CHAPTER 13. BUCKY'S FIRST-RATE REASONS
How long Frances Mackenzie gave herself up to despair she never knew,but when at last she resolutely took herself in hand it seemed hourslater. "Bucky told me to be brave, he told me not to lose my nerve," sherepeated to herself over and over again, drawing comfort from the memoryof his warm, vibrant voice. "He said he would come back, and he hatesa liar. So, of course, he will come." With such argument she tried toallay her wild fears.
But on top of all her reassurances would come a swift, blinding visionof gallant Bucky being led to his death that crumpled her courage as ahammer might an empty egg shell. What was the use of her pretending allwas well when at that very moment they might be murdering him? Then inher agony she would pace up and down, wringing her hands, or would beatthem on the stone walls till the soft flesh was bruised and bleeding.
It was in the reaction, after one of these paroxysms of despair, thatin her groping for an anchor to make fast her courage she thought of hisletter.
"He said in three hours I was to read it if he didn't come back. It mustbe more than three hours now," she said aloud to herself, and knew afresh dread at his prolonged absence beyond the limit he had set.
In point of fact, he had been gone less than three-quarters of an hour,but in each one of them she had lived a lifetime of pain and died manydeaths.
By snatches she read her letter, a sentence or a fragment of a sentenceat a time as the light served. Luckily he had left a case nearly full ofmatches, and one after another of them dropped, charred and burned out,before she had finished reading. After she had read it, her first loveletter, she must needs go over it again, to learn by heart the sweetphrases in which he had wooed her. It was a commonplace note enough, farmore neutral than the strong, virile writer who had lacked the cunningto transmit his feeling to ink and paper. But, after all, it was fromhim, and it told the divine message, however haltingly. No wonder sheburned her little finger tips from the flame of the matches creepingnearer unheeded. No wonder she pressed it to her lips in the darknessand dreamed her happy dream in those few moments when she was lost inher love before cruel realities pressed home on her again.
"I told you, Little Curly Haid, that I had first-rate reasons for notwanting to be killed by these Mexicans. So I have, the best reasonsgoing. But they are not ripe to tell you, and so I write them.
"I guessed your secret, little pardner, right away when I seen you in agirl's outfit. If I hadn't been blind as a bat I would have guessed itlong since, for all the time my feelings were telling me mighty loudthat you were the lovingest little kid Bucky had ever come across.
"I'll not leave you to guess my secret the way you did me yours, dearCurly, but right prompt I'll set down adore (with one D) and say you hitthe bull's-eye that time without expecting to. But if I was saying it Iwould not use any French words sweetheart, but plain American. And theword would be l-o-v-e, without any D's. Now you have got the straightof it, my dear. I love you--love you--love you, from the crown of thatcurly hear to the soles of your little feet. What's more, you have gotto love me, too, since I am,
"Your future husband,
"BUCKY O CONNOR.
"P. S.--And now, Curly, you know my first-rate reasons for not meaningto get shot up by any of these Mexican fellows."
So the letter ran, and it went to her heart directly as rain to thethirsty roots of flowers. He loved her. Whatever happened, she wouldalways have that comfort. They might kill him, but they could not takeaway that. The words of an old Scotch song that Mrs. Mackenzie sang cameback to her:
"The span o' life's nae large eneugh, Nor deep enough the sea, Nor braid eneugh this weary warld, To part my love frae me."
No, they could not part their hearts in this world or the next, andwith this sad comfort she flung herself on the rough bed and sobbed. Shewould grieve still, but the wildness of her grief and despair was gone,scattered by the knowledge that however their troubles eventuated theywere now one in heart.
She was roused after a long time by the sound of the huge key gratingin the lock. Through the opened door a figure descended, and by anilluminating swing of the turnkey's lantern she saw that it was Bucky.Next moment the door had closed and they were in each other's arms.Bucky's stubborn pride, the remembrance of the riches which of a suddenhad transformed his little partner into an heiress and set a high wallof separation between them, these were swept clean away on a great waveof love which took Bucky off his feet and left him breathless.
"I had almost given you up," she cried joyfully.
Again he passed his hand across her face. "You've been crying, littlepardner. Were you crying on account of me?"
"On account of myself, because I was afraid I had lost you. Oh, Bucky,isn't it too good to be true?"
The ranger smiled, remembering that he had about fourteen hours to live,if the Megales faction triumphed. "Good! I should think it is. Bully!I've been famished to see Curly Haid again."
"And to know that everything is going to come out all right and that welove each other."
"That's right good hearing and most ce'tainly true on my side of it. Buthow do you happen to know it so sure?" he laughed gayly.
"Why, your letter, Bucky. It was the dearest letter. I love it."
"But you weren't to read it for three hours," he pretended to reprove,holding her at arm's length to laugh at her.
"Wasn't it three hours? It seemed ever so much longer."
"You little rogue, you didn't play fair." And to punish her he drewher soft, supple body to him in a close embrace, and for the first timekissed the sweet mouth that yielded itself to him.
"Tell me all about what happened to you," she bade him playfully, afterspeech was again in order.
"Sure." He caught her hand to lead her to the bench and she wincedinvoluntarily.
"I burned it," she explained, adding, with a ripple of shy laughter:"When I was reading your letter. It doesn't really hurt, though."
But he had to see for himself and make much over the little blister thatthe flame of a match revealed to him. For they were both very much inlove, and, in consequence, bubbling over with the foolishness that isthe greatest inherited wisdom of the ages.
But though her lover had acquiesced so promptly to her demand for afull account of his adventures since leaving her, that young man hadno intention of offering an unexpurged edition of them. It was his hopethat O'Halloran would storm the prison during the night and effect arescue. If so, good; if not, there was no need of her knowing that forthem the new day would usher in fresh sorrow. So he gave her an accountof his trial and its details, told her how he had been convicted, andhow Colonel Onate had fought warily to get the sentence of executionpostponed in order to give their friends a chance to rescue them.
"When Megales remanded me to prison I wanted to let out an Arizona yell,Curly. It sure seemed too good to be true."
"But he may want the sentence carried out some time, if he changes hismind. Maybe in a week or two he may take a notion that--" She stopped,plainly sobered by the fear that the good news of his return might notbe final.
"We won't cross that bridge till we come to it. You don't suppose ourfriends are going to sit down and fold their hands, do you? Not if I'vegot Mike O'Halloran and young Valdez sized up right. Fur is going tobegin to fly pretty soon in this man's country. But it's up to us tohelp all we can, and I reckon we'll begin by taking a preliminary surveyof this wickiup."
Wickiup was distinctly good, since the word is used to apply to a frailIndian hut, and this cell was nothing less than a tomb built in thesolid rock by blowing out a chamber with dynamite and covering the frontwith a solid sheet of iron, into which a door fitted. It did not take avery long investigation to prove to Bucky that escape was impossible byany exit except the door, which meant the same thing as impossibleat all under present conditions. Yet he did not yield to this opinionwithout going over every inch of the walls many times to make sure thatno secret panel opened into a tunnel from the room.
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"I reckon they want to keep us, Curly. Mr. Megales has sure got us realsafe this time. I'd be plumb discouraged about breaking jail out of thiscage. It's ce'tainly us to stay hitched a while."
About dark tortillas and frijoles were brought down to them by thefacetious turnkey, who was accompanied as usual by two guards.
"Why don't my little birdies sing?" he asked, with a wink at thesoldiers. "One of them will not do any singing after daybreak to-morrow.Ho, ho, my larks! Tune up, tune up!"
"What do you mean about one not singing after daybreak?" asked the girl,with eyes dilating.
"What! Hasn't he told you? Senor the ranger is to be hanged at the dawnunless he finds his tongue for Governor Megales. Ho, ho! Our birdie mustspeak even if he doesn't sing." And with that as a parting shot the manclanged the door to after him and locked it.
"You never told me, Bucky. You have been trying to deceive me," shegroaned.
He shrugged his shoulders. "What was the use, girlie? I knew it wouldworry you, and do no good. Better let you sleep in peace, I thought."
"While you kept watch alone and waited through the long night. Oh,Bucky!" She crept close to him and put her arms around his neck,holding him tight, as if in the hope that she could keep him against theuntoward fate that was reaching for him. "Oh, Bucky, if I could only diefor you!"
"Don't give up, little friend. I don't. Somehow I'll slip out, and thenyou'll have to live for me and not die for me."
"What is it that the governor wants you to say that you won't?"
"Oh, he wants me to sell our friends. I told him to go climb a giantcactus."
"Of course you couldn't do that," she sighed regretfully.
He laughed. "Well, hardly, and call myself a white man."
"But--" She blanched at the alternative. "Oh, Bucky, we must dosomething. We must--we must."
"It ain't so bad as it looks, honey. You want to remember that MikeO'Halloran is on deck. What's the matter with him knocking out ahome run and bringing us both in. I put a heap of confidence in thatred-haided Irishman," he answered cheerfully.
"You say that just to--to give me courage. You don't really think he cando anything," she said wanly.
"That's just what I think, Curly. Some men have a way of getting thingsdone. When you look at O'Halloran you feel this, the same as you do whenyou look at Val Collins. Oh, he'll get us out all right. I've been inseveral tighter holes than this one." His mention of Collins suggested adiversion, and he took up a less distressing theme lightly. "Wonder whatVal is doing at this precise moment. I'll bet he's beginning to makethings warm for Wolf Leroy's bunch of miscreants. We'll have the robbersof the Limited behind the bars within two weeks now, or I miss myguess."
He had succeeded in diverting her attention better than he had dared tohope. Her big eyes fixed on his much as if he had raised for her someforgotten spectre.
"That's another thing I must tell you. I didn't think to before. But Iwant you to know all about me now. Don't think me bad, Bucky. I'm only agirl. I couldn't help myself," she pleaded.
"What is it you have done that is so awful?" he smiled, and went togather her into his arms.
She stayed him with a gesture of her hand. "No, not yet. Mebbe after youknow you won't want to. I was one of the robbers of the Limited."
"You--what!" he exclaimed, for once struck dumb with sheer amazement.
"Yes, Bucky. I expect you'll hate me now. What is it you called me--amiscreant? Well, that's what I am."
His arms slipped round her as she began to sob, and he gentled her tillshe could again speak. "Tell me all about it, little Curly." he said.
"I didn't go into it because I wanted to. My master made me. I don'tknow much about the others, except that I heard the names they calledeach other."
"Would you know them again if you saw them? But of course you would."
"Yes. But that's it, Bucky. I hated them all, and I was in mortal fearall the time. Still--I can't betray them. They thought I went in freelywith them--all but Hardman. It wouldn't be right for me to tell what Iknow. I've got to make you see that, dear."
"You'll not need to argue that with me, honey. I see it. You must keepquiet. Don't tell anybody else what you've told me."
"And will they put me in the penitentiary when the rest go there?"
"Not while Bucky O'Connor is alive and kicking," he told herconfidently.
But the form in which he had expressed his feeling was unfortunate.It brought them back to the menace of their situation. Neither of themcould tell how long he would be alive and kicking. She flung herselfinto his arms and wept till she could weep no more.
Bucky O'Connor: A Tale of the Unfenced Border Page 13