St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

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 the fan.”
    She smiled wryly. “I gathered that much from reading the microfilm. But why?”
    “Lots of reasons.” Dan kept working as he talked. It was easier than looking into her changing, intelligent hazel eyes or watching her pink mouth shape words or her tongue licking moisture over dry lips.
    Apparently his body had just decided that it was one hundred percent healthy and ready to ride.
    “Under Spanish and Mexican control, taxes were pretty much avoided,” Dan said. “A tax collector who was too diligent ended up beaten, dead, or run out of town. The taxes that were collected mostly stayed in New Mexico. In fact, throughout its history, New Mexico has been a fiscal drain on whichever government claimed it, right into modern times. That’s the thing about frontiers. They’re expensive to try to control.”
    “So the Spanish and Mexican governments let New Mexicans get away with not paying taxes?”
    “That’s modern thinking.”
    She blinked. “Excuse me?”
    “We live in a time when communication is immediate, every transaction is recorded, and the government gets its taxes at the same time a worker gets his paycheck.”
    “Sure,” she said, “but governments throughout history have managed to collect taxes, no matter what the state of the communications.”
    “In towns and settled areas, yes. Frontiers? No. It’s the nature of a frontier to be beyond the pale of society, of civilization, of control. Essentially, New Mexico spent more time after its ‘discovery’ as a frontier than any other piece of American real estate. New Mexico had three hundred years of being somebody’s edge of the earth, somebody’s dumping ground for outlaws, adventurers, city rejects, dreamers, and politicians.” Dan’s mouth turned in a wry downward curve. “While Oppenheimer and the boys were inventing the atomic age at Alamogordo, curanderos and brujos were still practicing their ancient trades in the rural areas, using natural drugs like morning glory, poppy, and mescaline, drugs that were outlawed by a culture that never understood them. Between formal wars there were still informal shoot-outs over land and water. Penitentes still carried heavy crosses and flogged themselves bloody following in the steps of Christ.” He shrugged. “Some say they still do.”
    Fascinated by the light and shadow flowing across Dan’s angular face, Carly watched his movements as he worked over the scanner. “What do you say?” she asked.
    For several breaths the room was quiet. Then he looked up, pinning her with a glance. “I say it’s better left alone. For every step you take away from a New Mexico city, you’re going back in time. Frontiers are dangerous. Smart people leave dangerous things alone unless there’s no other choice. You have a choice.”
    She tilted her head slightly. Light slid through her hair, picking out the gold among the shades of dark red and darker brown.
    “Something wrong?” he asked, sensing her intensity.
    “I think you