About the time Bull started, Lee and Gordon rose from the
breakfast-table under the Los Arboles _portales_.
Perhaps with sympathetic intuition, for they exchanged an amiable grin,
Sliver and Jake had already passed out. It is true that Maria and
Teresa, the small brown _criadas_, were peeping from the crypt-like
depths of their kitchen. But even had she been aware of their vast
interest, Lee would not have withdrawn the hand which, as they rose, had
somehow tangled with Gordon's. Reflected and thrown up from the yellow
wall, the strong morning lights bathed the flesh of her arms, face, and
neck with suffused amber, wove a soft glow in the mesh of her hair. So
different from her usual boyish activity, her gentle quiet, combined
with the warm air, suffused lights, to create a dreamy spell. Goodness
knows how long they would have stood if Maria had not come out to clear
the table.
Then Lee spoke. "Such sloth! This will never do if I am to go to El Sol
and return to-day. While I dress will you please get my horse?"
When Gordon reached the stable Sliver had already gone, but Jake had
lingered to say a word. It was very much to the point. "Say! Bull tipped
me off as how the young greaser was likely to show up an' raise some
hell to-day. Don't you allow I'd better hang around?"
He nodded, however, when Gordon explained the situation. "Missy don't
know he's coming, hey?--thinks she's going over there. Then they'll meet
on the way. Mebbe I'd better tag along."
But to this Gordon's pride would not consent. "Don't you think I can
take care of her?"
"No one better," Jake hastened to appease. "But, say! If he doesn't show
up, don't you let her go on over there--not if you have to rope an' drag
her home."
"Like we did before?" He smiled at the memory. "This time I'll not leave
her the saddle machete."
"Little bit too smart for you that time," Jake grinned in sympathy.
"Take care she don't spring a new one. She ain't so very slow."
Nevertheless, in the face of his apparent acquiescence, while apparently
heading out on his usual beat, he whirled behind the first ridge and,
proceeding at a fast lope, had covered five miles of the way to El Sol,
the Icarzas' _hacienda_, by the time Lee came out. Slowing down, then,
he rode more leisurely, had covered another mile when, over the crest of
a ridge, he sighted Ramon coming at a gallop down the opposite slope. A
clump of mesquite and _palo verde_ afforded convenient cover. Forcing
his beast in, Jake stooped low and watched Ramon go by, so close that
his stirrup whipped the bushes.
It had never been Jake's habit to notice Mexicans. But now he noted with
surprise the change in the young man's face. The lines deeply plowed
down the nose under the cheeks, the hardening of the red, womanish lips,
the vindictive black sparkle that had contracted his great dusky eyes
into burning black dots, added ten years to his age.
"The Mex is souring in him," Jake inwardly commented. "That guinea's
liable to try an' hurt some one. Glad I came."
Allowing Ramon to pass on, Jake then rode after, and so, progressing
from ridge to ridge, keeping always the height of land between them, was
less than fifty yards behind when, peeping over the crest, he saw Lee
and Gordon coming up the slope.
Another bunch of chaparral afforded cover, and after tying his horse in
it, Jake crawled up to the ridge and looked over.
It was not without argument that Gordon had obtained Lee's consent to
accompany her. When she found him standing with two horses at the gate,
her brows rose in a troubled arch.
He understood that she hesitated to accuse him of bad taste, and quoted
Bull's last orders to remove the impression. "He said that you were
never to ride alone."
The responsibility being thus shifted, she felt able to speak. "It is
rather-- Really, I don't see how I can do anything else."
"Why go at all? Why not write?"
She shook her head. "I've known him since childhood--and have treated
him badly. I owe him an apology and it will have to come from my own
lips."
It was reasonable enough from her point of view, but not from his. If
Ramon were an American he would have said, "Go, ahead; take your
medicine!" Being Mexican, discretion bade him remain.
"At least let me ride with you part of the way. I will turn before you
reach El Sol."
"Oh, that will be all right," she had conceded at once.
He had felt certain, of course, that they would meet Ramon. But the
usual witcheries, sweep of the tawny earth-waves under the bright sun,
satisfying thud of hoofs on the trail, creak and smell of hot leather,
had combined to blind him to all but her presence. Now, before he could
turn, Ramon reined in before them.
Like Jake, they noticed at once the sardonic furrows, set mouth, frown
above the glittering eyes. With his youth had vanished that veneer of
refinement which conceals natural Mexican grossness. Like veins in a
stratum revealed by a landslide, selfishness, conceit, violence,
revenge, lay exposed. With the natural instinct of good breeding, Gordon
had half turned to withdraw. But even if one glance at the passion-torn
face had not checked the impulse, it would have been killed when Lee
backed toward him. Shocked and a little afraid, she gazed at Ramon
before she spoke.
"Are you ill? You look so--"
"So it was true, what the señora told me yesterday!" He spoke in low,
strained tones. "It was true, though I did not believe; refused to
believe. But now I see. It is true that you used me as bait for your
fishing."
"Ramon!" She raised her hand, but he switched suddenly from denunciation
to appeal.
"No! it is not true! It cannot be! She lied! I will not believe it even
though you tell me yourself!"
From this he ran on with an appeal, hysterical and disconnected, which
reflected as in a clear glass the nature of his love. In it was no
appreciation of the feminine personality with its delicacies of feeling,
refinements, inconsistencies, helplessness, all the illogicalities that
render it charming, as much or more than its faith and love. In terms of
blind egotism, it expressed only his passion and jealousy, fatuous
conceit. As in a clear glass, under a powerful light, he revealed
himself so that even a woman blinded by love could not have failed to
see. In the middle of it Gordon heard Lee take a long breath, and knew
it for thankfulness. Yet her relief did not kill her poignant regret for
the part she had played.
She spoke softly, pityingly, when he stopped. "Ramon, I'm sorry. It was
wicked of me to draw you on. But to marry you would be far worse. What
can I do to make up?"
He told, with anger and offense. She had promised to be his wife! It was
a betrothal! as binding in Mexican eyes as marriage! He had announced it
to his father, mother, sister, friends! His conceit cropped out again as
he pictured himself, jilted, in their eyes. Angered by his own
imaginings, he was growing abusive when she cut him quietly off.
"I was on my way when we met, to own and ask pardon for my fault. I had
counted on our old friendship and your generosity to make it less
difficult. But I see, now, my error. There is nothing left but to bid
you good-by."
Now came the ultimate revelation, that passion of furious jealousy which
drives the Mexican _peon_ to cut off the hands, slash the face and
breast, of his love. His eyes narrowed to shifting, insane sparks. Hand
raised, as though to strike, he spurred his beast forward.
"You--you--"
He got no further, for one hard dig of the spur shot Gordon's horse in
between. From English to Spanish the argument had run, but from Lee's
answers Gordon had gathered enough. Though slower, his beast was heavier
than Ramon's, and while forcing horse and rider sideways with a steady
pressure he issued his orders:
"That's about enough for you! Get!"
Ramon's hand flew to his saddle _machete_, but he did not draw, for
Gordon's had gone to his gun. Leg pressed against leg, they manoeuvered
their plunging beasts; without drawing a weapon fought the old fight of
the brown man and the white; the struggle which began when Cortés
imposed his will on the Aztec emperors; was continued by the Puritan
forefathers against the American Indian; which has been fought to the
same conclusion all over the world. And from the two faces--Gordon's
cold, hard-eyed, Ramon's distorted with black fury--the cause of that
inevitable ending might have been read.
So close they were Gordon could see the palpitation of light from the
insane waverings of the other's eyeballs steady under a doubt. He felt
rather than saw the Mexican's sudden swift reach for his knife. Even
more swiftly he snatched, and with a sudden wrench of the other's wrist
sent the knife flying and bore him back flat in the saddle. For a moment
he held him, then with a powerful shove his horse sent Ramon's beast
stumbling sideways and broke the grip. Wheeling in a circle, Ramon faced
them again.
So far Lee had looked on distressed. Now she spurred forward and caught
Gordon's arm. "Let him go!--please!" Her anger gone now, sorrow
quivering in her voice, she added, "You will, won't you, Ramon?"
His fury, passion, wild jealousy had settled in dark calm. "Yes, I am
going _now_. But the next time--." He wheeled and galloped off.
Till the tip of his _sombrero_ vanished behind the ridge Lee watched him
go, distress and relief mingling in a wintry smile.
"Don't give him too much of your pity," Gordon consoled. "One
disappointment doesn't make much of a dent in such egotism as that.
After a while he'll find some pretty señorita to take him at his own
valuation."
"I hope so." Her smile brightened. "Though I still feel guilty. But if
he hadn't behaved so ridiculously I should feel much worse."
Gordon nodded toward the ridge. "You heard his threat. Do you suppose
he'll---"
"Oh no!" Her hair flew in a cloud under her vigorous shake. "After he's
had time to cool off he'll forget and forgive. But just to think"--her
glance displayed an even mixture of mischief and reproach--"just to
think that all this trouble was caused by you kissing that horrid girl!"
"Why--" he gasped, under the sudden attack. "Well, I'll be-- Say! Who
drove me to it with her disgraceful flirting?"
"Did it make you feel _awfully_ bad?"
"Did it?" The thought of his miserable unhappiness was still powerful
enough to cloud his face, and she noted it with a little quiver of
satisfaction. "Let's forget it." Snatching her hand, he worked his horse
in against hers and tried to draw her to him. "There's a momentous
question I wish to consult you about; one you refused to consider
yesterday. Will you--"
But she pulled away. "Not yet. First there's something I want settled.
Was it really pique that--made you kiss her?"
He wanted to laugh, but refrained, for under her smile he felt her
earnestness. "Nothing else."
"You're sure?"
"Sure!"
"Cross your heart to die?"
He performed that solemn and ancient function, and if she still
entertained a doubt she stuffed it away down in consciousness.
"Very well." With a little sigh of content she let her head fall back on
his shoulder and a whisper escape from her upturned lips, "Now--you
may."
From his covert on the ridge Jake had observed the meeting, talk,
struggle, Ramon's retreat, also something which was hidden from the
lovers in the valley below--the fact that, after crossing the ridge,
Ramon had dismounted, pulled his rifle from the saddle slings, and
crawled back on hands and knees to the edge of Jake's covert. By that
time the little tilt concerning Felicia was over, and as Lee's head went
to Gordon's shoulder Ramon raised the rifle.
A shot at that short distance would have pierced them both, but as
Ramon's eye dropped to the sights a sharp order issued from the covert,
"Throw up your hands! damn quick!"
A quick, startled glance showed Ramon the lean, grim face through a
break in the chaparral. Not for nothing had the _peones_ named Jake "The
Python." In moments such as this his lean personality, deadly eye,
conveyed that very impression--of a snake coiled to strike. As Ramon's
hands went up, he stepped out and, crouching behind the ridge, took the
other's rifle and drove him downhill to his horse.
Having extracted the cartridge both from the rifle and from the revolver
in Ramon's holster, he threw the weapon at his feet. "I reckon I orter
plug you, an' I would for two cents. It'd be set down to raiders, which
fixes it very nice. Sure, I reckon I orter do it, but if you've got a
few thinks to the contrary spit 'em out."
It was no idle threat. The vicious gleam of the cold gray eye told that.
But in place of fear Ramon's face showed almost relief. "Very good,
señor. There is nothing you could do that would suit me better."
The cold eye flickered. "Hell! you're too anxious. I couldn't make up my
mind to do it that quick--an' there's a few things I wanter find out.
For one, what's your idee in wanting to drill them young folks?"
Ramon told--this time without the fireworks.
Jake summed it briefly. "Promised you, then threw you down. That's hard
luck. But there's one thing you Mexes can never get into your hot
heads--the right of our little American queens to change their pretty
minds as often as they damn please without any gent's consent. You was
damn lucky that she ever give you a smile. If I conclude to change my
mind on plugging you, have it writ up large in your family tree that
oncet an American girl let herself be engaged to you for nearly five
minutes. Now supposing I refrain from my desire to make you into a
corpse, d'you reckon you could keep a promise and not make any attempt
on their lives?"
While he was talking Ramon's face had stiffened in defiance. He shook
his head. But instead of anger, a small gleam of admiration lit Jake's
hard eyes. Raising his gun, he aimed full at the other's breast.
"You have just two minutes to make up your mind."
"One minute!"
For a time it seemed as though he would have to shoot. But just before
the time expired, Ramon spoke. "For myself, I do not care. But I have an
old father and mother, whom my death would surely kill. I promise."
"All right." Jake dropped the rifle in the hollow of his arm. "I allow
that I'm foolish for trusting a Mex, but the little Missy allus liked
you. On her account we'll take one chance. Here's your cartridge--only
don't load till you're off this range. An' remember"--a cold flash
emphasized the order--"after this our boundary is your dead-line. Cross
it again--you'll be shot like a panther, coyote, or other varmint."
Returning to his horse, he watched the other mount and ride away. A
glance in the opposite direction showed him Lee and Gordon, going hand
in hand up the opposite slope. Till they had gained across to the next
valley he remained where he was. Then, riding in their rear, with a
sharp eye always behind, keeping the width of a valley between them, he
followed home.