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IT was sheep-shearing time incest stories Southern California, butsheep-shearing was late at the Senora Moreno's. The Fates hadseemed to combine to put it off. In the first place, Felipe Morenohad been ill. He was the Senora's eldest son, and since his father'sdeath had been at the head of his mother's house. Without him,nothing could be done on the ranch, the Senora thought. It hadbeen always, "Ask Senor Felipe," "Go to Senor Felipe," "SenorFelipe will attend to it," ever since Felipe had had the dawning of abeard on his handsome face.
In truth, it was not Felipe, but the Senora, who really decided allquestions from greatest to least, and managed everything on theplace, from the sheep-pastures to the artichoke-patch; but nobodyexcept the Senora herself knew this. An exceedingly clever womanfor her day and generation was Senora Gonzaga Moreno,-- as forthat matter, exceedingly clever for any day and generation; butexceptionally clever for the day and generation to which shebelonged. Her life, the mere surface of it, if it had been written,would incest stories made a romance, to grow hot and cold over: sixtyyears of the best of old Spain, and the wildest of New Spain, Bayof Biscay, Gulf of Mexico, Pacific Ocean,-- the waves of them allhad tossed destinies for the S.

Enora. The Holy Catholic Church hadhad its arms round her from first to last; and that was what hadbrought her safe through, she would have said, if she had ever saidanything about herself, which she never did,-- one of her manywisdoms. So quiet, so reserved, so gentle an exterior never wasknown to veil such an imperious and passionate nature, brimful ofstorm, always passing through stress; never thwarted, except atperil of those who did it; adored and hated by turns, and each atthe hottest. A tremendous force, wherever she appeared, wasSenora Moreno; but no stranger would suspect it, to see her glidingabout, in her scanty black gown, with her rosary hanging at herside, her soft dark eyes cast down, and an expression of mingledmelancholy and devotion on her face. She looked simply like asad, spiritual-minded old lady, amiable and indolent, like her race,but sweeter and more thoughtful than incest stories wont. Her voiceheightened this mistaken impression. She was never heard to speakeither lo.

Ud or fast. There was at times even a curious hesitancy inher speech, which came near being a stammer, or suggested themeasured care with which people speak who have been cured ofstammering. It made her often appear as if she did not known herown mind; at which people sometimes took heart; when, if theyhad only known the truth, they would have known that the speechhesitated solely because the Senora knew her mind so exactly thatshe was finding it hard to make the words convey it as she desired,or in a way to best attain her ends.
About this very sheep-shearing there had been, between her andthe head shepherd, Juan Canito, called Juan Can for short, and todistinguish him from Juan Jose, the upper herdsman of the cattle,some discussions which would have been hot and angry ones inany other hands than the Senora's.
Juan Canito wanted the shearing to begin, even though SenorFelipe were ill in bed, and though that lazy shepherd Luigo had notyet got back with the flock that had been driven up the coast forpasture. "There were plenty of sheep on the place to begin with,"he said one morning,-- "at least a thousand;" and by the time theywere done, Luigo would surely be back with the rest; and as forSenor Felipe's being in bed, had not he, Juan Canito, stood at thepacking-bag, and handled the wool, when Senor Felipe was a boy?Why could he not do it again? The Senora did not realize how timewas going; there would be no shearers to be hired presently, sincethe Senora was determined to have none but Indians. Of course, ifshe would employ Mexicans, as all the other ranches in the valleydid, it would be different; but she was resolved upon havingIndians,-- "God knows why," he interpolated surlily, under hisbreath.
"I do not quite understand you, Juan," interrupted Senora Morenoat the precise instant the last syllable of this disrespectfulejaculation had escaped Juan's lips; ".