XI: GORDON'S DEBUT
Starting "be guess an' be God," the train left Juarez at five the nextmorning. To avoid, as before, the jam in the one passenger-coach, Bullhad climbed with his recruit on top of a box-car. Thus, when awakened bythe jerk and rattle as the train plunged down and out of the first"shoo-fly" around a burned bridge; Gordon saw his first dawn break overthe desert with a clear, fresh vision, intimacy of detail that couldnever be obtained through a Pullman window.
It was altogether different from the slow sunrises of his Easternexperience. A puff of hot, dry wind shook the velvet curtains of night,tossed and split them into shreds of black and crimson, suddenlyrevealing a wall of burnished brass behind. As yet the desert slept inpurple shadow. But this paled to faint violet, then gray. As the sunrolled up out of crimson mists, the land appeared in all of itsnakedness of hummocky sand a-bristle with cactus beard. There was alsorevealed the first of the burned trains and twisted rails which, withgrave crosses and dead horses, were to run all day with the train,startling evidence of the cyclonic passion that had devastated the land.
"Destruction's the one kind of work a Mexican really enjoys," Bullanswered Gordon's question. "You orter see them at it. They run the loopof a big steel chain under the rails, hitch it to a hundred-ton engine,then go shooting down the track, ripping it up at twenty miles an hour,spikes flying like sparks from a blacksmith's hammer. After cutting downthe telegraph-poles, they hitch to the wires an' yank a mile of it awayat a time. As wreckers, they can't be beat, for in four years they'vecompletely destroyed mills, factories, smelters, railroads, propertythat took Porfirio Diaz and a thousand millions of foreign capital fortyyears to build."
"Are they still at it?"
The sudden illumination of the young man's face so palpably expressedhope that Bull had to grin. "Yes, farther south, where Valles isfighting the Federals. But this is his base line and he looks after itpretty close. Still"--his nod went beyond the distant mountains--"it'spretty much all bandit out there. Now an' then they attack the trains.There's allus a fifty-fifty chance for a scrap."
"That isn't so bad."
Bull grinned again as the young fellow turned with renewed interest tothe scenery.
In comparison with the eons of time which have elapsed since man firsttook to walking uprightly, his written history is as a lightning flashin the night; civilization itself but a film over passions and instinctsviolent and deep. Now that every bunch of cactus offered a possibleambush, Gordon experienced a new sensation. Over the desert, vague asits shimmering heat, invisible but real, settled that atmosphere of fearin which primitive man, in common with all animals, lived and moved andhad his being.
The wrecks occurred almost invariably near cuttings through shallowsand-hills. From the cactus chaparral that clothed their tops, therevolutionary lightnings had struck sometimes twice or thrice; and whenthe train ran into one, Gordon would feel a prickling at the roots ofhis hair.
It was not fear. Some centuries ago his hair would have bristled likethe ruff of an angry dog. Through disuse it had lost the knack. But thefeeling was the same, the expectancy, repressed excitement of an animalexpecting attack. The veneer of home and college influences had peeledaway, leaving him the young male of the tribe, eager to prove himself bydeeds; the commonplace exit of the train on the other side left himalways slightly disappointed. Not till it finally ran out of thehummocky sand into the far-reaching levels of the great Mexican_haciendas_ did he lose hope and return to the contemplation of thescenery as such.
"I'm glad we're up here." From the engine, puffing away at the head of adozen intervening coal-cars, he looked back at the passenger-coach farto their rear. "I wouldn't exchange this for a Pullman."
"Well, don't imagine that you're traveling second-class," Bull grinned."I had to slip the conductor five pesos extra. But it's worth it. You'dsuffocate down in that car; not to mention the chance of some _peon_spitting in your face. By the way, if that ever happens to you, take itan' grin. Sure!" He answered the young fellow's look of disgust. "Thatis, unless you want to feel a knife in your belly. If you're German orEnglish, or b'long to any other nationality that looks after its people,you might resent it an' get away. But, thanks to our Government'spolicy, it's open season for Americans all the year round. They bag afew, too, every so long."
"Would _you_ stand for that?"
Bull shrugged. "Kain't say, till I've been tried. But it's good advice,nevertheless. Seeing, though, that you don't like it, you'd better betoting a gun. Take one of mine till we get home.
"Here, here!" he hastily struck down the barrel as Gordon drew a bead ona telegraph-pole. "Valles shot eight of his own soldiers jest t'otherday for plugging insulators. Besides, it's waste. Every bullet is wortha life--mebbe your own."
"Maybe his own!" Again Gordon felt the prickling hair--in fact, as theyrattled and jerked along there was scarcely a mile of the road thatfailed to produce it. Here it was a station, sacked, and burned, with afew miserable _peonas_, ragged and half-starved, begging for _centavos_.There a huddle of bones, residue of a hanged wire-thief, at the foot ofa telegraph-pole. A broken rifle-butt, rusted cartridge-clip, emptybrass shell, told with eloquent tongues stories of which Bull suppliedthe details.
Somewhere between these two stations a Mexican general, a prisoner ofwar, had been thrust down between two cars and ground under the wheels!That great adobe house with black windows staring like empty eye socketsfrom the fire-scarred walls had been the home of a Spanish _hacendado_whose three lovely daughters had been carried off by raiders. Death andtorture, ravishments, farms laid waste, lives maimed and ruined, thefull tale of fire and sword belonged in the landscape.
Yet to youth, egotistic masculine youth, even horrors may be romantic.Awed pleasure inhered in the thought that he, so lately from Princeton,the spoiled son of a wealthy father, was a possible subject for bandittortures!
He found it all so fascinating that the day passed like an hour. Beforehe was aware of it the sun's great red orb sank behind a huge blackmountain. The desert faded once more to gray, violet, purple. For awhile the oil smoke from the laboring locomotive laid miles of soft darkpennon against a crimson sky. Then this also faded and left themrattling along through heated dusk. Sprawled at length on therunning-board, the young fellow gazed up at the fiery desert stars, in aluxury of content. He was lost to the world when the train stopped atthe station at midnight.
"We'd better go right on," Bull said. "We'd get no sleep here for thefleas, an' desert travel is easiest at night. By morning we'll be intothe grass country an' kin take a nap while the animals graze."
With an additional horse hired from the Mexican station agent they movedoff at once and had passed into the range country before day broke overits long grassy rolls. Breakfast, a nap, then three hours' more travelbrought them to the shallow valley where the Three first saw Lee andCarleton charging the Colorados. Indeed, Bull was telling of it when,just as on that other day, she came galloping over the opposite rise inchase of a runaway mare with a colt at its side. _Riata_ swinging inrhythm with her beast's stride, she shot down the slope, made her cast,took a turn around the saddle-horn and brought the captive up skilfullyas any _vaquero_.
"Pretty neat!" Gordon exclaimed. "That boy can ride!"
"You bet you!" Eyes sparkling with pride, Bull slyly added, "Sliverhimself, that was born with a rope in his han', don't throw a betterloop than Miss Lee."
"_What?_" As, sighting them just then, Lee swung her hat, emitting aclear cowman's yell, her knotted hair fell down on her shoulders, Gordonexclaimed, "Why, it--it _is_ a girl! In this country do they usuallywear--"
"No more 'n they do in the Eastern States," Bull dryly filled in thehiatus. "On one thing the Maine Methodist jines hands with the MexicanCatholic--they both cover their weemen from chin to toe-p'ints. Eversence the revolution, Miss Lee's been doing vaquero's work, an' whatkind of a job d'you reckon she'd make of it going 'round in skirts? Ifyou don't mind, I'll ride on an' help her with that critter."
The light that had flashed over the girl's face at the sight of Bullspread into an illumination that included white teeth, mouth, andsparkling eyes when he rode up. She thrust out her hand with animpulsive feeling.
"Oh, I'm _so_ glad you have come home! I missed you dreadfully."
"_Home!_" And she was happy because he, "Bull" Perrin, the notoriousrustler, had returned _home_! Earth held no terror that could have sentthat tremble through his huge frame. It was with difficulty that hecontrolled his voice.
"Anything wrong? Sliver or Jake been misbehaving?"
"Indeed, no!" She laughed, merrily. "They're like two old hens 'tendingan orphan chick. But--well, you know a girl, even as independent as I,must have some one to lean on, and I was uneasy while you were gone."
A dew of moisture quenched the brown fire in the giant's eyes. Hissudden seriousness issued from a vivid memory of his late debauch.Whereas for twenty years past they had been matters of course to beforgotten with the passing of the morning head, he now felt convicted ofsin. The shadow marked a resolution.
He spoke very gently. "I hope that you'll allus feel that way." Then,with mock sternness that covered deep emotion, he went on: "But what areyou doing out here on your lonely? Some one will get a wigging forthis."
She laughed saucily up in his face. "Then it is due to me. I gave themthe slip. Who is--" She nodded toward Gordon, who had almost caught up.
Bull briefly sketched his history. "Young chap I found dead broke in ElPaso. He's the right sort." Perhaps because he divined the probableeffect on her feminine psychology, he added: "He's from theEast--college man--wealthy family--turned out because he refused tomarry a fortune. I tol' him you'd likely hire him."
"I would in ordinary times." She looked at Gordon, who had now reinedin. "But I cannot pay regular wages just now."
"He's willing to wait, like us," Bull began. "He's--"
"--out for experience," Gordon put in. "To tell the truth, MissCarleton, I am absolutely green. I doubt whether you'll find me worth myboard."
He had doffed his hat and the attitude of respect accentuated the quietreserve of his tone and manner. After a thoughtful pause, during whichshe took him in from top to toe in a quick, feminine survey, she brokeout with a comical little laugh. "If it wasn't so nice, it would beridiculous. While the gringos on other haciendas are simply streakingfor the border, you men insist on working here for nothing. Whatever isthe matter with you?"
She may have read the answer in Gordon's eyes and resented the indignityit offered her independence. Or the feeling underneath her suddenstiffening may have rooted deeper. Be a young man ever so comely, a girlever so pretty, there will flash between them on first meeting thesubtle challenge of sex; instinctive defiance based through love'shistory to the far time when every girl ran like a deer from a possiblelover and only gave in after he had proved his manhood by carrying heroff. It passed in a flash, for, noticing her stiffen, Gordon reduced hisgaze to respectful attention.
Subtle as it was, Bull had still noticed the by-play. "Looks like she'dtaken a down on him."
But even as the doubt formed in his mind it was removed by her laughingcomment: "I suppose I'll have to stand for it. But you must be starving.Let us get on to the house."
As they rode along, moreover, Bull noted certain swift, stealthy glanceswith which she took complete census of Gordon's clean profile, strongjaw, deep chest, flat flanks; signs of a secret and healthy curiosity.
"She's a-setting up an' taking notice." He winked, as it were, athimself. "I reckon, Bull, you kin leave the rest to natur'."
Over the Border: A Novel Page 11