Dust of the Desert
Page 14
CHAPTER XIII
CROSSCURRENTS
An hour after the sun had set on the day of Colonel Urgo's humiliationat the Casa O'Donoju, Quelele tooled his car into the avenue of palmsat the end of the long return journey from Magdalena, on the railroad.With him were his master, Don Padraic, and an American stranger, BimBagley of Arizora.
Fate had played capriciously with Bim. When he set out from Arizora onthe quest of his pal Grant Hickman it was only on the bare report thatthe man was seriously wounded and under the care of El Doctor CoyoteBelly at Babinioqui, south of the Line. Near the end of his journeyhis car had wrecked itself beyond repair hard by Magdalena; a mule hadbeen requisitioned to carry him over the mountains to the home of themedicine man; once there he was as far from the end of his quest asever.
For grey old Coyote Belly lied unblinkingly. He knew nothing of awounded man. Persuasion of words nor the chink of silver dollarsavailed to budge him from a trust he conceived to be joined betweenhimself and the master of the Casa O'Donoju.
The hours following the scene in the patio and the sudden gust ofaction concluding the visit of Hamilcar Urgo had been trying onesfor Grant. Spent as he was by the struggle with the Spaniard, he hadsuffered himself to be half-carried to his room by the Indian servants.Benicia, accompanying him to the door, had permitted her hand to restin his at farewell; a clasp tried to tell what the storm in her souldenied speech. The girl's face was etched by suffering; sacrificedpride and a shadow of some deep fear lay heavy in her eyes and thedrawn lines about her mouth. The wound made by her spiteful suitor wasdeeper than Grant could conceive.
Alone on his bed he conned over the tale Urgo had told. Unfamiliar ashe was with the Latin temperament, the belief of the romance peoplesin the very reality of inherited curse and whips of Nemesis pursuinginnocent generations, yet the raw tragedy of the story fired hisimagination. He tried to put himself in the place of the girl he lovedwith all her pride of race and family; to feel with her the stripesof scorn the despicable Urgo had laid on. El Rojo's desecration ofthe mission sanctuary by an act of blood; his flight into the desertwith the pearls of the Virgin and a girl, "who was wife to him withoutpriest or book"; the blotting of the mission from sight of man; allthis cycle of tragedy of the dim past linked to a gloriously vitalcreature of the present by the chance colour of her hair. The thing wasmonstrously absurd! And yet--
A knock at the door and Don Padraic entered. He turned to beckon someone behind him. In the candlelight Grant saw the head of a giant stoopto avoid the lintel.
"Bim Bagley!"
The desert man crossed to the bed by a single wide step and threw botharms about Grant in a bear hug.
"You dam'd old snoozer. You dam'd old snoozer!" was all Bim could givein greeting. Don Padraic stepped outside and closed the door on thereunion. Bim let his friend's body lightly down on the pillows and satback to grin into Grant's eyes.
"I sure been burnin' the ground all over North Sonora on your trail,"he rumbled. "You're the original little Mexican jumping bean."
"Jumped right into a flock of trouble, old side partner, with moreright beyond the front line waiting for me. The reserves seem to havecome up just the right time." Grant gave his pal's great paw a squeeze.Bim roared assurance:
"Reserves got all bogged down through failure in liaison--just like thedays of the Big Show. But they're with you now from hell to breakfast,young fellah; an' I think I know the name of the outfit we got to trim.Name's Hamilcar Urgo, huh?" His buoyant spirit was wine to Grant; thevery animal force of him seemed to fill the old room.
"Ran acrost that li'l sidewinder this afternoon when the old Don wasbringing me up here from Magdalena. Just our two cars on the road. Hepulls up when we're makin' to pass him--face on him just as pleasant asa polecat's. Your friend the Don passes the time of day courteous asyou please.
"'I had the honour to visit your daughter this day,' whinnies this Urgogazabo; of course he speaks in Spanish, which is nuts for me. 'And Idiscover she is entertaining a convict who escaped from a chain gang.'"Bim grinned. "I take it that convict is my li'l friend from Noo Yawk."
Grant nodded. The other wagged his head in a grotesque mockery of grief.
"'My daughter and I are entertaining an American gentleman who waswounded on the Hermosillo road,' your Don answers, civil enough. 'Whilehe is a guest in our house we naturally ask no questions.'
"'Then,' snaps this Urgo boy, 'I must inform you that for harbouring anescaped criminal you are responsible before the law. The rurales willvisit your house and it is for me to say whether they take you as wellas the gringo convict.'"
Grant started. Here was a phase of the situation he had not guessed:that his courteous host might be made to suffer for Urgo's rage andjealousy.
Eagerly, "What did Don Padraic say to that?"
"He says something to the effect that the laws of hospitality wereabove any this-here Urgo might care to dig up, the same I call beingmighty white of your Don Whosis with the Irish twist to his name."Bim broke off to shoot a quizzical look into his friend's eyes. "Say,brother, what you been doin' to this little black-an'-tan stingin'lizard to make him ride your trail so hard? You a tenderfoot an'riding your herd across the fence line of the biggest little man in thewhole Sonora government!"
Grant grinned childishly. "Well, I threw him out of the front door herethis afternoon for one thing and--"
Admiration beamed from every wind wrinkle about the Arizonan's eyes."Sho! You did that? Now I call that steppin' some for a man with abullet through him. I thought from the gen'ral slant to Senor Urgo'smanner when he met up with us some one'd been working on his framesomewhere. He just sweat T.N.T. But why did you crawl him?"
"He insulted Senorita O'Donoju," was Grant's answer. Bim lowered thelid of one eye owlishly and his gaunt face was pulled down to a comicaspect of concern.
"Uh-huh; now I begin to get the drift. Old Doc Stooder was rightwhen he says there's the shoo-shoo of a skirt somewheres in your bigdisappearing act. Boy--boy! I had you figgered for the orig'nal oldhermit coyote who travels the meat trail alone. No wonder li'l Urgo'sall coiled up for the strike, you aimin' to run him out on his girl."
Before Grant could head off his friend on a topic that brought suddenembarrassment to him 'Cepcion and a second servant entered with aspread table. Bim tucked pillows under his friend's shoulders withclumsy tenderness, then in mellow candlelight they ate and talked. Bothwere bursting with questions to be asked, but Bim claimed the right ofpriority by virtue of his ten days' blind search through the countrysouth of the Line. At his demand Grant gave him the whole story ofhis feud with Colonel Urgo, from the meeting at El Paso down to theafternoon's events in the patio. Lively play of sympathies about theArizonan's features followed the narrative of the dreadful march inthe chain gang and Grant's burst for freedom under the rifles of therurales. The little his friend left unsaid Bim was shrewd enough tosupply; he guessed the story of Grant's thraldom under the witchery ofthe desert girl and found it good.
When the man on the pillows began recital of what had occurred justa few hours before--Urgo's savage assault on a girl's pride throughthe story of El Rojo's impiety--the big man by the bed stiffened inintensified interest. He heard Grant through with scarce concealedimpatience.
"But, man, that was the Mission of the Four Evangelists Urgo wastelling of!" explosively from Bim. Grant nodded confirmation.
"Why, that's the Doc's big proposition--our proposition!"
Grant looked his puzzlement. The other's excitement swirled him on:
"That proves what the Doc's Papago told him. Pearls buried there. An'gold--lots of gold, the Papago says. I had a sneaking hunch all thetime it might be one of Stooder's wild dreams, but this story proveswe're on the right track."
"Do you mean--?"
"Sure! That's what I brought you out from the East for--to help usuncover this Lost Mission, as folks in Arizona call it. Doc Stooder'ssuch a cagey old monkey he wouldn't let me put on paper just what Iwanted you to whack
in on. Now you got it all--the pure quill. Isn't ita whale of a proposition!"
Though Grant's surface perception had grasped the full import of hisfriend's words some sub-strata of mind, or of heart, stubbornly refusedto be convinced that he had heard aright. He groped for words:
"You say you brought me out here to help you uncover pearls and goldthat belong to the Church?"
"Why not?" A subtle note of pugnacity in the other's speech. "Thestuff's been lyin' buried for a hundred an' fifty years more or less.The priests've never lifted a finger to find it, though slews ofprospectors have rooted round trying to uncover this cache."
"But the old O'Donojus built this church and endowed it with that verytreasure you want to dig for," Grant persisted. "What about theirrights?"
He did not hear Bim's arguments. Instead he was conning over the storyof the bane of the house of O'Donoju. Before his eyes was the face ofthe girl he loved, as he had last seen it, deeply graven with tragedy.
Grant's hand went out in a comrade's clasp. "Bim, old man, count me outon this thing. I couldn't consider it for a minute."