The Angel of the Gila: A Tale of Arizona

by Cora Marsland

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE DAY OF THE GREAT RACE

  It was pay-day in Gila. Miners from far and near were in camp.Cow-punchers had come from the range; cowlasses, also, were to be seenhere and there, chaffing with men they knew. The one street hadsuddenly taken on human interest. Representatives of different nationswere to be seen in all directions, some going to, and some coming fromthe saloons. Groups of men and women gathered to gossip. Comments onaffairs of the community, and especially on the approaching race, werefreely interlarded with profanity. Along the street, strolled LordKelwin, puffing away at a cigar. Apparently he was a good "mixer."

  "So you've entered your mare fur the race," said a cow-puncher,slapping him familiarly on the back. "What in blank do you expect herto do? She ain't fit fur nothin' but takin' gals hossback ridin', eh?"And he laughed uproariously at his attempt at wit. "Better cut outthat part of the race. That belongs to another brand o' cattle. Come!Have a drink." Saying which, they entered the saloon where PeteTompkins presided.

  The air was already stiff with smoke and profanity. Men hadcongregated there soon after receiving their wages.

  In a little room apart, sat men intent on a game of cards. LordKelwin joined them. One of the players, a mining engineer, was aprofessional gambler, who frequently raked into his pockets thehard-earned wages of many laboring men. Everyone save the engineerseemed tense. Once in a while, a smothered oath was heard. At theclose of the game, the Irish lord, also, began to play. He had beendrinking, and though an experienced player, he was no match for thesober gambler. He lost heavily. At the close of the game, he drankagain, then staggered out of the door. Ah, how many had done the same!

  Pete Tompkins followed, gibing him about entering the mare in therace.

  "What in blank are ye enterin' her fur?" asked the aforesaid Pete.

  The men gathered about expectant of a fray.

  "What am--I--entering her--for--(staggering and hiccoughing)--enteringher for? Ye blanked Americans!--I'm entering her for Miss Bright--MissBright, ye know--Miss Bright--" He laughed a silly laugh. "I'm goingto marry her." Here, he indulged in a drunken jest that sent some ofthe men into fits of laughter.

  A few, standing outside the door, had attended the men's club and theSunday service. Jack Harding, passing at that moment, stopped to speakwith one of the men, and overheard the reference to Esther Bright. Hisface grew sternly white. He stepped in front of the boastful Irishman,and said in a stern, quiet voice:

  "Brute, say that you lied."

  "Blank you, you religious hypocrite," roared Lord Kelwin, "you can'tbully me!"

  Jack Harding sprang upon him, gripped his throat like a vice, anddemanded that he retract every insulting word he had said about theteacher. "What is that to you? Blank you!" gasped the Irishman.

  Jack Harding's grasp tightened.

  "Say it," he repeated, in deadly quiet tones. "Say that all you saidabout that pure, good woman is a lie."

  His tone was as inexorable as fate.

  The Irishman's eyes grew fixed with terror, his tongue hung from hismouth, his face grew purple. Still that calm intense voice reiteratingin his ear:

  "Say it! Say that all you said was a lie."

  Seeing Lord Kelwin's extreme danger, some one attempted to interfere.Cries were heard:

  "Let them alone!"

  "It's none of your funeral!"

  "Jack Harding was right. Kelwin _did_ lie, and he's a blackguard forsaying what he did."

  Then man after man took up the cry:

  "Kelwin, ye blanked coward, _say_ ye lied! Ye know ye lied!"

  At last the Irishman gave the sign. Jack Harding released him. Then,somewhat sobered, he muttered:

  "I did lie about a true woman. All I said was a lie."

  He staggered from the scene, and Jack Harding passed on his way.

  The race was to be on a track in the valley below. As it was Saturday,John Clayton had suggested to Esther that she and Edith take ahorseback ride with him, to see the last part of the race; for, heassured her, she would see human life, as well as horse speed, there.

  As they approached the track from the mountain road, hoarse cries andyells could be heard. Excitement ran high.

  A few thoroughbreds had been entered for the race, but the greaternumber of entries were for horse-flesh that could boast neitherregistered sires nor grandsires. They were just "horses."

  The last race began just as the Clayton party turned and looked downon the wriggling, shoving, cursing crowd below. It is doubtful ifEsther Bright had ever heard such language, in all her life, as sheheard that day. She shuddered, and turning to her escort, asked why hehad brought her there.

  "Just for you to see what animals human beings are, and how great istheir need of refining, uplifting influences."

  "Is John Harding here?" she asked, uneasily.

  "We are all here," he answered, smiling, "including Jack. You neednever worry about him again. You found him a sinner, and--"

  "And he has become a saint?" she supplemented.

  "Not exactly a saint," he answered, "but you have brought about acomplete transformation in the man's life and character. Jack couldnever return to what he was, be sure of that!"

  "Kelwin! Kelwin's ahead!" shouted a hoarse voice, above the noise ofthe crowd.

  "Blank ye!" retorted another, "Bill Hines is ahead! I seen 'em turnfust!"

  "Ye lie!" continued the first.

  Away to the right, speeding around a curve in the race course, fourhorses were straining every muscle. Occasionally a cow-puncher wouldlift his quirt, and make it hum through the air, or lash the poorbeast, already straining to its utmost speed.

  For a few moments, the racers were concealed from view by a mass ofrocks. When they emerged again, they were greeted by yells frombystanders. A cowlass, mounted on a spirited animal, was in the lead.She swore almost constantly at her horse, occasionally cutting himwith her quirt.

  Lord Kelwin, now somewhat sobered, made a close second; and Bill Hinesand Bill Weeks were neck and neck behind the Irishman.

  The crowd cheered and cheered.

  The girl leading was as fine a specimen of the human animal as thehorse she rode was of the horse kind. She sat her horse superbly.

  Finally, Lord Kelwin gained upon her, and the horses were neck andneck. The girl again whirled her quirt around till it cut the air witha hissing sound, and spoke to her horse. It was enough.

  The betting grew louder. The stakes grew heavier.

  "I know Kelwin'll win yet."

  "No, he won't. Kate Brown'll win. She's a devil to ride, that girlis!"

  Again the Irishman gained upon her. Again she sent her quirt singingthrough the air, and her horse obeyed as though horse and rider wereone. He sped faster and faster, passed Lord Kelwin, then the startingpoint, and the race was won.

  "Hurrah for Kate Brown and Lightning!" shouted hoarse voices; andcowboys and cowlasses and everyone else yelled and shouted, andshouted and yelled. It seemed as though pandemonium had been letloose.

  Jack Harding had gone to the races chiefly to dog the steps of LordKelwin; so, if the Irishman had been inclined to speak lightly ofEsther Bright again, he would have had to reckon with him. Kelwin felthimself shadowed by the cowboy, and a great fear took possession ofhim.

  As he dismounted, his scant clothing was wet, and clung to his person.The race had not improved his temper any. To be beaten, and beaten bya woman, and that woman an American cowlass, was the very limit ofwhat he could endure from "raw America" that day. He swore to theright of him; he swore to the left of him. Then glancing over thecrowd, he discovered the Clayton party overlooking the scene.

  John Clayton, ignorant of the episode at the saloon, was beckoning himto join them. Lord Kelwin was about to do so, when Jack Hardingstepped up to him and said:

  "Don't you dare enter that woman's presence!"

  Lord Kelwin placed his hand on his gun, saying:

  "Oh, you needn't give me any of your impudent American advice, youm
ongrel cur!"

  "Never mind what I am," said Jack; "that woman is one of the truest,purest souls on earth. You are not fit to enter her presence. You have_me_ to deal with, remember."

  His great eyes flashed upon the Irishman, who quailed before him.

  "Oh, you needn't be so high and mighty," said Lord Kelwin, changinghis tactics. "I don't care a blank about her, anyway. She's only anAmerican working woman, an Indian at that."

  "So this is nobility," Jack said to himself. "Nobility! What is it tobe _noble_?"

  The race was followed by a dance in one of the saloons, and the lowestof the low were there. At four o'clock in the morning, those soberenough went to their homes; the others stretched out anywhere, in adeep drunken sleep; and pay-day and its pleasuring were over. Men andwomen awakened to find their money gone; and for the first time inyears, they felt shame.

  Sunday came. The hour of the service drew near. Esther Bright hadthought out what she would say that day about the Race for Life. Butwhen she rose to speak, she had a strange experience. All she hadthought to say, vanished; and before her mind's eye, she saw thewords, "The wages of sin is death."

  There were perhaps a hundred people before her in the timber (wherethe services were now held),--men and women among them, who, the daybefore, had forgotten they were created in the image of God, and whohad groveled to the level of beasts.

  These men, these women, had come to this spot this day, why, they didnot know. Why Esther Bright said the things she said that day, _she_did not know, either. All she knew was that the words came, and thatthere were men and women before her whom she must help.

  Those who had sunken so low the day before, cried out in repentance,as they listened to her words. God's message, through Esther Bright'svoice, had come to men's business and bosoms. Called of God, she saidthey were,--called to be true men, true women. From time to time, shequoted, "The wages of sin is death." One could almost hear his heartbeat.

  The meeting was over, so far as Esther Bright's part in it wasconcerned; then it passed from her control. First one, then anotherrose, confessed his sins, and asked for her prayers.

  And what of Esther? She sat as pale as death, her face alight with asweetness and compassion that did not seem of earth.

  Kenneth Hastings watched her with deepening reverence. Her words hadgone to his heart, too, and he sang with deep feeling:

  "Just as I am, without one plea."

  As the song ceased, Pete Tompkins (to everyone's amazement) sprang tohis feet.

  "Ye'll be s'prised ter hear from me, I reckon,"--Here he shoved hishand, lean and gaunt, up through his hair. "But I've been listenin'ter schoolma'am ever sence she begun preachin' in the timber, an' allI've got ter say is she ain't _our_ brand, or the Devil's brandeither. When the Boss sent out his puncher ter round up folks, he cuther out an' branded her with the mark o' God. I know she's tellin' thegospel truth. She's got more courage 'n any blanked one o' yer. I done'er a mean trick onct. I said blanked mean things about 'er. I'm sorryI done it, blanked ef I ain't! Ter show 'er an' you that I mean ter bediffer'nt, I say, here an' now, that I wanter see these meetin's goon, 's long 's schoolma'am 'll be our angel an' pilot us. Ter prove Imean it, I'll plank down this hunderd dollars" (holding up ahundred-dollar bill) "toward buildin' a meetin' house; an' I'll givemore, blanked ef I don't! How many wants a meetin' house in Gila?Stand up!"

  Many stood.

  "_Stand up, the hull blanked lot o' ye!_" said the self-appointedleader in forcible tones. To Esther's astonishment, the people rose,and remained standing.

  The notes of a thrush were caught up by a mocking bird, then a warblerjoined in, and the waiting people listened. The song of the birds"came like the benediction that follows after prayer."

  At last the company dispersed, and Esther Bright sat alone, absorbedin silent prayer.