Chapter 12

"I have the rest of the week for wearing blue jeans to work. Atwood hasn't decided if we're going to have another week of construction, so I need to go get some clothes out of storage. I don't know how much stuff I have to move out of the way to get to the boxes of clothes."

"We can go Sunday, but what about all the rest of it and why make two trips?"

"I guess I could rent a storage room here. It's all boxed. But I'd rather sell my furniture. I don't care what I get for it. Then all I'd have is linens and some personal stuff, which isn't much, maybe half a dozen boxes. I'm not sure I could get all of it in my truck, but it would be close. And there's a luggage rack on top."

"I don't know, Sweetheart, but I have a suggestion. If we're going to rent the townhouse, we could put the boxes in my room at Frank's."

"If I call around tomorrow and arrange for a second-hand furniture company to meet me at the storage room, can we do this in one day?"

"Will a second-hand furniture store do that on a Sunday?"

"If the price is right, they'd do it on Christmas Day."

As Gail drove Howard back to work, she was thinking about spending the rest of the afternoon helping Atwood and Philip. She saw Howard repeatedly taking his eyes off the road, looking at her.

"Howard, you want to tell me what's going on inside your head? I know something is, but I don't know what."

"You're really going to do this, aren't you? I mean leave all that life you had before this and move down here?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't have looked for a job or a place to live, if I weren't serious. What did you think? That this is a lark for me, something to amuse myself while I'm on vacation?"

"No, not that, I meant about the problem with Santos. I was afraid you would let him run you off."

"Oh. Well, if I'm truthful, I'm not particularly happy about what he is or is not doing. But I'm not really afraid of him anymore. I suppose I'm cautious, or leery or maybe just watchful. But what I am looking forward to is finding a shred of proof that creates a tiny or even a miniscule threat of a cloud on the ownership of his land. Then I will have him playing in my ballgame, where I know the rules and he does not."

"That's some pretty tough talk," Howard announced. "Particularly from someone I've watched get almost hysterical when he walks into the ranch house."

"See, you said that you are good and that you are one of the best. Well, I am too. I'm very good, I don't know about being one of the best, but I have Atwood and he is one of the best. I don't know if he is aware that I know it, but I did a little research online. Atwood David Atwood broke a long-standing private land dispute, and he did it with a personal letter a man wrote to his sister, saying he didn't want his worthless son to have his farm. He wanted the land to go to his widowed sister and her two small children. After his wife died, she moved in and kept house for him, for a number of years. It was a case of adverse possession, or squatter's rights, which she had fought for a long time. When the man died, his son packed the woman and her children up and put them off the land, telling them never to set foot on his property again.

"After her lawyer filed the first lawsuit, the son paid off the first lawyer and then he paid off the next one, too. Atwood was number three and when she showed him the letter he took her and the letter to the courthouse, had it filed of record in the probate section and requested the abstract to the land be amended. By that time, the worthless son was dead and his son, who was not much better, and was trying to protect his oil well revenues, knew his case was lost. He moved the money Atwood couldn't find offshore and skipped town, leaving his wife and two daughters behind. The sister had a little house built for herself. She told the son's wife she could live in the big house as long as she wanted, but her daughters better marry well because they weren't getting any of the oil revenue."

"And you think Atwood can do the same for me?"

"Not only do I think it, I believe he has already found the beginning of the trail he needs to follow." She held up her right hand with her first two fingers crossed and grinned at Howard.

"Alright, tell me what I need to do."

"Go sit in the lobby of that bank until they hand you that abstract, and then bring it to Atwood."

Emily was on the telephone when Gail entered the office door, but she held up her hand, indicating Gail should wait just a minute. As soon as Emily could hang up, she said Atwood needed to see Gail, before she went to her office.

"Hello Gail, where's that good looking man of yours?"

"I told him to go to the bank and sit in the lobby until someone placed the abstract in his hand and then he's to bring it to you."

"Good, good, you are going to be surprised at what Phillip has found." When Gail said nothing, but began to smile, Atwood said, "You better sit down for this one."

Pulling a chair around so she could see both men, Gail said, "Okay, now tell me."

"That Magoo paper Philip found is an original, a letter signed by a "Gentleman" saying he had given forty pesos plus forty pesos to the governor, Francisco Vital Fernández, in appreciation for services rendered, by Plea and Blaz Maguna-goikoetxea, to pay for their land, after they each paid their own ten pesos. Evidently, it is actually a duplicate original. Such things were frequently done in those days. It's undated, but is signed by constitutional governor Francisco Vital Fernández, which would indicate the governor was accepting the money. It appears to be one of the documents prepared to comply with Decree 24 of October 13, 1833, which offered inhabitants of Nueveo Santander, who had livestock but no land, as much as five sitio each for a payment of ten pesos for each sitio."

"Atwood," Gail could hardly catch her breath, "You are frightening me, are we talking about a league of land, 4428 acres times five, that's more than twenty thousand acres?"

"Maybe we are," Atwood grinned. "And then again, we may be talking about forty thousand acres, depending on what each of the brothers did regarding family and so forth."

Atwood began to explain, while Philip Querexeta offered additional information. According to an historian, title to land involved proceedings recorded in the alcalde, or mayor's office, with a duplicate, or expediente, given to the applicant. The expediente was forwarded by the grantee to the governor along with the payment for the land with the title being granted under the seal of the state. The alcalde was then authorized to put the individual in possession of the land.

Gail could barely sit still. "If Howard doesn't get here with that abstract pretty soon, I'm going to the bank myself and demand it." What Atwood was explaining was maybe, perhaps, possibly, what they had been looking for—but maybe it had nothing to do with Howard's ranch.

Although Atwood wanted her to remain calm, he was a little excited himself. "I do not recall ever working on any land owned by a Maguna-goikoetxea. I don't even recall seeing that name on any land grants. I have done things on Pleas land, like the highway taking I told you about, and I know of a large block of land owned by a man named Blaze, from sometime in the mid-1830's, right before the Alamo. But, and I give you this heavy caution, but those plots of land are nowhere near the size of what this document indicates and the two acreages are miles apart. If I think about what this size would be, it's like from one side of Blaze land to the opposite side of Pleas land is just about that size, if you include at least a mile deep on the other side of the highway."

Gail was picturing the property in her mind. "So you think there was originally two pieces of land side-by-side and someone took, bought, or acquired, a chunk out of the middle of it?"

Atwood nodded, "Yes, and someone else bought or acquired a huge chunk of both properties, across the top and someone else got another huge chunk out of the bottom, which would have formed a big fat 'I'. That would have left the two parcels of land Howard's dad described.

"There is a description in one old file, which I have a copy of in one of these boxes, called the Benadito File. I do not remember it word for word, but roughly it says that this mayor goes with a man to the land to give him possession. The document then describes a standard ceremony. The mayor takes the man's hand and tells him in a loud voice that, having paid the state treasury, he gives him this land in the name of the sovereign state of Tamaulipas. He is required to build boundaries of rough stone and mortar on his grant within four months or he will lose the title. The man then gave thanks to the state, sprinkled water on the land, cut some grass, and pulled some weeds, which he then threw to the four winds. At the same time he asked the witnesses to note that he had been given possession of this land by the mayor, and that no one there had contradicted his claim and right to the land."

Gail smiled, "That's the old description, or joke they tell, of how to establish a homestead."

"Yes, my dear, it certainly is. Maybe that's where the state started with the description of how to designate what land you were claiming as a home, and thus a homestead. But I think the description of claiming a homestead included that the man had to include a handful of dirt and turn around in a circle, or maybe that's the four winds part."