The Mystery of The Barranca

by Herman Whitaker

  CHAPTER XI

  It was in the middle of the rainy season. Stepping out of his office,where he had just added a few drops of Scotch to the water he wasabsorbing at every pore, the station agent came face to face with theengineer of the down train.

  "Nine hours late?" The engineer gruffly repeated the other's comment."We are lucky to be here at all. Besides being sopping wet, the woodwe're burning is that dosey it'd make a fireproof curtain for hell. Thiskind of railroading don't suit my book, and I'm telling you that if theydon't serve us out something pretty soon that smells like wood I knowone fat engineer that will be missing on this line." Jerking his thumbat the lone passenger who had descended at the station, he added: "Butfor that chap we'd never have got through. When the track went out fromunder us at La Puente he pitched in and showed us no end of wrinkles. Ifyou've got anything inside just give him a nip for me."

  "Hullo, Mr. Seyd!" Coming face to face with the passenger after thetrain had gone on, the agent thrust out his hand. "What a pity youweren't on the other train. She was twenty hours late--in fact, onlypulled out a couple of hours ago. Miss Francesca was aboard, and shejust left."

  "Not alone?"

  The agent laughed. "Sure! She don't care. Three weeks ago she camegalloping in through one of the heaviest rains and took the up train."

  "So she has been home since I left?"

  "Let me see--that's nigh on three months, isn't it? Sure, she came homejust after you left."

  With this bit of information lingering in the forefront of his mindSeyd, a little later, rode out from the station. Not that it engrossed,by any means, the whole of his thought. Even had he been free, the hardwork and bitter disappointment of the first venture, and the equallyhard thought and careful planning for the second during his long absencein the States, would have been sufficient to keep her in the background.If he had never happened to see Francesca again she would probably havelingered as an unusually pretty face in the gallery of his mind. Whileit was only natural that he should wonder if the news that he sent in byCaliban had ever reached her ear, it was merely a passing thought. Hismind soon turned again to his plans. Up to the moment that, four hourslater, he came slipping and sliding downhill upon her she was altogetherout of his thought.

  For that very reason his fresh senses leaped to take the picture shemade standing in the gray sheeting rain beside her fallen horse, andthrough its very difference from either the tan riding habit or virginalbatiste of his memory her loose waterproof with its capote hood helpedto stamp this figure upon his brain. Before she said a word he had goneback to the feelings of four months ago.

  The pelting rain had washed all but a few clay streaks off her coat.Touching them, she explained: "The poor beast fell under me. I fear ithas broken a leg."

  While speaking she offered her hand; and if that had not beensufficient, her friendly smile more than answered his speculation.Caliban's niece had certainly done her duty! Indeed, while he wasstooping over the fallen animal a quick glance upward would have givenhim a look evenly compounded of mischief and remorse. It gave place tosudden sorrow when he spoke.

  "It is broken, all right. There is only one thing to be done. If youwill lead my horse around the shoulder of the hill I will put the poorthing out of its pain."

  Her life had been cast too much in the open for her to be ignorant ofthe needs of the case. Nevertheless, he saw that her eyes were brimmingas she led his horse away; and, remembering their black fire on the daythat she had ordered the charcoal-burners flogged, he wondered. Itwould have been even harder to reconcile the two impressions had heseen the tears rolling down her cheeks when the muffled report of hispistol followed her around the hill. But she had wiped them away beforehe rejoined her. If the sensitive red mouth trembled, her voice wasunder control.

  "No, I had not waited long," she answered his question. "You see, thepoor creature lost a shoe earlier in the day, and I had to ride back tohave it replaced. It would have been better had I stayed there."

  For the moment he was puzzled. An hour ago he had ridden past the lasthabitation, a flimsy hut already overcrowded with the peon, his wife,their children, chickens, and pigs. All around them stretched widewastes of volcanic rock and scrub. They were, as he knew, on thehacienda San Angel, but the buildings lay five leagues to the north.With hard riding he had expected to make the inn at the foot of theBarranca wall that night. She might do it by taking his horse. But ifanything went wrong? She would be alone--all night--in the rain! He felteasier when she refused the offer of his beast.

  "And leave you to walk? No, sir."

  A second offer to walk by her side not only ran counter to the prejudiceof a race of riders, but also aroused her sympathies. "I could neverthink of it!" After a moment of thought she propounded her own solution."Your beast is strong. I have ridden double on an animal half his size.We will both ride."

  Now, though Seyd had long ago grown to the sight of rancheros on theirway to market in the embrace of their buxom brown wives, the suddennessof it made him gasp. But by a quick mounting he succeeded in hiding therush of blood to his face. Also he managed to control his voice.

  "Fine idea! Give me your hand."

  Just touching his foot, she rose like a bird to the croup. When, as thehorse moved on, she slid an arm around his waist his demoralization wasfull and complete. If he glanced down it was to see her fingers restinglike small white butterflies on his raincoat. Did he look up, then afaint perfume of damp hair would come floating over his shoulder. Hethrilled when her clasp tightened as the horse broke into a gentle trot,and was altogether in a bad way when her merry laugh restored orderamong his senses.

  "Now we can play Rosa and Rosario on their way to market. It will be foryou to grumble at prices while I rail at the government tax that putswoolens beyond the purse of a peon."

  "I prefer to ask what brought you out in such weather." He returned herlaugh. "A pretty pickle you would have been in if I had not come along."

  He felt the vigorous shake of her head. "I should have walked back tothe last hut, and an oxcart would have taken me in to the station."

  "But then you would have been out all night."

  "I should have loved it." Though he did not see the sudden bloomingunder her hood, he felt the unconscious squeeze which testified to thesincerity of her feeling. "I love them--the roar of the wind, blackdarkness, the beat of the rain in my face. Mother would have had me stayin Mexico till the rains were over, but when Don Luis wrote that theriver was at flood nothing could hold me." He had thrilled under herunconscious pressure, but her conclusion proved an excellent corrective."I am afraid that the site for your new buildings must be under water."

  "How can that be?" He spoke quickly. "We are building well back fromlast year's mark, and Don Luis said that it was the highest known."

  "But this year it has gone even higher--and all because of the Yankeecompanies that are stripping the upper valley of timber. There weregreat fires, too, last year which broke away from their servants andburned hundreds of miles of woods."

  Her quiet answer went far to allay his sudden suspicion, but not hisanxiety. He spoke of Billy. "It is over a month since he came out to thestation for stores, and the agent told me that none of your people hadseen him for weeks."

  "But he has with him Angelo"--she gave Caliban his correct name--"andhe, as I once told you, was counted Sebastien's best man in his waragainst the brigands. Though he may not show it to you, he is notungrateful for the gift of his life. If food is to be had in thecountry, Mr. Thornton will not go lacking."

  He spoke more cheerfully. "Then I don't care; though if the site _is_flooded we shall be thrown back at least three months with our work."

  "And what is three months?" she added, laughing.

  To him it was a great deal. Before paying over the loan Don Luis'slawyers had taken Seyd's signatures upon certain instruments whichexhibited the General in the new light of a shrewd and conservativebusiness man. Withal, having still plenty of time, he answered q
uitecheerfully when she turned the conversation with a question concerninghis plans. Under the stimulation of her curiosity, which surprised himby its intelligence, he went into details, talking and answering herquestions while the horse trudged steadily on into the darkening rain.If the trail had not suddenly faded out, night would have caught themunnoticed.

  In that volcanic country, where for long stretches a hoof left noimpression, the loss of a trail was a common experience, and, trustingto the instinct of the beast, Seyd gave it the rein. Left to its owndevices, however, it gradually swerved from the beating rain andpresently turned on to a cattle track which swung away into gum copaltrees and scrub oak at an imperceptible angle. Had he been alone Seydwould have soon noticed the absence of the Aztec ruin. As it was, butnot until an hour later, Francesca was the first to speak.

  "That's so," he agreed, when she drew his attention. "We ought to havepassed it long ago. The animal evidently picked up a wrong track comingout from the rocks." After a moment's reflection he said: "It would beworse than foolish to try to go back. We could never find the trail inthis black rain. Better follow on and see where it will bring us." Witha sudden remembrance of what it might mean to her, a young girl broughtup in the rigid conventions of the country, he repentantly added: "I'mawfully sorry for you. I ought to be kicked for my carelessness."

  "No, I have traveled this trail much oftener than you," she quietlyprotested. "If any one is blamed I should be the one."

  Sitting there in black darkness, lost in those lonely volcanic hills,with the rain dashing in his face and the roar of the wind in his ears,he was prepared to appreciate her quiet answer. "You are a brick!" heexclaimed. "Nevertheless, I feel my guilt."

  "Then you need not." She gave a little laugh. "Did I not say that Ienjoyed being out at night in the rain?"

  "And now the gods have called your bluff."

  "_Bluff?_" She laughed again at the meaning of that rank Americanism."It was no bluff, as you will presently see."

  And see he did--during the long hour they spent splashing along in blackdarkness, up hill, down dale, fording swollen arroyos, through chaparralwhich tore at them with myriad claws and wet woods whose boughs lashedtheir faces. Up to the moment that the roof of a hut suddenly loomed outagainst the dim, dark sky she uttered no doubt or complaint. When,having tied his horse under the wide eaves, he lit a match inside, itsflare revealed her face, quiet and serene.

  Also it showed that which, while not nearly so interesting, had itsimmediate uses--a candle stuck in a _tequila_ bottle; and its steadierflare presently helped them to another find--a chemisette and othergarments of feminine wear, spotlessly clean and smoothly ironed,arranged on a string that ran over a bunk in one corner.

  "The fiesta wear of our hostess," Francesca remarked. "How lucky! for Iam drenched."

  "And look at that pile of dry wood!" he exclaimed. "The gods are withus. I'll build a fire, then while I rub down the horse you can change.What's this?"

  It was a rough sketch done with charcoal on the table. Twoparallelograms with sticks for legs were in furious pursuit of certainhorned squares which, in their turn, were in full flight toward adoll's house in the far corner.

  "Oh, I know!" the girl cried, after a moment of study. "Here, in thewild country where they never see man, are raised the fighting bulls forthe rings of Mexico. This hut belongs to a vaquero of San Angel, andthis is an order, left in his absence, to drive the bulls into thehacienda." Laying her finger on a triangle which had evidently beenadded later, she continued, laughing: "This shows that his woman hasgone with him. They were evidently called away unexpectedly, for she hadalready set the corn to soak in this _olla_ for the supper tortillas.And the saints be praised! Here are dried beef, salt, and chilis. Nowhurry the fire, and you shall see what a cook I am."

  While he was building it in the center of the mud floor she made otherfinds--a cube of brown sugar, coffee, a cake of goat's cheese; and herlittle delighted exclamations over each discovery both amused him andproved how sincere was her acceptance of the situation. "She's a brick!"he told the horse, rubbing him down, outside, with wisps pulled out fromthe under side of the thatch. "Thoroughbred in blood and bone." As theanimal had already experimented with the thatch and found it quite toits liking, the question of provender was settled. But in order thatFrancesca might have ample time to change, Seyd rubbed and rubbed andrubbed till a rattle of clay pots inside gave him leave to come in.

  At the door he paused to admire the picture she made in the red glow ofthe fire. In place of the slender girl of the stylish raincoat a prettypeona raised velvet eyes from the stone _metate_ on which she wasvigorously rubbing soaked corn for the supper tortillas. By emphasizingsome features and softening others strange attire always gives a newview of a woman. The sleeveless garment showed the round white arms andforeshortened and filled out her slender lines.

  Glancing down at her arms, she confessed, with an uneasy wriggle: "Idon't like it, though I wear decollete every evening when we are in thecity. But I shall soon get used to it."

  Conscious of his admiring eyes, she found them employment in watchingthe tortillas. But, having grown accustomed to the new dress by the timesupper was ready, she left him free to watch the white arms and smallhands which hovered like butterflies over the clay pot. In the lack ofall other utensils, they used bits of tortilla for spoons, dippingalternately into the pot which she had set between them; nor did he findthe chili any the worse for its contact with the tortilla which had justtaken an impression of her small teeth. It required only an after-dinnerpipe, to which she graciously consented, to seal his content.

  After the wet and fatigue of the trail the warmth and cheer of food andfire were extremely grateful, but not conducive to talk. While he satwatching the tobacco smoke curl up into the blackened peak of the roofshe leaned, chin in her hands, elbows on crossed knees, studying thefire. Leaping out of red coal, an occasional flame set its reflection inher deep eyes, and as his gaze wandered from her around the rough_jacal_ Seyd found it difficult to realize that it was indeed he, RobertSeyd, mining engineer of San Francisco, who sat there sharing food andfire with a girl, on the one hand scion of the Mexican aristocracy,descendant on the other of a line which ran back into the dim time ofthe Aztecs. The thought stirred the romance within him and helped toprolong his silence. It would have held him still longer if his musingshad not been suddenly interrupted by her merry laugh.

  "_Si?_" he inquired, looking suddenly up.

  "I was thinking what they would say--my mother, Don Luis, theneighbors?"

  "Horrible!" he agreed. "Your mother? What would she say?"

  As the white hands flew up in a horrified gesture it was the senoraherself. "_Santa Maria Marissima!_"

  "And Don Luis?"

  Her expression changed from laughter into sudden mischievous demureness."His remarks, senor, are not for me to repeat."

  "Well--the neighbors?"

  Once more her hands went up. "'Was it not that we always said it of thatmad girl! Maria, thou shalt not speak with her again.'" Smiling, sheadded, "For you must know, senor, that I have been held as a horribleexample of the things a girl should not do since the days of mychildhood."

  "Like the devil in the old New England theology," he suggested, smiling,"you make more converts than the preacher?"

  He had to explain before she understood. Then she laughed merrily. "Justso. What they would do were I to marry, die, or reform, I really cannottell. It would leave a gap almost equal to the loss of the catechism."She finished with a mock sigh, "They will never appreciate me till I'mdead."

  "Any present danger?"

  The smiling mouth pursed demurely under his whimsical glance. "I amafraid not. You saw my performance at supper. I am the despair of mymother, who would have me more delicate and refined."

  "Marriage?"

  "No one wants me."

  "Don Sebastien?"

  It slipped out, and he was immediately sorry, but she only laughed."Tut! tut! A cousin?"

>   Surveying him from under drooping lashes, a glance soft and warm asvelvet, she added: "I will confess. There _were_ others. Some too fat,some too thin, all too stupid, here at home. In Mexico they weretriflers--or worse. But on the honor of a lone maid, senor, never a manamong them." With a sudden relapse into seriousness she repeated, "Among_all_ of them--never a man." Though she was looking directly at him, herglance seemed to go on, fly to some further vision which, for onesecond, set its reflection in her eyes. Then her long silky lashes wipedit out. When they rose again it was over mischievous lights. "Never a_man_," with a change of accent.

  "But he will come--some day," he teased.

  "And go--after the fashion of dream men."

  "And dream women."

  For a while she studied him curiously. "Then she has not come?"

  "Yes," he answered, with sudden impulse. "But--"

  She softly filled the pause. "'But' and 'because' are woman's reasons."

  "Unhappily, sometimes man's," he gravely answered; and, feeling,perhaps, that the conversation was drifting into unsafe latitudes, herose and began to pull dry grass from the under side of the thatch. "Foryou," he exclaimed, with a glance at the bunk. "I knew you wouldn't careto sleep there."

  Having arranged a thick layer at a safe distance from the fire, hegathered another armful, and was going outside when she called him back."To make my bed," he answered her question.

  "In the wet?"

  "Oh, it isn't so bad--here under the eaves."

  "Only an inch of water," she answered him, with pretty sarcasm; and,indicating certain small trickles that were coming through the canesiding, she gave him his orders. "You will sleep here--inside."

  "But--" he began.

  "Senor, I said that you would sleep _inside_."

  As a matter of fact, the "prospect" outside was not inviting, and hisacquiescence lowered the quick colors his previous obstinacy had raised.She had already settled down on one elbow; and when, having arranged abed on the opposite side of the fire, he lit a second pipe, she studiedhim through the smoke, wondering what pictures were responsible for hisearnest gaze. But warmth and comfort presently produced their naturaleffect, and she began to nod. After a few shy, sleepy glances thatshowed him still staring moodily into the fire her head sank upon thewhite fullness of her doubled arm.

  As a matter of fact, it was his wife's face that returned his steadygaze from a nest of red coal. Absorbed in bitter musings, he receivedthe first intimation of Francesca's sleep from a sigh which caused himto start as though at the report of a gun. Then while the warm bloodstreamed through his drumming pulses, every sense vividly alive, helooked down upon her. With all the timid awe that Adam must havedisplayed when he awoke to the sight of Eve he studied this greatest ofmasculine experiences, a woman clad in the soft armor of sleep.

  For some time his senses dwelt only on the fact, and gave him merely thesoft sigh of her sleep, the play of firelight over the unconsciousfigure. But presently his mind began to work, to compare the broadforehead, oval contours, fine-cut nostrils, delicate chiseling of herfeatures, with the common prettiness of his wife. Even the little footand slender ankle, freed by relaxation from the jealous skirt, helped toemphasize differences wide as those between a hummingbird and a pouterpigeon. It had required the rigid selection of a thousand generations,the pre-eminence in strength and brains of a line of fighters to producethe one, just as the slacker choice of a commoner breed had created theother; and Seyd, whose own blood had come down through the cleanchannels of good Colonial stock, recognized the fact. As never before hewas impressed with the fatuity of his chivalric rashness. While thefirelight rose and fell he strained at the ties which stretched overmountains, desert, plains, binding him to the coarse woman inAlbuquerque.

  His sudden jerk forward was the physical equivalent of his mentalstrain. Though homely, even slangy, his mutter, "Your cake is baked,son. The sooner you let this girl know it the better," was none the lesstragic. The thought was the last in his waking mind.

  Before going to sleep he performed one last service. Noticing that sheshivered under the wet breath of the night, he took off his coat,tiptoed across, and, after laying it softly across her shoulders,returned with equal caution. She did not stir or even change the slowrhythm of her breath, but he had no more than lain down before her eyesslowly opened. When his deep respirations told that he was fast asleepshe rose on one elbow and looked at him across the fire.

  In her turn, with glances shyly curious as those with which Eve, newlyformed, may have eyed Adam still in "deep sleep," she noted thewide-spaced, deep-set eyes, strong nose, the ideality of the brows, thehumorous puckers at the corners of his mouth. Though she did not analyzetheir individual meanings, the totality made a strong appeal to instinctand intuitions formed by the vast experience of the race. Her impressionphrased itself in her murmur, "A wholesome face."

  Only the cleft chin seemed to carry a special meaning. Surveying it, agleam of mischief shot through the soft satisfaction of her look, andshe murmured beneath her breath in Spanish, "Oh, fickle! fickle! Thywife will need the sharpest of eyes."

  The thought brought a little laugh, and for a minute thereafter she sat,a finger upon her lip, listening for a break in his breathing. When itdid not come she rose slowly, stole like a mouse across the floor, andlaid his coat, light as a feather, over his unprotected shoulders. Backagain on her own couch, she looked across at him again; a glance naivein its enjoyment of the romantic impropriety of the entire proceeding.Then, curling up under her raincoat, she fell fast asleep.