by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XVI
"FOR WEAPONS I CHOOSE RIATAS"
There must have been a good deal of gossip amongst the vaqueros of thevarious ranches, as they rode on circle or lay upon their saddleblankets around the evening camp-fires. As is ever the case when a manis young, handsome, rich, and holds proudly the gold medal whichproclaims him the champion of the whole State--the golden disk whichmany a young vaquero longed to wrest from him in a fair test ofskill--there were those who would rather like to see Jose humbled. True,they would never choose an alien to do the humbling, and the possibilitywas discussed with various head-shakings amongst themselves.
But there were the Picardo vaqueros stanchly swearing by all the saintsthey knew that these two gringos were not as other gringos; that thesetwo were worthy a place amongst true Californians. Could they not seethat this Senor Hunter was as themselves? And he was not more Spanish inhis speech and his ways than was the Senor Allen, albeit the SenorAllen's eyes were blue as the lupines, and his hair the color of themadrona bark when it grows dark with age--or nearly the color. And hecould shoot, that blue-eyed one!
Valencia, having an audience of a dozen or more one night, grew eloquentupon the prowess of the blue-eyed one. And the audience, listening,vowed that they would like to see him matched against Jose, who thoughthimself supreme in everything.
"Not in fighting," amended Valencia, his teeth gleaming white in thefire-glow, as he leaned to pull a brand from the blaze that he mightrelight the cigarette which had gone out while he told the tale of thatrunning fight, when the two Americanos had shamed a whole crowd ofgringos--for so did Valencia make nice distinction of names.
"Not in fighting, amigos, nor yet in love! And because he knows that itis so, the cheeks of Don Jose hang slack, and he rides with chin uponhis breast, when he thinks no one is looking. The medalla oro is his,yes. But he would gladly give it for that which the Senor Allenpossesses. Me, I think that the Senor Allen could as easily win also themedalla oro as he has won the other prize." There was a certain finenessin Valencia that would never permit his tongue to fling the name of theSenorita Teresa amongst these vaqueros; but he was sure that they caughthis meaning.
"Dios! me, I should like to see him try," cried a tall San Vincenterider, shifting his position to ease a cramp in his long leg; and histone was neither contemptuous nor even doubtful, but merely eager forthe excitement there would be in the spectacle.
Some one in the shadows turned and walked quickly away to anotherfire-glow with its ring of Rembrandt figures and faces, and none saveValencia knew that it was Manuel gone to tell his master what had beensaid. Valencia smiled while he smoked.
Presently Jose was listening unwillingly to Manuel's spite-tingedversion of the talk at the San Vincente camp. "The vaqueros are making amock of thy bravery and thy skill!" Manuel declared, with more passionthan truth. "They would see thee beaten, in fight as well as in love--"
The stiffening of Jose's whole figure stopped Manuel short but notdissatisfied, for he saw there was no need that he should speak a singleword more upon the subject.
"They shall see him try, unless he is a coward." The voice of Jose wasmuffled by the rage that filled him.
So it came to pass that Manuel saddled his best mustang within an hourand rode away to the north. And when Valencia strolled artlessly to thePacheco fire and asked for him, Jose hesitated perceptibly before hereplied that Manuel had gone home with a message to the foreman there.
Valencia grinned his widest when he heard that, and over two cigaretteshe pondered the matter. Being a shrewd young man with an instinct fornosing out mysteries, he flung all uncertainty away with the stub of hissecond cigarette and sought Dade.
He found him standing alone beside a deep, still pool, staring at theshadows and the moon-painted picture in the middle, and looking as ifhis thoughts were gone on far journeys. Valencia was too full of hisnews to heed the air of absolute detachment that surrounded Dade. Hewent straight to the heart of his subject and as a precaution againsteavesdropping he put his meaning into the best English he knew.
"Jose, she's dam-mad on Senor Jack," he began eagerly. "She's hear talklak she's no good vaquero. Me, I hear San Vincente vaqueros talk, andManuel she's hear also and run queeck for tella Jose. Jose she's lak forkeela Senor Jack. Manuel, she's ride lak hell for say Jose, she lak forfight Senor Jack. Me, I theenk Senor Jack keela Jose pretty dam-queeck!"
Dade had come to know Valencia very well; he turned now and eyed himwith some suspicion.
"Are you sure?" he asked, in the tone that demanded a truthful answer.He had seen Manuel ride away in the white light of the moon, and he hadwondered a little and then had forgotten all about it in the spell ofutter loneliness which the moon brings to those who are cheated by Fatefrom holding what they most desire.
"Sure, me." Valencia's tone was convincingly positive. "Manuel, she's golak hell for tella Senor Jack, Jose, she's lak for fight duelo. Sure.That's right."
Dade swung back and stared moodily at the moon-painted pool where thetrout, deceived by the brightness into thinking it was day, startedwidening ripple-rings here and there, where they flicked the surfacewith slaty noses; and the wavering rings were gold-tipped until theyslid into the shadows and were lost. Dade watched three rings start inthe center and ripple the whole pool.
"How quick could you get to the rancho?" he asked abruptly, just asValencia's spirits were growing heavy with disappointment. "Could youovertake Manuel, do you think?"
"Me, I could with the caballo which I have in mind--Noches--I couldpass Manuel upon the way, though he had two more hours the start of me!"English was too slow now for Valencia's eagerness. "Manuel is fat, andhe is not young, and he will not ride too fast for his fat to endure.Also he will stop at the Pacheco hacienda for breakfast, and to rest hisbones. Me, I can be at the rancho two hours before Manuel, Senor."
Valencia was not a deceitful young man, as deceit goes; but he wantedvery much to be sent in haste to the ranch, for he was itching withcuriosity to know the truth of this matter and if he were indeed right.If Manuel had gone bearing a challenge from Jose to the Senor Jack, thenhe wanted to know the answer as soon as possible. Also there was Felice,the daughter of Carlos, whose lips lured him with their sweetness.Truly, Valencia would promise any miracle of speed.
The pool lay calm as the face of a dead child. Dade stooped and tossed apebble into it as if that stillness troubled him. He took his cigarettefrom his lips, looked at the glowing tip, and over it at the eager faceof Valencia.
"We mustn't let them fight. Take Noches and ride like the devil was atyour heels. Get there ahead of Manuel and tell Jack--" He stopped thereand bit his lips to hurry his slow thoughts. "Tell Jack he must go totown right away, because--well, tell him Bill Wilson--"
Valencia's face had been lengthening comically, but hope began to liveagain in his eyes. "If the senor would write what he wishes to say whileI am making ready for the start, he will then have more time to think ofwhat is best. The moon will ride clear to-night; and the sun will findme at the rancho, Senor. Me, I have ridden Noches one hundred mileswithout rest, before now; these sixty will be play for us both."
"Gracias, Valencia." Dade dropped a hand gratefully upon the shoulder ofthe other. "I'll write a note, but you must do your part also. You knowyour people, and I know Jack; if those two fight, the trouble willspread like fire in the grass; for Don Jose has many friends to take upthe quarrel. You've had a long day in the saddle, amigo, and the sixtymiles will not be play. I would not ask it if the need were lessurgent--but you must beat Manuel. If you don't, Jack will accept thechallenge; and once he does that--" he flung out both hands in hischaracteristic gesture of impatience or helplessness.
"Si, Senor. If the saints permit, Manuel shall not see him first." Itwas like Valencia to shift the responsibility from his own conscience tothe shoulders of the saints, for now he could ride with a lighter heart.Perhaps he was even sincere when he made the promise; but there weresixty miles of moonlight in whi
ch his desire could ride with him andtempt him; and of a truth, Valencia did greatly desire to see those twocome together in combat!
The saints were kind to Valencia, but they were also grimly just.Because he so greatly desired an excuse for delay, they tricked Nocheswith a broken willow branch that in the deceptive moonlight appeared tobe but the shadow of the branch above it. It caught him just under anoutflung knee as he galloped and flipped him neatly, heels to the stars.He did not struggle to his feet even when Valencia himself, a bit dazedby the fall, pulled upon the reins and called to him to rise. The horselay inert, a steaming, black mass in the road. The moon was sliding downbehind the Santa Cruz Mountains, and the chill breeze whispered thatdawn was coming fast upon the trail of the moonbeams.
Valencia, when he saw that Noches would never gallop again, because hehad managed to break his sweat-lathered neck in the fall, sat downbeside the trail and rolled a corn-husk cigarette. His mood swung fromregret over the passing of as fleet and true a horse as ever hebestrode, to gratitude to the saints for their timely hindrance of hisprompt delivery of the note. Truly it was now no fault of his that hecould never reach the hacienda before Manuel! He would have to walk andcarry his saddle, heavy with silver and wide skirts of stamped leather;and he was a long way from the end of his journey, when he must coverthe distance with his own feet. Eight or ten miles, he estimated itroughly; for he had passed Jose's hacienda some time before, and hadresisted the temptation to turn aside and find out if Manuel were thereor had gone on. He had not passed Manuel in the trail as he had boastedthat he would do, and not once had he glimpsed him anywhere, thoughthere had been places where the road lay straight, and he could see itclear in the moonlight for a mile or more.
When he had finished the cigarette and his thanks to Fate--or whateverpower had delayed him--he removed his saddle and bridle from the horseand went on; and it was then that he began to understand that he must doa penance for desiring war rather than peace amongst his fellows.Valencia, after the first hour of tramping with his saddle on hisshoulders, had lost a good deal of his enthusiasm for the duel he feltsure was already a certainty.
When he left the road for a straight cut to the hacienda, the wild rangecattle hindered him with their curiosity, so that, using all the methodsknown to a seasoned vaquero for driving them back, his progress had beenslow. But he finally came out into the road again and was plodding alongthe stone wall within half a mile of the house, his face verydisconsolate because of his protesting feet and the emptiness in hisstomach, when Manuel himself confronted him suddenly coming from thehouse.
Manuel was looking well pleased with himself, in spite of his nightride. He pulled up and stared wide-eyed at Valencia, who had no smilewith which to greet him but swore instead a pensive oath.
"Dios! Is it for a wager that you travel thus?" grinned Manuel,abominably comfortable upon a great, sorrel horse that pranced all roundValencia in its anxiety to be upon its way home. "Look you, Valencia!Since you are travelling, you had best go and tell the padres to makeready the sacrament for your gringo friend, that blue-eyed one; fortruly his time on earth is short!"
Valencia, at that, looked up into Manuel's face and smiled in spite ofthe pain in his feet and the emptiness in his stomach.
"Does it please you, then, Valencia? All night I rode to bear a messageto that blue-eyed one who thinks himself supremo in all things; achallenge from Don Jose, to fight a duelo if he is not a coward; so didJose write. 'Unless you are afraid to meet me'--and the vanity of thatblue-eyed one is great, Valencia. Of a truth, the man is loco. Whatthink you, Valencia? He had the right to choose the weapons--and Josebelieved that he would choose those pistols of which you make so muchtalk. Madre de Dios! What says the blue-eyed one, then?--and laughed inmy face while he spoke the words! 'Go tell Don Jose I will fight himwhenever and wherever he likes; and for weapons I choose riatas.' Heardyou anything--"
"Riatas!" Valencia's jaw dropped an inch before he remembered thatManuel's eyes were sharp and eager to read the thoughts of a man in thetwitching muscles of his face.
"Si, riatas!" Manuel's whole fat body shook with laughter. "Even you,who are wholly bewitched by those gringos, even you are dismayed! Tellme, Valencia, have you seen him lasso anything?"
But Valencia, having pulled himself together, merely lifted hisshoulders and smiled wisely, so that even Manuel was almost deceivedinto believing that Valencia's faith was great because it was built upona secret knowledge of what the blue-eyed one could do.
"Me, I heard you boasting to those San Vincente vaqueros," Manuelaccused, shifting the talk to generalities. "And the Senor Hunter boastsalso that the blue-eyed one is supremo with the riata, as he is witheverything else!" The tone of Manuel was exceeding bitter. "Well, hewill have the chance to prove what he can do. No gringo can come amongus Californians and flap the wings and crow upon the tule thatch fornaught. There has been overmuch crowing, Valencia. Me, I am glad thatboaster must do something more than crow upon the thatch, Valencia!"
"Si, there has been overmuch crowing," Valencia retorted, giving to hissmile the lift that made it a sneer, "but the thatch has not been ofPicardo tules. Me, I think they grew within hearing of the mission bellsof Santa Clara! And the gallo [rooster] which crows is old and fat, andfeeds too much upon the grapes that are sour! Adios! I must haste togive congratulations to the Senor Jack, that he will have opportunity towring the necks of those loud-crowing gallos of the Pacheco thatches."
Whereupon he picked up his saddle and walked on, very straight in theback and patently unashamed of the injustice of his charge; for it wasthe crowing of Valencia himself beside the San Vincente camp-fire thathad brought Manuel with the message, and Valencia knew that perfectlywell.
The family of Don Andres had been breakfasting upon the wide verandawhen Manuel strode grimly across the patio and confronted them. Theywere still seated there when Valencia, having deposited his riding gearat the saddle-hut, limped to the steps and stood with his sunny smileupon his face and his sombrero brim trailing the dust. It seemed toValencia that the don was displeased; he read it in the set of his head,in the hardness that was in his glance, in a certain inflexible qualityof his voice.
"Ah, Valencia," he said, rising as if the interruption was to put an endto his lingering there, "you also seem to have ridden in haste from therodeo. Truly, I think that same rodeo has been but the breeding-groundof gossip and ill-feeling, and is like to bear bitter fruit. Well, youhave a message, I'll warrant. What is it?"
Valencia's mien was respectful almost to the point of humility. "Themajordomo sent me with a letter, which I was to deliver into the handsof the Senor Allen," he said simply. "My hope was that I might arrivebefore Manuel"--he caught a flicker of wrath in the eyes of the don atthe name and smiled inwardly--"but the moonlight played tricks upon thetrail, and my caballo tripped upon a willow-branch and fell upon hishead so that his neck was twisted. I was forced to walk and carry thesaddle, and there were times when the cattle interrupted with theirfoolish curiosity, and I must stop and set the riata hissing to frightenthem back, else they would perchance have trampled me. So I fear that Iarrive too late, Don Andres. But truly I did my best; a full hour behindManuel I started, and have walked ten miles of the sixty. The saintsknow well--"
Don Andres checked his apologies with a wave of the hand, and sat downsomewhat heavily in his favorite chair, as if he were tired, though theday was but fairly begun.
"We do not doubt your zeal," he observed dryly. "Give the letter to thesenor and begone to your breakfast. And," he added impressively, "waityou and rest well until the answer is ready; for perchance there will befurther need to test the kindness of the saints--and the speed of ahorse."
Valencia fumbled within his sash and brought forth the small, foldedsquare of paper, went up two steps and placed it in Jack's upturnedpalm, gave Jack also a glance more kindly and loyal than ever he hadreceived from that minx, Teresita, and went away to the vaqueros'quarters. Valencia had learned nothing from the meeting
, except that thedon was in one of his rare fits of ill-temper.
"Yet I know that there will be a duelo," he comforted himself withthinking, as he limped wearily across the patio. "The face of the patronis black because of it, and a little devil-flame burns in the eyes ofthe senorita because for love of her men would fight--(Such is the wayof women, to joy in those things which should give them, fear!)--andthe senora's face is sagged with worry, and Senor Jack--ah, there is thefighting look in those eyes! Never have I seen them so dark: like thebay when a storm is riding upon the wind. And it will be riatas--for soManuel told me. Me, I will wager my saddle upon the Senor Jack, eventhough riatas be the weapons. For he is wily, that blue-eyed one; neverwould he choose the rawhide unless he knew its hiss as he knows his ownheartbeats. Let it be riatas, then, if so the senor chooses!"