A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail

by John Dunloe Carteret

  Chapter XIII.

  On the morning following that Walpurga Night, Clifford came down to theWarlow breakfast-table with a weary, feverish air, that caused hisfather to say:--

  "My boy, you are far from well, I fear! This first day of harvest willbe quite hard on all of us; the day promises to be hot and sultry; soperhaps you had better rest in-doors. We might send Robbie over on theFlats, and secure you a substitute until you are stronger."

  At this poor Rob mumbled something about "a sixteen-year-old boy havingmore legs than a centipede;" a remark which he was careful to address tohis plate, however, while Clifford replied:--

  "Oh no, father; a cup of Maud's coffee will set me all right, I amcertain." Then, as he poured a quantity of yellow cream into the cup offragrant Rio, he added: "I was wakeful and did not rest well lastnight;" all of which we know was correct, if somewhat evasive.

  "Oh, Cliff! I had the most terrifying dreams last night, in which youwere, some way, always mixed up," said Maud wearily; "and although Ican't remember anything distinctly, I am so nervous that I shiver evenyet."

  "So, madam, you feed the hungry harvester on Cold Shudder, garnishedwith scrambled Night-mare," said Bob, with a glance of contempt at thebacon and early potatoes, of which even his ravenous appetite was nowweary. Then, as he broke an egg that was shockingly overdone, he addedspitefully: "Why did you _boil_ your door-knobs?"

  "I spent a weary, restless night, also," said Mrs. Warlow, ignoringRobbie's sarcasm. "I was so vaguely uneasy about you, Clifford, that Ishall object to your staying alone at the corral hereafter."

  "Alone, nothing!" said Rob. "I guess, by the way he goes fishing aboutof late, he will soon find some one to keep him company," he added, witha knowing giggle, at which Clifford tried to look unconcerned, whileMaud and her mother exchanged pleased and amused glances.

  After breakfast Clifford drove the header to the wheat-field, which soonpresented an animated and busy scene. The great machine was pushed byfour horses, which were guided by young Warlow, who stood behind on asmall platform, and steered the ponderous reaper with one hand, whilewith the other he held the lines. The elevator carried the heads ofwheat into a large wagon, which ran, barge-like, beside where a busyloader arranged the load, until, towering like a hay-stack, the wagonwould hold no more. Then it was driven away to the rick-yard by thecareful driver, being succeeded by another team with military precision.The flapping of the canvas elevator, and the rolling waves of wheat,rippled and tossed by the summer breeze, made a scene that recalled asail on the sea; all of which was as gratifying to Clifford's sense ofthe picturesque as the prospect for gain was encouraging.

  When the evening came twenty acres of the heavy grain was stacked in sixtrim ricks at the edge of the field. A square of golden straw remainedstanding, to be either burned at the end of harvest, or turned under bythe plows to further enrich the soil. Ten more days of such labor wouldbe necessary, however, to finish the Warlow harvest, and no doubt longbefore that time the picturesque side of the operation will beappreciated best by those who view it at a safe distance.

  In the cool twilight Clifford and Rob were riding homeward, the formersilent and abstracted, while the latter was calling "Bob White" to abadly-deceived quail, that answered back from the stubble-field.Finally, becoming tired of this, Rob turned a shrewd but freckled faceto his brother, and said:--

  "What was the matter up there last night, Cliff? You have been grim asan old mummy all day! I bet my boots _you_ saw something _too_; so outwith it."

  "Why have you seen anything strange up there recently, Rob?" Cliffordreplied, evasively.

  "Now, don't give it away, Cliff, for the folks would raise an awfulracket if they found it out; but last week I saw that old gray demon--ofthe camp-fire, you remember--by the corral. I was riding Pomp anddriving the cows home through the dusk, when, as I came along by the oldstone wall there, out popped that long-haired spook, and glared at melike old Nick. Good Lord, Harry! but I dug out of that, my hairbristling up mad-dog style, and Pomp wringing his tail till it crackedlike a whip-lash," he concluded, with a scared laugh.

  "Well, I saw him, too, at the same place last night," said Clifford, ina low tone as several harvesters came up. "But let's keep the mattersecret, Rob; for it will never do to let the neighbors know it, and beridiculed for our superstition. Then it would only make mother and Mauduneasy. So let's watch and say nothing until we have unraveled themystery."

  In the evening Clifford was starting up to his dwelling, on the pleathat the house at home was crowded with the workmen; but Rob insisted ongoing along and sharing the watch, which on this and the succeedingevening was unsuccessful, for no trace of the ghostly visitant wasfound. As Clifford had quite enough of "fortune hunting" the night ofhis first experience, he made no further investigations for the recoveryof the treasure.

  The following Sabbath, which was the second after the Estill visit, theyounger members of the Moreland and Warlow families drove down to theEstill ranch. As they dashed up to the great pile of creamy stonebuildings, smothered in elms and sheltered on the north by towering,tree-clad cliffs, our young friends noticed with wonder the signs of agewhich the vine-mantled and time-stained building presented.

  It was a well-dressed, animated group that alighted from the handsomeWarlow carriage,--Maud in gray silk and dotted tulle; Grace in a "DollyVarden" costume, with her broad, white hat wreathed by daisies; Ralph insuperfine black, with lawn tie and white vest, his handsome face ruddywith health and happy contentment; Scott, quiet and thoughtful, inPuritan-gray; while Rob gloried in the splendor of spotless white, hissmall, well-shaped boots glittering like jet. He had given just enoughcock to his jaunty straw hat to correspond well with the general air ofpertness conveyed by a slightly freckled nose, dimpled cheeks, duskywith tan, and a pair of round, hazel eyes, that always danced with fun.But it was golden-haired, pansy-eyed Clifford, with his Grecian face,smooth, glossy cheeks, tinged with bronze, but fresh and boyish still,who would rivet the gaze longest; for there was a look of pride andstrength about him which caused one to forget the _boutonniere_ offescue and lobelia, blue as his own eyes, and the rich-textured suit ofseal-brown, which he wore with the easy grace of a planter's son.

  The long frontage of the stately mansion was broken by gables,balconies, and quaint dormer windows, and on the broad platform, orterrace, in front of the building a fountain flashed in the sunlight.The terrace was walled with creamy stone, and railed about by a heavybalustrade of white magnesian limestone. In the angles and at the top ofthe steps were great vases of the same alabaster-like material, down thesculptured sides of which trailed tangled masses of vines with theirblossoms, scarlet, gold, and blue.

  As our friends drove up, they saw Miss Estill sitting on thebuffalo-grass which coated the lawn with its thick carpet of pale green.She appeared to be twining a garland of flowers about the neck of a petantelope, as it stood with its head on her shoulder in an attitude ofdocile affection.

  As the young lady arose to greet the guests, the graceful animal boundedaway to the shrubbery, where, after peeping a moment with shy wonder atthe new-comers, it skurried off to the top of the cliff behind thedwelling, snorting and stamping its foot angrily at the intrusion.

  After greeting her friends cordially, Miss Estill led the way through atessellated hall, where the walls were frescoed and hung with elegantpaintings, past the winding stairs of dark, rich wood, and to a cool,long room to the east, the floor of which was covered with Indiamatting, swept by the lace curtains that shaded the lofty windows fromthe fierce sunlight. An air of quiet refinement and simple luxurypervaded this apartment, which spoke volumes, in a mute way--all veryfavorable to the Estill family.

  When Mrs. Estill came into the room, Mora presented her new friends, whowere charmed by the elder lady's welcome; but when Clifford wasintroduced she gave him a swift, searching glance from her keen, blueeyes, that brought a flush to his face at her look of scrutiny andvaluation. She must have read him aright, however, for s
he gave herhand to young Warlow in a very friendly way, and he thought he detecteda sub-tone of graciousness in her welcome to himself a shade deeper thanwhen she had addressed the others.

  Mrs. Estill was a fair, dignified matron, whose flaxen hair was nowslightly tinged with gray; but as Clifford contrasted the creoledaughter with her, he failed to detect any resemblance between the two.

  The elder lady must have divined his thoughts, or observed his look ofwonder at the strange dissimilarity existing between herself and heronly daughter, for she appeared to be embarrassed and constrained in herattempts at entertaining the guests; but Mora was so animated andvivacious that her mother's disquiet was unnoticed by all save Clifford,who vaguely wondered at this show of uneasiness over such a trifle; yethe had occasion before many weeks had elapsed to recall it all with astrange significance.

  When Mr. Estill came in, and Mora had presented her new friends, theruddy, genial old ranchman said with a smile:--

  "Now this is something like civilized life once more! Why, it does myvery soul good to see young company about the old ranch--a sight that isas rare as it is pleasant. I almost fancy myself back in the old homeagain."

  The visitors were soon chatting gaily with the courtly and entertaininghost, who proved to be a typical ranchman of the plains,--shrewd throughlong dealings with a business class noted for sagacity and wealth;urbane and refined in manner by having been thrown among bankers andthe leading men of the city for many years; and lastly, hospitable,possibly owing to the fact that his hospitality had never been overtaxednor abused in that thinly settled country.

  "Where could this creole daughter have sprung from? She looks as if shemight have stepped out of the Alhambra into this family of blondeSaxons," said Clifford mentally, again contrasting Mora and her parents;and while he noted the auburn hair, just tinged with gray, of Mr.Estill, and the blue eyes of that courtly old gentleman, the contrastwith the creole daughter became so apparent that Clifford must havebetrayed his surprise, for he was soon aware that Mrs. Estill wasregarding him with an uneasy expression which only served to increasehis perplexity. "There is a skeleton in the domestic closet at Estill'sranch," thought our young friend; "but what can the mystery be?"

  His speculations were cut short, however, by Mr. Estill sayingthat all the cow-boys were away with Hugh, shipping a "bunch ofsteers,"--omitting the fact that the modest "bunch" consisted of twolong train-loads of sleek, fat beeves; and that the duties of hostlerdevolved upon himself in their absence.

  The young men thereupon arose and left the room with their host, who,after the manner of Western people, believed in the maxim, "Love me,love my dog," which finds expression in the care lavished upon thehorses of a welcome guest. This spirit often leads to a foundered nag,however; but it would be a very ungrateful man, indeed, who wouldgrumble at such an evidence of esteem.

  As they left the room to care for Clifford's team, Mora invited Maud andGrace up to her boudoir, which, she said, was so seldom visited that thespiders were more at home there than herself.

  "You know about how much 'elegant leisure' falls to the lot of farmersand ranch people," she added.

  "Yes, indeed," replied Maud, ruefully; "what with baking, scouring, anddairy-work, we have not much time for frivolous dissipation."

  "Oh, what a lovely room!" screamed Grace in delight. "If I had such asweet boudoir I'd steal an hour at least every day to play the heroine,even if the bread burned and the dishes went unwashed in consequence,"she added, rapturously.

  "When up here I often dream that I am a grand lady," said Mora, gaily;"but when I catch a glimpse in the mirror of a frumpy, frouzy creaturewith a towel over her head, then I awake to the sad reality that I amonly the slave of circumstances."

  Grace would have been perfectly justified, however, in indulging inday-dreams in such a place; for a more elegant apartment, or one wheregreater taste was evinced in every detail of adornment, was rarely to beseen in the West.

  It was situated at the south end of the upper hall, and opened out uponthe balcony by a door of plate glass, thick and beveled, through whichcould be seen the flashing fountain on the terrace below and a landscapeof surpassing beauty. The wooded stream wound away down the prairievalley, which was dotted with innumerable ricks of wild-hay; the whitestone walls which fenced the ranch ran far out onto the highlands, dimlydefining the boundaries of the great estate.

  The walls of the elegant apartment were draped with and paneled bycarmine and cream colored silk, relieved by lines of white. A carpet ofcreamy velvet was strewn with moss-roses of the same shade of carmine,with all the furniture upholstered to correspond. The walls weregraced--not crowded--by a tall beveled mirror of French plate and somedelicious paintings, framed in gilt. The low mantel was of Italianmarble, white, dappled and veined with red shading to faintest rose.Vases of Sevres china, statuettes of bronze, and elegantly bound volumeswere seen on every hand. There was a table of mosaic, on which was abasket of fancy-work, that, Miss Estill said, was destined never to befinished. Through the draped doorway, on the east, could be seen thesnowy, lace-canopied bed of the mistress of all this splendor. Thesunlight, sifting through the tops of the elms which grew below theterrace, shone in fitful bars of amber on a picture which was rivetingthe attention of Maud, who sprang up from her velvet chair and criedwith enthusiasm:--

  "Oh Grace! it is 'Sunset on the Smoky Hill,' don't you see the IronMound looming up with vague mystery? The serpentine river, fringed bytrees, is the Saline; and there, winding down from the north, is thestately Solomon; while here at our feet flows the Smoky Hill between itstimbered banks. See that white blot, far out to the east, rising in theevening mirage,--it must be Fort Riley! There is Abilene; and all alongthe wide prairie valley, flanked by bold grassy headlands, are whitevillages and golden fields of wheat. Here, nestling down in the broadvalley among the groves at the base of the Iron Mound, is Salina--whichreminds me of Damascus, with its rivers of Abana and Pharpar. Out to thesouth-west see that long line of purple, jagged buttes, over whicheternally hovers a smoky haze,--those are the Smoky Hills! Look at thetwilight stealing down through their gorges. Oh, it is like a glimpse ofheaven! Mora--Mora! who could have painted this?" she said, with tearsof genuine emotion. Then seeing Miss Estill blushing hotly, she andGrace impulsively kissed the young artist--Maud saying with a littlequaver of emotion:--

  "Mora Estill, you dear, gifted creature--do you know that you are agenius?"

  "I am not so certain of that, for I am often led to believe in Hugh'scriticisms. He says that my best pictures are very similar in appearanceto a newly flayed beef's-hide." Then, as the others gave vent to shrieksof feminine amazement, Miss Estill continued merrily: "I had a letterfrom him yesterday. He is at Kansas City, you know. Would you believeit?--he sent an order for me to paint the sign for a butcher's shop. Theaggravating fellow charged me, carefully, to put a sufficient number oflimbs on the figure of a cow that was to adorn the sign. Then heproceeded with a whole page of caution, in which he charged me to avoidthe fatal error of painting claws upon the animal's hoofs. Therefollowed a long homily, showing the dire results of such a slightmistake--the innuendo and sarcasm, the cold suspicion and cruel neglect,that would alight upon the head of a butcher who was suspected of makingbeef of an animal that wore claws.

  "This picture of Lake Inman," said Miss Estill, as the laughing groupmoved forward to where a beautiful painting hung, "Hugh persists incalling 'The Knot Hole;' and in his letter he said that as to the hornsof the animal which was to adorn the sign, they were a matter ofindifference to the public, and I could keep them for the trunks of the'stately elms' in my next landscape, and I might transplant them withgreat success to the shores of Lake Inman, which you see is badly inneed of shade."

  "I'd just like to teach him," said Grace, inadvertently; but seeing theamused look which Maud shot at Miss Estill she hesitated with a blush,while Mora quickly exclaimed:--

  "Oh, I believe he is beginning to learn of late; but I hope you willgive him a l
esson in poetry, for I found an effusion among his papers,where he had evidently forgotten it, that will bear a _great deal ofrevision_;" and she took from a bronze cabinet a paper whereon waswritten, in lame and halting couplets, an apostrophe "To My Love."

  But the author had failed so signally to secure either rhyme or measure,that the girls shrieked aloud as Mora read long verses of the mosttrivial nonsense and doggerel, where "golden tresses," "had went," and"blue eyes" were mingled with loving ardor, but very bad grammar.

  As the verses progressed, the sentiment became more tender, but thediction and measure were perfectly appalling in their untutoredoriginality. At each new limp or poetical hobble, the girls would laughgaily; but when Mora looked at Grace with a significant smile, theapplication of the following lines was readily seen:--

  "My love she's golden hair and eyes Of deepest, finest blue. I love her better than ['Gooseberry pies!' cried Maud] any thing, My heart will always be true to you."

  Although the author had promoted his lady love from the obscure positionof third person to the station of second person in the space of asecond, yet even this was not enough to induce Grace to remain longer;for she fled away with burning blushes, while Mora still continued toread lines, the syntax of which disclosed the revolting fact that theirauthor had throttled his own mother tongue, had slain persons withoutregard to sex or condition, and, like a vandal, had cut off the feet ofhis best subject at some critical moment.

  At the close Miss Estill folded the paper, and as she placed it in acabinet she said, it would yet serve to pay off some old scores withHugh. She must have kept her word, for on his return he was immeasurablyshocked on opening his county paper to see, staring at him from thefirst page: "A Poem To My Love. By H. E."

  After Mr. Estill had praised the dappled Normans and cared for them in avery hospitable manner, he led the young men out to a near-by pasture toshow them his Jersey cows. While they were admiring the gracefulanimals, their host said:--

  "For twenty-five years we had either depended on Texan cows for milk, orhad used the concentrated article without even once thinking of thefolly of such a course. We had so long been accustomed to seeing theherders lasso the wild, infuriated creatures before milking them, thatwe had actually forgotten there was any other way. It may have beenowing to our trusting the operation wholly to the cow-boys that noprogress was made in subduing the animals or reducing them to a domesticstate; but we never had thought it safe to allow a woman inside of thecorral since that morning, a score of years ago, when my wife had beenkicked insensible by a beast that she had attempted to milk. Oneevening, after Mora had returned from Cincinnati, she witnessed theusual proceedings in the milk-yard,--two broad-hatted and bespurredherders lassoing a cow. Then, after tying her head to one post andhind-foot to another, one of the valiant milk-men stripped a few streamsof the precious fluid into a cup, while his partner stood by, whip inhand, ready to punish any movement on the part of the bellowing brute.Only then did she realize how infamously undairy-like the affair reallywas. When I met her a few moments later, she said with a shade ofcontempt in her tone:--

  "'Oh, why do you allow such barbarous work on the ranch?'

  "'But, my dear,' I replied, 'there is no other way. Why, I would rathertackle a mountain lion than one of those fiery creatures while she isloose.'

  "'Then, why not buy some Jerseys?' Mora said.

  "Yes, indeed, why not? I thought, and so I lost no time overdeliberations, but wrote at once to Major Kingsbury, who sent me thesegentle creatures, which now we value above anything else on the ranch."

  Nothing was said about the vast herds, the thousands of fat cattlegrazing out over the great pastures around; but the visitors wereimpressed with the evidence of great wealth visible on every hand. Thecapacious corral and innumerable ricks of prairie-hay bore mutetestimony to the thrift and opulence which reigned at the Estill ranch.

  As Mr. Estill led the way back to the dwelling he said:--

  "Hugh will be greatly disappointed when he learns that he has missedyour visit. I have been away with him for the last fortnight, and onlyreturned last evening, when I learned from my wife that--that--mychildren had a very pleasant day up at your place." Then in aconstrained voice he added: "I would like to meet your father, Mr.Warlow; for there is a subject which I would like very much to discusswith him."

  "My father expressed a wish to make your acquaintance also; for itappears that he is anxious to discuss the early history of this countrywith you," Clifford replied.

  Mr. Estill seemed greatly agitated on hearing this; but when about toreply, dinner was announced, and he arose and led the way into the long,walnut-paneled dining-room. All this time Clifford was mutely wonderingwhy the wealthy old ranchman should be so anxious to meet his father.

  "Can it be that the cattle-king is opposed to the intimacy growing upbetween myself and his daughter?" young Warlow asked himself. Then hethought of the friendly manner of his host, and rejected the idea atonce.

  They were soon gaily chatting over the soup; but as Clifford's eyeglanced along the wall his attention was attracted by a painting, whichhung where the light fell upon it in such a way as to bring out everydetail with perfect clearness. In its foreground was a mammoth tree,shading the gables of a stone cottage; a ruined wall, half smothered byvines. Across the stream, which had half encircled the knoll where thebuilding stood, were fields of ripening grain, that rippled in thebillowy waves, stirred and tossed by the summer breeze, wheat of copperyred or palest gold, the silvery sheen of rye and oats contrasting withthe tawny prairie and dark, green groves, through which shimmered thebrook and pools that he recognized as old friends.

  As his eye sought the author of this delicate compliment, which was atruthful picture of his place--the Old Corral--he caught Miss Estill'samused look; for she had been watching the pleased surprise which hadgrown upon his face as he realized what the picture really was. Hisglance must have been very expressive in reply; for a blush swept overher face, usually serene in its quiet dignity, or vivacious withblithesome wit, and her blue eyes retreated behind their long lashes--aguilty admission that she was the artist who had painted the scene.

  This silent by-play was not unnoticed, quiet as it all seemed; for asClifford turned to take the plate of rare good things which the hostpassed to him, he encountered the eyes of Mrs. Estill fixed upon him;but the lady smiled with a look of such evident enjoyment of thesituation that he half forgot that Mr. Estill still held the plate,which young Warlow seized with an air which was neither as graceful norself-possessed as a hero should have worn.

  With ready tact Mrs. Estill came to the rescue by saying:--

  "It all looks strange, no doubt, that I treat you to a ranch fare ofcanned beef from St. Louis, and vegetables from Baltimore and Rochester,but if it were not for our Jerseys we should have been compelled to callon Chicago for condensed milk also. I never realized the absurdity ofthis course until Mora told me of the luxuriant gardens and fields ofgrain which you are raising in the upper valley. Why, Hugh says it is amarvel how prosperous everything appears up there."

  "We never before have regarded this as a farming country; it hasremained for your brave colony to explode that fallacy; and I hope yourprosperity may be as lasting as it is merited," said Mr. Estill.

  An hour was spent in the parlor after dinner; then a long strollfollowed out among the cedars to the north of the dwelling. Here Moraand Clifford soon found themselves deserted by their companions, andwere left to their own resources for entertainment.

  They had been longing, no doubt, for this moment to arrive; so we willnot intrude--a proceeding that would be alike odious to the couple andcruel to the reader; but when they emerged an hour later from the jungleof evergreens, Mora was heard to say:--

  "I can not imagine why mamma was so agitated when I told her. She neverwas affected by anything before. But she positively forbade mymentioning the subject again in her presence. When I begged her to tellwhy she talked so strangely
, she replied that the story of the oldtragedy had completely unnerved her; and then she again questioned me asto every detail of that terrible affair."

  "No doubt the remembrance of those early days, their danger and trials,all recurred with painful minuteness as you related the story, MissEstill, for your parents were residing here at the time of thatsorrowful event," Clifford replied.

  "No; I fear that there is some deeper reason yet; for when papa returnedfrom Abilene--whither he had been with Hugh shipping cattle--mothersought an interview alone with him, and when I came into the room hesaid that I must be very careful to avoid the subject in the future. Myparents never could be taxed with being sentimental--of that I amcertain. But what the mystery can be--for a mystery it certainly is--Iam at a loss to conjecture."

  "The air seems full of mystery since you and my father met," repliedClifford; "but I hope it will soon be all explained, Miss Estill."

  "I was very glad to see you come to-day; for although papa only arrivedlast night, he had concluded to go up to see Colonel Warlow at once.

  "I can't guess why he seems so anxious about meeting him. I triedbribery with a kiss; but he would not tell me why he was going--wouldalways evade my question by replying that it was business, only, thatprompted the visit."

  "He must be very obdurate, indeed, not to yield on such terms," Cliffordreplied, with a look which betrayed how willingly he would surrender atsuch a proposition.

  You have discovered, no doubt, that although our friend Warlow oftenspoke with his eyes, yet he allowed the lady to do three-fourths of thetalking. This is a very dangerous experiment for an unfettered youth toindulge in; for I have always observed that when a fluent,silvery-tongued woman finds a ready listener, provided the victim beyoung, handsome, and manly, she first becomes more fluent, then, whenanswered in monosyllables, she shows her admiration of his "greatconversational powers," and proceeds to make herself irresistible andcaptivating at once--all of which ends in chains and slavery for thebrilliant listener.

  After a moment's silence, Miss Estill said:--

  "I notice a strange change has come over you since we last met, Mr.Warlow. Is it possible that you, also, have been seized by that strangeinfection of mystery which seems to possess all my friends in the lastfew weeks?"

  "Why, Miss Estill, do you really think me changed?" Clifford replied,with due regard to the three-fourths rule.

  At that moment the other members of the party came up and proposedreturning, thus precluding Miss Estill's answer.

  As the guests were taking their leave, Mr. Estill said, in reply totheir cordial invitations to visit them, that he would drive up the nextday in company with his wife, that he had business with Colonel Warlow,and that himself and wife would call upon the Moreland family, if itwould be agreeable to that family to receive them.

  On hearing nothing but great pleasure expressed at this announcement,the matter was settled definitely in that way; then the guests tooktheir leave, and drove home through the cool twilight, vaguely wonderingwhat business Mr. Estill could have to transact with Colonel Warlow.