The general bowed smilingly; then, taking Alaire's arm, he waved the
idlers out of his path with a magnificent gesture.
When, later in the day, Mrs. Austin came to say good-by and thank the
Mexican for his courtesies, he humbly begged permission to pay his
respects that evening at her hotel, and she could not refuse.
As the coach went bouncing across the international bridge, Dolores
said, spitefully: "It will take more than the pardon of poor Juan
Garcia to unlock Heaven for that bandit. He is the wickedest man I ever
met--yes, probably the wickedest man in the world."
"He has been kind to us."
"Bah! He has a motive. Do you notice the way he looks at you? It is
enough to damn him for all eternity."
Upon her arrival at the hotel Alaire received an agreeable surprise,
for as her vehicle paused, at the curb David Law stepped forward, hat
in hand.
"What bloodthirsty business brings you to Pueblo?" she queried, when
they had exchanged greetings.
Law smiled at her. "I came to offer free board and lodging to a poor
Greaser. But he ain't here. And you, ma'am?"
Alaire briefly outlined the reasons that had taken her to La Feria and
the duties that had kept her busy since her return, while Dave nodded
his understanding. When, however, he learned that she was counting upon
General Luis Longorio's aid in securing justice, his expression
altered. He regarded her with some curiosity as he inquired:
"Isn't Longorio the very man who robbed you?"
"Yes."
"And now he offers to square himself?"
"Precisely. You don't seem to put much faith in him."
"Mexicans are peculiar people," Law said, slowly. "At least we consider
them peculiar--probably because they are different to us. Anyhow, we
don't understand their business methods or their habits of mind; even
their laughter and their tears are different to ours, but--from my
experience with them I wouldn't put much confidence in this Longorio's
word. I say this, and I'm supposed to have a little Mexican blood in
me."
During this brief conversation they had entered the hotel, and now the
lobby idlers took quick cognizance of Mrs. Austin's presence. The
lanky, booted Ranger excited no comment, for men of his type were
common here; but Alaire was the heroine of many stories and the object
of a wide-spread curiosity; therefore she received open stares and
heard low whisperings. Naturally resenting this attention, she gave her
hand to Law more quickly than she would have done otherwise.
"I hope we shall see each other again," she murmured.
"That's more'n likely; I'm located in your neighborhood now," he
informed her. "I'm leaving for Jonesville in the morning."
"By train?"
"No'm. I'm goin' to follow the river road if I can get an automobile."
Mindful of the Ranger's courtesy to her on their previous meeting,
Alaire said: "Won't you go with us? We intend to start early."
"I'd love to, ma'am--but I'll have to make a few inquiries along the
line."
"Good! It is a large car and"--she smiled at him--"if we have tire
trouble I may need your help. José, my man, is a splendid
horse-breaker, but he seems to think a tire tool is some sort of a
fancy branding-iron. His mechanical knowledge is limited to a
bridle-bit and a cinch, and I'm almost certain he believes there is
something ungodly about horseless wagons."
Dave was nearly speechless with delight, and when the mistress of Las
Palmas had gone up-stairs he felt inclined to pinch himself to see if
he were dreaming. He had pursued a fruitless quest during the past few
days, and his resentment had grown as he became certain that Tad Lewis
had sent him on a wild-goose chase; but the sight of Alaire
miraculously restored his good spirits, and the prospect of a long,
intimate ride in her company changed the whole trend of his thoughts.
His disappointment at not seeing her upon his visit to Las Palmas had
only served to enhance his memories of their first meeting, and time,
now, had deepened his interest tenfold. Yes, she was "The Lone Star,"
the estrella brillante of his empty sky.
When the supper-hour came he managed by carefully watching the
dining-room to time his meal with Mrs. Austin's. He even ventured to
hope that they might share the same table, but in this he was
disappointed. However, from where he sat he could see her profile and
worship her to his heart's content, and when she favored him with a
smile and a nod he was happy.
All without his knowledge, Dave realized, this woman had secured an
amazing hold over him. He had thought a great deal about her, of
course, but his thoughts had been idle, and it had required this second
encounter to make him know the truth. Now, however, there could be no
doubt about his feelings; he was more than romantically interested, the
mere sight of her had electrified him. The discovery distressed him,
and he very properly decided that the affair should end here, since it
could lead to nothing except disappointment.
But who can govern a wayward fancy? One moment Law promised himself to
see no more of this married woman; the next he wondered how she would
occupy the evening, and ventured to hope that he might have a chance to
talk with her.
After supper, however, she was nowhere to be found. When his first
chagrin had passed he decided that this was exactly as it should be. He
didn't like to see women make themselves conspicuous in hotels.
At the time of this story relations between the United States and the
established government of Mexico were at such high tension that a
hostility had sprung up between the troops fronting each other along
the Rio Grande, and in consequence their officers no longer crossed the
boundary, even when off duty. It created a flurry of suppressed
excitement, therefore, when Luis Longorio, the autocrat of the
Potosista forces, boldly crossed the bridge, traversed the streets of
Pueblo, and entered the Hamilton Hotel.
From his seat in the lobby Law heard the general inquire for Mrs.
Austin, and then saw him ascend in the direction of the parlor. What
the devil could Longorio want with "The Lone Star" at such an hour? the
Ranger asked himself. Why should he presume to call upon her unless--he
was interested? Mexican officers, in these parlous times, were not
given to social courtesies, and Longorio's reputation was sufficiently
notorious to render his attentions a cause for gossip under any
circumstances.
Dave rose and strolled restlessly about the hotel. A half-hour passed
and Longorio did not reappear; an hour dragged by, and then Dave took
occasion to go to his room. A glance through the open parlor door
showed the foreigner in closest conversation with Mrs. Austin. They
were laughing; they were alone; even Dolores was nowhere to be seen.
When Dave returned to his big rocking-chair he found it uncomfortable;
he watched the clock anxiously; he chewed several cigars viciously
before realizing that he was jealous--yes, madly, unreasonably jealous.
So! His divinity was not as unapproachable as he had imagined.
Doubtless Longorio was mad over her, which explained the fellow's
willingness to help her exact reparation from his government. Fine
doings for a respectable married woman! It was wrong, scandalous,
detestable!
After a time Dave rose impatiently. What had come over him, anyhow? He
must be crazy to torture himself in this fashion. What went on
up-stairs certainly was none of his business, and he had better far
amuse himself. In accordance with this excellent reasoning, he went to
a picture-show. But he could not become interested. The flat images on
the screen failed to divert him, and the only faces he saw were those
of Luis Longorio and the lone mistress of Las Palmas.
Had Dave only known the truth, he would have gained a grim comfort from
it, for Alaire Austin was not enjoying herself this evening. Her caller
stayed on interminably and she became restive under the flow of his
conversation. For some reason or other Longorio was not the romantic
figure he had been; in his citizen's clothes he was only a dandified
Mexican gallant like any number of others. The color was gone from the
picture; this quixotic guerrilla hero, this elegant Ruy Blas, was
nothing more than a tall, olive-skinned foreigner whose ardor was
distasteful. Longorio was tiresome.