“But, didn't we hear that Darrell was no longer a squatter, that he is rich and living quietly in Alameda?”
“Yes, we heard that, and it is true. He is quite well off, but Gasbang and Miller and Mathews went and told him that my rancho had been rejected, and that it is near enough to town to become valuable, as soon as we have a railroad. Darrell believed it, and is coming to locate here.”
“Strange that Darrell should believe such men; I suppose he does not know how low they are.”
“He ought to know them, for they were his teamsters when he crossed the plains in '48. That is, Miller, Mathews, Hughes and Hager, were his teamsters, and Gasbang was their cook—the cook for the hired men. Mrs. Darrell had a colored woman who cooked for the Darrell family; she despised Gasbang's cooking as we despise his character, I suppose.”
Doña Josefa was silent, and holding to her husband's arm, took a turn with him up and down the piazza.
“Is it possible that there is no law to protect us; to protect our property; what does your lawyer say about obtaining redress or protection; is there no hope?” she asked, with a sigh.
“Protection for our land, or for our cattle, you mean?”
“For both, as we get it for neither,” she said.
“In the matter of our land, we have to await for the attorney general, at Washington, to decide.”
“Lizzie was telling Elvira, yesterday, that her uncle Lawrence is a friend of several influential people in Washington, and that George can get him to interest himself in having your title decided.”