Ramon went first to the ranch at the foot of the mountains which his uncle
had used as a headquarters, and which had belonged to the family for about
half a century. It consisted merely of an _adobe_ ranch house and barn and
a log corral for rounding up horses.
Here Ramon left his machine. Here also he exchanged his business suit for
corduroys, a wide hat and high-heeled riding boots. He greatly fancied
himself in this costume and he embellished it with a silk bandana of
bright scarlet and with a large pair of silver spurs which had belonged to
his uncle, and which he found in the saddle room of the barn. From the
accoutrement in this room he also selected the most pretentious-looking
saddle. It was a heavy stock saddle, with German silver mountings and
saddle bags covered with black bear fur. A small red and black Navajo
blanket served as a saddle pad and he found a fine Navajo bridle, too,
woven of black horsehair, with a big hand-hammered silver buckle on each
cheek.
He had the old Mexican who acted as caretaker for the ranch drive all of
the ranch horses into the corral, and chose a spirited roan mare for a
saddle animal. He always rode a roan horse when he could get one because a
roan mustang has more spirit than one of any other colour.
The most modern part of his equipment was his weapon. He did not want to
carry one openly, so he had purchased a small but highly efficient
automatic pistol, which he wore in a shoulder scabbard inside his shirt
and under his left elbow.
When his preparations were completed he rode straight to the town of
Alfego where the powerful Solomon had his establishment, dismounted under
the big cottonwoods and strolled into the long, dark cluttered _adobe_
room which was Solomon Alfego’s store. Three or four Mexican clerks were
waiting upon as many Mexican customers, with much polite, low-voiced
conversation, punctuated by long silences while the customers turned the
goods over and over in their hands. Ramon’s entrance created a slight
diversion. None of them knew him, for he had not been in that country for
years, but all of them recognized that he was a person of weight and
importance. He saluted all at once, lifting his hat, with a cordial “_Como
lo va, amigos_,” and then devoted himself to an apparently interested
inspection of the stock. This, if conscientiously done, would have
afforded a week’s occupation, for Solomon Alfego served as sole merchant
for a large territory and had to be prepared to supply almost every human
want. There were shelves of dry goods and of hardware, of tobacco and of
medicines. In the centre of the store was a long rack, heavily laden with
saddlery and harness of all kinds, and all around the top of the room,
above the shelves, ran a row of religious pictures, including popes,
saints, and cardinals, Mary with the infant, Christ crucified and Christ
bearing the cross, all done in bright colours and framed, for sale at
about three dollars each.
It was not long before word of the stranger’s arrival reached Alfego in
his little office behind the store, and he came bustling out, beaming and
polite.
“This is Senor Solomon Alfego?” Ramon enquired in his most formal Spanish.
“I am Solomon Alfego,” replied the bulky little man, with a low bow, “and
what can I do for the Senor?”
“I am Ramon Delcasar,” Ramon replied, extending his hand with a smile,
“and it may be that you can do much for me.”
“Ah-h-h!” breathed Alfego, with another bow, “Ramon Delcasar! And I knew
you when you were _un muchachito_” (a little boy). He bent over and
measured scant two feet from the floor with his hand. “My house is yours.
I am at your service. _Siempre!_”
The two strolled about the store, talking of the weather, politics,
business, the old days—everything except what they were both thinking
about. Alfego opened a box of cigars, and having lit a couple of these,
they went out on the long porch and sat down on an old buggy seat to
continue the conversation. Alfego admired Ramon’s horse and especially his
silver-mounted saddle.
“Ha! you like the saddle!” Ramon exclaimed in well-stimulated delight. He
rose, swiftly undid the cinches, and dropped saddle and blanket at the
feet of his host. “It is yours!” he announced.
“A thousand thanks,” Alfego replied. “Come; I wish to show you some Navajo
blankets I bought the other day.” He led the way into the store, and
directed one of his clerks to bring forth a great stack of the heavy
Indian weaves, and began turning them over. They were blankets of the best
quality, and some of the designs in red, black and grey were of
exceptional beauty. Ramon stood smiling while his host turned over one
blanket after another. As he displayed each one he turned his bright
pop-eyes on Ramon with an eager enquiring look. At last when he had seen
them all, Ramon permitted himself to pick up and examine the one he
considered the best with a restrained murmur of admiration.
“You like it!” exclaimed Alfego with delight. “It is yours!”
Mutual good feeling having thus been signalized in the traditional Mexican
manner by an exchange of gifts, Alfego now showed his guest all over his
establishment. It included, in addition to the store, several ware rooms
where were piled stinking bales of sheep and goat and cow hides, sacks of
raw wool and of corn, pelts of wild animals and bags of _pinon_ nuts, and
of beans, all taken from the Mexicans in trade. Afterward Ramon met the
family, of patriarchal proportions, including an astonishing number of
little brown children having the bright eyes and well developed noses of
the great Solomon. Then came supper, a long and bountiful feast, at which
great quantities of mutton, chile, and beans were served.
Having thus been duly impressed with the greatness and substance of his
host, and also with his friendly attitude, Ramon was led into the little
office, offered a seat and a fresh cigar. He knew that at last the proper
time had come for him to declare himself.
“My friend,” he said, leaning toward Alfego confidentially, “I have come
to this country and to you for a great purpose. You know that a rich
gringo has been buying the lands of the poor people—my people and
yours—all through this country. You know that he intends to own all of
this country—to take it away from us Mexicans. If he succeeds, he will
take away all of your business, all of my lands. You and I must fight him
together. Am I right?”
Solomon nodded his head slowly, watching Ramon with wide bright eyes.
“_Verdad!_” he pronounced unctuously.
“I have come,” Ramon went on more boldly, “because my own lands are in
danger, but also because I love the Mexican people, and hate the gringos!
Some one must go among these good people and warn them not to sell their
lands, not to be cheated out of their birthrights. My friend, I have come
here to do that.”
“_Bueno!_” exclaimed Alfego. “_Muy bueno!_”
“My friend, I must have your help.”
Ramon said this as impressively as possible, and paused expectantly, but
as Alfego said nothing, he went on, gathering his wits for the supreme
effort.
“I know that you are a leader in the great fraternity of the penitent
brothers, who are the best and most pious of men. My friend, I wish to
become one of them. I wish to mingle my blood with theirs and with the
blood of Christ, that all of us may be united in our great purpose to keep
this country for the Spanish people, who conquered it from the
barbarians.”
Alfego looked very grave, puffed his cigar violently three times and spat
before he answered.
“My young friend,” (he spoke slowly and solemnly) “to pour out your blood
in penance and to consecrate your body to Christ is a great thing to do.
Have you meditated deeply upon this step? Are you sure the Lord Jesus has
called you to his service? And what assurance have I that you are sincere
in all you say, that if I make you my brother in the blood of Christ, you
will truly be as a brother to me?”
Ramon bowed his head.
“I have thought long on this,” he said softly, “and I know my heart. I
desire to be a blood brother to all these, my people. And to you—I give
you my word as a Delcasar that I will serve you well, that I will be as a
brother to you.”
There was a silence during which Alfego stared with profound gravity at
the ash on the end of his cigar.
“Have you heard,” Ramon went on, in the same soft and emotional tone of
voice, “that the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad is going to build a line
through the San Antonio Valley?”
Alfego, without altering his look of rapt meditation, nodded his head
slowly.
“Do you suppose that you will gain anything by that, if this gringo gets
these lands?” Ramon went on. “You know that you will not. But I will make
you my partner. And I will give you the option on any of my mountain land
that you may wish to rent for sheep range. More than that, I will make you
a written agreement to do these things. In all ways we will be as
brothers.”
“You are a worthy and pious young man!” exclaimed Solomon Alfego, rolling
his eyes upward, his voice vibrant with emotion. “You shall be my brother
in the blood of Christ.”