Desert Gold

by Zane Grey

  II

  MERCEDES CASTANEDA

  THE dark face vanished. Dick Gale heard footsteps and the tinkle ofspurs. He strode to the window, and was in time to see a Mexicanswagger into the front door of the saloon. Dick had only a glimpse;but in that he saw a huge black sombrero with a gaudy band, the back ofa short, tight-fitting jacket, a heavy pearl-handled gun swinging witha fringe of sash, and close-fitting trousers spreading wide at thebottom. There were men passing in the street, also several Mexicanslounging against the hitching-rail at the curb.

  "Did you see him? Where did he go?" whispered Thorne, as he joinedGale. "Those Greasers out there with the cartridge belts crossed overtheir breasts--they are rebels."

  "I think he went into the saloon," replied Dick. "He had a gun, butfor all I can see the Greasers out there are unarmed."

  "Never believe it! There! Look, Dick! That fellow's a guard, thoughhe seems so unconcerned. See, he has a short carbine, almostconcealed.... There's another Greaser farther down the path. I'mafraid Rojas has the house spotted."

  "If we could only be sure."

  "I'm sure, Dick. Let's cross the hall; I want to see how it looks fromthe other side of the house."

  Gale followed Thorne out of the restaurant into the high-ceiledcorridor which evidently divided the hotel, opening into the street andrunning back to a patio. A few dim, yellow lamps flickered. A Mexicanwith a blanket round his shoulders stood in the front entrance. Backtoward the patio there were sounds of boots on the stone floor. Shadowsflitted across that end of the corridor. Thorne entered a huge chamberwhich was even more poorly lighted than the hall. It contained a tablelittered with papers, a few high-backed chairs, a couple of couches,and was evidently a parlor.

  "Mercedes has been meeting me here," said Thorne. "At this hour shecomes every moment or so to the head of the stairs there, and if I amhere she comes down. Mostly there are people in this room a littlelater. We go out into the plaza. It faces the dark side of the house,and that's the place I must slip out with her if there's any chance atall to get away."

  They peered out of the open window. The plaza was gloomy, and at firstglance apparently deserted. In a moment, however, Gale made out aslow-pacing dark form on the path. Farther down there was another. Noparticular keenness was required to see in these forms a sentinel-likestealthiness.

  Gripping Gale's arm, Thorne pulled back from the window.

  "You saw them," he whispered. "It's just as I feared. Rojas has theplace surrounded. I should have taken Mercedes away. But I had notime--no chance! I'm bound!... There's Mercedes now! My God!... Dick,think--think if there's a way to get her out of this trap!"

  Gale turned as his friend went down the room. In the dim light at thehead of the stairs stood the slim, muffled figure of a woman. When shesaw Thorne she flew noiselessly down the stairway to him. He caught herin his arms. Then she spoke softly, brokenly, in a low, swift voice.It was a mingling of incoherent Spanish and English; but to Gale it wasmellow, deep, unutterably tender, a voice full of joy, fear, passion,hope, and love. Upon Gale it had an unaccountable effect. He foundhimself thrilling, wondering.

  Thorne led the girl to the center of the room, under the light whereGale stood. She had raised a white hand, holding a black-lacedmantilla half aside. Dick saw a small, dark head, proudly held, anoval face half hidden, white as a flower, and magnificent black eyes.

  Then Thorne spoke.

  "Mercedes--Dick Gale, an old friend--the best friend I ever had."

  She swept the mantilla back over her head, disclosing a lovely face,strange and striking to Gale in its pride and fire, its intensity.

  "Senor Gale--ah! I cannot speak my happiness. His friend!"

  "Yes, Mercedes; my friend and yours," said Thorne, speaking rapidly."We'll have need of him. Dear, there's bad news and no time to breakit gently. The priest did not come. He must have been detained. Andlisten--be brave, dear Mercedes--Rojas is here!"

  She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of which shookGale's nerve, and swayed as if she would faint. Thorne caught her, andin husky voice importuned her to bear up.

  "My darling! For God's sake don't faint--don't go to pieces! We'd belost! We've got a chance. We'll think of something. Be strong!Fight!"

  It was plain to Gale that Thorne was distracted. He scarcely knew whathe was saying. Pale and shaking, he clasped Mercedes to him. Herterror had struck him helpless. It was so intense--it was so full ofhorrible certainty of what fate awaited her.

  She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he shook his head, shechanged to English:

  "Senor, my lover, I will be strong--I will fight--I will obey. Butswear by my Virgin, if need be to save me from Rojas--you will kill me!"

  "Mercedes! Yes, I'll swear," he replied hoarsely. "I know--I'd ratherhave you dead than-- But don't give up. Rojas can't be sure of you, orhe wouldn't wait. He's in there. He's got his men there--all aroundus. But he hesitates. A beast like Rojas doesn't stand idle fornothing. I tell you we've a chance. Dick, here, will think ofsomething. We'll slip away. Then he'll take you somewhere.Only--speak to him--show him you won't weaken. Mercedes, this is morethan love and happiness for us. It's life or death."

  She became quiet, and slowly recovered control of herself.

  Suddenly she wheeled to face Gale with proud dark eyes, tragicsweetness of appeal, and exquisite grace.

  "Senor, you are an American. You cannot know the Spanish blood--thepeon bandit's hate and cruelty. I wish to die before Rojas's handtouches me. If he takes me alive, then the hour, the little day thatmy life lasts afterward will be tortured--torture of hell. If I livetwo days his brutal men will have me. If I live three, the dogs of hiscamp... Senor, have you a sister whom you love? Help Senor Thorne tosave me. He is a soldier. He is bound. He must not betray his honor,his duty, for me.... Ah, you two splendid Americans--so big, so strong,so fierce! What is that little black half-breed slave Rojas to suchmen? Rojas is a coward. Now, let me waste no more precious time. I amready. I will be brave."

  She came close to Gale, holding out her white hands, a woman all fireand soul and passion. To Gale she was wonderful. His heart leaped.As he bent over her hands and kissed them he seemed to feel himselfrenewed, remade.

  "Senorita," he said, "I am happy to be your servant. I can conceive ofno greater pleasure than giving the service you require."

  "And what is that?" inquired Thorne, hurriedly.

  "That of incapacitating Senor Rojas for to-night, and perhaps severalnights to come," replied Gale.

  "Dick, what will you do?" asked Thorne, now in alarm.

  "I'll make a row in that saloon," returned Dick, bluntly. "I'll startsomething. I'll rush Rojas and his crowd. I'll--"

  "Lord, no; you mustn't, Dick--you'll be knifed!" cried Thorne. He wasin distress, yet his eyes were shining.

  "I'll take a chance. Maybe I can surprise that slow Greaser bunch andget away before they know what's happened.... You be ready watching atthe window. When the row starts those fellows out there in the plazawill run into the saloon. Then you slip out, go straight through theplaza down the street. It's a dark street, I remember. I'll catch upwith you before you get far."

  Thorne gasped, but did not say a word. Mercedes leaned against him,her white hands now at her breast, her great eyes watching Gale as hewent out.

  In the corridor Gale stopped long enough to pull on a pair of heavygloves, to muss his hair, and disarrange his collar. Then he steppedinto the restaurant, went through, and halted in the door leading intothe saloon. His five feet eleven inches and one hundred and eightypounds were more noticeable there, and it was part of his plan toattract attention to himself. No one, however, appeared to notice him.The pool-players were noisily intent on their game, the same crowd ofmotley-robed Mexicans hung over the reeking bar. Gale's roving glancesoon fixed upon the man he took to be Rojas. He recognized the huge,high-peaked, black sombrero with its ornamented
band. The Mexican'sface was turned aside. He was in earnest, excited colloquy with adozen or more comrades, most of whom were sitting round a table. Theywere listening, talking, drinking. The fact that they wore cartridgebelts crossed over their breasts satisfied that these were the rebels.He had noted the belts of the Mexicans outside, who were apparentlyguards. A waiter brought more drinks to this group at the table, andthis caused the leader to turn so Gale could see his face. It wasindeed the sinister, sneering face of the bandit Rojas. Gale gazed atthe man with curiosity. He was under medium height, and striking inappearance only because of his dandified dress and evil visage. He worea lace scarf, a tight, bright-buttoned jacket, a buckskin vestembroidered in red, a sash and belt joined by an enormous silver clasp.Gale saw again the pearl-handled gun swinging at the bandit's hip.Jewels flashed in his scarf. There were gold rings in his ears anddiamonds on his fingers.

  Gale became conscious of an inward fire that threatened to overrun hiscoolness. Other emotions harried his self-control. It seemed as ifsight of the man liberated or created a devil in Gale. And at thebottom of his feelings there seemed to be a wonder at himself, astrange satisfaction for the something that had come to him.

  He stepped out of the doorway, down the couple of steps to the floor ofthe saloon, and he staggered a little, simulating drunkenness. He fellover the pool tables, jostled Mexicans at the bar, laughed like amaudlin fool, and, with his hat slouched down, crowded here and there.Presently his eye caught sight of the group of cowboys whom he hadbefore noticed with such interest.

  They were still in a corner somewhat isolated. With fertile mindworking, Gale lurched over to them. He remembered his manyunsuccessful attempts to get acquainted with cowboys. If he were toget any help from these silent aloof rangers it must be by strikingfire from them in one swift stroke. Planting himself squarely beforethe two tall cowboys who were standing, he looked straight into theirlean, bronzed faces. He spared a full moment for that keen cool gazebefore he spoke.

  "I'm not drunk. I'm throwing a bluff, and I mean to start a roughhouse. I'm going to rush that damned bandit Rojas. It's to save agirl--to give her lover, who is my friend, a chance to escape with her.When I start a row my friend will try to slip out with her. Every doorand window is watched. I've got to raise hell to draw the guardsin.... Well, you're my countrymen. We're in Mexico. A beautifulgirl's honor and life are at stake. Now, gentlemen, watch me!"

  One cowboy's eyes narrowed, blinking a little, and his lean jawdropped; the other's hard face rippled with a fleeting smile.

  Gale backed away, and his pulse leaped when he saw the two cowboys, asif with one purpose, slowly stride after him. Then Gale swerved,staggering along, brushed against the tables, kicked over the emptychairs. He passed Rojas and his gang, and out of the tail of his eyesaw that the bandit was watching him, waving his hands and talkingfiercely. The hum of the many voices grew louder, and when Dicklurched against a table, overturning it and spilling glasses into thelaps of several Mexicans, there arose a shrill cry. He had succeeded inattracting attention; almost every face turned his way. One of theinsulted men, a little tawny fellow, leaped up to confront Gale, and ina frenzy screamed a volley of Spanish, of which Gale distinguished"Gringo!" The Mexican stamped and made a threatening move with hisright hand. Dick swung his leg and with a swift side kick knocked thefellows feet from under him, whirling him down with a thud.

  The action was performed so suddenly, so adroitly, it made the Mexicansuch a weakling, so like a tumbled tenpin, that the shrill jabberinghushed. Gale knew this to be the significant moment.

  Wheeling, he rushed at Rojas. It was his old line-breaking plunge.Neither Rojas nor his men had time to move. The black-skinned bandit'sface turned a dirty white; his jaw dropped; he would have shrieked ifGale had not hit him. The blow swept him backward against his men.Then Gale's heavy body, swiftly following with the momentum of thatrush, struck the little group of rebels. They went down with table andchairs in a sliding crash.

  Gale carried by his plunge, went with them. Like a cat he landed ontop. As he rose his powerful hands fastened on Rojas. He jerked thelittle bandit off the tangled pile of struggling, yelling men, and,swinging him with terrific force, let go his hold. Rojas slid alongthe floor, knocking over tables and chairs. Gale bounded back, draggedRojas up, handling him as if he were a limp sack.

  A shot rang out above the yells. Gale heard the jingle of breakingglass. The room darkened perceptibly. He flashed a glance backward.The two cowboys were between him and the crowd of frantic rebels. Onecowboy held two guns low down, level in front of him. The other hadhis gun raised and aimed. On the instant it spouted red and white.With the crack came the crashing of glass, another darkening shade overthe room. With a cry Gale slung the bleeding Rojas from him. Thebandit struck a table, toppled over it, fell, and lay prone.

  Another shot made the room full of moving shadows, with light only backof the bar. A white-clad figure rushed at Gale. He tripped the man,but had to kick hard to disengage himself from grasping hands. Anotherfigure closed in on Gale. This one was dark, swift. A bladeglinted--described a circle aloft. Simultaneously with a close, redflash the knife wavered; the man wielding it stumbled backward. In thedin Gale did not hear a report, but the Mexican's fall was significant.Then pandemonium broke loose. The din became a roar. Gale heard shotsthat sounded like dull spats in the distance. The big lamp behind thebar seemingly split, then sputtered and went out, leaving the room indarkness.

  Gale leaped toward the restaurant door, which was outlined faintly bythe yellow light within. Right and left he pushed the groping men whojostled with him. He vaulted a pool table, sent tables and chairsflying, and gained the door, to be the first of a wedging mob tosqueeze through. One sweep of his arm knocked the restaurant lamp fromits stand; and he ran out, leaving darkness behind him. A few boundstook him into the parlor. It was deserted. Thorne had gotten awaywith Mercedes.

  It was then Gale slowed up. For the space of perhaps sixty seconds hehad been moving with startling velocity. He peered cautiously out intothe plaza. The paths, the benches, the shady places under the treescontained no skulking men. He ran out, keeping to the shade, and didnot go into the path till he was halfway through the plaza. Under astreet lamp at the far end of the path he thought he saw two darkfigures. He ran faster, and soon reached the street. The uproar backin the hotel began to diminish, or else he was getting out of hearing.The few people he saw close at hand were all coming his way, and onlythe foremost showed any excitement. Gale walked swiftly, peering aheadfor two figures. Presently he saw them--one tall, wearing a cape; theother slight, mantled. Gale drew a sharp breath of relief. Thorne andMercedes were not far ahead.

  From time to time Thorne looked back. He strode swiftly, almostcarrying Mercedes, who clung closely to him. She, too, looked back.Once Gale saw her white face flash in the light of a street lamp. Hebegan to overhaul them; and soon, when the last lamp had been passedand the street was dark, he ventured a whistle. Thorne heard it, forhe turned, whistled a low reply, and went on. Not for some distancebeyond, where the street ended in open country, did they halt to wait.The desert began here. Gale felt the soft sand under his feet and sawthe grotesque forms of cactus. Then he came up with the fugitives.

  "Dick! Are you--all right?" panted Thorne, grasping Gale.

  "I'm--out of breath--but--O.K.," replied Gale.

  "Good! Good!" choked Thorne. "I was scared--helpless.... Dick, itworked splendidly. We had no trouble. What on earth did you do?"

  "I made the row, all right," said Dick.

  "Good Heavens! It was like a row I once heard made by a mob. But theshots, Dick--were they at you? They paralyzed me. Then the yells.What happened? Those guards of Rojas ran round in front at the firstshot. Tell me what happened."

  "While I was rushing Rojas a couple of cowboys shot out the lamplights.A Mexican who pulled a knife on me got hurt, I guess. Then I thinkthere was some shoot
ing from the rebels after the room was dark."

  "Rushing Rojas?" queried Thorne, leaning close to Dick. His voice wasthrilling, exultant, deep with a joy that yet needed confirmation."What did you do to him?"

  "I handed him one off side, tackled, then tried a forward pass,"replied Dick, lightly speaking the football vernacular so familiar toThorne.

  Thorne leaned closer, his fine face showing fierce and corded in thestarlight. "Tell me straight," he demanded, in thick voice.

  Gale then divined something of the suffering Thorne hadundergone--something of the hot, wild, vengeful passion of a lover whomust have brutal truth.

  It stilled Dick's lighter mood, and he was about to reply when Mercedespressed close to him, touched his hands, looked up into his face withwonderful eyes. He thought he would not soon forget their beauty--theshadow of pain that had been, the hope dawning so fugitively.

  "Dear lady," said Gale, with voice not wholly steady, "Rojas himselfwill hound you no more to-night, nor for many nights."

  She seemed to shake, to thrill, to rise with the intelligence. Shepressed his hand close over her heaving breast. Gale felt the quickthrob of her heart.

  "Senor! Senor Dick!" she cried. Then her voice failed. But her handsflew up; quick as a flash she raised her face--kissed him. Then sheturned and with a sob fell into Thorne's arms.

  There ensued a silence broken only by Mercedes' sobbing. Gale walkedsome paces away. If he were not stunned, he certainly was agitated.The strange, sweet fire of that girl's lips remained with him. On thespur of the moment he imagined he had a jealousy of Thorne. Butpresently this passed. It was only that he had been deeplymoved--stirred to the depths during the last hour--had become consciousof the awakening of a spirit. What remained with him now was thesplendid glow of gladness that he had been of service to Thorne. Andby the intensity of Mercedes' abandon of relief and gratitude hemeasured her agony of terror and the fate he had spared her.

  "Dick, Dick, come here!" called Thorne softly. "Let's pull ourselvestogether now. We've got a problem yet. What to do? Where to go? Howto get any place? We don't dare risk the station--the corrals whereMexicans hire out horses. We're on good old U.S. ground this minute,but we're not out of danger."

  As he paused, evidently hoping for a suggestion from Gale, the silencewas broken by the clear, ringing peal of a bugle. Thorne gave aviolent start. Then he bent over, listening. The beautiful notes ofthe bugle floated out of the darkness, clearer, sharper, faster.

  "It's a call, Dick! It's a call!" he cried.

  Gale had no answer to make. Mercedes stood as if stricken. The buglecall ended. From a distance another faintly pealed. There were othersounds too remote to recognize. Then scattering shots rattled out.

  "Dick, the rebels are fighting somebody," burst out Thorne, excitedly."The little federal garrison still holds its stand. Perhaps it isattacked again. Anyway, there's something doing over the line. Maybethe crazy Greasers are firing on our camp. We've feared it--in thedark.... And here I am, away without leave--practically a deserter!"

  "Go back! Go back, before you're too late!" cried Mercedes.

  "Better make tracks, Thorne," added Gale. "It can't help ourpredicament for you to be arrested. I'll take care of Mercedes."

  "No, no, no," replied Thorne. "I can get away--avoid arrest."

  "That'd be all right for the immediate present. But it's not best forthe future. George, a deserter is a deserter!... Better hurry. Leavethe girl to me till tomorrow."

  Mercedes embraced her lover, begged him to go. Thorne wavered.

  "Dick, I'm up against it," he said. "You're right. If only I can getback in time. But, oh, I hate to leave her! Old fellow, you've savedher! I already owe you everlasting gratitude. Keep out of Casita,Dick. The U.S. side might be safe, but I'm afraid to trust it atnight. Go out in the desert, up in the mountains, in some safe place.Then come to me in camp. We'll plan. I'll have to confide in ColonelWeede. Maybe he'll help us. Hide her from the rebels--that's all."

  He wrung Dick's hand, clasped Mercedes tightly in his arms, kissed her,and murmured low over her, then released her to rush off into thedarkness. He disappeared in the gloom. The sound of his dullfootfalls gradually died away.

  For a moment the desert silence oppressed Gale. He was unaccustomed tosuch strange stillness. There was a low stir of sand, a rustle ofstiff leaves in the wind. How white the stars burned! Then a coyotebarked, to be bayed by a dog. Gale realized that he was between theedge of an unknown desert and the edge of a hostile town. He had tochoose the desert, because, though he had no doubt that in Casita therewere many Americans who might befriend him, he could not chance therisks of seeking them at night.

  He felt a slight touch on his arm, felt it move down, felt Mercedesslip a trembling cold little hand into his. Dick looked at her. Sheseemed a white-faced girl now, with staring, frightened black eyes thatflashed up at him. If the loneliness, the silence, the desert, theunknown dangers of the night affected him, what must they be to thishunted, driven girl? Gale's heart swelled. He was alone with her. Hehad no weapon, no money, no food, no drink, no covering, nothing excepthis two hands. He had absolutely no knowledge of the desert, of thedirection or whereabouts of the boundary line between the republics; hedid not know where to find the railroad, or any road or trail, orwhether or not there were towns near or far. It was a critical,desperate situation. He thought first of the girl, and groaned inspirit, prayed that it would be given him to save her. When heremembered himself it was with the stunning consciousness that he couldconceive of no situation which he would have exchanged for thisone--where fortune had set him a perilous task of loyalty to a friend,to a helpless girl.

  "Senor, senor!" suddenly whispered Mercedes, clinging to him. "Listen!I hear horses coming!"