Read Online Always Time To Die by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lowell
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at least one whole side unrecorded. Playing cards with half a deck is a sure way to lose the game.”
While Carly thought about his words, she wound a curl around her index finger, a childhood habit she’d never been able to break. “That’s an unusual insight,” she said finally.
“If you’re thirteen, maybe. After that you outgrow it.” He went back to scanning in old papers.
She tried to decide if she’d just been personally insulted or if he was rude to everyone.
Not my problem. I’m here on Winifred’s nickel and his last name isn’t Quintrell or Castillo.
Having decided that, she heard herself asking, “Do you understand the old Spanish?”
“Yes.” He brought down the scanner lid and hit a button.
“Good. The more I read about the original Oñate land grant, the less sense it makes. Since you have to be here anyway, would you help me with the translation?”
“There’s a lot about the old land grants that no one understands, no matter what the language.”
“Is that a yes or a no on the translation?”
He looked up. “It’s a possible maybe. What’s giving you the most trouble?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’s more a cultural question than a translation issue. The original Oñate grant was passed along under the Spanish rules of inheritance, right?”
“Every son inherited equally, and under some circumstances, so did the daughters. Is that the sort of thing you mean?”
“Yes. It’s confusing to me because the only family histories I’ve researched this far back have been under the British system where the oldest son inherits and the rest of the sons go into the military or priesthood or whatever, because in terms of any inheritance, they don’t get much more than a few hundred dollars and a pat on the head.”
“The British way is very effective for concentrating family wealth and power from generation to generation,” Dan said as he removed the paper, turned it, and placed it on the scanner again. “The Spanish method was different. The grazing and woodcutting lands were held in common by all family members. Rights to the river and irrigated lands were divided so that each inheriting member of the family had a water source and fields for crops.”
Carly hesitated. “Common lands? Like the Indians had?”
“Not quite.” Dan hit the button on the scanner. “The Indians, whether they lived in pueblos or followed the old hunting, gathering, and raiding way of life, held all land in common—if they held any land at all.” Carefully he set the paper aside and picked up another yellowed sheet. “The Spanish rules were more complex. They called for a combination of individual and common lands within the original grant. The common lands remained the same size. The individual lands got smaller and smaller with each generation. Big families dividing and subdividing the same land over and over again.”
“Got it. But what happened to the land grants when political control passed from Spain to Mexico?”
Dan placed another fragile piece of paper on the scanner and carefully lowered the lid. “Mexican rules of inheritance were basically the same as Spanish, which meant that old land grants generally passed intact to the next generation despite the change in government. Other than the change from Spanish priests to Mexican priests and the resulting outlawry of the Penitente sect of Catholicism, New Mexico hardly noticed the change from Spanish to Mexican governors. In any case, by the time Mexico kicked out the Spanish in 1821, New Mexico had been around long enough as a frontier to think of itself as a separate entity.”
“So the effect through time was to have more and more New Mexican families owning smaller and smaller patches of the original grant?” Carly asked.
“Yes, while still holding the mass of the pasturage and woodlands in common. Big common lands. Tiny personal lands.”
“What happened when New Mexico became a U.S. territory?”
“The shit hit
While Carly thought about his words, she wound a curl around her index finger, a childhood habit she’d never been able to break. “That’s an unusual insight,” she said finally.
“If you’re thirteen, maybe. After that you outgrow it.” He went back to scanning in old papers.
She tried to decide if she’d just been personally insulted or if he was rude to everyone.
Not my problem. I’m here on Winifred’s nickel and his last name isn’t Quintrell or Castillo.
Having decided that, she heard herself asking, “Do you understand the old Spanish?”
“Yes.” He brought down the scanner lid and hit a button.
“Good. The more I read about the original Oñate land grant, the less sense it makes. Since you have to be here anyway, would you help me with the translation?”
“There’s a lot about the old land grants that no one understands, no matter what the language.”
“Is that a yes or a no on the translation?”
He looked up. “It’s a possible maybe. What’s giving you the most trouble?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’s more a cultural question than a translation issue. The original Oñate grant was passed along under the Spanish rules of inheritance, right?”
“Every son inherited equally, and under some circumstances, so did the daughters. Is that the sort of thing you mean?”
“Yes. It’s confusing to me because the only family histories I’ve researched this far back have been under the British system where the oldest son inherits and the rest of the sons go into the military or priesthood or whatever, because in terms of any inheritance, they don’t get much more than a few hundred dollars and a pat on the head.”
“The British way is very effective for concentrating family wealth and power from generation to generation,” Dan said as he removed the paper, turned it, and placed it on the scanner again. “The Spanish method was different. The grazing and woodcutting lands were held in common by all family members. Rights to the river and irrigated lands were divided so that each inheriting member of the family had a water source and fields for crops.”
Carly hesitated. “Common lands? Like the Indians had?”
“Not quite.” Dan hit the button on the scanner. “The Indians, whether they lived in pueblos or followed the old hunting, gathering, and raiding way of life, held all land in common—if they held any land at all.” Carefully he set the paper aside and picked up another yellowed sheet. “The Spanish rules were more complex. They called for a combination of individual and common lands within the original grant. The common lands remained the same size. The individual lands got smaller and smaller with each generation. Big families dividing and subdividing the same land over and over again.”
“Got it. But what happened to the land grants when political control passed from Spain to Mexico?”
Dan placed another fragile piece of paper on the scanner and carefully lowered the lid. “Mexican rules of inheritance were basically the same as Spanish, which meant that old land grants generally passed intact to the next generation despite the change in government. Other than the change from Spanish priests to Mexican priests and the resulting outlawry of the Penitente sect of Catholicism, New Mexico hardly noticed the change from Spanish to Mexican governors. In any case, by the time Mexico kicked out the Spanish in 1821, New Mexico had been around long enough as a frontier to think of itself as a separate entity.”
“So the effect through time was to have more and more New Mexican families owning smaller and smaller patches of the original grant?” Carly asked.
“Yes, while still holding the mass of the pasturage and woodlands in common. Big common lands. Tiny personal lands.”
“What happened when New Mexico became a U.S. territory?”
“The shit hit
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