Upon returning from the meeting in Santa Maria, Elizabeth asked Pilar to call all the family members into the main room of the house. When they were assembled, all looking slightly worried, Elizabeth repeated what had happened at the meeting in Santa Maria.
“Poppa,” Elizabeth asked, “do you have any memories of sus padres, Linda or Lorenzo, or Alfonso or Louisa, saying anything about documents for Rancho Arroyo?”
Removing his hat, Estaben got up from his chair and walked slowly toward the large chiminea fireplace against the back wall. He rested his right elbow on the mantel and thought, obviously trying to recall his parents telling him anything about paperwork to state ownership of the land they had lived on their whole lives.
After a minute, he started, “I remember many conversations between my parents about how much they distrusted the government and politicos in town. But they could barely read or write Spanish or English, so I don’t see how any documents would do them any good. I can’t imagine that they would have asked for such documents, either.” He turned his head toward the group, trying to think harder about his memories of his parents and grandparents. “That was so long ago, however, and my memory is not so good. I’m afraid I don’t remember.”
Elizabeth jumped in, then, not wanting the old man to upset himself. “Esta bien, Poppa. Esta bien.” She approached him and helped him back to his chair, where he slumped as if all of his energy had been drained.
Amador, Elizabeth’s brother-in- law, rose from his chair and stepped forward now to offer his own suggestion. “I think we should approach the issue as if there are no documents at all. We can’t be the only ranch without any papers. You said yourself that other ranchers do not have any documents either, since most people have lived in the area just as long as the Arroyo family.”
Elisa, another of Elizabeth’s sisters-in-law, stepped forward as well. “Amador is right. We need the help of either Abogado Sanchez or somebody else, to have the ranch officially documented and properly valued. But since we all know that Abogado Sanchez is of very little help, who else can we talk to? Does anyone have any connections to these Land or Water Use departments in Mexico City?”
The room went dead silent.
Then Diego stepped up. “Elizabeth, remember the gentleman we met at the horse races when Pilar went this past January? Over at the Villanueva ranch, south of here? What was his name? He said he came up from Monterrey to attend the races. You two were talking about buying some of the horses for breeding.”
Elizabeth looked down, trying to remember, and then glanced at Pilar Diego. How ironic, if her daughter’s love of racing brought her the contact she needed to save her ranch. “Are you talking about Pablo Reyes? He has the big ranch north of Monterrey. He had some very fine horses, I remember.”
Diego snapped his fingers. “That’s him! His horses were some of the best there.” Diego thought to himself again. “Didn’t he take a liking to Prince? Elizabeth, do you think he would remember you if you sent him a telegram? He’s an important man – rich, and he seemed powerful. I wonder if he would know somebody in Mexico City that could help us. If we sent him a telegram telling him what’s happening up here, he would help if he can. He liked our horses. He was interested in the ranch. He would support us, I’m sure of it.”
Elizabeth felt her blood running with quick excitement. She would never have thought of it, but he was right. “Diego, that’s a wonderful idea. We need to get a telegram to him quickly, but I don’t want the abogado knowing what we’re doing. I don’t trust him. I think he’s taking money from these men building the dam. I know he has snoops in town, and he’ll be watching to see whether anyone is going to make trouble. Maybe somebody else can send out the telegram. Somebody the abogado would not be suspicious of.”
Still in his chair, Esteban suggested, “How about if we sent Senor Reyes a letter, instead? The abogado would never see that. What if we had a rider go to the town of Benito and sent the letter from there?”
“That’s a great idea, Poppa.” Diego said. “It will take longer, but it will be more secretive. In the letter, we will say not to send a telegram in response, but to send a letter instead.”
Finally, Pilar jumped up, not wanting to interrupt the adults when speaking, but wanting to help out. “Can we write the letter now? I will get some paper from my school work.”
Elizabeth grinned at her daughter, feeling better than she had in weeks. Finally, there seemed to be a possible solution to this problem. And if not a solution, it was at least action. She’d always felt better when she was actually doing something, and this situation was no different.
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