ch 14

The receptionist appeared at the door, her telephone headset cord dangling down the front of her dress. "Atwood, the Deputy County Clerk is on line three. Do you want to return ..."

"I'll take the call in my office, Emily," he replied before she could finish her question. They could hear Atwood speaking as he walked around his desk to sit down, while Petra was wrapping his hamburger, hoping to keep it fresh until he finished his call.

"Hot damn," Atwood's voice sounded like an excited teenager.

"How many, I mean, how much?" There was a period of silence before Atwood's voice became very friendly, "Oh come on, Javier. You can tell me now. I'm going to find out anyway."

Had anyone from the back room seen Atwood, they would have watched him rise half a foot off the seat of his chair then reseat himself as his shoulders relaxed. His voice turned serious, as if he were talking to a judge sitting behind his bench in a courtroom. "Is the Secretary of State going to investigate or will they send the Rangers?"

When Gail appeared at his open office door Atwood motioned her inside and pointed at one of the chairs in front of his desk. She was soon followed by Howard. They sat quietly trying to glean as much as they could from the one-sided conversation.

Atwood finally completed his call and hung up the telephone. For a moment he dropped his head as if he wanted to rest his chin on his chest. He straightened up and looked at Gail a moment as a smile began to form on his face, and then he turned to Howard.

"I know Gail has been keeping you informed and in the process she's probably been educating you. She's a wonderful teacher just ask Petra." He paused for a moment then continued, "A County Clerk's job is to keep the papers that become legal records. Their fear of destroying something important is probably greater than their fear of death."

As he spoke, Atwood relayed some of the information he had learned from Deputy County Clerk Javier Mendoza. While one of the clerks in the office was searching for some of the documents Atwood had requested, she discovered an old file folder at the back of one of the drawers in a fire proof file cabinet. The folder was of much newer age than the other folders in the drawer. The clerk opened the file, thinking she could discover where it should be properly filed. Instead of being misfiled, it had been placed at the rear of the drawer to prevent it from being discovered.

Inside the file were carbon copies of receipts for tax payments. The receipts covered a span of over twenty years. She checked the most recent receipt against the office records in the computer, rather than checking an older receipt which would have meant a much more difficult search. The computer showed the payment had not been recorded. She copied the receipts in the file and returned it to where she had found it, then walked across the hall and asked to use a telephone in the County Commissioner's office.

Before the day was over, the young clerk was sitting in an interview room telling her story to a representative from the office of the state's Secretary of State. At least one of the receipts for taxes paid was on land now owned by Howard Pleas. Another receipt was for land now owned by Frank Pleas. As additional information was verified, it would be provided to the Law Office of Atwood David Atwood, legal representative of Howard Pleas.

Howard and Gail looked at each other in stunned silence. Atwood was apologizing for his profound mistake in leading them to believe the bank officer had forged the paid receipts. It was what he truly believed, the copies looked like they had been doctored and were of such poor quality they did not appear to be authentic. He admitted he was almost at a loss in determining what crime the bank officer had committed other than some kind of fraud or conspiracy.

Atwood threw his hands in the air and exclaimed, "I'm getting too old for all this. I need to retire and go fishing."

"I didn't want to own any of that bank anyway, Atwood," Howard declared. "I just want to straighten out the ownership of my ranch. I need to know if the rightful owner of the land is Santos Aguirre or me. Did Santos's grandfather, or great-grandfather, or how ever many greats it was, actually legally obtain the property or was there some kind of a swindle? And I'd like to know that before the feds bury his ass at the back corner of some basement in a federal prison."

"Well then," Atwood grinned. "Get out of here and let me get back to work. Oh, Gail -- before you leave today, call the state archive office and ask how far along they are on that list of documents I requested. I'm trying to do some of my work with copies from the online site, but there are a few words that aren't legible. Olivia says she can't tell if the words mean some ancestor 'can have' something or if it says he 'cannot have' whatever that individual was distributing to the grandsons."

Gail walked out of Atwood's office turning to go toward her office. Howard grabbed her hand and pulled her to the rear of the office, into the break room, closing the door behind them.

"I need a kiss."

"Howard."

"Just a little one, just because I feel so good."

Gail turned her face up to him and then stood with her arms around him, breathing slowly, trying to calm down from the intensity of the time they had spent in Atwood's office.

Howard's hands rubbed up and down her back, feeling her beginning to relax. "It's okay, Sweetheart. We're doing great. The stress is just going to make us stronger."

"You know what I miss. Howard?" Gail spoke against the buttons on the front of his shirt.

"What?"

"I miss sitting on that old couch watching the steaks cook in that brick fireplace. They don't taste the same when I broil them in the oven."

"We don't have room on that tiny patio for a good grill. So, how about if I bring you one of those portable charcoal grills with a lid on it. I can cook the steaks over charcoal or wood, whichever you prefer."

"Okay," she straightened up and smiled. "Can you bring one home tonight? I took steaks out of the freezer this morning."

"Yes dear."

****

"Howard, let me know when the fire is hot enough and I'll bring the steaks out. The salads are made and I've already set the table."

A short while later, Howard stuck his head in the door to tell Gail he was ready for the steaks. She carried the pan outside and placed it on the small table between two lawn chairs.

Howard reached for the pan, but Gail stopped him, "Do this first" She offered him a small bundle of white envelopes.

Howard looked at the envelopes in his hand, "These are ...?"

"All my letters."

"Why, Baby? Why are you burning them now?"

"I don't need them anymore. I learned something about myself as I was writing them but it didn't really sink in until I was staying with you and had a chance to read them again. That's when I really learned that all those people I felt were against me weren't really doing anything to me. I was doing it to myself, letting them take advantage of me."

"Okay."

"Howard, I can't say I'll never let anyone take advantage of me again. But at least I know I can overcome being a victim of myself. I'm too busy to feel sorry for myself. I'm enjoying what I have now, which is a good job I enjoy and the most wonderful man in the world to love me as much as I love him."

"Yeah, I think we've both allowed all the rocks to fall then we mixed a little better mortar and built a much stronger wall using the rocks from both of our walls."

They watched in silence as Howard fed each envelope into the fire where it would flame brightly for a short while. Then it would slowly turn to ashes with an occasional thin ash wafting upward with the smoke. After feeding the final envelope to the fire and watching it disintegrate, Howard put the steaks on the grill. They watched again, silently, as the bacon wrapped around the venison began to sizzle.

****

"Gail, if Howard can take the day off Thursday, I need you to go to Austin and get the last batch of documents we requested. That dumb clerk said they were going to send them regular mail."

Gail looked up from her computer monitor to tell the agitated man in her door, "Atwood, Friday was Howard's last day at the hardware store. Pepper said he's going to borrow the money to build a big lumber yard and hire a general manager. Howard's going to take a year or so off and see if he can be a real rancher."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Oh yes, very much. Frank and Melanie are moving to Houston so she can help her mother. Howard wants to buy Frank's half of their house and remodel it for us. We've closed a few home improvement loans for some of the other homeowners in that area. It's really starting to look nice with all the houses being redone."

Atwood took a step back to allow Howard to walk into Gail's office and take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her office. The older man chuckled a moment, "I know you're anxious for this meeting, but aren't you a little early?"

"I thought Gail said two o'clock."

"Damn," Atwood exclaimed, looking at the clock at the end of the hall. "I got to get cracking. Aguirre's shysters will be here in a few minutes." He added as he walked away, "Don't forget about Thursday."

Howard turned to Gail, "Thursday?"

"Atwood wants me to go to Austin on Thursday to get the rest of the records from the state archives so they won't try to send them by regular mail."

"Oh good, I need to go to San Antonio and Austin to check on the brand."

"The brand?"

"Yeah, cattle brand. They're registered in the county, but old Spanish law required them to be recorded in the book in San Antonio. I'm trying to find out who registered it."

"So you want to go look at the book?"

"Either that or talk to someone who can tell me what to do next. It should have been, but the brand was never registered n this county."

"What does it look like?"

"Oh wow. Well it's sort of like the reverse of an old fashioned lower case 'g'. Like a circle on the top, a line going down the right side and a small oval on the bottom. There's a pendant, a triangle shaped flag, attached to the line between the circles and two little tails hanging down from the lower oval. Dad had a small pen and ink drawing of it framed over his desk at the house. I guess it would have been about the size of the actual brand that would appear on the animal's left side. Dad eventually used a tattoo instead of a brand.

"I can't find that picture anywhere. Melanie cleaned out the house when she and Frank moved in there. I brought some of the stuff out here and she trashed the rest."

"You have to help me here, what's the significance of the brand?"

"I think Santos was using my Dad's brand."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. It's an old 'quién sabe' brand with that pendant and the bottom curlicues.

"'Quién sabe' like the words for 'I don't know'?"

"Yeah, sort of, it's actually 'who knows?' I think I discovered the original brand was the two circles and the line, registered to a Magoo guy in Mexico. Then it was passed down a few generations. A son would take his father's brand and add a little something to it, like another pendant or a curlicue and that became his brand. One of those got to a generation of men who were using Pleas as their last name then Santos started using it on some special purebreds. But his name's not on any records as owning it."

"Does that mean his cattle belong to you?"

"I don't know yet. I'm wondering if it was one of those deregistered in the early 1940's."

"How would you get answers?"

"That's a good one. Brand law in the state is probably as complicated as the laws you deal with."

"Are you serious? It's that complicated?"

"Oh yeah. I found the 'dog irons' at his place. I've got 'em in the truck."

"Howard." Gail said with fear in her voice. "What were you doing out there? What's a 'dog iron'?"

"Pete came by, said he wasn't sure what was going to happen to the house and that I should go look around. A 'dog iron' is the metal brand that's heated."

"Oh," Gail shivered a moment thinking about intentionally heating a heavy piece of metal and holding it to the hide of a live animal for long enough to create the scar that would always identify who owned the animal.

"Pete had just come from there. He said all of the gates were open and there were no vehicles in the garages or parked around the buildings. He finally found an old man sitting in a rocking chair on the rear patio. He said he was the caretaker but he didn't have keys to any of the doors. He had an old metal cot in the building that houses the water pump.

"It didn't take me long to get there. I couldn't get inside, but I looked in a few windows. There wasn't very much to see, almost no furniture but lots of trash on the floors. Except for one room, it didn't look like it had been torn up, it just looked abandoned."

From the reception area, Gail and Howard heard Emily directing men with deep voices. "This way gentlemen. Mister Atwood and his team will be with you shortly. Would either of you care for a soft drink, water, or coffee?"

Two male voices declined Emily's offer, followed by the soft click of the door being closed. A few minutes later, Atwood appeared in Gail's office door and whispered, "It's show time. Bring your toys and let's go pla-a-ay with the big boys."

Gail picked up her stack of file folders and copies and followed Atwood, burdened by a similar stack, plus a large handful of freshly sharpened yellow pencils. Following the introductions and handshakes with Alejandro Vargas, who requested he be called Alex, and Santiago Tovar, who said he was comfortable being called Jimmy, the five people in the room were seated.

Gail separated her files into two separate stacks as Atwood was doing the same to the files he had carried. "Would you gentlemen be comfortable with a conversation? Or, do you want a recording or a stenographer."

Alex, who appeared to be the leader of the other side, said they were comfortable with a conversation, for the time being. If things got complicated they had also brought a small recorder.

"In that case," Atwood replied as he placed his hand on one stack of files, "I have copies of everything we've previously provided to your office in case you didn't bring everything with you. We may be a little premature with this meeting but the earlier we deal with some of these issues, the better. A few of the documents we are using are less legible than I would like. I have yet to receive the last of my list of certified copies requested from the state but I think we are safe using those we now have, for the time being."

The two men across the table shook their heads, indicating they did not need additional copies, each gently patting a similar stack of files in front of them.

Atwood smiled and began. "Since this is my party, I'll begin the entertainment." He paused a moment then placed the handful of pencils on top of the table, separating them and lining the sharpened points facing himself. Next he placed a legal size piece of paper on the table, with one short side just barely touching the pencil points.

"We all know a picture is worth a thousand words, so I have a picture for you. I'm not going to tell you anything you don't know, but I like to do this so please indulge me for a few minutes. Imagine the erasers are the US side of the Rio Grande River. The pencils represent the individual grants or

porciones

given on the basis of merit and seniority, with the colonists divided into three categories: original, old, and recent settlers. Those long slender

porciones

date from the mid-1700's and later. The shape allowed each land owner to have irrigation rights to the Rio Grande River.

"This paper represents what the documents provided to you describe as being two chunks of land, five

sitio

each, or a little more than forty four hundred acres per

sitio

. One grant went to a man named Plezo Maguna-goikoetxea and a similar size grant to his brother Blaz Maguna-goikoetxea, giving each man a little over twenty-two thousand acres. This grant included one

sitio

, for which each brother paid the required fees. The fees for the other four

sitio

were a gift

For Services Rendered

during their duty as special guards for a visiting dignitary from Tamulipas. We have not discovered the dignitary's complete name, but the documents, of which you have certified copies, were signed by the governor accepting the fees. From the official records of the appointment of officials and from that governor's name we can deduce the approximate date of the grants."

Both men opened one of their files and looked at the document Atwood had described. He waited patiently until they looked up from their examination.

"Bear with me just a little longer, gentlemen." Atwood reached across the table and scooped up the majority of the pencils in the middle of his arrangement, leaving a few on each side. "Over the course of some years, the brothers and their heirs acquired the majority of the

prociones

between their land and the river." Atwood placed a smaller sheet of paper where the pencils had once been positioned.

"At about this point, the brothers and their sons ceased to use their surname, Maguna-goikoetxea, switching to their given names, giving them some semblance of an English pronunciation, Pleas and Blaze. It was a slow transition, some documents use the long surname and the next time only the given name is used then they switched back to the longer name. By the time their heirs were executing written documents, the Maguna-goikoetxea name has disappeared."

Atwood picked up the larger piece of paper and carefully tore off a narrow strip on the short side nearest him then returned the paper to the table. "It appears that the immediate heirs of both brothers, and/or their heirs, divested themselves of some of their land. We will no longer be concerned with that land." A showman at heart, he grinned at the two men across the table, wadded up the strip then tossed it over his shoulder.

"In the case of the Blaze estate, the land was divided according to whatever method was appropriate at that time, whether it was by devise or descent. It appears the Pleas land was not similarly divided. Instead, if there were multiple heirs, they simply used the land as they informally agreed and passed it to the next generation providing very few documents to show the change in ownership. It was almost as if there was a single patronal estate and he gave everything to his eldest son who became the new

patron or padrino

, benefactor, or godfather—if you will—for the entire family."

As he continued with his explanation and details of the documents the men were looking at, Atwood picked up the large and small pieces of paper, folded them lengthwise, and tore off a thin strip, which included the fold. "However, there must have been some kind of disagreement between the heirs of one brother and the heirs of the other. We can only assume this happened, but it is a safe assumption because both estates transferred some property to a husband and wife, who were members of the two separate families."

When his explanation was complete he returned the papers to the table top, leaving them with a space between the two sides, from top to bottom. "The land transferred to the husband and wife created a separate ranch between the two larger blocks of land. Part of that transfer included the center most

porciones

and one or two additional to each side leaving, in essence, a large boot heel on the original grants, comprised of some of the acquired

porciones.

"

Atwood chuckled for a moment, "It is supposition on my part, but each of the individuals of that marriage must have been very important people within their own families, for them to receive so much riverfront. He may have been a favorite son of the

patron

and her dowry, in the form of land, came from a wealthy family. It is also possible that my suggested rift between the families of the two original brothers was so harsh that they all agreed the greater distance they could place between themselves, the better and this long slender separate ranch was that solution."