CHAPTER XLII.
THE WOUNDED MAN.
Nathan proceeded straight to the Rancho del Coyote, where his unexpectedarrival was a blessing for Andres Garote, whom the old squatter wastreating very roughly. On hearing his son's words, Red Cedar let go ofthe gambusino, who tottered back against the wall.
"Well," he asked, "where is Dona Clara?"
"Come with me, father," the young man answered; "I will lead you toher."
"You know her hiding place, then?"
"Yes."
"And so do I," Fray Ambrosio shouted, as he rushed into the room withdiscomfited features; "I felt sure I should discover her."
Red Cedar looked at him in amazement, but the monk did not wince.
"What has happened to her?" the squatter said presently, as he lookedsuspiciously from the monk to the gambusino.
"A very simple matter," Fray Ambrosio answered, with an inimitablytruthful accent; "about two hours back your son Shaw came here."
"Shaw!" the squatter exclaimed.
"Yes, the youngest of your sons; he is called so, I think?"
"Yes; go on."
"Very good. He presented himself to us as coming from you to remove ourprisoner."
"And what did you do?" the squatter asked, impatiently.
"What could we do?"
"Why, oppose the girl's departure."
"_Caspita_! Do you fancy we let her go so?" the monk asked,imperturbably.
The squatter looked at him in surprise--he no longer understoodanything. Like all men of action, discussion was to him almost a matterof impossibility; especially with an adversary so crafty as the one hehad before him. Deceived by the monk's coolness and the apparentfrankness of his answers, he wished to make an end of it.
"Come," he said, "how did all this finish?"
"Thanks to an ally who came to your son's help, and to whom we wereobliged to bow--"
"An ally! What man can be so bold as to dare--"
"Eh!" the monk sharply interrupted Red Cedar, "that man is a priest, towhom you have already bowed many a time."
"You are jesting, senor Padre," the squatter exclaimed, savagely.
"Not the least in the world. Had it been anyone else, I should haveresisted; but I, too, belong to the Church; and, as Father Seraphin ismy superior, I was forced to obey him."
"What!" the squatter said, with a groan, "Is he not dead?"
"It appears," the monk remarked, ironically, "as if those you kill areall in good state of health, Red Cedar."
At this allusion to Don Pablo's death, the squatter stifled a cry ofanger, and clenched his fists.
"Good!" he said; "If I do not always kill, I know how to take myrevenge. Where is Dona Clara, at this moment?"
"In a house no great distance from here," Nathan answered.
"Have you seen her?" the squatter asked.
"No; but I followed Don Pablo and the missionary to that house, whichthey entered, and as they were ignorant that I was close to them, theirconversation left me no doubt as to the whereabouts of the girl."
An ill-omened smile momentarily lit up the old bandit's features.
"Good!" he said; "as the dove is in her nest, we shall be able to findher. What o'clock is it?"
"Three in the morning," Andres interjected. "Day will soon break."
"We must make haste, then. Follow me, all of you." Then he added, "Butwhat has become of Shaw? Does anyone of you know?"
"You will probably find him at the door of Dona Clara's house," Nathansaid, in a hollow voice.
"How so? Has my son entered into a compact with my enemies?"
"Yes; as he arranged with them to carry off your prisoner."
"Oh! I will kill him if he prove a traitor!" the squatter shouted withan accent that made the blood run cold in the veins of his hearers.
Nathan fell back two steps, drew his knife from his boot, and showed itto his father.
"That is done," he said, harshly. "Shaw tried to stab me, so I killedhim."
After these mournful words, there was a moment of silence in the rancho.All these men, though their hearts were steeled by crime, shudderedinvoluntarily. Without, the night was gloomy; the wind whistled sadly;the flickering light of the candle threw a weird light over the scene,which contained a certain degree of terrible poetry. The squatter passedhis hard hand over his dank brow. A sigh, like a howl, painfully forcedits way from his oppressed chest.
"He was my last born," he said, in a voice broken by an emotion he couldnot control. "He deserved death, but he ought not to have received it athis brother's hands."
"Father!" Nathan muttered.
"Silence!" Red Cedar shouted, in a hollow voice, as he stamped his footpassionately on the ground; "What is done cannot be undone; but woe tomy enemies' family! Oh! I feel now that I can take such vengeance onthem as will make all shudder who hear it spoken of!"
After uttering these words, which were listened to in silence, thesquatter walked a few steps up the rancho. He approached a table, seizeda bottle half full of mezcal that stood on it, and emptied it at adraught. When he had finished drinking, he threw down the bottle, whichbroke with a crash, and said to his mates in a hollow voice--
"Let us be off! We have wasted too much time here already!"
And he rushed out of the rancho, the others following close at hisheels.
In the meanwhile, Don Pablo and Father Seraphin were in the house. Thepriest had taken the maiden to the house of an honest family which owedhim great obligations, and was too happy to receive the poor sufferer.The missionary did not intend, however, to let her be long a burthen tothese worthy people. At daybreak he intended to deliver her to certainrelations of her father, who inhabited a hacienda a few leagues fromSanta Fe.
Dona Clara had been placed in a comfortable room by her hosts. Theirfirst care had been to make her doff the Indian robes for others moresuitable to her birth and position. The maiden worn out by poignantemotions of the scene she had witnessed, was on the point of retiring tobed, when Father Seraphin and Don Pablo tapped at the door of her room.She hastily opened it, and the sight of her brother, whom she had nothoped to see so speedily, overwhelmed her with joy.
An hour soon slipped away in pleasant chat. Don Pablo was careful not totell his sister of the misfortune that had befallen her father; for hedid not wish to dull by that confession the joy the poor girl promisedherself for the morrow. Then, as the night was advancing, the two menwithdrew, so as to allow her to enjoy that rest so needed to strengthenher for the long journey to the hacienda, promising to come and fetchher in a few hours. Father Seraphin generously offered Don Pablo to passthe night with him by sharing the small lodging he had not far from thePlaza de la Merced, and the young man eagerly accepted. It was too lateto seek a lodging at a locanda, and in this way he would be all thesooner with his sister next morning. After a lengthened leave-taking,they, therefore, left the house, and, so soon as they were gone, DonaClara threw herself, ready dressed, into a hammock hanging at one end ofthe room, when she speedily fell asleep.
On reaching the street, Don Pablo saw a body lying motionless in frontof the house.
"What's this?" he asked, in surprise.
"A poor wretch whom the ladrones killed in order to plunder him," themissionary answered.
"That is possible."
"Perhaps he is not quite dead," the missionary went on; "it is our dutyto succour him."
"For what good?" Don Pablo said, with an air of indifference; "if asereno were to pass he might accuse us of having killed the man."
"Nay, sir," the missionary observed, "the ways of the Lord areimpenetrable. If He allowed us to come across this unhappy man, it wasbecause He judged in His wisdom that we might prove of use to him."
"Be it so," the young man said; "let us look at him, as you wish it. Butyou know that in this country good actions of such a nature generallyentail annoyance."
"That is true, my son. Well, we will run the risk," said the missionary,who had already bent over the wou
nded man.
"As you please," Don Pablo said, as he followed him.
Shaw, for it was he, gave no signs of life. The missionary examined him,then rose hastily, seized Don Pablo's arm, and drew him to him, as hewhispered--
"Look!"
"Shaw!" the Mexican exclaimed, in surprise; "What could that man bedoing here?"
"Help me, and we shall learn. The poor fellow has only fainted; and theloss of blood has produced this semblance to death."
Don Pablo, greatly perplexed by this singular meeting, obeyed themissionary without further remark. The two men raised the wounded lad,and carried him gently to Father Seraphin's lodging, where they proposedto give him all the help his condition required.
They had scarce turned the corner of the street, when several menappeared at the other extremity. They were Red Cedar and hisconfederates. On arriving in front of the house they stopped: all thewindows were in the deepest obscurity.
"Which is the girl's room?" the squatter asked in a whisper.
"This one," Nathan said, as he pointed to it.
Red Cedar crawled up to the house, drove his dagger into the wall,raised himself to the window, and placed his face against a pane.
"All is well! She sleeps!" he said, when he came down. "You, FrayAmbrosio, to one corner of the street; you, Garote, to the other, and donot let me be surprised."
The monk and the gambusino went to their allotted posts. When Red Cedarwas alone with his son he bent and whispered in his ear--
"What did you do with your brother after stabbing him?"
"I left him on the spot where he fell."
"Where was that?"
"Just where we now stand."
The squatter stooped down to the ground, and walked a few steps,carefully examining the bloody traces left on the pebbles.
"He has been carried off," he said, when he rose again. "Perhaps he isnot dead."
"Perhaps so," the young man observed, with a shake of his head.
His father gave him a most significant look.
"To work," he said coldly.
And they prepared to escalade the window.
The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West Page 42