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The Treasure Trail; A Romance of the Land of Gold and Sunshine, a novel by Marah Ellis Ryan |
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Chapter 18. Ramon Rotil Decides |
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_ CHAPTER XVIII. RAMON ROTIL DECIDES Whatever the labors of Marto Cavayso for the night they appeared to have been happy ones, for ere the dawn he came to Kit's door in great good humor. "Amigo," he said jovially, "you played me a trick and took the woman, but what the devil is that to hold a grudge for? My general has made it all right, and we need help. You are to come." "Glad to," agreed Kit, "but what of this guard duty?" "Lock the door--there is but one key. Also the other men are not sleeping inside the portal. It is by order of General Rotil." Perez awoke to glare at his false major-domo, but uttered no words. He had not even attempted conversation with Kit since the evening before when he stated that no Americano could fool him, and added his conviction that the said Americano was a secret service man of the states after the guns, and that Rotil was a fool! Kit found Rotil resting in the chapel, looking fagged and spent. "Marto is hell for work, and I had to stay by," he grumbled with a grin. "Almost I sent for you. No other man knows, and behold!" Stacked on either side were packing cases of rifles and ammunition, dozens and dozens of them. The dusty canvas was back in its place and no sign to indicate where the cases had come from. "It is a great treasure chest, that," stated Rotil, "and we have here as much as the mules can carry, for the wagons can't go with us. But I want every case of this outside the portal before dawn comes, and it comes quick! It means work and there are only three of us, and this limp of mine's a trouble." "Well," said Kit, stripping off his coat, "if the two of you got them up a ladder inside, and down the steps to this point I reckon three of us can get them across that little level on record time. Say, your crew will think it magic when guns and ammunition are let fall for you by angels outside of the gate." "The thought will do no harm," said Rotil. "Also I am not sure but that you speak true, and the magic was much needed when it came." They worked fast, and ere the first hint of dawn the cases were stacked in imposing array on the plaza. And no sign by which they could be traced. Rotil looked at them, and chuckled at the wonder the men would feel. "It is time they were called, for it is a long trail, go you, Capitan, and waken them, tell them to get ready the pack mules and get a move." "All right, but if they ask questions?" "Look wise and say nothing! When they see the cases they will think you either the devil or San Antonio to find what was lost in the desert. It is a favor I am doing you, senor." "Sure you are! If the Indians ever get the idea that I can win guns from out the air by hokus-pokus, I will be a big medicine chief, and wax fat under honors in Sonora. Head me to them!" Rotil had seen to it that though sentinels stood guard at Soledad, none were near enough the plaza to interfere with work of the night, and Kit found their main camp down by the acquia a quarter of a mile away. He gave orders as directed for the pack animals and cook wagon over which a son of the Orient presided. That stolid genius was already slicing deer meat for broiling, and making coffee, of which he donated a bowl to Kit, also a cart wheel of a tortilla dipped in gravy. Both were joyously accepted, and after seeing that the men were aroused from the blankets, he returned to the hacienda full of conjecture as to the developments to be anticipated from the night's work. That reserve stock of ammunition might mean salvation to the revolutionists. Rain had fallen somewhere to the east in the night time, and as the stars faded there were lines of palest silver and palest gold in the grays of dawn on the mountains. As he walked leisurely up the slight natural terrace to the plaza, he halted a moment and laughed aloud boyishly at a discovery of his, for he had solved the century-old riddle of the view of El Alisal seen from the "portal" of Soledad. The portal was not anyone of the visible doors or gateways of the old mission, it was the hidden portal of the picture,--once leading to a little balcony under which the neophytes had gathered for the morning blessing and daily commands of their superiors! That explained its height from the floor. The door had at some later period been sealed, and a room built against it from the side towards the mountain. In the building of the ranch house that old strong walled section of the mission had been incorporated as the private chapel of some pious ranchero. It was also very, very simple after one knew of that high portal masked by the picture, and after one traced the line of vision from the outside and realized all that was hidden by the old harness room and the fragmentary old walls about it. He chuckled to think of how he would astonish Cap Pike with the story when he got back. He also recalled that Conrad had unburdened his heart to him with completeness because he was so confident an American never could get back! He was speculating on that ever-present problem when he noted that light shone yellow in the dawn from the plaza windows, and on entering the patio it took but a glance to see that some new thing was afoot. Padre Andreas, with his head upholstered in strips of the table linen, was pacing the patio reciting in a murmuring undertone, some prayer from a small open volume, though there was not yet light enough to read. Valencia was bustling into the room of Dona Jocasta with an olla of warm water, while Tula bore a copper tray with fruit and coffee. "This is of a quickness, but who dare say it is not an act for the blessing of God?" the padre said replying in an absent-minded manner to the greeting of Kit. "True, Padre, who can say?" agreed the latter politely, without the slightest idea of what was meant. But Marto, who fairly radiated happiness since his reinstatement, approached with the word that General Rotil would have him at breakfast, for which time was short. "It is my regret that you do not ride with me, senor," said Rotil as he motioned him to a seat. "But there is work to be done at Soledad for which I shall give you the word. I am hearing that you would help recover some of the poor ones driven south from Palomitas, if they be left alive!" "I am pledged to that, General," stated Kit simply. "Who has your pledge?" "A dead man who cannot free me from it." "By God!" remarked Rotil in a surprised tone. "By God, Don Pajarito, that is good! And it may be when that pledge is kept, you may be free to join my children in the fight? I make you a capitan at once, senor." "Perhaps, after----" "Sure,--after," agreed Rotil chuckling. "For I tell you there is work of importance here, and when I am gone the thinking will be up to you! What message did you give the muleteers?" "To bring the animals to the plaza, and pack for the trail all the provisions found there." "Provisions is good! They will burn with curiosity. There could be fun in that if we had time to laugh and watch them, but there is no time. Marto!" Marto, on guard at the door, came forward. "Has the Senor Don Jose Perez received my message for conference?" "Yes, my General. Except that he wished your messenger in hell, he will be happy to join you according to order." "Good!" grinned Rotil, "it is well to conduct these matters with grace and ceremony where a lady is concerned. Take him to the sala; it is illuminated in his honor. Come, senor, I want for witness an Americano who is free from Sonora influence." "Am I?" queried Kit dubiously. "I'm not so sure! I seem all tangled up with Sonora influences of all shades and varieties." Rotil's jocularity disappeared as he entered the sala where quill pen and ink and some blank sheets from an old account book gave a business-like look to the table where four candles made a radiance. Perez was there, plainly nervous by reason of the mocking civility of Marto. His eyes followed Rotil,--questioning, fearful! The latter passed him without notice and seated himself at the table. "Call the padre," he said to Marto. But that was scarce needed as the padre was hovering near the door waiting for the word. He seated himself by the table at a motion from Rotil. The latter turned for the first time to Perez, and bestowed on him a long, curious look. "They tell me, senor, that you were about to take as bride a lovely lady?" Perez frowned in perplexity. Evidently this was the last subject he had expected to hear touched upon. "Perhaps so," he said at last, "but if this is a question of ransom we will not trouble the lady. I will arrange your figures for that." "This is not a matter of figures, Senor Perez. It is a marriage we are interested in, and it is all well arranged for you. The padre here will draw up the contract of marriage in the old form; it is better than the manner of today. You will give him your name, the names of your parents, the name of your parish and abode." "I will see you damned first!" "And, Padre," continued Rotil, giving no heed to that heartfelt remark, "use less than one-third of the page, for there must be space for the record of the bride, and below that the contract between the happy two with all witnesses added." "If you think--" began Perez furiously. "I do not think; I know, senor! Later you also will know," Rotil promised with grim certainty. "This marriage is of interest to me, and has been too long delayed. It is now for you to say if you will be a bridegroom in chains, or if it please you to have the irons off." "This cannot be! I tell you a marriage is not legal if----" "Oh, senor! Your experience is less than I thought," interrupted Rotil, "and you are much mistaken,--much! We are all witnesses here. Senor Rhodes will be pleased to unfasten those heavy chains to oblige the lady. The chains might not be a pleasant memory to her. Women have curious prejudices about such things! But it must be understood that you stand quiet for the ceremony. If not, this gun of mine will manage it that you stay quiet forever." Perez stood up, baffled and beaten, but threatening. "Take them off, you!" he snarled, "though it is a hell of a ransom,--and that woman will pay. Let no one forget that her pay will be heavy!" "That paying is for afterwards!" decided Rotil airily, "but here and now we men would see a wedding before we leave Soledad. Capitan Rhodes, will you bring in Dona Jocasta?" Kit, in some wonder, went on the errand, and found the women eager to deck her with blossoms and give some joyous note to the wedding of the dawn, but she sat cold and white with the flowers of the desert springtime about her, and forbade them. "He terrifies me much in sending that word to wake me with this morning," she protested. "I tell you I will kill myself before I live one more day of life with Jose Perez! I told him all my heart in the sala last night, and it means not anything to Ramon Rotil;--he would tie me in slavery to that man I hate!" "Senora, I do not know what the general means, but I know it is not that. His work is for your service, even though appearance is otherwise." "You think that?" "I almost know it." "Then I go," she decided. "I think I would have to go anyway, but the heart would be more heavy, Santa Maria!--but this place of Soledad is strange in its ways." It was the first time he had seen her frightened, but her mouth trembled, and her eyes sought the floor. He reached out and took her hand; it was terribly cold. "Courage, and trust Rotil," he said reassuringly. "When you sift out the whole situation that is about all left to any of us here in the desert." He led her along the corridor, the women following. Men with pack animals were gathering in wonder around the cases in the plaza, and through the portal they saw the impromptu bridal procession, and fell silent. The Americano appeared to have a hand in every game,--and that was a matter of wonder. As they entered, Padre Andreas was reading aloud the brief history of Jocasta Benicia Sandoval, eldest daughter of Teresa Sandoval and Ignatius Sanchez of Santa Ysobel in the Sierras. Padre Andreas had balked at writing the paternity of children of Teresa Sandoval, but a revolver in Rotil's hand was the final persuader. "This is to be all an honest record for which there are witnesses in plenty," he stated. "Teresa Sandoval had only one lover,--even though Padre Ignatius Sanchez did call her daughters nieces of his! But the marriage record of Senora Jocasta Sandoval shall have only truth." Jocasta wrote her name to the statement as directed, and noted that Jose had already signed. She did not look at him, but moved nearer to Rotil and kept her eyes on the table. He noted her shrinking and turned to the priest. "Senor," he said, "these two people will write their names together on the contract, but this is a marriage without kisses or clasping of hands. It is a civil contract bound by word of mouth, and written promise, under witness of the church. Read the service." There was a slight hesitation on the part of Perez when asked if he would take Jocasta Sandoval as wife, but the gun of Rotil hastened his decision, and his voice was defiantly loud. Jocasta followed quietly, and then in a benediction which was emptiest mockery, Jose Perez and Jocasta Sandoval were pronounced man and wife. "May I now go?" she murmured, but the contract was signed by all present before Rotil nodded to Kit. "You will have the honor of conducting the Dona Jocasta Perez to breakfast," he said. "The rest of us have other business here. Senora, will you do us the favor to outline to this gentleman the special tasks you would like attention given at once. There are some Indian slaves in the south for whom the Palomitas people ask help. You are now in a position to be of service there, and it would be a good act with which to establish a new rule at Soledad." "Thanks, General Rotil," she answered, rather bewildered by the swiftness with which he turned over to her the duties devolving upon her newly acquired position. "I am not wise in law, but what I can I will do." "And that will be nothing!" volunteered Perez. "A woman of my name will not make herself common in the markets or law courts,--to have her Indian ancestry cast in my teeth!" "As to that," said Rotil humorously, "there is not so much! The father of Teresa Sandoval was the priestly son of a marquise of Spain! only one drop of Indian to three of the church in the veins of Senora Perez, so you perceive she has done honor to your house. You will leave your name in good hands when God calls you to judgment." Kit noted the sudden tension of Perez at the last sentence, and a look of furtive, fearful questioning in his eyes as he looked at Rotil, who was folding the marriage contract carefully, wrapping it in a sheet of paper for lack of an envelope. But, as squire of dames, Kit was too much occupied to give further heed to business in the sala. Dona Jocasta expressed silently a desire to get away from there as soon as might be; she looked white and worn, and cast at Rotil a frightened imploring glance as she clung to Kit's arm. He thought he would have to carry her before they crossed the patio. "When Ramon laughs like that--" she began and then went silent, shuddering. Kit, remembering the look in the eyes of Perez, did not care to ask questions. The older women went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast and gossip over the amazing morning, but Tula remained near Dona Jocasta,--seeing all and her ears ever open. Padre Andreas followed, under orders from Rotil, who told him to do any writing required of him by the Senora Perez, and arrange for safe couriers south when she had messages ready. His knowledge of villages and rancheros was more dependable than that of the vaqueros; he would know the names of safe men. Dona Jocasta sighed, and looked from one to the other appealingly. "It is much, very much to plan for before the sun is showing," she murmured. "Is there not some little time to think and consider?" "Even now the men of Ramon Rotil are packing the beasts for the trail," said the priest, "and he wants all your plans and desires stated before he goes east." "My desires!" and her smile held bitterness as she turned to Kit. "You, senor, have never seen the extent of the Perez holdings in Sonora. They are so vast that one simple woman like me would be lost in any plans of change there. Jose Perez meant what he said;--no woman can take control while he lives." "Still, there are some things a woman could do best," ventured Kit, "the things of mercy;" and he mentioned the Palomitas slaves---- "That is true. Also I am in debt for much friendship, and this child of Palomitas must have the thing she asks. Tell me the best way." "Learn from Perez which ranch of General Estaban Terain shelters the political prisoners taken from the district of Altar," suggested Kit. "Either Perez or Conrad can tell." Dona Jocasta looked at the priest. "Jose Perez will hate you for this marriage, and we must seek safety for you in some other place," she said kindly, "but you are the one most able to learn this thing. Will it please you to try?" Padre Andreas went out without a word. In his heart he resented the manner of the marriage ceremony, and scarce hoped Perez would be acquiescent or disposed to further converse, and he personally had no inclination to ask help of the General Rotil. He was surprised as he crossed the patio to see Perez, still free from chains, walking through the portal to the plaza with Marto Cavayso beside him. He was led past the ammunition cases, and the men in their jubilant work of packing the mules. Far out up the valley to the north a cloud of dust caught the red glow of sunrise, and the priest knew the vaqueros with the Soledad cattle were already on the trail for the main body of revolutionists in the field. Saddle horses were held a little apart in the plaza, and Padre Andreas hastened his steps lest they mount and be gone, but Marto spoke to him sharply. "Walk in front to do your talking," he suggested. "This gentleman is not inviting company for his pasear." Jose Perez turned a startled, piercing look on the priest. "Did Rotil send you?" he demanded. "No, senor, I came back to ask a simple thing concerning the Altar people who went south for Yucatan. Can you give me the name of the ranch where they are held?" "I can,--but I give nothing for nothing!" he said bitterly. "Already I am caught in a trap by that marriage, and I will see that the archbishop hears of your share in it. Nothing for nothing!" "Yet there may be some service I can give, or send south, for you," said the priest. Perez regarded him doubtfully. "Yes--you might get a message to General Terain that I am a prisoner, on my own estate--if Rotil does not have you killed on the road!" "I could try," agreed the priest. "I--I might secure permission." "Permission?" "It is true, senor. I could not attempt it without the word of General Rotil," announced Padre Andreas. "Of what use to risk the life of a courier for no purpose? But I make a bargain: if you will tell which ranch the Altar Indians were driven to I will undertake to get word for you to a friend. Of course I can get the information from the German if you say no." "Damn the German!" swore Perez. "Good Father," said Marto, "you halt us on the way to join the advance, and we have no mind to take all the dust of the mule train. Make your talk of fewer words." "Shall I go to the German?" repeated the priest. "No,--let him rot alone! The plantation is Linda Vista, and Conrad lied to General Terain to get them housed there. He thought they were rebels who raided ranches in Altar,--political prisoners. Take General Terain word that I am a prisoner of the revolutionists, and----" "Senor, the sun is too high for idle talk," said Marto briefly, "and your saddle waits." The priest held the stirrup for Jose Perez, who took the courtesy as a matter of course, turning in the saddle and casting a bitter look at the sun-flooded walls of Soledad. "To marry a mistress and set her up as the love of another lover--two other lovers!--is not the game of a man," he growled moodily. "If it was to do over, I----" "Take other thoughts with you," said Padre Andreas sadly, "and my son, go with God!" He lifted his hand in blessing, and stood thus after they had turned away. Perez uttered neither thanks nor farewell. The men, busy with the final packing, stared after him with much curiosity, and accosted the priest as he paced thoughtfully back to the portal. "Padre, is this ammunition a gift of Don Jose, or is it magic from the old monks who hid the red gold of El Alisal and come back here to guard it and haunt Soledad?" inquired one of the boldest. "There are no hauntings, and that red gold has led enough men astray in the desert. It is best forgotten." "But strange things do come about," insisted another man. "Marto Cavayso swore he had witchcraft put on him by the green, jewel eyes of Dona Jocasta, and you see that since she follows our general he has the good luck, and this ammunition comes to him from God knows where!" "It may be the Americano knows," hazarded the first speaker. "He took her from Marto, and rides ever beside her. Who proves which is the enchanter?" "It is ill work to put the name of 'enchantment' against any mortal," chided the priest. "That may be," conceded the soldier, "but we have had speech of this thing, and look you!--Dona Jocasta rode in chains until the Americano crossed her trail, and Don Ramon, and all of us, searched in vain for the American guns, until the Americano rode to Soledad! Enchantment or not, he has luck for his friends!" "As you please!" conceded the priest with more indifference than he felt. The Americano certainly did not belong to Soledad, and the wonder was that Ramon Rotil gave him charge of so beauteous a lady. Padre Andreas could easily perceive how the followers of Rotil thought it enchantment, or any other thing of the devil. Instinctively he disapproved of Rhodes' position in the group; his care-free, happy smile ill fitted the situation at Soledad. Before the stealing away of Dona Jocasta she had been as a dead woman who walked; her sense of overwhelming sin was gratifying in that it gave every hope of leading to repentance, but on her return the manner of her behavior was different. She rode like a queen, and even the marriage was accepted as a justice! Padre Andreas secretly credited the heretic Americano with the change, and Mexican girls put no such dependence on a man outside of her own family,--unless that man was a lover! He saw his own influence set aside by the stranger and the rebel leader, and with Dona Jocasta as a firebrand he feared dread and awful things now that Rotil had given her power. He found her with bright eyes and a faint flush in her cheeks over the letter Kit was writing to the south. It was her first act as the wife of Jose Perez, and it was being written to the girl whom Perez had hoped to marry! Kit got considerable joy in framing her request as follows:
"But you write here of gold sent by messenger, senor!--I have no gold, only words can I send," protested Dona Jocasta helplessly. "Ah, but the words are more precious than all," Kit assured her. "It is the right word we have waited for, and you alone could give it, senora. These people have held the gold ransom while waiting that word, and this child can bring it when the time is right." Dona Jocasta regarded Tula doubtfully; she certainly gave no appearance of holding wealth to redeem a pueblo. "You,--the little one to whom even the Deliverer listens?" she said kindly. "But the wealth of a little Indian ranch would not seem riches to this illustrious lady, the Dona Dolores Terain." "Yet will I bring riches to her or to you, Excellencia, if only my mother and my sister are coming again to Palomitas," said Tula earnestly. "But whence comes wealth to you in a land where there is no longer wealth for anyone?" Kit listened with little liking for the conversation after the padre entered. It was a direct question, and to be answered with directness, and he watched Tula anxiously lest she say the wrong thing. But she told the straight truth in a way to admit of no question. "Long ago my father got gold for sacred prayer reasons; he hid it until he was old; when he died he made gift of it to me that my mother and sister buy freedom. That is all, Excellencia, but the gold is good gold." She slipped her hand under her skirt and unfastened the leather strings of the burro-skin belt,--it fell heavily on the tile floor. She untied the end of it and poured a handful on the table. "You see, senora, there is riches enough to go with your words, but never enough to pay for them." "Santa Maria!" cried the amazed priest. "That is red gold! In what place was it found?" Tula laid her hand over the nuggets and faced him. "That secret was the secret of Miguel who is dead." "But--some old Indian must know----" Tula shook her head with absolute finality. "No old Indian in all the world knows that!" she said. "This was a secret of the youth of Miguel, and only when old and dying did he give it for his people. This I,--Tula, child of Miguel tell you." Padre Andreas looked from the girl to Kit and back again, knowing that the death of Miguel was a recent thing since it had occurred after the stealing of the women. "Where did your father die?" he asked. "In the hills of the desert." "And--who had absolving and burial of him?" "Absolving I do not know, but this man, his friend, had the making of the grave," she said, indicating Kit, and the eyes of the priest rested again on Kit with a most curious searching regard. Evidently even this little Indian stray of the desert arrived at good fortune under the friendship of the American stranger,--and it was another added to the list of enchantings! "Ah," he murmured meaningly, "then this strange senor also has the knowing of this Indian gold? Is it truly gold of the earth, or witches' gold of red clay?" and he went nearer, reaching his hand to touch it. "Why all this question when the child offers it for a good Christian use?" demanded Dona Jocasta. "See, here is a piece of it heavy enough to weigh down many lumps of clay, and north or south it will prove welcome ransom. It is a miracle sent by the saints at this time." "Would the saints send the red gold of El Alisal to a heretic instead of a son of the church?" he asked. "And this is that gold for which the padres of Soledad paid with their lives long ago. There was never such red gold found in Sonora as that, and the church had its own claim on it;--it is mission gold!" "No, not now," said Tula, addressing Dona Jocasta,--"truly not now! They claimed it long ago, but the holding of it was a thing not for them. Fire came out of the clouds to kill them there, and no one saw them alive anymore, and no other priest ever found the gold. This much is found by Miguel, for a dead man's promise!" "The girl speaks straight, senora," ventured Kit. "I have already told General Rotil of the promise, but no good will come of much talk over the quality of gold for that ransom. To carry that message south and bring back the women is a task for council, but outside these walls, no tongue must speak of the gold, else there would be no safety for this maid." "Yet a priest may ask how an Americano comes far from his home to guard gold and a maid in Sonora?" retorted Padre Andreas. "Strange affairs move these days in Altar--guns, ammunition, and the gold of dead men! In all these things you have a say, senor, yet you are but young in years, and----" "Padre," interrupted Dona Jocasta with a note of command, "he was old enough to save this child from starvation in the desert, and he was old enough to save me when even you could no longer save me, so why object because he has guarded wealth, and means to use it in a way of mercy? Heretic he may be, but he has the trust of Ramon Rotil, and of me. Also it is forbidden to mention this belt or what it covers. I have given my word, and this is no time to halt the task we have set. It would better serve those lost people if you help us find a messenger who is safe." It was the first time the new Senora Perez assumed a tone of authority at Soledad, and Kit Rhodes thanked his lucky stars that she was arrayed with him instead of against him, for her eyes glowed green lightning on the priest whose curiosity had gotten him into trouble. Kit could not really blame him, for there was neither priest nor peon of the land who had not had visions of conquest if only the red gold of the Alisal should be conveniently stumbled upon! And Tula listened to the words of Dona Jocasta as she would have listened to a god. "I go," she said eagerly. "The trail it is strange to me, but I will find that way. I think I find in the dark that trail on which the mother of me was going!" Dona Jocasta patted the hand of the girl, but looked at Kit. "That trail is not for a maid," she said meaningly. "I came over it, and know." "I think it is for me," he answered. "The promise was mine. I know none of the people, but the names are written. It is eighty miles." "Three days." "More, double that," he said thoughtfully, and the eyes of Tula met his in disapproval. It was the merest hint of a frown, but it served. She could do the errand better than she could guard the rest of the gold. If her little belt was lost it was little, but if his store should be found it would be enough to start a new revolution in Sonora;--the men of Rotil and the suspicious padre would unite on the treasure trail. It was the padre who gave him most uneasiness, because the padre was guessing correctly! The dream of a mighty church of the desert to commemorate all the ruined missions of the wilderness, was a great dream for the priest of a little pueblo, and the eyes of the Padre Andreas were alight with keen,--too keen, anticipation. "I go," stated Tula again. "No other one is knowing my people." "That is a true word," decided Padre Andreas, "a major-domo of evil mind at Linda Vista could take the gold and send north whatever unruly vagabonds he had wished to be free from. Let the maid go, and I can arrange to see her there safe." This kind offer did not receive the approval deserved. Kit wished no man on the trail with Tula who knew of the gold, and Tula herself was not eager to journey into unknown regions with a man of religion, who had already learned from Valencia of the elaborate ceremony planned for a "Judas day!" Little though Tula knew of churchly observances, she had an instinctive fear that she would be detained in the south too long to officiate in this special ceremony on which she had set her heart. "Not with a priest will I go," she announced. "He would shut me in a school, and in that place I would die. Clodomiro can go, or Isidro, who is so good and knowing all our people." "That is a good thought," agreed Dona Jocasta, who had no desire that Padre Andreas meet the family of Terain and recount details of the Perez marriage,--not at least until she had worn her official title a little longer and tested the authority it gave her. "That is a good thought, for I have no wish that my house be left without a priest. Senor Rhodes, which man is best?" But before Kit could answer Ramon Rotil stood in the door, and his eyes went to the papers on the table. Tula had recovered her belt, and fastened it under the manta she wore. "So! you are working in council, eh?" he asked. "And have arrived at plans? First your own safety, senora?" "No, senor,--first the bringing back of the people driven off by the slavers. The letter is written; this child is to take it because the people are her people, but a safe man is wanted, and these two I cannot let go. You know Jose Perez, and his wife must not be without a man of religion as guard, yet he alone would not save me from others, hence the American senor----" "Sure, that is a safe thought," and he took the seat offered by Kit. But he shook his head after listening to their suggestions. "No. Isidro is too old, and Clodomiro with his flying ribbands of a would-be lover, is too young for that trail. You want--you want----" He paused as his mind evidently went searching among his men for one dependable. Then he smiled at Kit. "You saved me the right man, senor! Who would be better than the foreman of Soledad? Would it not be expected that Senora Perez would send the most important of the ranchmen? Very well then. Marto is safe, he will go." "But Marto--" began Padre Andreas, when Rotil faced about, staring him into silence. "Marto will return here to Soledad today," he said, and the face of the priest went pale. It was as if he had said that the task of Marto on the east trail would be ended. "Yes, Marto Cavayso has been at Hermosillo," assented Dona Jocasta. "He will know all the ways to arrive quickly." "That will be attended to. Will you, senor, see to it that horse and provision are made ready for the trail? And you, senora? Soledad in the wilderness is no good place for a lady. When this matter of the slaves is arranged, will it please you to ride south, or north? Troops of the south will be coming this way;--it will be a land of soldiers and foraging." "How shall I answer that?" murmured Dona Jocasta miserably. "In the south Jose Perez may make life a not possible thing for me,--and in the north I would be a stranger." "Jose Perez will not make trouble; yet trouble might be made,--at first," said Rotil avoiding her eyes, and turning again to Kit. "Senor, by the time Marto gets back from the south, the pack mules will be here again. Until they are gone from Soledad I trust you in charge of Senora Perez. She must have a manager, and there is none so near as you." "At her service," said Kit promptly, "but this place----" "Ai, that is it," agreed Rotil. "North is the safer place for women alone, and you--did you not say that on Granados there were friends?" "Why, yes, General," replied Kit. "My friend, Captain Pike, is somewhere near, and the owner of Granados is a lady, and among us we'll do our best. But it's a hard trip, and I've only one gun." "You will take your choice of guns, horses, or men," decided Rotil. "That is your work. Also you will take with you the evidence of Senora Perez on that matter of the murder. The padre can also come in on that,--so it will be service all around." Chappo came to the door to report that all was ready for the trail, and Rotil stood up, and handed to Dona Jocasta the marriage contract. "Consider the best way of protecting this until you reach an alcalde and have a copy made and witnessed," he said warningly. "It protects your future. The fortunes of war may take all the rest of us, but the wife of Perez needs the record of our names; see to it!" She looked up at him as if to speak, but no words came. He gazed curiously at her bent head, and the slender hands over the papers. In his life of turmoil and bloodshed he had halted to secure for her the right to a principality. In setting his face to the east, and the battle line, he knew the chance was faint that he would ever see her again, and his smile had in it a touch of self-derision at the thought,--for after all he was nothing to her! "So--that is all," he said, turning away. "You come with me a little ways, senor, and to you, senora, adios!" "Go with God, Ramon Rotil," she murmured, "and if ever a friend is of need to you, remember the woman to whom you gave justice and a name!" "Adios," he repeated, and his spurs tinkled as he strode through the patio to the portal where the saddle horses were waiting. The pack mules were already below the mesa, and reached in a long line over the range towards the canon of the eastern trail. "You have your work cut out," he said to Kit. "For one thing, Marto Cavayso will carry out orders, but you must not have him enter a room where Dona Jocasta may be. It would be to offend her and frighten him. He swears to the saints that he was bewitched. That is as may be, but it is an easy way out! When the pack mules come back, and Marto is here, it is for you two to do again the thing we did last night. I may need Soledad on another day, and would keep all its secrets. After you have loaded the last of the guns it is best for you to go quickly. Here is a permit in case you cross any land held by our men;--it is for you, your family, and all your baggage without molestation. Senora Perez has the same. This means you can take over the border any of the furnishings of Soledad required by the lady for a home elsewhere. The wagons sent north by Perez will serve well for that, and they are hers." "But if he should send men of his own to interfere----" "He won't," stated Rotil. "You are capitan, and Soledad is under military rule. There is only one soul here over which your word is not law. I have given the German Judas to your girl, and the women can have their way with him. He is as a dead man; call her." There was no need, for Tula had followed at a discreet distance, and from beside a pillar gazed regretfully after her hero, the Deliverer, whom she felt every man should follow. "Oija, muchacha!" he said as Kit beckoned her forward, "go to Fidelio. He is over there filling the cantins at the well. Tell him to give you the key to the quarters of El Aleman, and hearken you!--I wash my hands of him from this day. If you keep him, well, but if he escapes, the loss is to you. I go, and not again will Ramon Rotil trap a Judas for your hellishness." Tula sped to Fidelio, secured the key and was back to hold the stirrup of Rotil as he was helped to the saddle. "If God had made me a man instead of a maid, I would ride the world as your soldier, my General," she said, holding the key to her breast as an amulet. "Send your lovers instead," he said, and laughed, "for you will have them when you get more beef on your bones. Adios, soldier girl!" She peered up at him under her mane of black hair. "Myself,--I think that is true," she stated gravely, "also my lovers, when they come, must follow you! When I see my own people safe in Palomitas it may be that I, Tula, will also follow you,--and the help of the child of Miguel may not be a little help, my General." Kit Rhodes alone knew what she meant. Her intense admiration for the rebel leader of the wilderness had brought the glimmer of a dream to her;--the need of gold was great as the need of guns, and for the deliverer of the tribes what gift too great? But the others of the guard laughed at the crazy saying of the brown wisp of a girl. They had seen women of beauty give him smiles, and more than one girl follow his trail for his lightest word, but to none of them did it occur that this one called by him the young crane, or the possessor of many devils, could bring more power to his hand than a regiment of the women who were comrades of a light hour. But her solemnity amused Rotil, and he swept off his hat with exaggerated courtesy. "I await the day, Tulita. Sure, bring your lovers,--and later your sons to the fight! While you wait for them tell Marto Cavayso he is to have a care of you as if you were the only child of Ramon Rotil! I too will have a word with him of that. See to it, Capitan of the roads, and adios!" He grinned at the play upon the name of Rhodes, and whirled his horse, joining his men, who sat their mounts and watched at a little distance. Within the portal was gathered all those left of the household of Soledad to whom the coming and the going of the revolutionary leader was the great event of their lives, and all took note of the title of "Capitan" and the fact that the Americano and the Indian girl had his last spoken words. They had gone scarce a mile when Fidelio spurred his horse back and with Mexican dash drew him back on his haunches as Kit emerged from the corridor. "General Rotil's compliments," he said with a grin, "and Marto will report to you any event requiring written record,--and silence!" "Say that again and say it slow," suggested Kit. "That is the word as he said it, Capitan, 'requiring the writing of records, and--silence!'" "I get you," said Kit, and with a flourish and a clatter, Fidelio was soon lost in the dust. Kit was by no means certain that he did "get" him. He felt that he had quite enough trouble without addition of records and secrecy for acts of the Deliverer. _ |
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