Richmond High School - Shield Yearbook (Richmond, CA)

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RICHMOND ‘RODEO was off like a flash, for already his pursuers, recovering from their excitement, were mounting their horses to give chase. Manuel Piora was soon galloping in pursuit, scarce a hun- dred yards behind Murietta. Raising himself in his saddle with the cry, ‘‘I said I’d have revenge,’’ he emptied his pistol after the fleeing couple. A shriek of pain rent the air, for the bullet, missing its intended victim, tore through Loretta’s arm. Turning quickly in his saddle, with an oath, Murietta took careful aim and shot once. Piora fell from his horse. But Murietta knew every trail and pass in the mountains, and having a far better horse than any of his pursuers, the outlaw made his escape, carrying the limp but breathing form of Loretta in his arms. The silence of night had settled over the land. In a little adobe iglesia back in the hills, an old Spanish priest softly chanted his prayers. Suddenly a loud knocking interrupted him. Crossing himself, the priest called, ‘‘Who comes here?’’ ‘Friends, who seek your assistance, good Father. We wish to be married,’’ was the answer. ‘‘Enter,’ commanded the priest, throwing open the puerta. ‘Are you both of the faith?’’ ‘That we are,’’ readily replied a young Espanol, who sup- ported a half-fainting girl on his arm. ‘‘The Signora is injured, Father, and needs her wounds bandaged.’’ After Loretta had recovered sufficiently, the simple wed- ding ceremony was performed and the midnight travelers made ready to start. Murietta lifted his bride to the saddle, and sprang up be- hind her. Then taking the reins in his hands, he called out to the ancient priest, ‘‘Father, when you see Manuel Piora, tell him that I, Joaquin Murietta, did not get him last time; but the next time I shoot to kill.’”’ ‘““Murietta!’’ gasped the old Father, crossing himself. ‘“‘God help you, Manuel Piora, for you are doomed!”’ —WILMA ROTH, ’10. 17

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RICHMOND RODEO the smiling and bowing Manuel, near the middle of the evening when the merriment was at its highest. ‘‘Yes, Senor,’’ she answered. ‘‘I—’’ here her voice trem- bled and sank to a whisper for she saw, crossing the floor, Joaquin Murietta, so disguised that none less interested than Loretta would have recognized him. The next thing she was conscious of was the low commanding voice of Murietta saying, ‘‘Our dance, Senorita.’’ Slowly she arose as in a daze and al- lowed him to lead her out on the floor. ‘Senorita Lorenza,’’ Manuel hissed in a low threatening voice, ‘‘no one has ever insulted Manuel Piora more than once.’’ But Loretta had not heard for she was already lost in the whirl of the dance. ‘Joaquin, why did you come? You know you will be killed if you are recognized,’’ Loretta whispered, excitedly. ‘ To see you, dear,’’ he answered, smiling as he noted the red mounting to her cheeks, ‘‘and, anyway, no one would ever recognize me in this disguise.’’ ‘‘T did,’’ she replied, ‘‘and surely Piora knew your voice.”’ Joaquin’s only answer was a slight pressure of her hand. At this moment the cry burst from Manuel Piora’s lips, ‘‘Murietta! Joaquin Murietta is here!’’ For a moment there was silence in the room. Then the dance broke into a tumult. The shieks of women and hoarse cries of men arose, for the name of Joaquin Murietta was the terror of nearly every man, woman and child in the country. ‘“‘T’m recognized,’’ Joaquin whispered, hurriedly. ‘‘Good- bye, dear,’’ and he sprang toward the door. Loretta, however, clinging to his hand, dashed out with him. “I’m going with you,’’ she gasped as she ran. ‘“‘Go back, Loretta! Go back!’’ he demanded, trying to force her from him. ‘‘You will be killed!’’ ‘‘No,’’ she answered determinedly, ‘‘I am going.’’ Reaching his caballo, which was tied in a clump of bushes, Joaquin sprang into the saddle, lifted Loretta in his arms and 15

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RICHMOND RODEO THE HOLY CROSS | | HE night seemed steeped in silver moonlight. Mercedes crept to the window, and pressing her face against the bars, gazed out into the peaceful stillness. Below her, rolling hills spread out into the marshland, but to the west the land rose steeply to a crest—at the foot of the slope on the opposite side lay the bay. She studied the lurking blackness beneath the clumps of brush for signs of life. Ever were the traders on the alert for wandering bands of Indians. The strong walls of the convent served not only as a school for the young people but often as a fortress for this hardy little band of Mexican explorers. Toward the east several black clouds hovered and cast their ominous shadows. Startled by a noise within she drew her mantilla over her head and stepped back into the room, away from the light of the window. Her roommates were sleeping heavily; the whole house seemed weighed down with stillness. She was impatient to be away. Her life appeared hard and unpleasant by night; she did not realize that daylight would lend a brighter aspect. It was all too stern and strict; the long hours of study were intolerably tiresome and confining. Only the day before she had been forced to crawl and lick the cross outlined on the floor of the chapel, merely for evading the morning service. She shuddered at the thought of the undue severity of the pen- ance. Glancing out of the window again she sighed for joy. On the ridge of the hill, his black form outlined abruptly against the bright sky, stood the Gringo. She drew a cloak about her and creeping along in utter darkness, felt her way stealthily through the hallways. On reaching the patio she was startled 18