by Zane Grey
“When Nell found out Thorne was bein’ starved an’ beat in a dobe shack no more’n two mile across the line, she shore stirred up that cavalry camp. Shore! She told them soldiers Rojas was holdin’ Thorne—torturin’ him to make him tell where Mercedes was. She told about Mercedes—how sweet an’ beautiful she was—how her father had been murdered by Rojas—how she had been hounded by the bandit—how ill an’ miserable she was, waitin’ for her lover. An’ she begged the cavalrymen to rescue Thorne.
“From the way it was told to me I reckon them cavalrymen went up in the air. Fine, fiery lot of young bloods, I thought, achin’ for a scrap. But the officer in charge, bein’ in a ticklish place, still held out for higher orders.
“Then Nell broke loose. You-all know Nell’s tongue is sometimes like a choya thorn. I’d have give somethin’ to see her work up that soldier outfit. Nell’s never so pretty as when she’s mad. An’ this last stunt of hers was no girly tantrum, as Beldin’ calls it. She musta been ragin’ with all the hell there’s in a woman.… Can’t you fellers see her on Blanco Sol with her eyes turnin’ black?”
Ladd mopped his sweaty face with his dusty scarf. He was beaming. He was growing excited, hurried in his narrative.
“Right out then Nell swore she’d go after Thorne. If them cavalrymen couldn’t ride with a Western girl to save a brother American—let them hang back! One feller, under orders, tried to stop Blanco Sol. An’ that feller invited himself to the hospital. Then the cavalrymen went flyin’ for their hosses. Mebbe Nell’s move was just foxy—woman’s cunnin’. But I’m thinkin’ as she felt then she’d have sent Blanco Sol straight into Rojas’s camp, which, I’d forgot to say, was in plain sight.
“It didn’t take long for every cavalryman in that camp to get wind of what was comin’ off. Shore they musta been wild. They strung out after Nell in a thunderin’ troop.
“Say, I wish you fellers could see the lane that bunch of hosses left in the greasewood an’ cactus. Looks like there’d been a cattle stampede on the desert.… Blanco Sol stayed out in front, you can gamble on that. Right into Rojas’s camp! Sabe, you señors? Gawd Almighty! I never had grief that ’d hold a candle to this one of bein’ too late to see Nell an’ Sol in their one best race.
“Rojas an’ his men vamoosed without a shot. That ain’t surprisin’. There wasn’t a shot fired by anybody. The cavalrymen soon found Thorne an’ hurried with him back on Uncle Sam’s land. Thorne was half naked, black an’ blue all over, thin as a rail. He looked mighty sick when I seen him first. That was a little after midday. He was given food an’ drink. Shore he seemed a starved man. But he picked up wonderful, an’ by the time Jim came along he was wantin’ to start for Forlorn River. So was Nell. By main strength as much as persuasion we kept the two of them quiet till next evenin’ at dark.
“Well, we made as sneaky a start in the dark as Jim an’ me could manage, an’ never hit the trail till we was miles from town. Thorne’s nerve held him up for a while. Then all at once he tumbled out of his saddle. We got him back, an’ Lash held him on. Nell didn’t give out till daybreak.”
As Ladd paused in his story Belding began to stutter, and finally he exploded. His mighty utterances were incoherent. But plainly the wrath he had felt toward the wilful girl was forgotten. Gale remained gripped by silence.
“I reckon you’ll all be some surprised when you see Casita,” went on Ladd. “It’s half burned an’ half tore down. An’ the rebels are livin’ fat. There was rumors of another federal force on the road from Casa Grandes. I seen a good many Americans from interior Mexico, an’ the stories they told would make your hair stand up. They all packed guns, was fightin’ mad at Greasers, an’ sore on the good old U. S. But shore glad to get over the line! Some were waitin’ for trains, which don’t run reg’lar no more, an’ others were ready to hit the trails north.”
“Laddy, what knocks me is Rojas holding Thorne prisoner, trying to make him tell where Mercedes had been hidden,” said Belding.
“Shore. It ’d knock anybody.”
“The bandit’s crazy over her. That’s the Spanish of it,” replied Belding, his voice rolling. “Rojas is a peon. He’s been a slave to the proud Castilian. He loves Mercedes as he hates her. When I was down in Durango I saw something of these peons’ insane passions. Rojas wants this girl only to have her, then kill her. It’s damn strange, boys, and even with Thorne here our troubles have just begun.”
“Tom, you spoke correct,” said Jim Ladd, in his cool drawl.
“Shore I’m not sayin’ what I think,” added Ladd. But the look of him was not indicative of a tranquil optimism.
Thorne was put to bed in Gale’s room. He was very weak, yet he would keep Mercedes’s hand and gaze at her with unbelieving eyes. Mercedes’s failing hold on hope and strength seemed to have been a fantasy; she was again vivid, magnetic, beautiful, shot through and through with intense and throbbing life. She induced him to take food and drink. Then, fighting sleep with what little strength he had left, at last he succumbed.
For all Dick could ascertain his friend never stirred an eyelash nor a finger for twenty-seven hours. When he awoke he was pale, weak, but the old Thorne.
“Hello, Dick; I didn’t dream it then,” he said. “There you are, and my darling with the proud, dark eyes—she’s here?”
“Why, yes, you locoed cavalryman.”
“Say, what’s happened to you? It can’t be those clothes and a little bronze on your face.… Dick, you’re older—you’ve changed. You’re not so thickly built. By Gad, if you don’t look fine!”
“Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t return the compliment. You’re about the seediest, hungriest-looking fellow I ever saw.… Say, old man, you must have had a tough time.”
A dark and somber fire burned out the happiness in Thorne’s eyes.
“Dick, don’t make me—don’t let me think of that fiend Rojas!.… I’m here now. I’ll be well in a day or two. Then!…”
Mercedes came in, radiant and soft-voiced. She fell upon her knees beside Thorne’s bed, and neither of them appeared to see Nell enter with a tray. Then Gale and Nell made a good deal of unnecessary bustle in moving a small table close to the bed. Mercedes had forgotten for the moment that her lover had been a starving man. If Thorne remembered it he did not care. They held hands and looked at each other without speaking.
“Nell, I thought I had it bad,” whispered Dick. “But I’m not—”
“Hush. It’s beautiful,” replied Nell, softly; and she tried to coax Dick from the room.
Dick, however, thought he ought to remain at least long enough to tell Thorne that a man in his condition could not exist solely upon love.
Mercedes sprang up blushing with pretty, penitent manner and moving white hands eloquent of her condition.
“Oh, Mercedes—don’t go!” cried Thorne, as she stepped to the door.
“Señor Dick will stay. He is not mucha malo for you—as I am.”
Then she smiled and went out.
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Thorne. “How I love her. Dick, isn’t she the most beautiful, the loveliest, the finest—”
“George, I share your enthusiasm,” said Dick, dryly, “but Mercedes isn’t the only girl on earth.”
Manifestly this was a startling piece of information, and struck Thorne in more than one way.
“George,” went on Dick, “did you happen to observe the girl who saved your life—who incidentally just fetched in your breakfast?”
“Nell Burton! Why, of course. She’s brave, a wonderful girl, and really nice-looking.”
“You long, lean, hungry beggar! That was the young lady who might answer the raving eulogy you just got out of your system.… I—well, you haven’t cornered the love market!”
Thorne uttered some kind of a sound that his weakened condition would not allow to be a whoop.
“Dick! Do you mean it?”
“I shore do, as Laddy says.”
“I’m glad, Dick, with all my heart. I wondere
d at the changed look you wear. Why, boy, you’ve got a different front.… Call the lady in, and you bet I’ll look her over right. I can see better now.”
“Eat your breakfast. There’s plenty of time to dazzle you afterward.”
Thorne fell to upon his breakfast and made it vanish with magic speed. Meanwhile Dick told him something of a ranger’s life along the border.
“You needn’t waste your breath,” said Thorne. “I guess I can see. Belding and those rangers have made you the real thing—the real Western goods.… What I want to know is all about the girl.”
“Well, Laddy swears she’s got your girl roped in the corral for looks.”
“That’s not possible. I’ll have to talk to Laddy.… But she must be a wonder, or Dick Gale would never have fallen for her.… Isn’t it great, Dick? I’m here! Mercedes is well—safe! You’ve got a girl! Oh!.… But say, I haven’t a dollar to my name. I had a lot of money, Dick, and those robbers stole it, my watch—everything. Damn that little black Greaser! He got Mercedes’s letters. I wish you could have seen him trying to read them. He’s simply nutty over her, Dick. I could have borne the loss of money and valuables—but those beautiful, wonderful letters—they’re gone!”
“Cheer up. You have the girl. Belding will make you a proposition presently. The future smiles, old friend. If this rebel business was only ended!”
“Dick, you’re going to be my savior twice over.… Well, now, listen to me.” His gay excitement changed to earnest gravity. “I want to marry Mercedes at once. Is there a padre here?”
“Yes. But are you wise in letting any Mexican, even a priest, know Mercedes is hidden in Forlorn River?”
“It couldn’t be kept much longer.”
Gale was compelled to acknowledge the truth of this statement.
“I’ll marry her first, then I’ll face my problem. Fetch the padre, Dick. And ask our kind friends to be witnesses at the ceremony.”
Much to Gale’s surprise neither Belding nor Ladd objected to the idea of bringing a padre into the household, and thereby making known to at least one Mexican the whereabouts of Mercedes Castaneda. Belding’s caution was wearing out in wrath at the persistent unsettled condition of the border, and Ladd grew only the cooler and more silent as possibilities of trouble multiplied.
Gale fetched the padre, a little, weazened, timid man who was old and without interest or penetration. Apparently he married Mercedes and Thorne as he told his beads or mumbled a prayer. It was Mrs. Belding who kept the occasion from being a merry one, and she insisted on not exciting Thorne. Gale marked her unusual pallor and the singular depth and sweetness of her voice.
“Mother, what’s the use of making a funeral out of a marriage?” protested Belding. “A chance for some fun doesn’t often come to Forlorn River. You’re a fine doctor. Can’t you see the girl is what Thorne needed? He’ll be well tomorrow, don’t mistake me.”
“George, when you’re all right again we’ll add something to present congratulations,” said Gale.
“We shore will,” put in Ladd.
So with parting jests and smiles they left the couple to themselves.
Belding enjoyed a laugh at his good wife’s expense, for Thorne could not be kept in bed, and all in a day, it seemed, he grew so well and so hungry that his friends were delighted, and Mercedes was radiant. In a few days his weakness disappeared and he was going the round of the fields and looking over the ground marked out in Gale’s plan of water development. Thorne was highly enthusiastic, and at once staked out his claim for one hundred and sixty acres of land adjoining that of Belding and the rangers. These five tracts took in all the ground necessary for their operations, but in case of the success of the irrigation project the idea was to increase their squatter holdings by purchase of more land down the valley. A hundred families had lately moved to Forlorn River; more were coming all the time; and Belding vowed he could see a vision of the whole Altar Valley green with farms.
Meanwhile everybody in Belding’s household, except the quiet Ladd and the watchful Yaqui, in the absence of disturbance of any kind along the border, grew freer and more unrestrained, as if anxiety was slowly fading in the peace of the present. Jim Lash made a trip to the Sonoyta Oasis, and Ladd patrolled fifty miles of the line eastward without incident or sight of raiders. Evidently all the border hawks were in at the picking of Casita.
The February nights were cold, with a dry, icy, penetrating coldness that made a warm fire most comfortable. Belding’s household usually congregated in the sitting-room, where burning mesquite logs crackled in the open fireplace. Belding’s one passion besides horses was the game of checkers, and he was always wanting to play. On this night he sat playing with Ladd, who never won a game and never could give up trying. Mrs. Belding worked with her needle, stopping from time to time to gaze with thoughtful eyes into the fire. Jim Lash smoked his pipe by the hearth and played with the cat on his knee. Thorne and Mercedes were at the table with pencil and paper; and he was trying his best to keep his attention from his wife’s beautiful, animated face long enough to read and write a little Spanish. Gale and Nell sat in a corner watching the bright fire.
There came a low knock on the door. It may have been an ordinary knock, for it did not disturb the women; but to Belding and his rangers it had a subtle meaning.
“Who’s that?” asked Belding, as he slowly pushed back his chair and looked at Ladd.
“Yaqui,” replied the ranger.
“Come in,” called Belding.
The door opened, and the short, square, powerfully built Indian entered. He had a magnificent head, strangely staring, somber black eyes, and very darkly bronzed face. He carried a rifle and strode with impressive dignity.
“Yaqui, what do you want?” asked Belding, and repeated his question in Spanish.
“Señor Dick,” replied the Indian.
Gale jumped up, stifling an exclamation, and he went outdoors with Yaqui. He felt his arm gripped, and allowed himself to be led away without asking a question. Yaqui’s presence was always one of gloom, and now his stern action boded catastrophe. Once clear of trees he pointed to the level desert across the river, where a row of campfires shone bright out of the darkness.
“Raiders!” ejaculated Gale.
Then he cautioned Yaqui to keep sharp lookout, and, hurriedly returning to the house, he called the men out and told them there were rebels or raiders camping just across the line.
Ladd did not say a word. Belding, with an oath, slammed down his cigar.
“I knew it was too good to last.… Dick, you and Jim stay here while Laddy and I look around.”
Dick returned to the sitting-room. The women were nervous and not to be deceived. So Dick merely said Yaqui had sighted some lights off in the desert, and they probably were campfires. Belding did not soon return, and when he did he was alone, and, saying he wanted to consult with the men, he sent Mrs. Belding and the girls to their rooms. His gloomy anxiety had returned.
“Laddy’s gone over to scout around and try to find out who the outfit belongs to and how many are in it,” said Belding.
“I reckon if they’re raiders with bad intentions we wouldn’t see no fires,” remarked Jim, calmly.
“It ’d be useless, I suppose, to send for the cavalry,” said Gale. “Whatever’s coming off would be over before the soldiers could be notified, let alone reach here.”
“Hell, fellows! I don’t look for an attack on Forlorn River,” burst out Belding. “I can’t believe that possible. These rebel-raiders have a little sense. They wouldn’t spoil their game by pulling U. S. soldiers across the line from Yuma to El Paso. But, as Jim says, if they wanted to steal a few horses or cattle they wouldn’t build fires. I’m afraid it’s—”
Belding hesitated and looked with grim concern at the cavalryman.
“What?” queried Thorne.
“I’m afraid it’s Rojas.”
Thorne turned pale but did not lose his nerve.
“I thought of t
hat at once. If true, it’ll be terrible for Mercedes and me. But Rojas will never get his hands on my wife. If I can’t kill him, I’ll kill her!… Belding, this is tough on you—this risk we put upon your family. I regret—”
“Cut that kind of talk,” replied Belding, bluntly. “Well, if it is Rojas he’s acting damn strange for a raider. That’s what worries me. We can’t do anything but wait. With Laddy and Yaqui out there we won’t be surprised. Let’s take the best possible view of the situation until we know more. That’ll not likely be before tomorrow.”
The women of the house might have gotten some sleep that night, but it was certain the men did not get any. Morning broke cold and gray, the 19th of February. Breakfast was prepared earlier than usual, and an air of suppressed waiting excitement pervaded the place. Otherwise the ordinary details of the morning’s work continued as on any other day. Ladd came in hungry and cold, and said the Mexicans were not breaking camp. He reported a good-sized force of rebels, and was taciturn as to his idea of forthcoming events.
About an hour after sunrise Yaqui ran in with the information that part of the rebels were crossing the river.
“That can’t mean a fight yet,” declared Belding. “But get in the house, boys, and make ready anyway. I’ll meet them.”
“Drive them off the place same as if you had a company of soldiers backin’ you,” said Ladd. “Don’t give them an inch. We’re in bad, and the bigger bluff we put up the more likely our chance.”
“Belding, you’re an officer of the United States. Mexicans are much impressed by show of authority. I’ve seen that often in camp,” said Thorne.
“Oh, I know the white-livered Greasers better than any of you, don’t mistake me,” replied Belding. He was pale with rage, but kept command over himself.