by Helen Bagg
CHAPTER XIII
THE WAGON
Herrick stopped before they had gone a dozen yards from the house.
"Go on and find the women," he said, curtly. "I have something to dobefore they come."
"Something----" Scott stared at the little man uncomprehendingly.
"So. Do you want them to see those ugly bodies?" he pointed to the twodead Yaquis, stretched ghastly and plain in the moonlight. "I shall pullthem into the shadow of the bushes."
"Well, he's nervy for a piano player, ain't he?" murmured Scott, as he andHard turned the corner of the house.
"I think, myself, that there's a lot of rot talked about the artistictemperament," replied Hard, drily. "The war showed us that poets couldfight as courageously as plumbers, and I've always thought that when yougot the real unadulterated article in artistic temperament, you usuallygot with it a distinctly cruel streak. I believe that you and I hatedkilling those Indians a lot more than Herrick did, though he'll probablythrow a nervous chill over it after a while and compose a piece aboutit."
"Well, maybe so," assented Scott. "He's the only artistic chap I ever gotreal close to and I don't mind admitting he's mighty queer--but he ain'tyellow. I'll say that for him after to-night."
They were passing a clump of bushes as he spoke and two dark figuresstarted forth. Scott instinctively put his hand on his gun.
"Oh," gasped the shorter figure, "what has happened? Are you shot? Who isrunning away--you or they?" She seized Scott's wrists with a clutchinghold.
Scott laughed. "That's how you obey orders, is it? Where are the horses?"
"I don't know. We stayed right here," faltered Polly. "I want to know ifyou're hurt!"
"No, not if I know it, and I usually recognize bullets when they hit me."
"What happened?" insisted the other woman. "Have they gone?"
"They're fighting somebody over in the hills--we don't know who it is,"replied Hard. "Probably Angel Gonzales. These fellows were evidently anadvance guard."
"We ought to get out of here before they come back," said Scott. "Youcan't tell how long that will last--and whoever licks, we don't want to behanging around here."
"They'll burn the place, I suppose," said Mrs. Conrad, wearily. "May I goback and get some things?"
Scott hesitated. "I think we ought to get away," he said. "But one of uswill have to go back to get Herrick and the saddles--if you can hurry--gowith her, Hard, and I'll go after the horses."
"Saddles?" Polly spoke suddenly. "Weren't they in the barn?"
"No; luckily I put them in the wagon when I was tinkering with it," saidScott. "We've only two horses, you know, and I want you women to ridethem."
"By--by ourselves?" Mrs. Conrad's usually cheerful voice sounded a littlefrightened. "I couldn't find that trail in the dark; I'm not Li Yow, youknow."
"The horses will take you."
"Oh, please let's keep together!" pleaded Polly. "Why can't we all go inthe wagon the way you planned?"
"Well, for one reason, the harness was in the barn and was burned," saidScott, with some irritation.
"Herrick has a lot of old junk of that sort in his storeroom," volunteeredHard. "I believe you could patch up one. Those sounds have died away--thefight's over," he added. "Let's go back and have a look, and see whatHerrick says."
There was a pause and the two men consulted anxiously together. It wasvery still--not a sound from the direction of the hills. It really didlook as though the attack had been followed by flight. Scott, against whathe afterward called his better judgment, but what was really only adisinclination to change his mind, gave in, and the two men walked onahead.
"If we're going in the wagon, Hard, we've got to go by the road, and Idon't stir a step on that road till I know whether this deviltry is overfor the night or not. We'll camp down here for a few hours, and start bydaybreak."
"Why not? The horses need the rest and so do we. I say camp, by allmeans."
Everything seemed harmless at the ranch house. Herrick, who had performedhis unpleasant task, was studying the extent of the damage, which seemedto be confined to broken windows. When consulted, he approved of the ideaof an early morning start in the wagon and believed that out of the oddsand ends of harness in the storeroom something could be patched up andmade to do.
"All right then." Scott's voice was emphatic. "I'll fix the wagon firstthing in the morning. And now, let's all turn in and catch a few winksbefore daybreak."
"I don't believe I'll sleep a minute," said Polly, as the two women wereleft alone in the room which Clara Conrad had been occupying. "I'll throwmy cloak around me and lie down on the couch. I feel awfully strung up,don't you?"
"Yes," said the older woman. "But I'm going to try to sleep, and so mustyou."
As a matter of fact, Clara did not expect to sleep. The meeting with HenryHard had brought up old memories--memories both happy and sad. He hadchanged little, the tall, thin, sandy-haired man. It was good, oh so good,to have something back again from the old life! As she closed her eyes andput away from her the events of the day, old scenes came back with aclearness that they had not worn for many years. The old houses; thequiet, cultured, elderly men and women, the gayer young ones, herself andHard among them; the dinners, dances, concerts; the summer days on thewater, and the rides--all came back as though they had been but yesterday,and all on account of this one man who had played so important a part inthem.
She realized, as she lay there in the darkness, that without putting thethought clearly, she had had deeply imbedded in her mind the idea that shewould see him or hear something about him when she went back to Boston.She was not in love with him, but she had never forgotten him and shewould never feel about him as she did about so many of the others who hadplayed parts in her old life. Soothed by the thought, she drifted into acalm and restful sleep.
Polly, however, was too unskilled in the management of her thoughts to beable to relax at will. She lay quietly, so as not to disturb the otherwoman, but her mind was whirling. She lived again each event of the pasttwo days; the raid on the mine, the ride with Pachuca, his escape, thetrip to Casa Grande, and the growing companionship with Scott--the lookshe had surprised in his eyes only an hour ago when she had stood with himon the veranda, looking at the distant mountains; and then the dreadfulminutes spent behind the bushes, listening to the guns of the attackingYaquis.
"And I thought a golf tournament was exciting!" she said, smiling in thedark. Softly she rose and crept to the window. It was very beautiful outthere; mountains, hills, bushes, all a study in absolute stillness. Theonly sound that came to her ears was the howl of a wolf in the distance.
"Coming in at just the right moment," smiled the girl. "What a country foreffects! Oh dear, I believe I could sleep out there in the hammock if itwasn't too chilly."
Taking the couch cover over her arm she crept softly out of the door andout on to the veranda where the hammock swayed gently in the breeze. Pollyadjusted herself in it with care; a fall would bring all the occupants ofthe house out with a bound.
"First they'd bound and then they'd fuss," she said to herself. "I don'twant to be fussed at, I just want to snatch a few winks out under thisgorgeous sky. I don't understand how when skies and stars and mountainsare all laid out for them, artists want to do the red and green futuristhorrors that they love so. Now, what's that noise?"
A queer kind of noise it was. Polly sat up quite suddenly. It seemed tocome from behind a clump of bushes some distance to the right. It was apounding, scraping sort of noise, not very loud, but distinctlydisconcerting. You got the impression that whoever was doing it was tryingnot to make any more noise than he could help. Polly's heart beat rapidly.She must call one of the men. She rose unsteadily and at the same momentthe noise stopped. A tall figure stepped out from behind the bushes andcame toward the house.
Polly stepped back into the shadow of the porch. She was about to diveinto the open window when another sound caught her ear. The man waswhistling softly--whis
tling the Slumber Motif from Die Walkuere! Pollylaughed aloud. She had taken Henry Hard for a bandit.
"Hello, what are you doing up on deck?" he said, whimsically. "I thoughtwe'd sent the passengers below and battened down the hatches."
"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here. What are you doing with that pick?Was it you I heard digging?"
"Scott and me. I came up for a match."
"But what can you be digging for at this time of night? Not buriedtreasure?" eagerly.
"My dear child, I hate to disappoint you, knowing your feelings on thesubject. If you must know, we killed a couple of Yaquis and we're buryingthem on what we'd call at home 'the lawn.' It's rather awful, but we can'thelp it."
"Killed them!" Polly's eyes were wide with horror.
"It's a rotten business, if you ask me, both killing and burying. I'm justbeginning to form a faint idea of the sort of thing the youngsters we sentabroad had to face. I was keeping up my courage by whistling. Won't you goto bed like a nice girl?"
"No. I couldn't stand it in there in the dark. It doesn't seem so bad outhere. Go on--don't bother about me."
After Hard had got his match and joined Scott again behind the bushes,Polly sat and listened to the ominous sounds, her pleasant reflectionsquite at an end.
"That's how it always goes. You begin to feel comfortable and pleased withyour philosophy and yourself and then reality comes along and swats youone in the eye. I will not think of those Indians! I'll think of Bob andEmma. Wonder what kind of a nurse Emma makes? Not that she'll have achance to try, poor lamb. Those trained ones will shoo her off and flirtwith Bob themselves."
It was some time before the two men finished their ugly job. Polly sawthem come out from behind the bushes and go into the house by the backdoor. She stretched herself sleepily--it was beginning to be a bit chilly,even when wrapped in a coat and a serape. Perhaps it would be wiser to goin. She folded the serape and started for the door, only to stop midway asScott came out.
"Oh," she said, "I thought you'd all gone to bed."
"And you know you ought to," said he. "I don't blame you for not wantingto. Those mountains get one, don't they?"
They were standing exactly where they had stood so short a time ago, butso much had happened since that it seemed hours gone by. It wasn't to beexpected, the girl thought, that they could go on from where they had leftoff. She looked up. He was staring at the mountains. She felt a ridiculousmixture of relief and disappointment.
"They get me," she answered. "I never knew I was so fond of mountains."
"It's the mystery of them. You have the feeling that things are going onin and about them that you don't know--that nobody'll ever know. Iremember the first time I climbed a big mountain--up in Colorado. When Iwas about three-quarters of the way up I looked down on one of thoselittle mountain lakes--just as blue as that ring of yours--set in thebrown of the mountain. It made me feel as if I'd struck gold. I couldn'tbelieve that anybody but the Indians and I had ever seen that lake."
Scott was leaning against the post of the veranda, still looking at themountains. Suddenly he turned.
"Little girl, I think you'd better be going in and getting a few hours ofsleep," he said. "Four o'clock comes along awfully early in the morning."
Polly said nothing. She picked up the serape again and turned to go. Thenshe came back again, holding out her hand.
"Mr. Scott, I haven't said a word to show that I'm grateful for what youdid to-night. You saved my life, didn't you?"
Scott took the hand and smiled down into the serious eyes.
"I wouldn't go that far," he said. "Those fellows who horned into ourfight did that, I reckon. I sure tried to, though, if you'd like to shakehands on that."
"You risked your own life, anyhow, so please don't spoil my story."
"Well, put it that I'll be delighted to save your life any time you say,even if I get my hide full of holes for doing it. How's that?"
"That's all right," agreed Polly, heartily. "You may call me at twentyminutes of four, if you please," and she disappeared into the house.
Scott stood a moment after she was gone, an odd little smile on his lips.
"I wonder if she'd care--or would it be another case of Joyce Henderson?"he said. "Well, serve me right for a fool if it was!" He kicked a stickout of his way as he made for the wagon. "What have you got to offer agirl, anyhow?" He took a pocket torch out and examined the wheel of thewagon. "I've seen better looking wheels and then again I've seen worse,"he decided, pessimistically. "If our luck holds we'll make it. Doggone it,being civilized makes an awful idiot of a man. I'm going to dream of thosepoor Yaquis we've just buried, sure as shoe leather."
Four o'clock does indeed come along early when you have not closed youreyes before midnight. It also comes along chilly and dark and generallyuncomfortable. The women were awakened by Hard, who had to knock loudly ontheir door in order to accomplish it. They tumbled to their feet andperformed the necessary dressing operations in the dark, except for acandle which Clara lighted cautiously.
"And to think that people once lived by candlelight!" murmured Polly,sleepily. "Were born, married, and finally died by it. Well, the race hascome up a peg, I'll say that for it."
Mrs. Conrad was ready first. She was very rapid, in a quiet, unhurriedfashion. In her corduroy skirt and jacket, she looked very girlish. Pollymentally took five years off her estimate of her new acquaintance's age.
"Awfully natural looking woman, too," she commented, silently. "Most ofthe pretty women I know at home are always doing things tothemselves--fussing over their looks; but she just seems to keep herselffresh and neat and let it go at that, and she manages to look young andhandsome. As for me, I'm a rag and I look it, but perhaps as there are notremendous beauties around, I'll pass."
She followed Mrs. Conrad into the kitchen, where she found her busy withHerrick over the breakfast. The pleasant odors of burning wood and boilingcoffee had already made themselves noticed. Scott, in a corner of thekitchen, was working over the harness which he was getting into acondition possible for use. He looked up and nodded as Polly entered.
"Your gentleman friend left a few things; we won't have to starve on theroad," he said, drily. "There's a side of bacon--wonder why he leftthat?"
"Perhaps he didn't see it," suggested Polly, sweetly.
"I guess that's the answer. There, I reckon that harness will take us asfar as Athens, if we have a bit of luck. If you'll bring out what you wantto take, Mrs. Conrad, we'll pack it in the wagon."
"I've only a couple of suitcases. My trunks went by rail to theborder--that is, they started."
"How about you, Herrick? Afraid we can't take the piano."
Herrick looked up in some surprise. "Me?" he said. "I am not going withyou, my friend."
"Not going with us? But, Victor, you can't stay here alone." Mrs. Conrad'svoice had real solicitude in it.
"Why not? Li will return and you shall send him first to Conejo to buyprovisions. When things settle down, my men will come back and we shall goto work again."
"You're going to stick by the ranch?" demanded Scott.
"It is my home. What else have I?" The little man's voice was sad.
"Well, maybe you're right," said Scott, after a moment. "The best way tohang on to property just now is to sit down on it. We'll send Li over toConejo with the wagon and he can load up. If you get into trouble,remember you've got friends in this country." And the two men shook handsheartily as Scott tramped off to the wagon.
Polly did not see the parting between the musician and Clara Conrad, butthe latter looked, when she came out of the house, as though she had beencrying, and the little man looked more pathetic than ever as he stoodalone in the doorway waving them good-bye.
"Do you think he ought to say there?" demanded Polly, as Scott helped herinto the wagon.
"No, I don't, but he's obstinate and you can't move him once he makes uphis mind. There's a lot of the woman in every artistic man, I believe,"grunted Scott, dis
gustedly.
A little later, with the two Athens horses hitched to the mountain wagon,the party started out, Hard driving. The road led out through the hillswhere the fighting had been only a few hours ago. There was no sign ofwhat had happened. It was a poor road, narrow, rough and little used.There were ruts in it and chuck-holes, turns and an occasional arroyo. Itwas rather ghostly, too, driving at this hour; the chill, early morningfeel of the air, the fading moon, the faint pinkness hanging over themountains suggesting the coming dawn.
"One thing you miss around here is the cattle," said Scott. "Up in NewMexico you'd be starting out this time in the morning and you'd see therange cattle looking at you, sort of surprised to see folks around soearly in the morning; some of 'em still lying down and napping. Aroundhere raising cattle hasn't been very popular the last few years--toohazardous."
"Miss Polly, I want you to notice that funny little house over there,"said Hard, pointing to his right.
"Where?"
Indeed, there was reason for the question. The little cabin had been builttightly against a hill, with the hill scooped out to make the back part. Acloser look revealed a burro standing on the roof beside the chimney.
"Well, that's the first time I ever saw a burro on a roof!" declaredPolly. "Who lives there?"
"A Mexican family named Soria," replied Hard. "I'll go over and see ifthey know anything about the fighting last night."
"You won't need to," said Scott. "Here comes the whole population."
So it seemed. There was an old woman--very old, very thin and very brown;a younger one, half a dozen youngsters, several dogs and finally theburro. The family were clad in every sort of decrepit garment. Pollythought she had rarely seen so pitiful an assemblage; and yet they did notlook particularly unhappy, except the younger woman, who hung back andseemed to have been crying. They had seen the wagon and had come out tofind out what was going on. The older woman came directly to the wagon,while the younger one stood a little way off, a baby in her arms, and theother children hanging around her. She was rather a pretty woman, or wouldhave been with half a chance. It is difficult to be pretty when your hairhangs in straggling locks, your too plump figure festoons itself aroundyou in bags, and your clothes look as though you had never had them offsince you first became acquainted with them. Poor things, they lead anawful life.
"I'll let you speak to her, Clara," Hard said, with a smile. "I think yourSpanish is in better working order than mine. Ask after the daughter'shusband; he's in the army and it may open the way for a littleinformation."
Mrs. Conrad spoke in rapid and soft-sounding Spanish to the old woman whostood listening, her wrinkled face set in the monotony of hopelessness.
"How beautifully she speaks Spanish!" thought Polly, enviously. "I don'tunderstand a word of it, but even I can tell the difference between hersand the kind that both the men speak."
"Good-morning, my friend." Clara's voice was cheerful and pleasant. "Howis the family?"
"Badly, senora, very badly. My son Manuel joined the army last night andwith him his wife and two little ones. Now we have no man in the house--weshall starve."
"But your daughter's husband?"
"Francisco was killed last week in a fight. The soldiers brought the news.Carlotta has four little ones now and no man."
"That is very bad. I am sorry. What soldiers do you mean?"
"Last night. The soldiers who came from the north."
"D'you mean that the crowd that was fighting up here in the hills weresoldiers?" broke in Scott, eagerly. "Federal soldiers?"
"No, no, the soldiers of the revolution--Sonora troops. They march southagainst Sinaloa." Carlotta had crept nearer and was taking part in theconversation.
"I don't get you. Who was doing the fighting?" demanded Scott.
The old woman burst into rapid speech, leaving Scott in the lurchimmediately. Clara came to his rescue.
"The poor old thing is more Indian than Mexican and she doesn't talk veryclearly," she said. "She says that the party which came along the roadlast night was a regiment of cavalry from up north. They saw the barnburning and thought that the bandits were on the march; so they startedover that way. They fell in with the stragglers of the Yaqui crowd andstarted to fight. As near as I can tell, each party seems to have thoughtthat the other was Angel Gonzales' band. The Yaquis had been rooted out oftheir village by Gonzales and were on the warpath, poor creatures.
"Fortunately, there were a lot of Yaquis in the troop and by the time thefellows who were trying to loot us came along they began to understand thesituation and the lot of them joined the troops. This old lady's son,Manuel, joined too, and his wife and babies went along. That explains whythey let us alone last night."
"It does," said Scott. "And it shows that Angel is around somewhere benton deviltry. Here, old lady, is something to buy chow for the babies for afew days--better luck to you!" He handed her some money and they droveaway amid loud thanks and happy smiles.
"What in the world do you mean by the wife and babies going, too?"demanded Polly, excitedly.
"Why, here in Mexico war is a family affair," replied Scott. "There's nosuch thing as the girl I left behind me. The Missus goes along and so dothe youngsters. She does most of the foraging for food on the march."
"The Mexican believes in equality of the sexes," said Hard. "He believesthat the woman has just as much right to do manual labor, to provide aliving for the family, to fight, and to perform all the other unpleasantfunctions of living as he has. If there are not enough to go around, hegenerously allows her to do his share."
"It's great to be a wife in Mexico," observed Scott, drily. "Think ofthat, Miss Polly, next time you meet a fascinating Spaniard."
"Don't be disagreeable," said Mrs. Conrad, "and don't tell fibs. It's thewomen of the lower classes who have the hard time down here just as theydo in every country."
"Except the U. S. A.," replied Scott, stoutly. "A woman may have hard luckin our country because she's sick or poor or married to a no-account; butnot because the general opinion of the female sex is so darned low thatany loafer who comes along feels that he's got a right to treat her as hepleases."
"How you like to argue every point, don't you?" observed Polly. "Were youborn like that or did it grow on you? Oh!"
The "oh" was literally jolted out of her. Turning rather a sudden curve ata pretty good clip, the wagon slipped over the edge of a chuck-hole alittle deeper than the ordinary. Happening as it did in just the rightplace, it caught the weakened wheel and wrenched it off as neatly and assuddenly as a dentist wrenches a tooth out of the jaw of an unwillingpatient.
There was a crash and a jar as the wagon sank on its side, and thefrightened horses struggling to pull the dragging load, snapped theharness where Scott had patched it. The occupants were jumbled into thebottom of the wagon, except Hard, who was pitched out into the road. Scottwas out in a minute and at the horses' heads; the women righted themselvesjust in time to see Hard pull himself to his feet, staggering as he didso.
"Hurt, Henry?" asked Scott, who was trying to calm the horses.
"No, just bent my knee under me."
"Here, hold these critturs while I pull the ladies out!"
"We're all right--that is, I'm all right. Look after Mrs. Conrad," saidPolly, as Scott lifted her from the debris. "What was it? The wheel?"
Mrs. Conrad gladly availed herself of Scott's ready arm. "What did Henrydo?" she said. By this time, Scott was loosing the horses from the harnessand Hard had hobbled over to the edge of the road, where he sat down.
"It's my bad knee," he explained. "I did this once, only much worse,playing football in college. Fell, you know, with it doubled under me. Iwas laid up for six months."
"Oh, Henry!"
"Oh, I shan't be this time. It always lames me for a few hours, though,when I do anything to it. Knees are great chaps for bearing malice."
"Well, you certainly shan't walk to Athens," said Polly, with decision."You must ride one horse and Mrs.
Conrad the other, while Mr. Scott and Iwalk. I'd love to!"
"Dear child, you couldn't," exclaimed Clara. "Could you ride, Henry, doyou think? You and Polly could ride to Athens and send somebody back forus with the other wagon."
"I could," said Hard, "but I'd rather not. I'd like to rest it for acouple of hours if I could. Scott, suppose you walk and let them ride andleave me here. There's a shady-looking spot over in those cottonwoods andI'll just rest there till I'm able to hobble back to the Soria place. Youcan send for me there."
"There's a trail just above here that goes over and strikes the one wecame on about eight miles from Athens," said Scott, doubtfully. "I'venever traveled it, but Gomez told me about it last year. Rough, he said,but navigable. I guess that's what we'd better do, Hard, leave you hereand I'll walk."
"How far is it?" asked Mrs. Conrad.
"Oh, twenty miles, maybe. It cuts off a good deal."
"You shan't walk twenty miles on a rough trail, my dear man, if I canprevent it," said Clara, firmly. "You and Polly must ride, and I'll stayhere with Henry. Now, please! I'm at home in this country and I'm notafraid." There was a pause, then Scott said:
"I guess she's right, Hard. They don't either of 'em ride well enough totackle a strange trail alone, and if I walk it will delay sending back foryou. One of us had better ride the trail with Polly, while the other staysat Soria's with Mrs. Conrad."
After a little more discussion it was decided that Scott and Polly shouldgo, while the other two returned, after Hard had rested a bit, to theSoria place. Scott moved the suitcases which Clara had brought over to thelittle nook made by the cottonwoods, where they could be left untilsomeone came with the Athens wagon, and helped Hard to hobble over there.Then, feeling rather as though they had deserted their friends, and yetnot knowing what else to do, Scott and Polly rode away.