Over the Border: A Novel

by Herman Whitaker

  XXXIX: "VENGEANCE IS MINE"

  From the "hog's back" where Sliver had accidentally discovered Feliciaand the _fonda_, Lee, Gordon, and the Three watched a yellow dust cloudrolling slowly across the plains. The occasional silver flash thatstabbed it through as the sun struck a saber or bayonet told that itenveloped the raiders. Three hours ago Sliver had come galloping in froma reconnaissance with the news of their advance. Instantly the refugeeshad fled like frightened quail into the secret places of the hills.After burying various bottles that contained the liquid abominationswherewith he burned out the stomachs of his customers, Antonio hadfollowed. So for two hours the ravine had been untenanted.

  Even after the watchers sighted the dust, an hour passed before itdisappeared in the mouth of the ravine; for, as their few horses wereloaded down with loot, the raiders moved slowly. Another half-hourdragged by before they appeared, filing like ragged ants up the pathalong the silver stream. Sighting the _fonda_, they stopped, hastilytook cover behind some bushes, and held a hurried consultation. When thefile split and began to work its way through the chaparral on each sideof the ravine Jake interpreted the manoeuver.

  "Nobody home, amigos. Fooled this time."

  A hoarse yell presently confirmed his diagnosis. Its note changed almostimmediately to rage and disappointment, and presently a thin coil ofsmoke issued from the doorway, followed by a bright flash of flame asthe fire licked up the dry thatch of the _ramada_. Like infuriated antsthe raiders ran next to fire the stables. They were within easyrifle-shot and Sliver was drawing an experimental bead when Jake knockedup his rifle.

  "One shot," he replied, to Sliver's grumble, "an' they'll go like aflock of quail into the chaparral."

  Happening to glance at Bull just then, he nudged Sliver to look.

  On his knees, peering through a bush, the man looked for all the worldlike some great animal, bear or black tiger, crouching for its prey.Under dark brows, his coal eyes burned. Like some huge dog held inleash, slow shivers coursed through his frame. Always the two hadrecognized in him depths of feeling beyond them. The slow shake of thehead that passed between them expressed consciousness of a hurt beyondtheir plumbing. They looked quickly away as Bull turned toward them.

  "Time to be moving. They'll be coming presently."

  An hour later saw them all placed--Gordon in the chaparral at the top ofthe trail; Bull, Sliver, and Jake at intervals of quarter of a mile downthe zigzag trail.

  "No shooting as they go down," Bull cautioned them. "Coming back,they'll be among the horses without a chance to turn."

  The arrangement, while wise, was not altogether to Sliver's taste; hegrumbled to Jake as they moved on down to their places: "Fat chance forus. He'll pick half of 'em off going up between him and Gordon, thenturn and plug the others. Any maverick that gets by to us will be thatriddled a bullet 'ull slip through him without t'eching."

  "Ain't it coming to him?" Jake scornfully questioned. "He's welcome tomy share--if it's any comfort. But listen, hombre--let me tell you thatthe killing of every _revueltoso_ in Mexico ain't a-going to cure hishurt."

  Leaving Sliver at his post, Jake moved on down, and after he alsodisappeared in the chaparral silence spread a warm spell over valley andmountain; golden, sunlit silence that was emphasized rather than brokenby the wild screech of a hawk.

  From above Gordon looked right down into the amber heart of the Bowl.Almost beneath him, the _jacal_ rose like a doll's house out of thevermilion splash of Pedro's ripe peppers. From it the green veining ofthe stream ran through the tawny pastures that were spotted with blackdots, the feeding horses. Far down, just where the stream slipped out ofthe Bowl, he could see the giant oak that marked their camp; and thougheven his strong young eyes were unequal to the distance, imaginationsupplied the ashes of their fire, the bed of leaves under the spreadingbranches.

  Instantly he began reliving, tenderly reliving that happy day soabsorbed that he forgot for the moment the tragedy that had brought itto a close. He did not notice a slight rustle in the chaparral nor catchthe gleam of peering eyes. Were it a raider, he had proved an easy prey.But the eyes were soft; the hand that presently stole out of a bush andshook his foot was small and white. Whirling, he came face to face withLee.

  "What are you doing here?"

  She placed her finger to her lip. "Hush! they are coming! I justcouldn't stand it, up there in the chaparral all alone. So I tied thehorses and--here I am."

  There was nothing that could be done--except to look stern. Reaching, hepulled her down beside him, shook her a little, then spoiled the effectby a kiss. Then, lying flat on their stomachs, they kept a joint watchtill the scrape of a hoof, rumble of voices, broke on the trail.

  Peeping cautiously, they saw a motley procession file on to the plateau.Like the soldiers of Las Bocas, their clothing ran the gamut of theservice uniforms of Porfirio Diaz's army; the silver and gray of_rurales_, red and blue of the infantry, variations from these ofcavalry and artillery, fatigue linen mixed in varying quantities with_charro_ and _peon_ costumes. Accentuating this motley, their loosegross mouths, blunt animal noses, lewd eyes in the midst of facesswollen by last night's debauch, fully justified Gordon's judgment:

  "Gosh! what a gallows crew!"

  Weary and footsore after two days of heavy marching, neither theirappearance nor their spirits were improved by the fact that half of themlimped. Their voices had been raised in strident altercation. Onefellow's angry complaint carried across to Gordon and Lee.

  "The two gringo senoritas at the Lovell _rancho_, where were they?--fledto El Paso. At the second we got what?--one woman, a child, and threehorses--and lost three men. At Los Arboles there were to be women, ascore at least, young and pretty; also a gringo girl with golden hairand a skin of milk? And horses by the hundred, blooded beasts of finebreeding? What got we?--an empty house! Thou art a pretty leader,Filomena."

  "Si!" came a second growl. "And the _fonda_? 'Courage, senores,' he saysbut two hours ago. 'In the barranca we shall find a _fonda_ with liquorsand a girl, none prettier in all Chihuahua.' And--"

  "Again an empty house!"

  By one and another it was kept up. "We limp like lame cats," the firstman spoke again. "If this business go like the first and there be nohorses--I know of one throat that will be cut."

  "And I of another!" The guide, an ugly, squat _peon_, turned on him witha snarl. "Was it I that sent up the warning smoke? No? Then fasten yourtongue with your teeth. If you want women, they are to be had at SanCarlos, a few hours away, a fine town untouched by war."

  "Si, more marching," the first grumbler was beginning, when the othercut him off. He had advanced to the edge of the plateau and stoodpointing down into the Bowl.

  "And horses, say you? There they are--scores! Si, hundreds! enough tomake us all rich when sold at the border."

  Success! the shibboleth of the modern world! Even among these scoundrelsit wrought the customary effect; turned malcontents into enthusiasticfriends. "Bueno!" He who had issued the sinister hint of cut throats wasthe first to clap the guide on the back. "Bueno, amigo! thou art aleader indeed. 'Twas no fault of thine that the white-skinned girlescaped. I will slit the gizzard of the next that says it."

  On his part the guide swelled and ruffled in the flattering sunlight. "Itold ye. 'Leave it to Filomena,' said I. 'Leave it to him to show ye fatbooty.' Behold!"

  Also he assumed the airs and authority of real leadership. "The horseswe shall need to rope fresh mounts. Hide the stuff in the bushes till wereturn. 'Twill be only for a couple of hours."

  Fired by the sight of the horses, the raiders fell feverishly to workunloading their loot, which--Gordon noted it with satisfaction--waslargely provisions. Then, lameness and blisters forgotten, unaware ofthe cold, fierce eyes watching from the bushes, they followed thehorsemen downhill, yelling and hooting, raising the echoes with snatchesof ribald song.

  A thin wisp of smoke above the _jacal_ followed by an explosive flash asthe dry thatch took fire announced their a
rrival at the bottom. Fromabove Gordon and Lee saw them move down the valley in a long line thatpresently came sweeping back in a half-circle with the horses in itsbelly.

  There followed half an hour of confusion at the corrals while mountswere being roped. Yells, wild laughter, vile oaths, rose like a fetidvapor out of the Bowl, fouling the clear sunlight, sweet warm air. Thenthe massed animals began to move from the corrals and thin out to singlefile at the foot of the trail. Just as Bull had foreseen, a raidersandwiched in at intervals to keep them moving. As before, the watcherslooked down upon the thin file wriggling like a slow, black snake up andaround the trail's yellow convolutions.

  After an interminable time, it seemed to them, the head of the file roseto Jake's post. Lying there, his long, thin body stretched at length inthe sage, narrowed eyes fixed on the first raider, Jake had never lookedmore like "The Python" he appeared in _peon_ eyes. And he had theserpent's patience. Though his finger played impatiently with his rifletrigger, he watched man after man go by, waiting, waiting, for Bull'sshot above. Always cool, he did not give vent, like Sliver, to inwardgrumblings as the file rose to him.

  "If 'twasn't for orders," he mentally harangued the first raider thatpassed, "your black soul 'u'd be a-busting now on its way to hell!"

  High above, Gordon waited with equal impatience, his hazel eyestransmuted once more into blue steel flecked with hot, brown lights. Buthis imagination revealed to him much that was hidden from the prosaicvision of the cowman. The clear, clean air that flowed like tawny wineacross the Bowl; dry whisper of the wind in the sage at his side; driftof white cloud across the blue above; the hum of busy insects; slowwinding upward of the herd; it was all pastoral; stirred in his mind avagrant recollection of the peace and quiet of Gray's "Elegy." In placeof the thunders and lightnings, murky night, black rains with whichman's imaginings clothed, tragedy, nature had set the stage in sunlightand flowers; invested it with Sabbath calm. Yet, the more powerfully forthat peaceful contrast, he felt--felt with savage joy--Death, the grimangel, hovering above.

  With her girl's strong intuition, Lee shared his feeling. Just as thewriggling black line rose up to Bull's station she leaned forward andbroke off a twig that might have interfered with Gordon's sighting. Yet,in spite of a deep desire for vengeance, the retribution earned by ablack deed, she shuddered. As, propping himself on his elbow, Gordondrew a bead on the leading raider she covered her eyes with her hands.

  And Bull? As the raiders had passed him on the way down every brute lineof their evil visages had seared itself on his brain--the beast mouths,blunt noses, conical ears, gross cheek-bones; the sloping foreheads, inthe center of which his imagination placed a small, round, purplishspot. Now, as they returned, his dark face in its implacable hate wasthe face of Death itself--the Death Gordon and Lee felt hovering near.

  In the most tense moments, while the being is under shock of a tragicemotion, the brain will sometimes play strange tricks, register triflestoo light for notice in normal times. As the first horse rounded thebend below Bull recognized it for a mare that Lee sometimes rode; aflighty, brainless creature, that would shy at its own shadow whennothing better offered.

  About fifteen passed him before the head of the first raider showedbelow. Instantly Bull's rifle flew up; the rifle that never missed, itssights lined true on the spot, the purple spot of his imagination. Butthe trigger did not fall. Passing on down, his glance had shown him thatthe last two raiders were still below Jake's station.

  He lowered the rifle again, intending, as Sliver had divined, to letthree or four of the raiders go on up toward Gordon; and, with theaction, vengeance passed out of his hands. If there was anything in theworld the flighty mare preferred to shy at, it was a snake. Perhaps ahaunting memory of a bitten fetlock in her colthood was responsible forthe preference. Be that as it may, when with a dry staccato warning afat rattler raised its deadly head from bunched, glistening coils on theedge of the path the mare whirled and darted madly downhill, leader in amad stampede.

  A hoarse yell marked the first raider's realization of his danger. Withspur and quirt, he tried to force his mount against the bank. But ahatchet head intervened, the wedging body forced in between sent man andbeast sideways over the cliff.

  Springing up as the mare whirled, Gordon saw laid out directly beneaththe course of the stampede down and around the stony staircases. Atfirst it stood out clearly as in those cinema pictures of galloping mentaken from a height. Following the first man's cry came the wild yellsof the second and third. One! two! three! he saw them squeezed out overthe cliff; saw them strike the next level and bound off and over on alonger leap; saw them turn, slowly in midair till the horses showed likefat slugs above the men; saw the final crash and disappearance in thechaparral below. But when his glance came back the crystal clearness wasgone, obscured by yellow dust cloud from the bowels of which men andhorses were ejected sideways as the stampede whirled on down.

  Of the thirty raiders, but one had a chance--he who brought up the rear.But as he turned to run he came face to face with Jake, who had sprungup to see. Instantly Jake raised his gun, but there came a roar andrattle of stones and hoofs. Before he could fire the dust cloudswallowed the man. Three minutes later it rolled down the last night tothe pastures.

  Over the Bowl silence fell again, golden, sunlit silence broken only bythe screech of the hovering hawk. As before, the wind whispered in thesage, the clouds marched slowly across the blue fields above, the beeswent busily upon their ways; but in the mean time--when the dust settledthere remained, of the two hundred horses and thirty men, only the fewanimals that spread out fanwise as they galloped across the levelbottoms.

  With the swiftness, sureness of a lightning stroke in the night it hadcome, the doom--so swiftly that Lee and Gordon above, Jake and Sliverbelow, could only stand and stare, doubting their eyes. And Bull--

  The instant the mare turned his mind leaped to the inevitableconclusion. With a roar, bellow of rage, inchoate, wild as the snarl ofa balked tiger, he threw his hands on high, rifle waving like a reed inone great fist. Crash! lock, stock, and barrel, it flew in a thousandpieces as he brought it down on a rock! From the bank he leaped down tothe trail, in his hot mind some mad idea of stopping the rush. Butalready the stampede had passed. He ran a few yards, as though toovertake and pull it back. But it swept on and down beyond his speed.Stopping, then, arms raised skyward, fists clenched, teeth bared, eyesglaring in the midst of his swollen, purple face, he stood, a toweringfigure of furious despair.

  Into those few minutes were compressed all the agonies he had endured inthe last few weeks--his trial, temptations, failure, bitterdisappointment, tragic grief, crowned by this, the robbing of his justrevenge. Swelling with a sense of vast injustice, the injustice thatcreated the world on a scheme of struggle and pain, he turned maniacaleyes to the sky; stood shaking his bunched fists while a terribleblasphemy rose to his lips. But it never issued. For in the moment thatit seemed his reason must crack there came slipping into his hot mind,like a cooling breath, the old vision--of Mary and Betty as on that lastnight.

  In the sunlight that wrapped the valley, just as in the vast worldloneliness under the quiet stars, he sensed her presence. His armsdropped, the mad light died. Bowing his dark face in his hands, he shookagain with the throes of silent grief--but only for a short space.Presently he looked up, the old humility restored, its expression on hislips.

  "'Twasn't for me. I wasn't fit. 'Twas taken out of my hands."

  Quiet now, he watched the horses careering over the bottoms. When atlast Sliver joined him he gave quiet orders: "Go down, you an' Jake, an'collect up their guns--an' ammunition. Bring up fresh horses for all ofus an' a couple for the packs. We'll have to light out for the border atonce."