A Millionaire of Rough-and-Ready

by Bret Harte

  CHAPTER II

  When the news of the discovery of gold in Mulrady shaft was finallymade public, it created an excitement hitherto unknown in the historyof the country. Half of Red Dog and all Rough-and-Ready were emptiedupon the yellow hills surrounding Mulrady's, until their circling campfires looked like a besieging army that had invested his peacefulpastoral home, preparatory to carrying it by assault. Unfortunatelyfor them, they found the various points of vantage already garrisonedwith notices of "preemption" for mining purposes in the name of thevarious members of the Alvarado family. This stroke of business was dueto Mrs. Mulrady, as a means of mollifying the conscientious scruples ofher husband and of placating the Alvarados, in view of some remotecontingency. It is but fair to say that this degradation of hisfather's Castilian principles was opposed by Don Caesar. "You needn'twork them yourself, but sell out to them that will; it's the only wayto keep the prospectors from taking it without paying for it at all,"argued Mrs. Mulrady. Don Caesar finally assented; perhaps less to thebusiness arguments of Mulrady's wife than to the simple suggestion ofMamie's mother. Enough that he realized a sum in money for a few acresthat exceeded the last ten years' income of Don Ramon's seven leagues.

  Equally unprecedented and extravagant was the realization of thediscovery in Mulrady's shaft. It was alleged that a company, hastilyformed in Sacramento, paid him a million of dollars down, leaving himstill a controlling two-thirds interest in the mine. With an obstinacy,however, that amounted almost to a moral conviction, he refused toinclude the house and potato-patch in the property. When the companyhad yielded the point, he declined, with equal tenacity, to part withit to outside speculators on even the most extravagant offers. In vainMrs. Mulrady protested; in vain she pointed out to him that theretention of the evidence of his former humble occupation was a greenblot upon their social escutcheon.

  "If you will keep the land, build on it, and root up the garden." ButMulrady was adamant.

  "It's the only thing I ever made myself, and got out of the soil withmy own hands; it's the beginning of my fortune, and it may be the endof it. Mebbee I'll be glad enough to have it to come back to some day,and be thankful for the square meal I can dig out of it."

  By repeated pressure, however, Mulrady yielded the compromise that aportion of it should be made into a vineyard and flower-garden, and bya suitable coloring of ornament and luxury obliterate its vulgar part.Less successful, however, was that energetic woman in another effort tomitigate the austerities of their earlier state. It occurred to her toutilize the softer accents of Don Caesar in the pronunciation of theirfamily name, and privately had "Mulrade" take the place of Mulrady onher visiting card. "It might be Spanish," she argued with her husband."Lawyer Cole says most American names are corrupted, and how do youknow that yours ain't?" Mulrady, who would not swear that hisancestors came from Ireland to the Carolinas in '98, was helpless torefute the assertion. But the terrible Nemesis of an un-Spanish,American provincial speech avenged the orthographical outrage at once.When Mrs. Mulrady began to be addressed orally, as well as by letter,as "Mrs. Mulraid," and when simple amatory effusions to her daughterrhymed with "lovely maid," she promptly refused the original vowel. Butshe fondly clung to the Spanish courtesy which transformed herhusband's baptismal name, and usually spoke of him--in his absence--as"Don Alvino." But in the presence of his short, square figure, hisorange tawny hair, his twinkling gray eyes, and retrousse nose, eventhat dominant woman withheld his title. It was currently reported atRed Dog that a distinguished foreigner had one day approached Mulradywith the formula, "I believe I have the honor of addressing Don AlvinoMulrady?" "You kin bet your boots, stranger, that's me," had returnedthat simple hidalgo.

  Although Mrs. Mulrady would have preferred that Mamie should remain atSacramento until she could join her, preparatory to a trip to "theStates" and Europe, she yielded to her daughter's desire to astonishRough-and-Ready, before she left, with her new wardrobe, and unfold inthe parent nest the delicate and painted wings with which she was tofly from them forever. "I don't want them to remember me afterwards inthose spotted prints, ma, and like as not say I never had a decentfrock until I went away." There was something so like the daughter ofher mother in this delicate foresight that the touched and gratifiedparent kissed her, and assented. The result was gratifying beyond herexpectation. In that few weeks' sojourn at Sacramento, the young girlseemed to have adapted and assimilated herself to the latest modes offashion with even more than the usual American girl's pliancy andtaste. Equal to all emergencies of style and material, she seemed tosupply, from some hitherto unknown quality she possessed, the grace andmanner peculiar to each. Untrammeled by tradition, education, orprecedent, she had the Western girl's confidence in all things beingpossible, which made them so often probable. Mr. Mulrady looked at hisdaughter with mingled sentiments of pride and awe. Was it possible thatthis delicate creature, so superior to him that he seemed like adegenerate scion of her remoter race, was his own flesh and blood? Wasshe the daughter of her mother, who even in her remembered youth wasnever equipped like this? If the thought brought no pleasure to hissimple, loving nature, it at least spared him the pain of what mighthave seemed ingratitude in one more akin to himself. "The fact is, weain't quite up to her style," was his explanation and apology. A vaguebelief that in another and a better world than this he mightapproximate and understand this perfection somewhat soothed andsustained him.

  It was quite consistent, therefore, that the embroidered cambric dresswhich Mamie Mulrady wore one summer afternoon on the hillside at LosGatos, while to the critical feminine eye at once artistic andexpensive, should not seem incongruous to her surroundings or toherself in the eyes of a general audience. It certainly did not seemso to one pair of frank, humorous ones that glanced at her from time totime, as their owner, a young fellow of five-and-twenty, walked at herside. He was the new editor of the "Rough-and-Ready Record," and,having been her fellow-passenger from Sacramento, had already once ortwice availed himself of her father's invitation to call upon them.Mrs. Mulrady had not discouraged this mild flirtation. Whether shewished to disconcert Don Caesar for some occult purpose, or whether,like the rest of her sex, she had an overweening confidence in theunheroic, unseductive, and purely platonic character of masculinehumor, did not appear.

  "When I say I'm sorry you are going to leave us, Miss Mulrady," saidthe young fellow, lightly, "you will comprehend my unselfishness, sinceI frankly admit your departure would be a positive relief to me as aneditor and a man. The pressure in the Poet's Corner of the 'Record'since it was mistakingly discovered that a person of your name might beinduced to seek the 'glade' and 'shade' without being 'afraid,''dismayed,' or 'betrayed,' has been something enormous, and,unfortunately, I am debarred from rejecting anything, on the justground that I am myself an interested admirer."

  "It's dreadful to be placarded around the country by one's own fullname, isn't it?" said Mamie, without, however, expressing much horrorin her face.

  "They think it much more respectful than to call you 'Mamie,'" heresponded, lightly; "and many of your admirers are middle-aged men,with a mediaeval style of compliment. I've discovered that amatoryversifying wasn't entirely a youthful passion. Colonel Cash is aboutas fatal with a couplet as with a double-barreled gun, and scatters asterribly. Judge Butts and Dr. Wilson have both discerned theresemblance of your gifts to those of Venus, and their own to Apollo.But don't undervalue those tributes, Miss Mulrady," he added, moreseriously. "You'll have thousands of admirers where you are going; butyou'll be willing to admit in the end, I think, that none were morehonest and respectful than your subjects at Rough-and-Ready and RedDog." He stopped, and added in a graver tone, "Does Don Caesar writepoetry?"

  "He has something better to do," said the young lady, pertly.

  "I can easily imagine that," he returned, mischievously; "it must be apallid substitute for other opportunities."

  "What did you come here for?" she asked, suddenly.

&nbs
p; "To see you."

  "Nonsense! You know what I mean. Why did you ever leave Sacramento tocome here? I should think it would suit you so much better than thisplace."

  "I suppose I was fired by your father's example, and wished to find agold mine."

  "Men like you never do," she said, simply.

  "Is that a compliment, Miss Mulrady?"

  "I don't know. But I think that you think that it is."

  He gave her the pleased look of one who had unexpectedly found asympathetic intelligence. "Do I? This is interesting. Let's sitdown." In their desultory rambling they had reached, quiteunconsciously, the large boulder at the roadside. Mamie hesitated amoment, looked up and down the road, and then, with an already opulentindifference to the damaging of her spotless skirt, sat herself uponit, with her furled parasol held by her two little hands thrown overher half-drawn-up knee. The young editor, half sitting, half leaning,against the stone, began to draw figures in the sand with his cane.

  "On the contrary, Miss Mulrady, I hope to make some money here. You areleaving Rough-and-Ready because you are rich. We are coming to itbecause we are poor."

  "We?" echoed Mamie, lazily, looking up the road.

  "Yes. My father and two sisters."

  "I am sorry. I might have known them if I hadn't been going away." Atthe same moment, it flashed across her mind that, if they were like theman before her, they might prove disagreeably independent and critical."Is your father in business?" she asked.

  He shook his head. After a pause, he said, punctuating his sentenceswith the point of his stick in the soft dust, "He is paralyzed, and outof his mind, Miss Mulrady. I came to California to seek him, as allnews of him ceased three years since; and I found him only two weeksago, alone, friendless--an unrecognized pauper in the county hospital."

  "Two weeks ago? That was when I went to Sacramento."

  "Very probably."

  "It must have been very shocking to you?"

  "It was."

  "I should think you'd feel real bad?"

  "I do, at times." He smiled, and laid his stick on the stone. "You nowsee, Miss Mulrady, how necessary to me is this good fortune that youdon't think me worthy of. Meantime I must try to make a home for themat Rough-and-Ready."

  Miss Mulrady put down her knee and her parasol. "We mustn't stay heremuch longer, you know."

  "Why?"

  "Why, the stage-coach comes by at about this time."

  "And you think the passengers will observe us sitting here?"

  "Of course they will."

  "Miss Mulrady, I implore you to stay."

  He was leaning over her with such apparent earnestness of voice andgesture that the color came into her cheek. For a moment she scarcelydared to lift her conscious eyes to his. When she did so, she suddenlyglanced her own aside with a flash of anger. He was laughing.

  "If you have any pity for me, do not leave me now," he repeated. "Staya moment longer, and my fortune is made. The passengers will report usall over Red Dog as engaged. I shall be supposed to be in yourfather's secrets, and shall be sought after as a director of all thenew companies. The 'Record' will double its circulation; poetry willdrop out of its columns, advertising rush to fill its place, and Ishall receive five dollars a week more salary, if not seven and a half.Never mind the consequences to yourself at such a moment. I assure youthere will be none. You can deny it the next day--I will deny it--nay,more, the 'Record' itself will deny it in an extra edition of onethousand copies, at ten cents each. Linger a moment longer, MissMulrady. Fly, oh fly not yet. They're coming--hark! oh! By Jove,it's only Don Caesar!"

  It was, indeed, only the young scion of the house of Alvarado,blue-eyed, sallow-skinned, and high-shouldered, coming towards them ona fiery, half-broken mustang, whose very spontaneous lawlessness seemedto accentuate and bring out the grave and decorous ease of his rider.Even in his burlesque preoccupation the editor of the "Record" did notwithhold his admiration of this perfect horsemanship. Mamie, who, inher wounded amour propre, would like to have made much of it to annoyher companion, was thus estopped any ostentatious compliment.

  Don Caesar lifted his hat with sweet seriousness to the lady, withgrave courtesy to the gentleman. While the lower half of this Centaurwas apparently quivering with fury, and stamping the ground in hisevident desire to charge upon the pair, the upper half, with naturaldignity, looked from the one to the other, as if to leave the privilegeof an explanation with them. But Mamie was too wise, and her companiontoo indifferent, to offer one. A slight shade passed over Don Caesar'sface. To complicate the situation at that moment, the expectedstagecoach came rattling by. With quick feminine intuition, Mamiecaught in the faces of the driver and the expressman, and reflected inthe mischievous eyes of her companion, a peculiar interpretation oftheir meeting, that was not removed by the whispered assurance of theeditor that the passengers were anxiously looking back "to see theshooting."

  The young Spaniard, equally oblivious of humor or curiosity, remainedimpassive.

  "You know Mr. Slinn, of the 'Record," said Mamie, "don't you?"

  Don Caesar had never before met the Senor Esslinn. He was under theimpression that it was a Senor Robinson that was of the "Record."

  "Oh, HE was shot," said Slinn. "I'm taking his place."

  "Bueno! To be shot too? I trust not."

  Slinn looked quickly and sharply into Don Caesar's grave face. Heseemed to be incapable of any double meaning. However, as he had noserious reason for awakening Don Caesar's jealousy, and very littledesire to become an embarrassing third in this conversation, andpossibly a burden to the young lady, he proceeded to take his leave ofher. From a sudden feminine revulsion of sympathy, or from someunintelligible instinct of diplomacy, Mamie said, as she extended herhand, "I hope you'll find a home for your family near here. Mammawants pa to let our old house. Perhaps it might suit you, if not toofar from your work. You might speak to ma about it."

  "Thank you; I will," responded the young man, pressing her hand withunaffected cordiality.

  Don Caesar watched him until he had disappeared behind the waysidebuckeyes.

  "He is a man of family--this one--your countryman?"

  It seemed strange to her to have a mere acquaintance spoken of as "hercountryman"--not the first time nor the last time in her career. Asthere appeared no trace or sign of jealousy in her questioner's manner,she answered briefly but vaguely:

  "Yes; it's a shocking story. His father disappeared some years ago,and he has just found him--a helpless paralytic--in the SacramentoHospital. He'll have to support him--and they're very poor."

  "So, then, they are not independent of each other always--these fathersand children of Americans!"

  "No," said Mamie, shortly. Without knowing why, she felt inclined toresent Don Caesar's manner. His serious gravity--gentle and high-bredas it was, undoubtedly--was somewhat trying to her at times, and seemedeven more so after Slinn's irreverent humor. She picked up herparasol, a little impatiently, as if to go.

  But Don Caesar had already dismounted, and tied his horse to a treewith a strong lariat that hung at his saddle-bow.

  "Let us walk through the woods towards your home. I can return alonefor the horse when you shall dismiss me."

  They turned in among the pines that, overcrowding the hollow, creptpartly up the side of the hill of Mulrady's shaft. A disused trail,almost hidden by the waxen-hued yerba buena, led from the highway, andfinally lost itself in the undergrowth. It was a lovers' walk; theywere lovers, evidently, and yet the man was too self-poised in hisgravity, the young woman too conscious and critical, to suggest anabsorbing or oblivious passion.

  "I should not have made myself so obtrusive to-day before your friend,"said Don Caesar, with proud humility, "but I could not understand fromyour mother whether you were alone or whether my company was desirable.It is of this I have now to speak, Mamie. Lately your mother has seemedstrange to me; avoiding any reference to our affection; treating itli
ghtly, and even as to-day, I fancy, putting obstacles in the way ofour meeting alone. She was disappointed at your return from Sacramentowhere, I have been told, she intended you to remain until you left thecountry; and since your return I have seen you but twice. I may bewrong. Perhaps I do not comprehend the American mother; I have--whoknows?--perhaps offended in some point of etiquette, omitted someceremony that was her due. But when you told me, Mamie, that it wasnot necessary to speak to HER first, that it was not the Americanfashion--"

  Mamie started, and blushed slightly.

  "Yes," she said hurriedly, "certainly; but ma has been quite queer oflate, and she may think--you know--that since--since there has been somuch property to dispose of, she ought to have been consulted."

  "Then let us consult her at once, dear child! And as to the property,in Heaven's name, let her dispose of it as she will. Saints forbid thatan Alvarado should ever interfere. And what is it to us, my littleone? Enough that Dona Mameta Alvarado will never have less state thanthe richest bride that ever came to Los Gatos."

  Mamie had not forgotten that, scarcely a month ago, even had she lovedthe man before her no more than she did at present, she would stillhave been thrilled with delight at these words! Even now she wasmoved--conscious as she had become that the "state" of a bride of theAlvarados was not all she had imagined, and that the bare adobe courtof Los Gatos was open to the sky and the free criticism of Sacramentocapitalists!

  "Yes, dear," she murmured with a half childlike pleasure, that lit upher face and eyes so innocently that it stopped any minuteinvestigation into its origin and real meaning. "Yes, dear; but weneed not have a fuss made about it at present, and perhaps put maagainst us. She wouldn't hear of our marrying now; and she mightforbid our engagement."

  "But you are going away."

  "I should have to go to New York or Europe FIRST, you know," sheanswered, naively, "even if it were all settled. I should have to getthings! One couldn't be decent here."

  With the recollection of the pink cotton gown, in which she had firstpledged her troth to him, before his eyes, he said, "But you arecharming now. You cannot be more so to me. If I am satisfied, littleone, with you as you are, let us go together, and then you can getdresses to please others."

  She had not expected this importunity. Really, if it came to this, shemight have engaged herself to some one like Slinn; he at least wouldhave understood her. He was much cleverer, and certainly more of a manof the world. When Slinn had treated her like a child, it was with thehumorous tolerance of an admiring superior, and not the didacticimpulse of a guardian. She did not say this, nor did her pretty eyesindicate it, as in the instance of her brief anger with Slinn. Sheonly said gently,--

  "I should have thought you, of all men, would have been particularabout your wife doing the proper thing. But never mind! Don't let ustalk any more about it. Perhaps as it seems such a great thing to you,and so much trouble, there may be no necessity for it at all."

  I do not think that the young lady deliberately planned this charminglyillogical deduction from Don Caesar's speech, or that she calculatedits effect upon him; but it was part of her nature to say it, andprofit by it. Under the unjust lash of it, his pride gave way.

  "Ah, do you not see why I wish to go with you?" he said, with suddenand unexpected passion. "You are beautiful; you are good; it haspleased Heaven to make you rich also; but you are a child inexperience, and know not your own heart. With your beauty, yourgoodness, and your wealth, you will attract all to you--as you dohere--because you cannot help it. But you will be equally helpless,little one, if THEY should attract YOU, and you had no tie to fall backupon."

  It was an unfortunate speech. The words were Don Caesar's; but thethought she had heard before from her mother, although the deductionhad been of a very different kind. Mamie followed the speaker withbright but visionary eyes. There must be some truth in all this. Hermother had said it; Mr. Slinn had laughingly admitted it. She HAD abrilliant future before her! Was she right in making it impossible bya rash and foolish tie? He himself had said she was inexperienced.She knew it; and yet, what was he doing now but taking advantage ofthat inexperience? If he really loved her, he would be willing tosubmit to the test. She did not ask a similar one from him; and waswilling, if she came out of it free, to marry him just the same. Therewas something so noble in this thought that she felt for a momentcarried away by an impulse of compassionate unselfishness, and smiledtenderly as she looked up in his face.

  "Then you consent, Mamie?" he said, eagerly, passing his arm around herwaist.

  "Not now, Caesar," she said, gently disengaging herself. "I must thinkit over; we are both too young to act upon it rashly; it would beunfair to you, who are so quiet and have seen so few girls--I meanAmericans--to tie yourself to the first one you have known. When I amgone you will go more into the world. There are Mr. Slinn's twosisters coming here--I shouldn't wonder if they were far cleverer andtalked far better than I do--and think how I should feel if I knew thatonly a wretched pledge to me kept you from loving them!" She stopped,and cast down her eyes.

  It was her first attempt at coquetry, for, in her usual charmingselfishness, she was perfectly frank and open; and it might not havebeen her last, but she had gone too far at first, and was not preparedfor a recoil of her own argument.

  "If you admit that it is possible--that it is possible to you!" hesaid, quickly.

  She saw her mistake. "We may not have many opportunities to meetalone," she answered, quietly; "and I am sure we would be happier whenwe meet not to accuse each other of impossibilities. Let us rather seehow we can communicate together, if anything should prevent ourmeeting. Remember, it was only by chance that you were able to see menow. If ma has believed that she ought to have been consulted, ourmeeting together in this secret way will only make matters worse. Sheis even now wondering where I am, and may be suspicious. I must goback at once. At any moment some one may come here looking for me."

  "But I have so much to say," he pleaded. "Our time has been so short."

  "You can write."

  "But what will your mother think of that?" he said, in graveastonishment.

  She colored again as she returned, quickly, "Of course, you must notwrite to the house. You can leave a letter somewhere for me--say,somewhere about here. Stop!" she added, with a sudden girlish gayety,"see, here's the very place. Look there!"

  She pointed to the decayed trunk of a blasted sycamore, a few feet fromthe trail. A cavity, breast high, half filled with skeleton leaves andpine-nuts, showed that it had formerly been a squirrel's hoard, but forsome reason had been deserted.

  "Look! it's a regular letter-box," she continued, gayly, rising ontip-toe to peep into its recesses. Don Caesar looked at heradmiringly; it seemed like a return to their first idyllic love-makingin the old days, when she used to steal out of the cabbage rows in herbrown linen apron and sun-bonnet to walk with him in the woods. Herecalled the fact to her with the fatality of a lover already seekingto restore in past recollections something that was wanting in thepresent. She received it with the impatience of youth, to whom thepresent is all sufficient.

  "I wonder how you could ever have cared for me in that holland apron,"she said, looking down upon her new dress.

  "Shall I tell you why?" he said, fondly, passing his arm around herwaist, and drawing her pretty head nearer his shoulder.

  "No--not now!" she said, laughingly, but struggling to free herself."There's not time. Write it, and put it in the box. There," she added,hastily, "listen!--what's that?"

  "It's only a squirrel," he whispered reassuringly in her ear.

  "No; it's somebody coming! I must go! Please! Caesar, dear! There,then--"

  She met his kiss half-way, released herself with a lithe movement ofher wrist and shoulder, and the next moment seemed to slip into thewoods, and was gone.

  Don Caesar listened with a sigh as the last rustling ceased, cast alook at the decayed tree as if to fix
it in his memory, and then slowlyretraced his steps towards his tethered mustang.

  He was right, however, in his surmise of the cause of thatinterruption. A pair of bright eyes had been watching them from thebough of an adjacent tree. It was a squirrel, who, having had seriousand prior intentions of making use of the cavity they had discovered,had only withheld examination by an apparent courteous discretiontowards the intruding pair. Now that they were gone he slipped downthe tree and ran towards the decayed stump.