CHAPTER XXVII
AULD ACQUAINTANCE
The sun was already well up in the eastern sky when the strange funeralprocession entered San Remo. The news of the event spread like wildfire,and friendly hands were ready to aid Stephens in lifting down the deadman's corpse at the door of what yesterday had been his home, whilekind-hearted women full of sympathy went into the house to break thetidings to her whose hearth was made desolate. Then a dreadful soundbroke upon his ears; it was the cry of agony that told that the wifeknew that she was a wife no more but a widow. It was a piercing cry,that wounded the hearts of all who heard it, for the ring of mortal painwas there.
Unaccustomed to all violent appeals to feeling, Stephens found thisheart-rending wail unbearable. Duty to the dead claimed him no longer,and he must hurry away.
"Thanks, friends," he said to the Mexicans who had aided him to lift thebody down, "a thousand thanks for your kindness in this aid. _Adios,amigos_, I must be going. _Adios._" He led the horse, now lightened ofhis burden, away from the door, Felipe following. He could not mount inthe saddle which Death had just vacated; it seemed to him as if itwould be a sort of sacrilege. That agonised cry of the bereaved womanhaunted him still. Loathing Backus though he did, this evidence that toone soul, at least, in this incomprehensible world, he had been all inall, struck home to him. Likely enough the man had been good to her,scoundrel though he was; but what an amazing thing must be this bond ofmarriage that could thus link heart to heart, even when one of the pairwas no better than a treacherous coward.
At Don Nepomuceno's he found Manuelita, but not alone. Not only were heraunt and Juana there--that was of course--but the visits of interestedfriends had not yet ceased, seeing that everyone naturally wanted tohear the exciting story from her own lips. And now it came theAmerican's turn to entertain the company; while food was beinghospitably prepared for him, he had to come in and sit down among theladies, and give some account of what had befallen him while searchingfor the bones of the murdered prospector. He passed over Felipe'sattempt on his life in silence and merely spoke of having met him at theold ruined pueblo, where they heard through the darkness the cry of thedying victim of the rattlesnake, and vainly endeavoured to help him toresist the fatal venom. He told the tale at length, and with a freedomand fulness of detail that surprised himself. But all the time there wasone thing present before his mind, and that was the very thing that hecould whisper no word of to the eager circle around him; it must be keptfor one and one only; but ever as he talked his eyes sought those of theMexican girl, not once but many times, and they spoke to her silentlyand ardently.
"What is it that has come to him?" she asked herself. "Here is a lookin his eyes to-day that never was there before. Perhaps he has a secretto keep--or to tell; perhaps he has found that mine that he is alwayssearching for." She blushed and looked down as she caught his glanceflashed quickly upon her. Her heart told her that he had a secret totell--but that it did not concern any mine of silver or gold. Againtheir eyes met, and again unwillingly they parted; it seemed dangerousto look longer, as if the meaning that they had for each other mustbetray itself to all around. And this was the man that she had beendeeming cold and hard! "_Hombre muy frio_," as her aunt had called him."Cold as the snows of his own frozen North," as her father hadsaid--said it of him! Perhaps so, perhaps he had been cold, but if itwere so, the ice had melted now.
Stephens lingered over his story longer than he had intended; questionsflowed in upon him, and he had to answer them and fill in many thingsthat he had omitted, for the storekeeper's strange and dreadful end wasa matter that excited intense interest. He half hoped that by excitingtheir curiosity he might impel these people to go away and visit thehouse of the deceased in order to learn what more they could. Anythingto make them move. But nothing seemed to have the desired effect. Themore he told them the more they wanted to know. The chance to see thegirl alone and tell her what was in his heart seemed to grow more remotethan ever. He ached to speak to her, were it but a few words--a fewwords he told himself were all that were needful, so little did he knowof love--and yet the opportunity was denied.
At last in despair he rose; he would go away himself for a little andthen return. Perhaps meantime the visitors might disperse. "I have totake my leave now, ladies," he said, excusing himself. "It is alreadythe hour for the mail to arrive from Santa Fe, and I am expectingletters of importance. I do not know how they will manage in view of theunhappy death of the postmaster, but I had better be there to see whatis to be done about opening the mail-bag. By your permission, then, DonNepomuceno," and he bowed himself out. The words he had come to say toher were still unsaid. The thought occurred to him as he movedaway,--should he speak to the girl's father? To speak to the girl'sfather first would be quite the correct thing according to Mexicanfashions; or, rather, if he wanted to do the thing in proper style, heshould go and get a friend to take a message to her father for him. Butno; he was not a Mexican, and why should he adopt their fashions inthis? He was an American, and he would woo his wife in American stylefor himself.
Faro started to come with him, but was ordered back.
"Stay where you are, old man, till I come for you. I see you're not sotender-footed as you were, but you stay here." He felt a sort ofprejudice against taking the dog to the house of mourning. He hated togo there at all, but he had to have his mail and there was no other wayto get it. And he would see if he could find out anything about the fateof the letters he had entrusted to Backus.
He went out and saddled up Morgana, who put her pretty head round andpretended to bite him as he pulled on the latigo strap to draw thecinch.
"Easy, old lady, now; come, none of that"; as she nearly nipped him."Pedro's been giving you too much of Don Nepomuceno's corn, I'mthinking, and it's got into your head." He slung his Winchester into itscase under the off-stirrup leather, and swinging himself into the saddledeparted on his errand.
The mail waggon had just drawn up as usual before the door of thepost-office, now shut and locked, and the stage-driver was leading histeam around the back of the house towards the stable as Stephens came insight. Two passengers had dismounted from the waggon, and werestretching their tired limbs and looking disconsolately at the closedhouse with its shuttered window, which seemed to offer small promise ofa meal.
Stephens loped forward with the idea of relieving their discomfiture. Ashe did so one of the figures seemed strangely familiar. "Was it--couldit be possible? No. Yes. By George, it was!" With a shout of welcome hesprang off the mare, slipping her bridle over the saddle-horn, andreached out both hands to the newcomer.
"Rocky! well, by gum!"
"Jack, old pard! why, you haint changed a mite!"
Stephens and Rockyfeller shook hands for about three minutes by theclock.
"Say," said Stephens, when the first greetings were over, "what bringsyou down here so sudden-like? Thar aint nothing wrong?"
"Not with me," answered Rocky; "I got your telegram, though, and itstruck me that as you thought it worth while telegraphing for themdollars, you might p'r'aps be in some sort of a fix, so as I happened tobe free and foot-loose I just jumped on the cars as far as South Pueblo,and took the stage, and here I am. And I was curious to see how you weremaking it down here. You're looking A1, I will say. New Mexico kinderseems to agree with you. Say, look at here,"--he dropped his voiceslightly,--"how about them velvet-eyed Mexican senoritas? Aint none ofthem been too much for you yet?" He gave his former partner a rallyinglook as he spoke.
"Ah, I may have a word to say to you about that presently," rejoined theother in a guarded tone. "But say, you're going to stop here, aint you?You're not bound for Wingate?"
"No, of course I'm not," laughed Rocky, "not unless you turn me adrift.I've come down to see you--that is, if it's quite convenient." It wascharacteristic of Rocky that it only now occurred to him that if hisformer partner had started an establishment down here a casual visitormight be _de trop_. "Of course," he added hastily, "I can go on to
Wingate with the stage, quite well, along with my friend here, DoctorBenton. Excuse me, Doctor,"--he turned to his fellow-traveller, who hadbeen regarding the meeting of the two old friends with no other interestthan considering how it affected his chances of getting a meal,--"allowme to introduce you two gentlemen. Doctor, this is my old friend, Mr.John Stephens, at present a resident of this neighbourhood. Jack, thisis Doctor Benton, who is doctor to the Post at Fort Wingate and is nowon his way there."
The army doctor and the prospector exchanged greetings.
"Perhaps, Mr. Stephens," said the doctor, who was uncommonly hungry,"you can inform me of what I am anxious to discover, namely, whatpossibility there is of our getting a meal here before proceeding."
Stephens explained that the keeper of the stage station had just beenkilled by a rattlesnake. "But I think," he continued, "that if you willput yourself in my hands I can manage to procure you a meal with somefriends of mine near here. I'd like to ask you to come up to my place atSantiago, but the stage don't wait but an hour here, and there wouldn'tbe time, as it's a good three miles off." He paused and hesitated for amoment. "I should like to say that these friends of mine are Mexicans,"he added; "there are no Americans resident in this part of theTerritory." The fact was, that he felt slightly embarrassed for tworeasons. He was afraid that Doctor Benton would try to offer payment toDon Nepomuceno for his meal, which wouldn't do at all; and he wanted toexplain to Rocky his footing in the house, and his position with regardto Manuelita, before taking him there, so as to shut off beforehand anyfurther unseasonable jests about velvet-eyed senoritas. But to explainthis to him before a stranger like Doctor Benton was an impossibility.He must contrive somehow to get a chance to speak to Rocky for a fewminutes alone.
His eye fell upon Felipe, who had followed him from the Sanchez house."See here, young 'un," he said, "I wish you'd go back to DonNepomuceno's for me, and tell him, with my compliments, that two friendsof mine have just come, and that by his permission I should like tobring them to his house, and that I should be very much obliged if hecould give them something to eat. Off you go. We'll follow you."
Felipe was off like a shot.
"That'll be all right now, I guess," said Stephens, looking after hisretreating figure, "but if you'll excuse me a moment, Doctor Benton,before we follow him, I've got to see about my mail first. I expectthere may be something of importance for me, but I feel there may be alittle difficulty about getting it, seeing that the responsiblepostmaster's dead, and the poor woman in yonder,"--he dropped his voiceslightly,--"who represents him now, is in no condition to transactbusiness. I guess I'll go and speak to the stage-driver first. Will youcome around with me, Rocky?"
"Why, the mail-bags are in here," cut in the doctor, pointing to thestage, "and the driver never has the key. You'll have to get it out ofthe widow, somehow, I expect."
"Ah," said the prospector suddenly, a fresh idea flashing across him,"you might be able to tell me perhaps about one thing that I'm curiousto know. You are just from headquarters at Santa Fe, Doctor, aren'tyou?"
The doctor nodded assent.
"Well, do you know of any detail of soldiers being despatched in thisdirection to look after the Navajos? There's a band of Navajos have lefttheir reservation, and there was very serious trouble with them heresome four days back, and I wrote to the governor and the general who isin command of the troops at Santa Fe to ask for protection for thecitizens here. I wrote by the last mail that went in from here on thissame stage, driven by this man. I know that he must have delivered aletter I gave him addressed to the First National Bank of Santa Fe,because I had enclosed in it a telegram to my old pard here, and thebank forwarded it to him all O. K. But I'm a little doubtful as to whatbecame of those letters to the governor and the general. I want to knowwhy those soldiers weren't sent."
"Hm-m," said the army doctor; "it so happens that I was conversing withboth Governor Stone and General Merewether only yesterday beforestarting, and we were talking about the route by here to Wingate, andthe difficulty of the Rio Grande being in flood, but they never said aword about any report of trouble with the Navajos."
"You don't say!" said Stephens; "and you didn't pass any troops on theroad anywhere along?"
"Certainly not," said the other; "in fact, if any troops had been comingthis way, I should probably have accompanied them. But I am in aposition to state that no detail of troops of any kind has left Santa Fefor a week or more."
"Well, I'm dashed!" said the prospector; "they would have said somethingto you about it, sure, if they ever got my letters." He was silent.
"Mahletonkwa must have told the straight truth for once in his life," hereflected, "and that rascal of a postmaster must have actually had theface to burn those letters I gave him, and, what's more, now he's deadwe'll never prove it on him in God's world. Not that it would be any useif we could. The mischief's done now so far as he could do it, but it'sthe last he'll ever do, sure. The letter I gave the stage-driver was allright. He couldn't get at that."
Stephens never knew how near his letter to the Bank, with the telegramfor Rocky, had come to sharing the fate of the others. But thestage-driver, though he might talk and bluster, had no real motive fordestroying it, and he did have a healthy fear of the Post-OfficeDepartment. Mr. Backus had a motive, and did not share the other'swholesome dread of his official superiors.
While Stephens was pondering over the fate of his letters, he slippedone hand in an absent-minded way into his side pocket, and there hestumbled on exactly what he most wanted at that moment, a good excusefor taking Rocky apart. The first thing his fingers had encountered wasthe paper containing the specimens of the outcrop at the Lone Pine rockthat he had brought away with him. Excellent! here was the very thing;he produced it somewhat mysteriously, and handing it to Rocky, saidapologetically to the other man, "One moment by your leave, Doctor, ifyou please. There's something here I want just to have my old partnerlook at," and he drew Rocky a little to one side.
"Why, certainly," said the Doctor, turning round and proceeding to climbinto the stage; "I'll just see if I can rout out that mail-bag for youbefore the stage-driver comes."
"I wanted to tell you, Rocky, about my friends at this house where I'mtaking you," began Stephens hurriedly, in a low voice; "I don't want youto make any error: there's a girl there that I think--" But hisex-partner, who had already opened the paper, interrupted him with thegreatest excitement.
"Why, burn my skin!" he exclaimed, "do you know what you've got hold ofhere? You've got some of that same ore they've gone crazy over up atMohawk. Didn't you spot the horn silver in it? If you've got a good lodeof this stuff, by thunder, you've got a soft thing! Is it a good vein?If it's three or four foot wide you'll just have the world by the tail."
"That so?" said his friend, "you don't say! I guess I must have stumbledon to that hidden mine of the Indians I've been hunting for, at last.But that'll keep."
Rocky, remembering his old friend's former ardour in prospecting, wasamazed at the cool way in which he took the news that he had made thishighly valuable strike.
"Look at here, Rocky; the thing I was really aiming to say to you,"continued Stephens, his colour rising as he spoke, "was about that younglady,"--at this Rocky's lips curved into a knowing smile and his eyestwinkled;--"don't laugh, old man, I'm dead in earnest over this thing,and I think a heap of her. She's a lady, mind you, right down to theground."
"Why, to be sure, she must be," cut in Rocky, with portentousseriousness, though his eyes danced with merriment; "she wouldn't beyour style no other way. You always was high-toned, Jack; I'll say thatfor you."
"That's all right," returned Stephens, colouring more furiously thanever; he knew he was blushing, though the experience was entirelystrange to him, and he was dreadfully ashamed of not being able to helpit. "But indeed I'm not joking, Rocky. Her family's not very rich, butthey're kind of way-up people, I want you to understand, old Spanishblood and that sort of thing; not any of the low-down, half-caste India
nstock, you know."
"That so?" said Rocky, keenly; "wal', I'm glad to hear it. I thoughtMexicans was all one quality straight through--leastways, all I everseen were." Rocky's knowledge of the race was limited to thebull-whackers of the big waggon-trains on the freighting roads, andMexican stock was considerably below par by his estimate.
"That's where you got off wrong," said Stephens eagerly, "for there's afew families here in New Mexico that's just as good as anybody, if itcomes to that--Bacas and Armijos and--and Sanchez--" he hesitated alittle.
"Say," cut in Rocky, "look at yonder! Who are them ducks a-coming up theroad? They 're riding as if all blazes was loose. Some of the FirstFamilies of New Mexico, eh?" Rocky was sarcastic. He knew Indians whenhe saw them.
"By George!" exclaimed Stephens in considerable excitement, "it's thoseaccursed Navajos back here again."
Out of a whirling cloud of red dust and flying horsehoofs emerged thewell-known figures of Mahletonkwa, Notalinkwa, and the rest of the gang.They reined up before the shut door of the store, and most of themsprang off their horses.
"They've not gone back to their reservation," said Stephens indignantly."We'd ought to have had the soldiers here by now, and put them rightback. I'm all for doing things by law and order, me, and it's thesoldiers' business anyway. But it's getting to be time something wasdone. It's an infamous shame they should be allowed to fly around likethis and bulldoze everybody; and, what's more, I'm getting tired of it."
The Indians were talking and laughing in a loud, excited manner, andMahletonkwa began to pound on the closed door of the store with hisfist.
"That's a sockdologer," said Rocky, "him knocking at the door I mean,with the eagle-feathers in his head-dress." Mahletonkwa was a big manphysically; his stature would have been remarkable even in a crowd ofWestern men, perhaps the tallest men, on an average, of any on the faceof the globe. "Say, do you mean to tell me that these are wild Indians,and you leave 'em around here loose?"
"They're worse than wild Indians just now," said Stephens, whose eyeswere beginning to glow like hot coals; "they're Indians with liquorenough in them to make 'em crazy for more, and ready for any devilment."
"Say, Mahletonkwa," he called out, raising his voice and advancing astep, "quit that hammering, will you! There's trouble in the house, andyou mustn't disturb them."
The Indian took no more notice of him than a striking clock might havedone, but went on pounding with loud, continuous blows on the resoundingwood.
"Stop it, will you!" cried Stephens, springing forward; "don't you hearme? There's a dead man in there, I tell you, and a poor woman mourning."
"I want more whiskey," said Mahletonkwa excitedly, and he beat the doorwith both hands.
The next moment Stephens had him by the shoulders and whirled himaround, and with a push sent him staggering half a dozen yards from thehouse.
The Indian recovered himself, wheeled sharp round, and with a yell ofrage drew his knife and bounded upon Stephens. He, too, drew his todefend himself, but as he did so Rocky sprang between them, pulling hisDerringer. Alas! the Indian's knife was quicker than the pistol; hegrappled Rocky instead of Stephens, and stabbed him in the breast. Downwent Rocky with a crash upon the ground, the pistol dropping unfiredfrom his nerveless fingers, and the blood poured from his mouth.
Lone Pine: The Story of a Lost Mine Page 28