CHAPTER 11. "STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE."
The two young Spanish aristocrats rode in advance of the convoy on thereturn trip, while O'Halloran and Bucky brought up the rear. The roadswere too rough to permit of rapid travel, but the teams were pushed asfast as it could safely be done in the dark. It was necessary to getinto the city before daybreak, and also before word reached Megales ofthe coup his enemies had made. O'Halloran calculated that this could bedone, but he did not want to run his margin of time too fine.
"When the governor finds we have recaptured the arms, will he not haveall your leaders arrested today and thrown into the prison?" asked theranger.
"He will--if he can lay hands on them. But he had better catch his harebefore he cooks it. I'm thinking that none of us will be at home to-daywhen his men come with a polite invitation to go along with them."
"Then he'll spend all day strengthening his position. With this warninghe will be a fool if he can't make himself secure before night, when thearmy is on his side."
"Oh, the army is on his side, is it? Now, what would you say if mostof the officers were ready to come over to us as soon as we declareourselves? And ye speak of strengthening his position. The beauty of hisposition, me lad, from our point of view, is that he doesn't know hisweak places. He'll be the most undeceived man in the State when the testcomes--unless something goes wrong."
"When do you propose to attack the prison?"
"To-night. To-morrow is election day, and we want all the byes we can onhand to help us out."
"Do you expect to throw the prison doors wide open--let every scoundrelin Chihuahua loose on the public."
"We couldn't do that, since half of them are loose already," retortedO'Halloran dryly. "And as for the rest--we expect to make a selection,me son, to weed out a few choice ruffians and keep them behind thebars. But if ye know anything about the prisons of this country, you'reinformed, sir, that half the poor fellows behind bars don't belong thereso much as the folk that put them there. I'm Irish, as ye are yourself,and it's me instinct to fight for the under dog. Why shouldn't thelads rotting behind those walls have another chance at the game? Bythe mother of Moses! they shall, if Mike O'Halloran has anything to sayabout it."
"You ce'tainly conduct your lawful elections in a beautifully lawlessway," grinned the ranger.
"And why not? Isn't the law made for man?"
"For which man--Megales?"
"In order to give the greatest liberty to each individual man. But herecomes young Valdez riding back as if he were in a bit of a hurry."
The filibuster rode forward and talked with the young man for a fewminutes in a low voice. When he rejoined Bucky he nodded his headtoward the young man, who was again headed for the front of the column."There's the best lad in the State of Chihuahua. He's a Mexican, allright, but he has as much sense as a white man. He doesn't mix issues.Now, the lad's in love with Carmencita Megales, the prettiest black-eyedlass in Mexico, and, by the same token, so is our friend Chaves, whojust gave us the guns a little while ago. But Valdez is a man from theheel of him to the head. Miss Carmencita has her nose in the air becauseJuan doesn't snuggle up to ould Megales and flatter him the same wayyoung Chaves does. So the lad is persona non grata at court with thelady, and that tin soldier who gave up the guns without a blow gets thelady's smiles. But it's my opinion that, for all her haughty ways,miss would rather have our honest fighting lad than a roomful of theimitation toy kind."
A couple of miles from the outskirts of the city the wagons separated,and each was driven to the assigned place for the hiding of the riflestill night. At the edge of the town Bucky made arrangements to join hisfriend again at the monument in the centre of the plaza within fifteenminutes. He was to bring his little partner with him, and O'Halloran wasto take them to a place where they might lie in hiding till the time setfor the rising.
"I would go with ye, but I want to take charge of the unloading. Don'tlose any time, lad, for as soon as Megales learns of what has happenedhis fellows will scour the town for every mother's son of us. Of courseyou have been under surveillance, and it's likely he'll try to bag youwith the rest of us. It was a great piece of foolishness me forgettingabout the line of the Chihuahua Northern and its telegraph. But there'sa chance Chaves has forgot, too. Anyway, get back as soon as you can;after we're hidden, it will be like looking for a needle in a haystackto put his fat finger on us."
Bucky went singing up the stairway of the hotel to his room. He was keento get back to his little friend after the hazards of the night, eagerto see the brown eyes light up with joy at sight of him and to hear thesoft voice with the trailing inflection drawl out its shy questions. Sohe took the stairs three at a time, with a song on his lips and in hisheart.
"'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone My dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen! 'Tis you shall have the golden throne, 'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone My dark Rosaleen!"
O'Connor, somewhat out of breath, was humming the last line when hepassed through the gypsy apartments and opened his own door, to meet oneof the surprises of his life. Yet he finished the verse, though he waslooking down the barrels of two revolvers in the hands of a pair oftroopers, and though Lieutenant Chaves, very much at his ease, sat onthe table dangling his feet.
Bucky's sardonic laughter rang out gayly. "I ce'tainly didn't expect tomeet you here, lieutenant. May I ask if you have wings?"
"Not exactly, senor. But it is quite possible you may have beforetwenty-four hours," came the swift retort.
"Interesting, if true," remarked the ranger carelessly, tossing hisgloves on the bed. "And may I ask to what I am indebted for the pleasureof a visit from you?"
"I am returning your call, sir, and at the very earliest opportunity.I assure you that I have been in the city less than ten minutes, Senorwhatever-you-choose-to-call-yourself. My promptness I leave you toadmire."
"Oh, you're prompt enough, lieutenant. I noticed that when you handedover your gun to me so lamblike." He laughed it out flippantly,buoyantly, though it was on his mind to wonder whether the cholericlittle officer might not kill him out of hand for it.
But Chaves merely folded his arms and looked sternly at the Americanwith a manner very theatrical. "Miguel, disarm the prisoner," heordered.
"So I'm a prisoner," mused Bucky aloud. "And whyfor, lieutenant?"
"Stirring up insurrection against the government. The prisoner will nottalk," decreed his captor, a frowning gaze attempting to quell him.
But here the popinjay officer reckoned without his host, for thatgentleman had the most indomitable eyes in Arizona. It was not necessaryfor him to stiffen his will to meet the other's attack. His manner wasstill lazy, his gaze almost insolent in its indolence, but somewhere inthe blue eyes was that which told Chaves he was his master. The Mexicanmight impotently rebel--and did; he might feed his vanity with theswiftness of his revenge, but in his heart he knew that the momentwas not his, after all, or that it was his at least with no pleasureunalloyed.
"The prisoner will not talk," repeated Bucky, with drawling mockery."Sure he will, general. There's several things he's awful curiousto know. One of them is how you happen to be Johnnie-on-the-spot soopportune."
The lieutenant's dignity melted before his vanity. Having so excellent achance to sun the latter, he delivered himself of an oration. After all,silent contempt did not appear to be the best weapon to employ with thisimpudent fellow.
"Senor, no Chaves ever forgets an insult. Last night you, a commonAmerican, insulted me grossly--me, Lieutenant Ferdinand Chaves, me,of the bluest Castilian blood." He struck himself dramatically on thebreast. "I submit, senor, but I vow revenge. I promised myself to spiton you, to spit on your Stars and Stripes, the flag of a nation of dirtytraders. Ha! I do so now in spirit. The hour I have longed for is come."
Bucky took one step forward. His eyes had grown opaque and flinty. "Takecare, you cur."
Swiftly Chaves hurried on without pressing the point. He had a propheticvision of his neck i
n the vise grip of those brown, sinewy hands, and,though his men would afterward kill the man, small good would he getfrom that if the life were already squeezed out of him.
"And so what do I do? I think, and having thought I act with theswiftness of a Chaves. How? I ride across country. I seize a hand car.My men pump me to town on the roadbed of the Northern. I telephone tothe hotels and find where Americans are staying. Then I come here likethe wind, arrest your friend, and send him to prison, arrest you alsoand send you to the gallows."
"That's real kind of you, general," replied Bucky, in irony sportive."But you really are putting yourself out too much for me. I reckon I'llnot trouble you to go so far. By the way, did I understand you to sayyou had arrested a friend of mine?"
Indifferently he flung out the question, if his voice were index of hisfeeling, but his heart was pumping faster than it normally ought.
"He is in prison, where you will shortly join him. Soldiers, to thecommandant with your captive."
If Bucky had had any idea of attempting escape, he now abandoned it atonce. The place of all places where he most ardently desired to beat that moment was in the prison with his little comrade. His desiremarched with that of Chaves so far, and the latter could not hurry himthere too fast to suit him.
One feature of the situation made him chuckle, and that was this: Thefiery lieutenant, intent first of all on his revenge, had given firstthought to the capture of the man who had made mincemeat of his vanityand rendered him a possible subject of ridicule to his fellow officers.So eager had he been to accomplish this that he had failed as yet tonotify his superiors of what had happened, with the result that thecaptured guns had been safely smuggled in and hidden. Bucky thought hecould trust O'Halloran to see that he did not stay long behind barsand bolts, unless indeed the game went against that sanguine and mostcheerful plotter. In which event--well, that was a contingency thatwould certainly prove embarrassing to the ranger. It might indeed turnout to be a good deal more than embarrassing in the end. The thingthat he had done would bear a plain name if the Megales faction won theday--and the punishment for it would be easy to guess. But it was not ofhimself that O'Connor was thinking. He had been in tight places beforeand squeezed safely out. But his little friend, the one he loved betterthan his life, must somehow be extricated, no matter how the cards fell.
The ranger was taken at once before General Carlo, the ranking armyofficer at Chihuahua, and, after a sharp preliminary examination, wascommitted to prison. The impression that O'Connor got of Carlo was nota reassuring one. The man was a military despot, apparently, and astickler for discipline. He had a hanging face, and, in the Yaqui war,had won the nickname of "the butcher" for his merciless treatment ofcaptured natives. If Bucky were to get the same short shrift as theydid--and he began to suspect as much when his trial was set for the sameday before a military tribunal--it was time for him to be setting whatfew worldly affairs he had in order. Technically, Megales had a legalright to have him put to death and the impression lingered with Buckythat the sly old governor would be likely to do that very thing andlater be full of profuse regrets to the United States Government thatinadvertently a citizen of the great republic had been punished bymistake.
Bucky was registered and receipted for at the prison office, after whichhe was conducted to his cell. The corridors dripped as he followed underground the guide who led the way with a flickering lantern. It wasa gruesome place to contemplate as a permanent abode. But the youngAmerican knew that his stay here would be short, whether the terminationof it were liberty or the gallows.
Reaching the end of a narrow, crooked corridor that sloped downward, theturnkey unlocked a ponderous iron door with a huge key, and one of theguards following at Bucky's heels, pushed him forward. He fell down twoor three steps and came to a sprawling heap on the floor of the cell.
From the top of the steps came a derisive laugh as the door swung to andleft him in utter darkness.
Stiffly the ranger got to his knees and was about to rise when a soundstopped him. Something was panting in deep breaths at the other side ofthe cell. A shiver of terror went goose-quilling down O'Connor's back.Had they locked him up with some wild beast, to be torn to pieces? Orwas this the ghost of some previous occupant? In such blackness of gloomit was easy to believe, or, at least, to imagine impossible conceptionsthat the light of day would have scattered in an instant. He wasafraid--afraid to the marrow.
And then out of the darkness came a small, trembling voice: "Are you aprisoner, too, sir?"
Bucky wanted to shout aloud his relief--and his delight. The sheerjoy of his laughter told him how badly he had been frightened. Thatvoice--were he sunk in twice as deep and dark an inferno--he would knowit among a thousand. He groped his way forward toward it.
"Oh, little pardner, I'm plumb tickled to death you ain't a ghost," helaughed.
"It is--Bucky?" The question joyfully answered itself.
"Right guess. Bucky it is."
He had hold of her hands by this time, was trying to peer down into thehappy-brown eyes he knew were scanning him. "I can't see you yet, CurlyHaid, but it's sure you, I reckon. I'll have to pass my hand over yourface the way a blind man does," he laughed, and, greatly daring, hefollowed his own suggestion, and let his fingers wander across hercrisp, thick hair, down her soft, warm cheeks, and over the saucy noseand laughing mouth he had often longed to kiss.
Presently she drew away shyly, but the lilt of happiness in her voicetold him she was not offended. "I can see you, Bucky." The last wordcame as usual, with that sweet, hesitating, upward inflection that madeher familiarity wholly intoxicating, even while the comradeship ofit left room for an interpretation either of gay mockery or somethingdeeper. "Yes, I can see you. That's because I have been here longer andam more used to the darkness. I think I've been here about a year." Hefelt her shudder. "You don't know how glad I am to see you."
"No gladder than I am to feel you," he answered gayly. "It's worth theprice of admission to find you here, girl o'mine."
He had forgotten the pretense that still lay between them, so far aswords went when they had last parted. Nor did it yet occur to himthat he had swept aside the convention of her being a boy. But she wasvividly aware of it, and aware, too, of the demand his last words hadmade for a recognition of the relationship that existed in feelingbetween them.
"I knew you knew I was a girl," she murmured.
"You knew more than that," he challenged joyfully.
But, in woman's way, she ignored his frontal attack. He was going at tooimpetuous a speed for her reluctance. "How long have you known that Iwasn't a boy--not from the first, surely?"
"I don't know why I didn't, but I didn't. I was sure locoed," heconfessed. "It was when you came out dressed as a gypsy that I knew.That explained to me a heap of things I never had understood beforeabout you."
"It explained, I suppose, why I never had licked the stuffing out of anyother kid, and why you did not get very far in making a man out of me asyou promised," she mocked.
"Yes, and it explained how you happened to say you were eighteen. Bymistake you let the truth slip out. Course I wouldn't believe it."
"I remember you didn't. I think you conveyed the impression to mediplomatically that you had doubts."
"I said it was a lie," he laughed. "I sure do owe you a heap ofapologies for being so plumb dogmatic when you knew best. You'll have tosit down on me hard once in a while, or there won't be any living withme."
Blushingly she did some more ignoring. "That was the first time youthreatened to give me a whipping," she recalled aloud.
"My goodness! Did I ever talk so foolish?"
"You did, and meant it."
"But somehow I never did it. I wonder why I didn't."
"Perhaps I was so frail you were afraid you would break me."
"No, that wasn't it. In the back of my haid somewhere there was aninstinct that said: 'Bucky, you chump, if you don't keep your hands offthis kid you'll be right sorry all your life.'
Not being given to manyideas, I paid a heap of respect to that one."
"Well, it's too bad, for I probably needed that whipping, and now you'llnever be able to give it to me."
"I shan't ever want to now."
Saucily her merry eyes shot him from under the long lashes. "I'm not sosure of that. Girls can be mighty aggravating."
"That's the way girls are meant to be, I expect," he laughed. "Butfifteen-year-old boys have to be herded back into line. There's adifference."
She rescued her hands from him and led the way to a bench that servedfor a seat. "Sit down here, sir. There are one or two things that I haveto explain." She sat down beside him at the farther end of the bench.
"This light is so dim, I can't see you away over there," he pleaded,moving closer.
"You don't need to see me. You can hear me, can't you?"
"I reckon."
She seemed to find a difficulty in beginning, even though the darknesshelped her by making it impossible for him to see her embarrassment.Presently he chuckled softly. "No, ma'am, I can't even hear you. Ifyou're talking, I'll have to come closer."
"If you do, I'll get up. I want you to be really earnest."
"I never was more earnest in my life, Curly."
"Please, Bucky? It isn't easy to say it, and you mustn't make itharder."
"Do you have to say it, pardner?" he asked, more seriously.
"Yes, I have to say it." And swiftly she blurted it out. "Why do yousuppose I came with you to Mexico?"
"I don't know." He grappled with her suggestion for a moment. "Isuppose--you said it was because you were afraid of Hardman."
"Well, I wasn't. At least, I wasn't afraid that much. I knew that Iwould have been quite safe next time with the Mackenzies at the ranch."
"Then why was it?"
"You can't think of any reason?" She leaned forward and looked directlyinto his eyes--eyes as honest and as blue as an Arizona sky.
But he stood unconvicted--nay, acquitted. The one reason she had dreadedhe might offer to himself had evidently never entered his head. Whateverguesses he might have made on the subject, he was plainly guiltless ofthinking she might have come with him because she was in love with him.
"No, I can't think of any other reason, if the one you gave isn't theright one."
"Quite sure?"
"Quite sure, pardner."
"Think! Why did you come to Chihuahua?"
"To run down Wolf Leroy's gang and to get Dave Henderson out of prison."
"Perhaps there is a reason why I should want him out of prison, a betterreason than you could possibly have."
"I don't savvy it. How can there be? You don't know him, do you? He'sbeen in prison almost ever since you were born." And on top of his laststatement Bucky's eyes began to open with a new light. "Good heavens! Itcan't be possible. You're not Webb Mackenzie's little girl, are you?"
She did not answer him in words, but from her neck she slipped a chainand handed it to him. On the chain hung a locket.
The ranger struck a match and examined the trinket. "It's the verymissing locket. See! Here's the other one. Compare them together." Hetouched the spring and it opened, but the match was burned out and hehad to light another. "Here's the mine map that has been lost all theseyears. How did you get this? Have you always had it? And how long haveyou known that you were Frances Mackenzie?"
His questions tumbled out one upon another in his excitement.
She laughed, answering him categorically. "I don't know, for sure. Yes,at least a great many years. Less than a week."
"But--I don't understand--"
"And won't until you give me a chance to do some of the talking," sheinterrupted dryly.
"That's right. I reckon I am getting off left foot first. It's yourpowwow now," he conceded.
"So long as I can remember exactly I have always lived with the manHardman and his wife. But before that I can vaguely recall somethingdifferent. It has always seemed like a kind of fairyland, for I was avery little tot then. But one of the things I seem to remember was asweet, kind-eyed mother and a big, laughing father. Then, too, therewere horses and lots of cows. That is about all, except that the chainaround my neck seemed to have some connection with my early life. That'swhy I always kept it very carefully, and, after one of the locketsbroke, I still kept it and the funny-looking paper inside of it."
"I don't understand why Hardman didn't take the paper," he interrupted.
"I suppose he did, and when he discovered that it held only half thesecret of the mine he probably put it back in the locket. I see you havethe other part."
"It was lost at the place where the robbers waited to hold up the T. P.Limited. Probably you lost it first and one of the robbers found it."
"Probably," she said, in a queer voice.
"What was the first clue your father had had for many years about hislittle girl. He happened to be at Aravaipa the day you and I first met.I guess he took a fancy to me, for he asked me to take this case up forhim and see if I couldn't locate you. I ran Hardman down and made himtell me the whole story. But he lied about some of it, for he told meyou were dead."
"He is a born liar," the girl commented. "Well, to get on with my story.Anderson, or Hardman, as he now calls himself, except when he uses hisstage name of Cavallado, went into the show business and took me withhim. When I was a little bit of a girl he used to use me for all sortsof things, such as a target for his knife throwing and to sell medicineto the audience. Lots of people would buy because I was such a morsel ofa creature, and I suppose he found me a drawing card. We moved all overthe country for years. I hated the life. But what could I do?"
"You poor little lamb," murmured the man. "And when did you find out whoyou were?"
"I heard you talking to him the night you took him back to Epitaph, andthen I began to piece things together. You remember you went over thewhole story with him again just before we reached the town."
"And you knew it was you I was talking about?"
"I didn't know. But when you mentioned the locket and the map, I knew.Then it seemed to me that since this man Henderson had lost so manyyears of his life trying to save me I must do something for him. So Iasked you to take me with you. I had been a boy so long I didn't thinkyou would know the difference, and you did not. If I hadn't dressed as agirl that time you would not know yet."
"Maybe, and maybe not," he smiled. "Point is, I do know, and it makes aheap of difference to me."
"Yes, I know," she said hurriedly. "I'm more trouble now."
"That ain't it," he was beginning, when a thought brought him up short.As the daughter of Webb Mackenzie this girl was no longer a pennilessoutcast, but the heiress of one-half interest in the big Rocking ChairRanch, with its fifteen thousand head of cattle. As the first he hada perfect right to love her and to ask her to marry him, but as thelatter--well, that was quite a different affair. He had not a cent tobless himself with outside of his little ranch and his salary, and,though he might not question his own motives under such circumstances,there would be plenty who would question them for him. He was anindependent young man as one could find in a long day's ride, and hispride rose up to padlock his lips.
She looked across at him in shy surprise, for all the eagerness hadin an instant been sponged from his face. With a hard, impassivecountenance he dropped the hand he had seized and turned away.
"You were saying--" she suggested.
"I reckon I've forgot what it was. It doesn't matter, anyhow."
She was hurt, and deeply. It was all very well for her to try her littlewiles to delay him, but in her heart she longed to hear the words hehad been about to say. It had been very sweet to know that this brown,handsome son of Arizona loved her, very restful to know that for thefirst time in her life she could trustfully let her weakness lean onthe strength of another. And, more than either, though she sometimessmilingly pretended to deny it to herself, was the ultimate fact thatshe loved him. His voice was music to her, his presence joy. He brought
with him sunshine, and peace, and happiness.
He was always so reliable, so little the victim of his moods. What couldhave come over him now to change him in that swift instant? Was she toblame? Had she unknowingly been at fault? Or was there something in herstory that had chilled him? It was characteristic of her that it washerself she doubted and not him; that it never occurred to her that herhero had feet of clay like other men.
She felt her heart begin to swell, and choked back a sob. It wrung himto hear the little breath catch, but he was a man, strong-willed andresolute. Though he dug his finger nails into his palms till the fleshwas cut he would not give way to his desire.
"You're not angry at me--Bucky?" she asked softly.
"No, I'm not angry at you." His voice was cold because he dared nottrust himself to let his tenderness creep into it.
"I haven't done anything that I ought not to? Perhaps you think itwasn't--wasn't nice to--to come here with you."
"I don't think anything of the kind," his hard voice answered. "I thinkyou're a prince, if you want to know."
She smiled a little wanly, trying to coax him back into friendliness."Then if I'm a prince you must be a princess," she teased.
"I meant a prince of good fellows."
"Oh!" She could be stiff, too, if it came to that.
And at this inopportune moment the key turned harshly and the door swungopen.
Bucky O'Connor: A Tale of the Unfenced Border Page 11