Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a Romance

by Charles M. Horton

  CHAPTER VIII

  FELIPE MAKES A DISCOVERY

  Pat waited in vain two whole days. Not once did she come to him, notonce did he lay eyes upon her. He became nervous and irritable, and inthis emptiness, equal to that which he had suffered during the threeyears she was away, he spent every waking moment in the corral, standingin his favorite corner, eyes strained toward the house, occasionallyinterrupting the silence with a pleading nicker. But his vigil gainedhim nothing, his watching remained unrewarded, his outcries wentunanswered. Finally, with the close of each day he would enter thestable, but only to brood through half the night--wondering, wondering.But never did he give up hope. Nor had he given up hope now, thismorning of the third day, when, standing in his corner as usual, heheard a door close in the house.

  As always, his heart leaped with expectation, and he gave off aprotracted whinny. Also he pressed close to the fence. This time he wasnot disappointed. For coming slowly toward him, with her hands behindher back, was his mistress.

  "Pat," she began, standing close before him, "I have neglected youpurposely. And I did it because I have lost confidence in you." Sheregarded him a long moment coldly, then was forced to smile. "I supposeI feel toward you much as I used to feel toward a doll of mine that hadfallen and cracked its head. I want to shake you, yet I can't help butfeel sorry for you, too." And again she was silent.

  Pat shifted his feet uneasily. He did not quite understand all this,though he knew, despite the smile of his mistress, that it was serious.Still, encouraged by the smile, he pressed close and asked for sweets,nuzzling her coat-sweater persistently. But she stepped away. Whereuponhe reached his neck after her, and became almost savage in his coaxing.Finally he was relieved to see her burst into a peal of laughter.

  "Here!" she said, and held out both hands. "I don't care if your head isbroken!"

  Glory be! Two red apples in one hand; a whole handful of loaf sugar inthe other! If ever a horse smiled, he smiled then. Also, he promptlyaccepted some of the sugar, and, enjoying every delicious mouthful,reached for an apple. But she drew back. Evidently she was not yetfinished with her reprimand.

  "Blissfully unconscious of your behavior that morning, aren't you?" shecontinued. "Not a bit ashamed; not one speck regretful!"

  Well--he wasn't. He was not a bit ashamed, not one speck regretful.Merely, he was sweet-hungry. And now that the sugar was gone, he wantedone of those apples mightily. Finally she gave him one, and then theother, feeding them to him rapidly, but not more rapidly than he wantedthem. Then she spoke again.

  "Pat dear," she said, her voice undergoing change, "I'm troubled. I amfoolish, I know. But I can't help it. I advised that very nice young manto ride every morning. And he may do it. But if he does, sooner orlater, perhaps the very first morning, we shall meet up there on themesa. I want that, of course; but for reasons best known to Easterners,I don't want it--not yet." She gazed off toward the mountains. "Ireckon, Pat dear," she concluded, after a moment, turning her eyes backto him, "we'd better ride in the afternoons for a time. Yet theafternoons are so uncomfortably hot. Oh, dear! What shall I do?"

  But the horse did not answer her. All he did was stand very still, eyesblinking slowly, seemingly aware of the gravity of the situation, yetunable to help her. Indeed, that her serious demeanor had struck a noteof sympathy within him he presently revealed by once more pressing veryclose to her--this in the face of the fact that she had no more sweetswith her and he could see that she had no more. The movement forced herback, and evidently he perceived his mistake, for he quickly retracedone step. Then he fell to regarding her with curious intentness, hishead twisting slowly in a vertical plane, much as a dog regards hismaster, until, evidently finding this plane of vision becoming awkward,he stopped. After which Helen playfully seized his ears and shook hishead.

  "You're a perfect dear!" she exclaimed. "And I love you! But I'm afraidwe--we can't ride mornings any more--not for a while, at any rate." Withthis she left him.

  He followed her to the gate, and with reluctance saw her enter thehouse. Then he rested his head upon the topmost board and, though hehardly expected it, waited for her return. Finally he abandoned hisvigil, making his way slowly into the stable. He found both horses intheir stalls, restlessly whisking their tails, offering nothing offriendliness or invitation. Also he awoke to the depressing atmospherehere, and after a time returned to the corral, where he took up a standin his favorite corner and closed his eyes. Soon he was dreaming.

  Sound as from a great distance awoke him. He opened his eyes. Outsidethe fence, and regarding him gloatingly, were two swarthy Mexicans inconversation. This was what had awakened him.

  "Bet you' life!" one was saying, the taller man of the two. "Thot's myli'l' horse grown big lak a house--and a-fine! Franke, we gettin' thot_caballo_ quick. We--"

  A door had closed somewhere. The men heard it and crouched. But neitherabandoned the ground. After some little time, hearing nothing further toalarm them, they set out along the fence to a rear door in the stable.It was not locked, and they lifted the latch and tiptoed inside. Up pastthe stalls they crept with cat-like stealth, gained the door leadinginto the corral, came to a pause, and gazed outside. The horse was stillin his corner, his black coat glistening in the sunlight, and Felipeonce more burst into comment, excited, but carefully subdued.

  "A-fine! A-fine!" he breathed, rapturously. "He's lookin' joost lak acircus horse! You know, Franke," he added, turning to the other, "I hafsee thee pictures on thee fences--" He interrupted himself, for the manhad disappeared. "Franke!" he called, whispering. "You coom here. Youall thee time--" He checked himself and smiled at the other'sforethought. For Franke was emerging from a stall, carrying a halter."Good!" he murmured. "I am forgettin' thot, _compadre_!" Then oncemore he turned admiring eyes upon the horse. "Never--_never_--haf Isee a horse lak thot! Mooch good luck is comin' now, Franke! Why not?"

  They stepped bravely forth into the corral. Yet their hour had been welltimed. The house was still, quiet in its morning affairs, while thecountryside around, wrapped in pulsating quiet, gave off not a sound.Cautiously approaching the horse, Franke slipped the halter intoposition, the while Felipe once more uttered his admiration. He was alittle more direct and personal, however, this time.

  "Well, you black devil!" he began, doubling his fist under Pat's nose."You haf run away from me thot time, eh? But you don' run awayagain--bet you' life! I got you now and I keep you thees time! I hafwork for you--you black devil--mooch work! You coom along now!"

  They led the horse into the stable, down past the stalls, and out theback door. Then they set out toward the river trail, and, with manyfurtive glances toward the house, gained it without interruption.Felipe's lumber rigging and team of scrawny horses stood in the shade ofa cottonwood, and Franke made the horse fast to the outhanging end ofthe reach. When he was secure both men seated themselves just back ofthe forward bolster, one behind the other, and Felipe sent his horsesforward. Safely out of the danger zone, though Felipe entertained butlittle fear of the consequences of this act, believing that he couldeasily prove his ownership, he became more elated with his success andburst out into garrulous speech.

  "You know, Franke," he began, with a backward glance at the horseambling along peacefully in the dust, "thot _caballo_ he's stronglak a ox. He's makin' a fine horse--a _fine_ horse--in thees wagon!He's--" He suddenly interrupted himself. "Franke," he offered,generously, "for thees help I'm takin' off five dolars on thot debt now.You know? You haf never pay me thot bet--thee big bet--thee one on theewagon and thee horses. And you haf steal seex dolars, too! But I'mforgettin' thot, now, too. All right?"

  The other nodded grateful acceptance. Then, as if to show gratitudefurther, he very solicitously inquired into the matter, especially withreference to Felipe's discovery of the horse after all these years. Theywere clattering across the mesa now, having come to it by way of a longdetour round the town, and before replying Felipe gave his team looserein.

  "Well," he began, a
s the horses fell back into a plodding walk, "I hafknow about thot couple weeks before. I haf see thees _caballo_ intown one mornin', and a girl she is ridin' heem, and everybody islookin', and so I'm lookin'." He paused to roll a cigarette. "And then,"he continued, drawing a deep inhale of smoke, "I haf know quick lakthot"--he snapped his fingers sharply--"quick lak thot"--he snapped hisfingers again--"there's my _potrillo_ grown big lak a house! Andso--"

  "But how you knowin' thot's thee horse?" interrupted the other. "How youknowin' thot for sure?" Evidently Franke was beginning to entertaingrave doubts concerning this visit to the corral.

  But Felipe only sneered. "How I know thot?" he asked, disdainfully. "I'mjoost tellin' you! I know! Thot's enough! A horse is a horse! And I knowthees horse! I know every horse! I got only to see a horse once--onceonly--and I'm never forgettin' thot horse! And I'm makin' no meestakenow--bet you' life!" Nevertheless, flicked with doubt because of thegravity of the other, he turned his head and gazed back at the horselong and earnestly. Finally he turned around again. "I know thot horse!"he yelled. "And I'm tellin' you thees, Franke," he went on, suddenlybelligerent toward the other. "If you don' t'ink I'm gettin' thee right_caballo_, I have you arrested for stealin' thot seex dolars thottime! Money is money, too. But a horse is a horse. I know thees horse.Thot's enough!" Yet he relapsed into a moody silence, puffingthoughtfully on his cigarette.

  Behind the outfit, Pat continued along docilely. In a way he wasenjoying this strange journey across the mesa. It was all very new tohim, this manner of crossing, this being tied to the rear of a wagon,and he found himself pleasantly mystified. Nor was that all. Not oncehad he felt called upon to rebel. In perfect contentment he followed therigging, eyes upon the outhanging reach, for he was intent uponmaintaining safe distance between this thing and himself. Once, whenthey were mounting up to the mesa, he had met with a sharp blow fromthis projection--due to sudden change of gait in the horses--and he onlyrequired the one lesson to be ever after careful. As for the menforward, he knew nothing of them, and never, to his knowledge, had seenthem before. But in no way was he concerning himself about them. Nor,indeed, was he worrying over any part of this proceeding. For in hisdumb animal way he was coming to know, as all dumb servants of man cometo know, that life, after all, is service, a kind of self-effacingseries of tasks in the interests of others, and that this ambling alongbehind the vehicle was but one of the many kinds.

  "And," suddenly broke out Felipe, who, having threshed the matter out tohis satisfaction, now felt sure of his position once more, "I haf followthees girl and thee horse. I haf see thee place where she's goin'--youknow." And he winked foxily. "And then I haf coom to thees place, two,three times after thee horse. But always thee man is there. But theesmornin' I'm seein' thot _hombre_ in town, and so I haf go gettin'you to coom help me. But you haf steal seex dolars. I'm forgettin'thot--not! And if you say soomt'ing to soombody soomtime, I'm havin' youarrested, Franke, for a t'ief and a robber--same as I ought to arrestthot Pedro Garcia oop in the canyon."

  Franke maintained discreet silence. But not for long. Evidently hesuddenly thought of a point in his own favor.

  "You' havin' good luck thees time, Felipe," he declared, tranquilly,"especially," he hastened to add, "when I'm t'inkin' of thee halter.Without thee halter, you know, you don' gettin' thees _caballo_."

  Felipe ignored this. "I haf need a horse," he went on, thoughtfully."Thee mot'er of thees black fel'r--you know, thot's thee mot'er--she'sgettin' old all time. She's soon dyin', thot _caballo_. Thees blackhorse he's makin' a fine one in thees wagon." Franke said nothing. Nordid Felipe speak again. And thus, in silence, they continued across themesa and on up the canyon to the little adobe in the settlement. Arrivedbefore the house, Franke quickly disappeared in the direction of hishome, leaving Felipe to unhitch and unharness alone. But Felipe carednothing for this. He was supremely happy--happy in the return of thelong-lost colt, doubly happy in the possession of so fine a horsewithout outlay of money. Whistling blithely, he unhitched the team, ledthem back into the corral, returned to the wagon again. Here, stillwhistling, he untied the black and escorted him also into the inclosure.Then, after scratching his head a long moment in thought, he set out inthe direction of the general store and a bottle of _vino_.

  As the man disappeared, Pat, standing uncertainly in the middle of thecorral, followed him with a look in his eyes that hinted of vaguememories that would not down. And well he might be flicked with vaguememories. For he was at last returned to the brief cradle of hisbabyhood.

  Late that same afternoon, Helen, attired in riding-habit, left the housefor her first afternoon canter. As she slowly crossed the _patio_,she noted the absence of Pat from his usual corner, but, assuming thathe was inside the stable, called to him from the gate. But she receivedno answering whinny. Slightly worried, she entered the corral andstepped to the stable door, and again sounded his name. Again shereceived no answering whinny. She entered the stable, walked past thestalls, peered in at each with increasing alarm. Only the saddle-horseand the family horse met her troubled eyes. She stood for a momentdismayed, then once more she sounded the horse's name. But, as before,she received no answering whinny.

  Puzzled, perplexed, troubled with misgivings, yet refusing to believethe worst, she fell to analyzing the thing. She knew that since comingto the ranch Pat at no time had been outside the corral save in hercharge. Also she recalled that only a short hour or two before she hadgiven him sweets and had talked with him. Nor could the horse havestrayed out of the inclosure, because she remembered that the gate waslatched when she had reached it. All these facts flashed across her asshe stood with grave eyes sweeping the stable. Finally she stepped backto the door and gazed out into the sunlight of the corral; but, asbefore, the inclosure was empty and silent, and now, somehow,forbidding. She called again--called to the horse, called to theMexican. But again came only the echo of her voice, sounding hollow andsolemn and plaintive through the stable.

  Suddenly her heart stopped beating. She remembered that the hostler hadleft for town on foot early in the morning. And now her fears brokebounds. The horse was gone! Some one had come in Miguel's absence. HerPat had been stolen! He was gone for ever out of her life! Standing amoment, trembling with bitterness, she darted out of the stable, out ofthe corral, across the _patio_. She sped into the house and herfather's study, caught up the receiver of the telephone.

  And then, after a long time, the connection. And her father's voice. Andher frantic inquiry. And the Judge's smiling reply. And her recital ofthe facts--pleading, pitiful, almost whimpering. And now the Judge'sserious rejoinder. And then her imperious request that he come home. Andthe Judge's regretful reply--could not on account of pressing matters.And then her tearful, choking outburst into the transmitter! And nowsuddenly the wires crossing and a strange voice demanding that she getoff. And with it her utter collapse. She whirled away from thetelephone, flung herself down upon a couch, and gave way to a wildoutburst of tears.

  The thing _was_ pitiful. The horse had occupied a very big place inher life. And because that place now was empty, and because she saw nopromise of its ever being filled, she sobbed wretchedly a long time.Then, rising quietly, she ascended the stairs to her room. Here she sankinto a chair, one that overlooked the corral, and began an analysis ofthe case, taking the affair up from the very first day of Pat's cominginto her life. She did not go further than that. Woman that she was,endowed with strongest intuitions and insight, she knew she had soundedthe mystery of his disappearance, had sounded it as clearly as thoughshe had been present.

  "Pat's rightful owners have found him and put in their claim!" She gotup and began to pace the floor. "I know it," she declared withconviction. "I know it as well as I know I'm in this room. Pat--Pat hasbeen--been taken and--and--" Tears choked back her words. Again sheturned to her bed and gave way to a paroxysm of grief.

  Her tears lasted until sleep mercifully descended. And thus she lay,outstretched and disheveled, until the sun, slanting across the
room,settled its mellow rays upon her. And even though the touch was lightand gentle and somehow sympathetic, it awoke her. She rose and hurriedto a window. Out in the corral all was quiet. She dropped into a chairand turned her eyes to the east--out over the mesa to the distantmountains. The mountains were draped in their evening purple, whichseemed to her like mourning for her lost happiness--a happiness thatmight have been hers always with the horse.