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A Daughter of the Dons; A Story of New Mexico Today, a novel by William MacLeod Raine |
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Chapter 25. The Prince Consort |
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_ CHAPTER XXV. THE PRINCE CONSORT Valencia returned to Don Manuel's room carrying a gunny sack. She found Dick Gordon sitting beside his rival's bed amiably discussing with him the respective values of the Silver Doctor and the Jock Scott for night fishing. Dick rose at her entrance to offer a chair. She was all fire and animation. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting light as little wavelets of a sun-kissed lake. "Supreme Court decision just come down in your favor?" asked the other claimant to the valley with genial irony. "No, but--guess what I've got here." "A new hat," hazarded Gordon, furrowing his brow in deep thought. "Treason!" protested Manuel. "Does the lady live who would put her new hat in a gunny sack?" "You may have three guesses, each of you," replied Miss Valdes, dimpling. The miner guessed two guinea pigs, a million dollars, and a pair of tango slippers. Pesquiera went straight to the mark. "A tin box," he said. "Right, Manuel. Pablo brought it. He had just heard I was looking for the box--says he found it the night of the fire and took it home with him. His idea was that we might use the papers to help our fight." "Good idea," agreed the Cripple Creek man, with twinkling eyes. "What are you going to do with the papers now you have them, Miss Valdes?" "Going to give them to their owner," she replied, and swung the sack into his lap. He took out a bunch of keys from his pocket, fitted one to the lock of the box, and threw up the lid. Carefully he looked the papers over. "They are all here--every last one. I'm still lord of the Rio Chama Valley--unless my lawyers are fooling me mighty bad." "It's a difference of opinion that makes horse races, _Senor_," retorted Manuel gaily from his pillows. "I'll bet one of Mrs. Corbett's cookies there's no difference of opinion between my lawyers and those of Miss Valdes. What do you honestly think yourself about the legal end, ma'am?" "I think that law and justice were divorced a good many years ago," she answered promptly. "Which is another way of saying that you expect me to win out." "By advice of counsel we decline to make any admissions, sir." "You don't have to say a word. The facts do all the talking that is necessary." Gordon glanced in a business-like fashion over several papers. "This would be a fine time for friend Pablo to attack me again. Here are several of the original papers--deed of the grant, map of it with the first survey made, letters showing that old Moreno lived several years in the valley after your people were driven out at the time of the change in government. By the way, here's a rather interesting document. Like to look at it, Miss Valdes?" He handed to her a paper done up in a blue cover after the fashion of modern legal pleadings. Valencia glanced it over. Her eye caught at a phrase which interested her and ran rapidly down the page. "But--I don't understand what this means--unless----" She looked up quickly at Gordon, an eager question in her face. "It means what it says, though it's all wrapped up in dictionary words the way all law papers are." Valencia passed the document to Pesquiera. "Read that, and tell me what you think it means, Manuel." Her face was flushed with excitement, and in her voice there was a suggestion of tremulousness. The Spaniard read, and as he read his eyes, too, glowed. "It means, my cousin, that you have to do with a very knightly foe. By this paper he relinquishes all claim, title and interest in the Moreno grant to Valencia Valdes, who he states to be in equity the rightful owner of same. Valencia, I congratulate you. But most of all I congratulate Mr. Gordon. Few men have the courage to make a gift of a half million acres of land merely because they have no moral title to it." "Sho! I never did want the land, anyhow. I got interested in the scrap. That's all." The miner looked as embarrassed as if he had been caught stealing a box of cigars. The young woman had gone from pink to white. The voice in which she spoke was low and unsteady. "It's a splendid thing to do--the gift of a king. I don't know--that I can accept it--even for the sake of my people. I know now you would be fair to them. You wouldn't throw them out. You would give new deeds to those who have bought land, wouldn't you?" "How are you going to keep from accepting it, Miss Valdes? That paper is a perfectly legal document." She smiled faintly. "I could light a cigarette, Mr. Gordon, as you once did." "Not a bit of use. I wired to Santa Fe by Steve to have that paper--the original of it--put on record this afternoon. By this time I expect you're the princess of the Rio Chama all right." She still hesitated, the tide of feeling running full in her heart. It was all very well for this casual youth to make her a present of a half million acres of land in this debonair way, but she could not persuade herself to accept so munificent a gift. "I don't know--I'll have to think--if you are the legal owner----" "You're welching," he told her amiably. "I make a legal deed of conveyance because we are all agreed that my title isn't morally good. We're not a bunch of pettifoggers. All of us are aiming to get at what's right in settling this thing. You know what is right. So do I. So does Mr. Pesquiera. Enough said. All we have to do then is to act according to the best we know. Looks simple to me." "Maybe it wouldn't look so simple if you were at the other end of the bargain, Mr. Gordon. To give is more blessed than to receive, you know." "Sure. I understand that. I get the glory and do all the grand-standing. But you'll have to stand for it, I reckon." "I'm going to think it over. Then I'll let you know what I can do." She looked at him sharply, a new angle of the situation coming home to her. "You meant to do this from the first, Mr. Gordon." "Not quite from the first. After you had taken me to your ranch and I had seen how things stood between you and the folks in the valley I did. You've smoked me, ma'am. I'm a born grand-stander." He laughed in amusement at himself. "I wanted to be it, the hero of the piece, the white-haired boy. But that wasn't the way it panned out. I was elected villain most unanimous, and came mighty near being put out of business a few times before I could make the public _sabe_ I was only play acting. Funny how things work out. Right at the last when I've got the spotlight all trained for me to star and the music playing soft and low, Don Manuel here jumps in and takes the stage from me by rescuing the villain from a fiery furnace. I don't get any show," he complained whimsically. Valencia smiled. "The action of the play has all revolved around you, anyhow. That ought to satisfy you. Without you there wouldn't have been any entertainment at all." "I've had plenty of fun for my money. I'm not making any complaint at all. When a pretender invades a country to put the reigning queen out of business he has a license to expect a real warm welcome. Well, I got it." Once again Jimmie Corbett appeared in the doorway, this time with a yellow envelope which he handed to Gordon. Dick read the enclosed telegram and passed it to Pesquiera. The Spaniard waved his hand and made a feeble attempt at a cheer. "Am I to hear the good news?" Valencia asked. "Read it, Mr. Pesquiera." Manuel read:
KATE UNDERWOOD."
Dick flushed. "Oh, that was just something we were talking over--some foolishness or other, I reckon. Nothing to it. The important point is that the legal fight is over. You're now the owner of both the Valdes and the Moreno claims." "_Le roi est mort! Vive la reine!_" cried Manuel gaily. "I can't be said to have had a very peaceful reign. Wish you better luck, ma'am." He let his eyes rest drolly on the invalid for a moment. "And I hope when you take a prince consort to share the throne he'll meet all expectations--which I'm sure he will." Dick shook hands with the bright-eyed flushing girl. She laughed in the midst of her blushes. "_Gracias, senor!_ I'll save your good wishes till they are needed." "_Adios_, _Don_ Manuel. See you to-morrow if you're up to it. I expect you've had enough excitement for one day." "I'll let you know then whether I can accept your gift, Mr. Gordon," Valencia told him. "That's all settled," he assured her as he left. * * * * * It was in the evening that he saw her again. Dick had stopped in the hall on the way to his room to examine a .303 Savage carbine he found propped against the wall. He had picked the weapon up when a voice above hailed him. He looked up. Valencia was leaning across the balustrade of the stairway. "I want to talk with you, Mr. Gordon." "Same here," he answered promptly. "I mean I want to talk with you. Let's take a walk." "No. You're not up to a walk. We'll drive. My rig is outside." Ten minutes later they were flying over the hard roads packed with rubble from decomposed sandstone. Neither of them spoke for some time. He was busy with the reins, and she was content to lean back and watch him. To her there was something very attractive about the set of his well-modeled head upon the broad shoulders. He had just been shaved, and the scent of the soap wafted to her a pleasant sense of intimacy with his masculinity. She could see the line above which the tiny white hairs grew thick on the bronzed cheeks. A strange delight stirred in her maiden heart, a joy in his physical well-being that longed for closer contact. None of this reached the surface when she spoke at last. "I can't let things go the way you have arranged them, Mr. Gordon. It isn't fair. After the way I and my people have treated you I can't be the object of such unlimited generosity at your hands." "Justice," he suggested by way of substitution. "No, generosity," she insisted. "Why should you be forced to give way to me? What have I done any more than you to earn all this?" "Now you know we've all agreed----" "Agreed!" she interrupted sharply. "We've taken it for granted that I had some sort of divine right. When I look into it I see that's silly. We're living in America, not in Spain of the seventeenth century. I've no right except what the law gives me." "Well, the law's clear now. I'm tired of being shot at and starved and imprisoned and burned to make a Mexican holiday. I'm fed up with the excitement your friends have offered me. Honest, I'm glad to quit. I don't want the grant, anyhow. I'm a miner. We've just made a good strike in the Last Dollar. I'm going back to look after it." "You can't make me believe anything of the kind, Mr. Gordon. I know you've made a strike, but you had made it before you ever came to the valley. Mr. Davis told me so. We simply couldn't drive you out. That's all humbug. You want me to have it--and I'm not going to take it. That's all there is to it, sir." He smiled down upon her. "I never did see anyone so obstinate and so changeable. As long as I wanted the land you were going to have it; now I don't want it you won't take it. Isn't that just like a woman?" "You know why I won't take it. From the very first you've played the better part. We've mistreated you in every way we could. Now you want to drown me in a lake of kindness. I just can't accept it. If you want to compromise on a fair business basis I'll do that." "You've got a first-rate chance to be generous, too, Miss Valdes. I'm like a kid. I want to put this thing over my way so that I'll look big. Be a nice girl and let me have my own way. You know I said my wedding present was in that tin box. Don't spoil everything. Show me that you do think we're friends at last." "We're friends--if you're sure you forgive me," she said shyly. "Nothing in the world to forgive," he retorted cheerfully. "I've had the time of my life. Now I must go home and get to work." "Yes," she agreed quietly, looking straight in front of her. He drove in silence for a mile or two before he resumed the conversation. "Of course I'll want to come back for the wedding if you send me an invitation. I think a good deal of the prince consort, you know. He's one man from the ground up." "Yes?" "He's the only man I know that's good enough for you. The more I see of him the better I like him. He's sure the gamest ever, a straight-up man if ever there was one." "I'm glad of that." She flashed a little sidelong look at him and laughed tremulously. "It's good of you to pick me a husband you can endorse so heartily. Would you mind telling me his name--if it isn't a secret?" "You know mighty well, but I reckon all girls play the game of making believe it isn't so for a while. All right. You don't have to admit it till the right time. But you'll send me a card, won't you?" Her eyes, shyly daring, derided him. "That's no fair, Mr. Gordon. You go out of your way to pick a prince consort for me--a perfect paragon I'm given to understand--and then you expect me to say 'Thank you kindly, sir,' without even being told his name." He smiled. "Oh, well, you can laugh at me all you like." "But I'm not laughing at you," she corrected, her eyes dancing. "I'm trying to find out who this Admirable Crichton is. Surely I'm within my rights. This isn't Turkey, you know. Perhaps I mayn't like him. Or, more important still, he may not like me." "Go right ahead with your fun. Don't mind me." "I don't believe you've got a prince consort for me at all. If you had you wouldn't dodge around like this." At that instant he caught sight by chance of her ungloved left hand. Again he observed that the solitaire was missing. His eyes flashed to hers. A sudden hope was born in his heart. He drew the horse to a halt. "Are you telling me that----? What about Don Manuel?" he demanded. Now that the crisis was upon her, she would have evaded it if she could. Her long lashes fluttered to the hot cheeks. "He is my cousin and my friend--the best friend I have," she answered in a low voice. "No more than that?" "No more." She lifted her eyes and tried to meet his boldly. "And now I really think you've been impudent enough, don't you?" He imprisoned her hands in his. "If it isn't Don Manuel who is it?" She knew her eyes had failed her, that they had told him too much. An agony of shyness drenched her from head to foot, but there was no escape from his masterful insistence. "Will you let me go ... please?" "No--not till you tell me that you love me, Valencia, not till you've made me the happiest man alive." "But ..." He plunged forward, an insurgent hope shaking his imperturbability. "Is it yes, dear? Don't keep me waiting. Do I win or lose, Valencia?" Bravely her eyes lifted to his. "I love you with all my heart and soul. I always have from the first. I always shall as long as life lasts," she murmured. Swept away by the abandon of her adorable confession, he caught her in his arms and drew her to him. Close as breathing he held her, her heart beating against his like a fluttering bird. A delicious faintness overcame her. She lay in his embrace, wonderfully content. The dewy eyes lifted again to his. Of their own volition almost their lips met for the first kiss. [THE END] _ |
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