CHAPTER XIII
TWO WOMEN
Mercedes stood in the shade of the towering hillside, the single beamof light shining from an uncurtained window alone faintly revealing herslenderness of figure in its red drapery. No other gleam anywherecleft the prevailing darkness of the night, and the only perceptiblesound was that of horses' hoofs dying away in the distance. The girlwas not crying, although one of her hands was held across her eyes, andher bosom rose and fell tumultuously to labored breathing. She stoodsilent, motionless, the strange radiance causing her to appear unreal,some divinely moulded statue, an artist's dream carven in coloredstone. Suddenly she sprang backward from out that revealing tongue oflight and crouched low at the angle of the house, not unlike someaffrighted wild animal, her head bent forward intently listening.There was a plainly perceptible movement in the gloom, the sound of anapproaching footstep and of rapid breathing, and finally a shadowbecame visible. The watcher leaped to her feet half angrily.
"Ah! so eet vas you, senorita!" she exclaimed, her voice betraying heremotion,--"you, who come so dis night. _Sapristi_! vy you follow medis vay? By all de saints, I make you tell me dat! You vant him, too?You vant rob me of all thing?"
The visitor, startled by this sudden challenge, stood before hertrembling from head to foot with the nervous excitement of her journey,yet her eyes remained darkly resolute.
"You recognize me," she responded quickly, reaching out and touchingthe other with one hand, as if to make certain of her actual presence."Then for God's sake do not waste time now in quarrelling. I did notmake this trip without a purpose. 'He,' you say? Who is he? Who wasit that rode away from here just now? Not Farnham?"
Mercedes laughed a trifle uneasily, her eyes suddenly lowered beforethe other's anxious scrutiny.
"Ah, no, senorita," she answered softly. "Eet surprises me mooch younot know; eet vas Senor Brown."
Miss Norvell grasped her firmly by the shoulder.
"Brown?" she exclaimed eagerly. "Stutter Brown? Oh, call him back;cannot you call him back?"
The young Mexican shook her head, her white teeth gleaming, as she drewher shoulder free from the fingers clasping it.
"You vas too late, senorita," she replied, sweetly confident. "He vasalready gone to de 'Little Yankee.' But he speak mooch to me first."
"Much about what?"
"Vel, he say he lofe me--he say eet straight, like eet vas vat hemeant."
"Oh!"
"Si, senorita; he not even talk funny, maybe he so excited he forgothow, hey? An' vat you tink dat he say den to Mercedes--vat?"
The other shook her head, undecided, hesitating as to her own purpose.
"He ask me vould I marry him. Si, si, vat you tink of dat--me,Mercedes Morales, de dancer at de Gayety--he ask me vould I marry him.Oh, Mother of God!"
The young American stared at her upturned animated face, suddenlyaroused to womanly interest.
"And what did you say?"
Mercedes stamped her foot savagely on the hard ground, her eyes glowinglike coals of fire.
"You ask vat I say? Saints of God! vat could I say? He vas a goodman, dat Senor Brown, but I--I vas not a good voman. I no tell himdat--no! no! I vas shamed; I get red, vite; I hardly speak at all; myheart thump so I tink maybe eet choke me up here, but I say no. I sayno once, tvice, tree time. I tell him he big fool to tink like dat ofme. I tell him go vay an' find voman of his own race--good voman. Itell him eet could nevah be me, no, nevah."
"Then you do not love him?"
The puzzled dancer hesitated, her long lashes lowered, and outlinedagainst her cheeks.
"Lofe? Dat vas not nice vord as eet come to me. I know not ver' velljust vat. Maybe if I not lofe him I marry him--si; I no care den. Imake him to suffer, but not care; ees eet not so? Anyhow, I--vat youcall dat?--respect dis Senor Brown mooch, ver' mooch. Maybe dat lastlonger as lofe--_quien sabe_?"
Scarcely comprehending this peculiar explanation, Beth Norvell's firstconception was that the girl had chosen wrong, that she had alliedherself upon the side of evil.
"You mean you--you will go back to Biff Farnham?" she asked, her tonefull of horror.
Mercedes straightened up quickly, her young, expressive face filledwith a new passion, which struggled almost vainly for utterance throughher lips.
"Go back to dat man!" she panted. "Me? _Sapristi_! and you tink I dodat after Senor Brown ask me be hees vife! Blessed Mary! vat you tinkI am? You tink I not feel, not care? I go back to dat Farnham? Eetvould not be, no! no! I tol' him dat mooch, an' he got mad. I nocare, I like dat. I no lofe him, nevah; I vas sold to him for money,like sheep, but I learn to hate him to kill." The deep glow of theblack eyes softened, and her head slowly dropped until it touched theother's extended arm. "But dis Senor Brown he vas not dat kind--he askme to marry him; he say he not care vat I been, only he lofe me, an' hebe good to me alvays. I vas hungry for dat, senorita, but I say no,no, no! Eet vas not for me, nevah. I send him avay so sorry, an' denI cry ven I hear his horse go out yonder. Eet vas like he tread on me,eet hurt dat vay. Maybe I no lofe him, but I know he vas good man an'he lofe me. Eet vas de honor ven he ask me dat, an' now I be goodvoman because a good man lofes me. Holy Mother! eet vill be easy nowdat he vanted to marry me."
Impulsively Beth Norvell, her own eyes moist, held the other, sobbinglike a child within the clasp of sympathetic arms. There was instantlyformed between them a new bond, a new feeling of awakened womanhood.Yet, even as her fingers continued to stroke the dishevelled hairsoftly, there flashed across her mind a recurring memory of herpurpose, the necessity for immediate action. Not for an instant longerdid she doubt the complete honesty of the other's frank avowal, orquestion the propriety of requesting her aid in thwarting Farnham. Sheheld the slight, quivering figure back, so that she might gaze into theuplifted, questioning face.
"Mercedes, yes, yes, I understand it all," she cried eagerly. "But wecannot talk about it any longer now. It is a wonderful thing, thislove of a good man; but we are wasting time that may mean life or deathto others, perhaps even to him. Listen to what I say--Farnham hasalready gone to the 'Little Yankee,' and taken a gang of roughs withhim. They left San Juan on horseback more than half an hour ago. Hethreatened me first, and boasted that Mr. Winston was out there, andthat I was too late to warn him of danger. Oh, girl, you understandwhat that means; you know him well, you must realize what he is capableof doing. I came here as fast as I could in the dark," she shuddered,glancing backward across her shoulder. "Every step was a way ofhorrors, but I did n't know any one who could help me. But you--youknow the way to the 'Little Yankee,' and we--we must get there beforedaylight, if we have to crawl."
All that was savagely animal in the other's untamed nature flamed intoher face.
"He say vat? Senor Farnham he say vat he do?"
"He said dynamite told no tales, but sometimes killed more than the oneintended."
Mercedes' hand went to her head as though a pain had smitten her, andshe stepped back, half crouching in the glow like a tiger cat.
"He say dat? De man say dat? Holy Angels! he vas de bad devil, but hefind me de bad devil too. Ah, now I play him de game, an' ve see whovin! De 'Leetle Yankee,' eet tree mile, senorita, an' de road rough,mooch rough, but I know eet--si, I know eet, an' ve get dare before deday come; sure ve do eet, _bueno_." She grasped the arm of the other,now fully aroused, her slight form quivering from intense excitement."Come, I show you. See! he vas my pony--ah! eet makes me to laugh toknow de Senor Farnham give him me; now I make him to upset de SenorFarnham. _Sapristi_! eet vas vat you call de vay of de vorld, deverligig; vas eet not so? You ride de pony, senorita; I valk an' leadhim--si, si, you more tired as Mercedes; I danseuse, no tire ever in delegs. Den I find de vay more easy on foot in de dark, see? You ridegood, hey? He jump little, maybe, but he de ver' nice pony, an' I nolet him run. No, no, de odder vay, senorita, like de man ride. Poof!it no harm in de dark. _Bueno_, now ve go to surpris
e de SenorFarnham."
She led promptly forth as she spoke, moving with perfect confidencedown the irregular trail skirting the bank of the creek, her left handgrasping the pony's bit firmly, the other shading her eyes as though toaid in the selection of a path through the gloom. It was a rough,uneven, winding road they followed, apparently but little used,littered with loose stones and projecting roots; yet, after a moment offierce but useless rebellion, the lively mustang sobered down into acautious picking of his passage amid the debris, obedient as a dog tothe soft voice of his mistress. The problems of advance were far toocomplicated to permit of much conversation, and little effort at speechwas made by either, the principal thought in each mind being thenecessity for haste.
Swaying on the saddleless back of the pony, her anxious gaze on thedimly revealed, slender figure trudging sturdily in front, Beth Norvellbegan to dread the necessity of again having to meet Winston under suchconditions. What would he naturally think? He could scarcely fail toconstrue such action on his behalf as one inspired by deep personalinterest, and she instinctively shrank from such revealment, fearinghis glance, his word of welcome, his expressions of surprisedgratitude. The awkwardness, the probable embarrassment involved,became more and more apparent as she looked forward to that meeting.If possible, she would gladly drop out, and so permit the other to bearon the message of warning alone. But, even with Mercedes' undoubtedinterest in Brown, and her increasing dislike of Farnham, Beth couldnot as yet entirely trust her unaccompanied. Besides, there was noexcuse to offer for such sudden withdrawal, no reason she durst evenwhisper into the ear of another. No, there was nothing left her but togo on; let him think what he might of her action, she would not fail todo her best to serve him, and beneath the safe cover of darkness sheblushed scarlet, her long lashes moist with tears that could not berestrained. They were at the bottom of the black canyon now, the high,uplifting rock walls on either side blotting out the stars andrendering the surrounding gloom intense. The young Mexican girl seemedto have the eyes of a cat, or else was guided by some instinct of thewild, feeling her passage slowly yet surely forward, every nerve alert,and occasionally pausing to listen to some strange night sound. It wasa weird, uncanny journey, in which the nerves tingled to uncouth shapesand the wild echoing of mountain voices. Once, at such a moment ofcontinued suspense, Beth Norvell bent forward and whispered a sentenceinto her ear. The girl started, impulsively pressing her lips againstthe white hand grasping the pony's mane.
"No, no, senorita," she said softly. "Not dat; not because he lofe me;because he ask me dat. Si, I make him not so sorry."
She remembered that vast overhanging rock about which the dim trailcircled as it swept upward toward where the "Little Yankee" perchedagainst the sky-line. Undaunted by the narrowness of the ledge, thewilling, sure-footed mustang began climbing the steep grade. Step bystep they crept up, cautiously advancing from out the bottom of thecleft, the path followed winding in and out among bewildering cedars,and skirting unknown depths of ravines. Mercedes was breathingheavily, her unoccupied hand grasping the trailing skirt whichinterfered with her climbing. Miss Norvell, from her higher perch onthe pony's back, glanced behind apprehensively. Far away to the east afaint, uncertain tinge of gray was shading into the sky. Suddenly adetached stone rattled in their front; there echoed the sharp click ofa rifle hammer, mingled with the sound of a gruff, unfamiliar voice:
"You come another step, an' I 'll blow hell out o' yer. _Sabe_?"
It all occurred so quickly that neither spoke; they caught their breathand waited in suspense. A shadow, dim, ill-defined, seemed to takepartial form in their front.
"Well, can't yer speak?" questioned the same voice, growlingly. "Whatyer doin' on this yere trail?"
Mercedes released the pony's bit, and leaned eagerly forward.
"Vas dat you, Beell Heeks?" she questioned, doubtfully.
The man swore, the butt of his quickly lowered rifle striking sharplyagainst the rock at his feet.
"I 'm damned if it ain't that Mexican agin," he exclaimed, angrily."Now, you get out o' yere; you hear me? I 'm blamed if I kin shoot atno female, but you got in one measly spyin' job on this outfit, an' I'll not put up with another if I have ter pitch ye out inter thecanyon. So you git plum out o' yere, an' tell yer friend Farnham hebetter take more care o' his females, or some of 'em are liable ter gethurt."
There was the harsh crunch of a footstep in the darkness, anotherfigure suddenly slid down the smooth surface of rock, dropping almostat the pony's head. The animal shied with a quick leap, but a heavyhand held him captive.
"Y-you sh-sh-shut up, B-Bill," and the huge form of Stutter Brownloomed up directly between them, and that menacing rifle. "I-I reckonas how I'll t-t-take a h-hand in this yere g-g-game. Sh-she ain't nos-spy fer Farnham, er I 'm a l-l-liar." He touched her softly with hisgreat hand, bending down to look into her face, half hidden beneath theruffled black hair. "C-come, little g-g-girl, what's up?"
She made no response, her lips faltering as though suddenly strickendumb. Beth Norvell dropped down from the pony's back, and stood withone hand resting on Mercedes' shoulder.
"She only came to show me the way," she explained bravely. "I-I have amost important message for Mr. Winston. Where is he?"
"Important, d-did you s-s-say?"
"Yes, its delivery means life or death--for Heaven's sake, take me tohim!"
For a single breathless moment Brown hesitated, his eyes on the girl'supturned face, evidently questioning her real purpose.
"I c-can't right n-now, Miss," he finally acknowledged, gravely;"that's s-straight; fer ye s-s-see, he 's down the 'I-I-Independence'shaft."
Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West Page 13