ANTONIO'S MESSAGE
Jessica went back to Ephraim's room, to tell him this wonderful ending
of their once almost hopeless search, and for long they discussed the
story that was at once so strange, so moving, and yet so simple.
"Man proposes, God disposes," quoted "Forty-niner," with all the
emphasis of an original philosophy. "If we'd set out to make up a fairy
story we couldn't have beat this. But I'm so glad, it seems like I
could get right up and dance a jig, smashed leg and all."
"Glad! Ephraim, I'm so glad, too, and the gladness is so deep, deep
down that I don't want to dance. I just want to cry. And that poor man
is little Luis' father. Oh! it is pitiful."
"Hush, captain. Don't you go to grieving over that scamp. A man don't
get good nor bad all in a minute. It was hard enough, I 'low, for a
fellow to be snatched out of the world that sudden. Yet, if he could
speak for himself, he'd say a thousand times better that than what the
law would have given him. Let him be. His part is done. He's passed in
his checks and don't you hear that Heaven won't pay out on all the good
ones. Now--what next?"
Both knew, yet both disliked to mention that which each felt. Till
Ephraim swallowed something like a sob and remarked:
"The longer I lie here, like a log, the madder I get at myself and the
weaker minded. I'm just about as ready to cry as a whipped baby. I know
'twas the best thing could have happened, my getting hurt, though why a
plain, everyday break wouldn't have answered the purpose just as well
as this 'compound fracture,' the doctors make such a fuss over and
takes so long to heal, I don't see. Nor never shall. If it had been
just ordinary bone-crackin' I'd been lively as a hop-toad by now, and
ready to start right home with you this minute. As it is----"
"Oh, Ephraim! I hate to leave you--but I must get quickly to my mother!
Don't you see I must? To smooth all those sad lines out of her dear
face and make her happy again, as this news surely will. They'll be
good to you here, and you can come the first minute they'll let you."
"Why not telegraph her? The boys go every day to Marion for the letters
you and all send, and the postmaster is the operator, too. Why not that,
and wait just a day or two. Likely I'll be cavortin' round, supple as a
lizard on a fence, by then."
Jessica did not answer and Ephraim asked:
"How could you go, anyway, without me or some protector? Though I made
a bad job of it once I wouldn't the second time."
"I don't know how, dear old fellow, and I do know how bitter
disappointed you are that you can't be there to see my mother's
face and get her thanks right away. But----"
Fortunately for both of these perplexed people, Ninian Sharp came along
the passage just then, and one glimpse of his bright, helpful face
cleared away Jessica's anxieties.
"You'll know what's best and how to do it, won't you, dear Mr.
Sharp?"
"Certainly. That's my business. Straightening out the tangled affairs
of the silly rest of the world! Fetch on your trouble!"
He was in the gayest of moods, elated over the successful termination of
his tedious labors, though in his heart not unmindful of the tragedy
which had brought his share in them to an end. What was left, the law's
dealings with Antonio and the division and disposition of the recovered
funds, belonged to Mr. Hale, and he very thankfully resigned these
matters to that gentleman's capable hand.
"I want to go home. And I don't want to leave Ephraim."
"I want to go with you. And I'm going to leave Ephraim--because he'd
have to stay awhile, whether or not. He will be an important witness
for the prosecution, providing that New York Company bothers any further
after having recovered all that belongs to them, with some that doesn't.
I've a 'loose foot,' as I've heard that your 'Aunt Sally' also
has betimes, and I mean to shake it out Sobrante way. If you'd like to
travel in my company I can't prevent it, as I see!"
"Oh! you darling man! You mean--I know it, for it's just like all the
rest of your great kindness--that you're going wholly on purpose to take
me home!"
"Beg pardon, but indeed, I'm not. At this present moment I have no
stronger desire than to see that wonderful ranch of yours and those
'boys' who've spoiled you so. Why, I couldn't stay away, after
putting my finger so deeply into your family pie. I propose to start
on the nine o'clock train to-morrow morning. Think you can be ready
by then?"
"I'm ready this minute! No, I mean, as soon as I bid everybody good-by,
and--and----"
"Do a little shopping, eh? That's what most young ladies delay for,
I believe."
"But I'm neither a young lady nor have I any shopping to do. I
couldn't have because I haven't any money, you see, even if I knew
how to shop."
"Why?" demanded "Forty-niner," impatiently. "No money? I don't
believe all ours is gone yet."
"Why, I forgot that. I really did. And I would love, if Mr. Sharp thinks
it would be all right to use it when there is all this hospital board for
both of us to pay, to take a tiny bit of a present to--to----"
"Everybody you ever knew, I'll be bound!" cried Ninian.
"I--believe I would. But of course I can't. So I'd best treat all
alike and take nothing but our glorious goods news."
"I'm going to take that myself, part of the way. At the finish I'll
let you carry the heavy burden and deliver it yourself into your
mother's hands. Now, come sit down a minute. Ephraim, put on your
own thinking cap, and if she forgets anybody you let me know. We are
going to take something to everybody, just as you'd like. Now, begin.
The mother--but she's settled, already. For her I've made a finished
picture from a sketch I have, of a little yellow-haired girl asleep
upon a piebald burro's shoulder. Ned? A train of cars. Luis, ditto.
Samson--what for Samson?"
"Would it cost too much to take them each, all the 'boys' the same
thing, and that would be a bright red necktie?"
"Cost not a bit too much and be a deal easier than thinking of separate
things for so many. Next? Aunt Sally?"
"Oh! she's no trouble. A few bits of new calico 'print' for her
patchwork would make her very happy."
They forgot nobody, not even Ferd whom Jessica so disliked; and at the
end of the list she rather timidly suggested: "Antonio."
To that, however, both her friends cried a vehement "No!" Not a cent of
their money should ever go to please such a man as the Senor Bernal.
"But, that reminds me. This Antonio himself wishes to have an interview
with you before you leave Los Angeles. I want you, though, to feel at
liberty to refuse this request if you so desire. He deserves no kindness
at your hands."
"No. Don't you go near him, captain. He's a snake and snakes are
unpleasant critters even after their fangs are drawn. Leave Antonio to
me. When I get well I'll have a little score to settle with him on my
own behalf," urged Ephraim.
"Why doesn't he come to me, himself? Instead of sending for me to him.
Then I shouldn't have to trouble you to take me."
Mr. Sharp looked at Ephraim and smiled, significantly.
"I suppose because he cannot. Else so polished a gentleman would surely
do so."
"Why cannot he? Is he ill, too?"
"Rather ill in his mind, but not in body. Simply, he isn't allowed."
"Won't the hospital folks have him?"
"Not at present."
"I believe you are teasing me. Where is Antonio?"
"At police headquarters."
"Oh! with Matron Wood?"
"Not with that good woman, I fear."
"Mr. Sharp, please, _don't_ tease me any more. What do you mean?"
"Antonio is under restraint of the law. He is a prisoner, for the
present. Detained until Mr. Hale can consult with his New York people
and find out their disposition toward the fellow. He has done criminal
things without, apparently, any benefit to himself. He says there is
something on his mind that he must tell you. We'll call to see him
on our way to the shopping district and get him over and done with.
I've no desire to continue his acquaintance, myself."
Jessica's face grew serious.
"Oh! poor Antonio!"
"Quit that!" commanded "Forty-niner," with more sharpness than he
often used toward his beloved lady.
"But, it is so terrible to be a--prisoner. That means that one can
never go out into the fields or climb the mountains, or ride, or hunt, or
anything one likes. He has done dreadful wrongs, and I never used to like
him as well as I ought, but now I'm sorry for him. I can't help it,
Ephraim, even if it does displease you."
"H-m-m. He brought his own misfortunes upon himself. But first he had
brought worse ones on his truest friends and innocent persons whom he
never saw."
"Maybe he didn't know any better. Maybe----"
"Child, you are incorrigible. You'd pity--anybody. Yet, perhaps, you
are right in a measure. Antonio strikes me as more fool that knave."
"Well, I'll be glad to say good-by to him, anyway."
It was a greatly altered Antonio they found. All his haughtiness was gone
and his depression, his fear, was so abject that while Lady Jess pitied
him even more than before, the reporter felt only contempt. It was he
who cut short the manager's wordy explanations and commanded:
"Now, if you've got anything special to say to Miss Trent, out with it
and have done. We must be off."
"Then leave her alone with me for five minutes, yes."
"No. What you can say to her must be said in my presence."
But Jessica petitioned for the favor, and Ninian stepped into an
adjoining room, leaving the door ajar.
As soon as he was out of sight, Senor Bernal leaned forward, clasping
his hands.
"It is the good turn I do. Well, then, it is the good turn you will
answer, no."
"Of course. I'd do you any 'good turn' which was right for me."
"Then plead for me, my liberty. It is you, senorita, who have the so
great, the strange power to move many hearts to your will. _Si._ You will
plead, then, if I tell you--something--a little story--maybe?"
"I'm in no mood for stories, and you're talking in riddles as you've
always been fond of doing. Say what you mean at once, Antonio, for I'm
going home to-morrow. Home! going home!"
"Ah! me! And? But yes. I will. I will force myself. I will ask it.
That--that--title? Know you of that?"
"How should I know?"
"Ephraim. Was not Ephraim at the safe one midnight? Is not Ephraim a
little strange--here?" touching his own forehead.
Jessica turned away, indignant.
"No, but you are. The queerest, crookedest man I ever saw. If you've
anything to tell me, just be quick, I am going. As for Ephraim, I wish,
unhappy man, that you had half the goodness and honesty in your whole
body that dear old fellow has in his littlest finger. He couldn't do a
mean thing nor even think one, and if you sent for me to abuse him to me
you might have spared yourself the trouble."
"Well, then. It is known, is it not? That when I shook the dust of
Sobrante rancho from my feet I took away with me all the papers that
appertained to the so great business of the place? Why not? Was I not
to go back the master, and for the settlement of all affairs which I
had with the Dona Gabriella?"
"You will please never call my mother by her first name again, Antonio
Bernal. She is an American gentlewoman, and her title is Mrs. Trent.
Understand? She is not afraid of you, nor am I, though she was patient
and, for her children's sakes, would not quarrel nor resent your
insolence. All that is changed. You can do us no further harm. My
father's name is freed from all the shadow that your wickedness cast
over it, and as for titles to property--poor! None of the Trents, big
or little, care anything for property since we have regained honor!
Besides, Sobrante isn't the only home in the world. They are everywhere,
waiting for those who will take them. If we lose Sobrante, as I suppose
we may, I--just I, Jessica Trent, a child, will make a home for my
mother and my brother--somewhere. I am strong. I can work. I am not
at all afraid."
Despite his meanness and cupidity, Antonio was moved. The girl was
radiant in her courage and enthusiasm, and her disdain of what he could
make her suffer was infinite.
"Good, senorita. When you speak and look like that I can no longer
keep silence, I. The papers! It is possible, no? That among them, in
my so great haste at leaving Sobrante, that little, yes, it might--it
might be among those other papers appertaining to the so great business.
_Si._ If I point the way, if I tell the secret retiring place of me,
I, Antonio Bernal, you will plead and set me free? It is a contract, a
bargain--yes?"
Jessica pondered. The temptation was strong to say "yes" without delay;
but she had now learned to distrust the late manager of her mother's
business, and answered, cautiously:
"I'll do what I can, Antonio, but if my mother forbids me to 'plead,'
I shall not disobey her. You did what you pleased, and my friends say
you will have to suffer the consequences."
"Ah! but it is the so old head on the so small shoulders. That wisdom
was not of your own, senorita. But, I forgive the suspicion. Yes, I am
magnanimous. I am generous, I, Senor Bernal, heir--rightful heir--to
Sobrante rancho and all of Paraiso d'Oro. See! Behold! Did the Lady
Jessica never hear of El Desierto, no?"
"The Deserted Ranch? Where Pedro says the spirits of dead people walk?
Of course. Everybody has heard of that. Why?"
"Sometimes the 'spirits' keep hidden treasures safe. Yes. _Si._ Does
the senorita know the trail thither, to that haunted place?"
"No. Nor wish to. Good-by, Antonio. I can wait for no more of your
nonsense."
"The paper. The pencil, which the Lady Jess holds in her hand. One
moment, that to me, if the senorita pleases."
"I brought these for my little shopping trip, which I'm to take with
Mr. Sharp. I can't give them to you, but I'll lend, for a moment. Here
they are. Be quick."
Antonio seized the pencil and rapidly sketched upon the pad a few
dots and lines, suggesting a zigzag road and stations upon it. At the
starting point he wrote "Marion," and at the end "Sobrante." Midway,
and well to the north, where a curving course indicated an arroyo he
marked "El Desierto."
Then he looked up, and Jessica reached forward to take back her
possessions.
But with what he considered great chaft and cunning he thrust them behind
him and smiled grimly:
"The promise, senorita. First the promise; 'I will plead for the
liberty of Senor Antonio Bernal, so help me----'"
Unperceived by the artful manager, Ninian Sharp had entered the room from
a rear door. He was tired of waiting for the interview to end and had
overheard most of it from the outer room. He now quietly stretched out
his own hand and possessed himself of the rude map, and then as quietly
and instantly withdrew with it, calling as he did so:
"Come on, Lady Jess. Time's up. So is Antonio's little game; yet,
thanks, senor, for playing it so openly, Good-day. _Adios._ Farewell. _Et
cetera. Au revoir_ and all the rest. We'll show you that title deed--if
we find it!"