Read Online California Bloodstock by Terry McDonell - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry McDonell
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chose for himself the title of Brother of the Grand Wizard.
Social order broke down throughout the region. The Worm Eaters who had been obediently working the cattle and crops in Sonoma’s neighborhing countryside got word that everything had changed and wandered off. And worse, the mission Worm Eaters who had for years seen to the worldly needs of the spiritually inclined, dipping an endless number of strings into vats of bubbling candle tallow and delicately coaxing the mission grapes into decanters of sweet wine, could no longer be motivated.
The old padre in charge was beside himself. He had survived the 1822 revolution and the following period of independence from Mother Spain. While most other missions fell into ruin, he had been able, by cultivating Vallejo, to save a semblance of former affluence in spite of the theoretical freeing of the Worm Eaters and demotion of his mission to the status of parish church. But this new plague of infidels was something else. He perceived it as an assault on all that was holy. He called for the judgment day, and made lists of local heretics for God. When his Worm Eaters started sleeping in, he knew the apocalypse was at hand. His righteousness turned hysterical and he ranted about the plaza, clutching a goldencrucifix to his bony breast. The cross flashed in the sun, catching the eye of Galon Burgett, who was lounging near the flagpole.
Hey, preacher! Let’s have a look at your necklace.
The old padre whirled in his tracks. He knew that voice, or thought he did.
Methodist Wolf!
The Grand Wizard had no choice in the face of such insolence. Scuffing the padre ahead of him like an empty sack, he rampaged through the chapel. He kicked in the altar and spit on the walls. He sliced the Lord’s flickering candles with his sabre and threatened to drown the tempest-tossed old holy man in his own sacrificial wine. It was great fun.
The rest of the Bear Flaggers were naturally delighted and big things were predicted for Galon Burgett, but the incident turned out to be his only official act. On maneuvers in the countryside two days later, the Bear Flaggers ran into a superior force of greasers and, after a brief exchange of gunfire, Galon forfeited his position by deserting.
Galloping off over the sun-drenched hills, he shouted to Millard, riding loyally beside him, that he wasn’t feeling well and was tired of public life anyway. When they pulled up in a shaded arroyo to give the horses a blow, Galon said that all he wanted was a long rest for himself. He then emphasized his need for a bit of R and R by puking up some blood. Millard was understandably confused and worried until Galon explained to him that their new country wasn’t going to last long anyway.
He was right. When it was only three weeks oldthe Bear Flag Republic was conquered by the United States of America.
32
Yerba Buena
It turned into a very American summer in California, especially in Yerba Buena. Captain John Montgomery (U.S.N.) landed a squadron of small boats on the mud flats and trudged to the plaza whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Swaggering with the glee of conquest, he raised Old Glory himself and declared that he was taking over for what he called the
U States.
Marines in white gloves kept order without firing a shot. But it was an even bigger deal when a ship of faith carrying more than two hundred Mormons landed several weeks later, thereby almost doubling the population.
The locals gossiped about the excesses of polygamy and it was rumored that thousands of additional Mormons were on the way.
Old T. D. Slant considered all this from points of churlish vantage. Deballed at sixty-five, he found himself reduced to the pursuit of the simplest and most insipid of vices. He became a voyeur, a peeping poltergeist of the most lecherous ilk, and although he was very pleased to be in America again, his former interest in current events gave way to earthier preoccupations. He spent time like an old
Social order broke down throughout the region. The Worm Eaters who had been obediently working the cattle and crops in Sonoma’s neighborhing countryside got word that everything had changed and wandered off. And worse, the mission Worm Eaters who had for years seen to the worldly needs of the spiritually inclined, dipping an endless number of strings into vats of bubbling candle tallow and delicately coaxing the mission grapes into decanters of sweet wine, could no longer be motivated.
The old padre in charge was beside himself. He had survived the 1822 revolution and the following period of independence from Mother Spain. While most other missions fell into ruin, he had been able, by cultivating Vallejo, to save a semblance of former affluence in spite of the theoretical freeing of the Worm Eaters and demotion of his mission to the status of parish church. But this new plague of infidels was something else. He perceived it as an assault on all that was holy. He called for the judgment day, and made lists of local heretics for God. When his Worm Eaters started sleeping in, he knew the apocalypse was at hand. His righteousness turned hysterical and he ranted about the plaza, clutching a goldencrucifix to his bony breast. The cross flashed in the sun, catching the eye of Galon Burgett, who was lounging near the flagpole.
Hey, preacher! Let’s have a look at your necklace.
The old padre whirled in his tracks. He knew that voice, or thought he did.
Methodist Wolf!
The Grand Wizard had no choice in the face of such insolence. Scuffing the padre ahead of him like an empty sack, he rampaged through the chapel. He kicked in the altar and spit on the walls. He sliced the Lord’s flickering candles with his sabre and threatened to drown the tempest-tossed old holy man in his own sacrificial wine. It was great fun.
The rest of the Bear Flaggers were naturally delighted and big things were predicted for Galon Burgett, but the incident turned out to be his only official act. On maneuvers in the countryside two days later, the Bear Flaggers ran into a superior force of greasers and, after a brief exchange of gunfire, Galon forfeited his position by deserting.
Galloping off over the sun-drenched hills, he shouted to Millard, riding loyally beside him, that he wasn’t feeling well and was tired of public life anyway. When they pulled up in a shaded arroyo to give the horses a blow, Galon said that all he wanted was a long rest for himself. He then emphasized his need for a bit of R and R by puking up some blood. Millard was understandably confused and worried until Galon explained to him that their new country wasn’t going to last long anyway.
He was right. When it was only three weeks oldthe Bear Flag Republic was conquered by the United States of America.
32
Yerba Buena
It turned into a very American summer in California, especially in Yerba Buena. Captain John Montgomery (U.S.N.) landed a squadron of small boats on the mud flats and trudged to the plaza whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Swaggering with the glee of conquest, he raised Old Glory himself and declared that he was taking over for what he called the
U States.
Marines in white gloves kept order without firing a shot. But it was an even bigger deal when a ship of faith carrying more than two hundred Mormons landed several weeks later, thereby almost doubling the population.
The locals gossiped about the excesses of polygamy and it was rumored that thousands of additional Mormons were on the way.
Old T. D. Slant considered all this from points of churlish vantage. Deballed at sixty-five, he found himself reduced to the pursuit of the simplest and most insipid of vices. He became a voyeur, a peeping poltergeist of the most lecherous ilk, and although he was very pleased to be in America again, his former interest in current events gave way to earthier preoccupations. He spent time like an old
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