ALISON AWAKES
An hour later the little Mexican settlement was left behind. Alison had
seen Brigida, had given her warning and had received tearful thanks and
repeated blessings. “You must get him away from there at once,” Alison
had told her, “or he may be discovered.” And Brigida had assured her
that there were friends and relatives who would go to the assistance of
Carlos. So the girl came out of the stuffy adobe house where chickens
roosted on the chairs, a game-cock, tied by the leg, occupied one
corner, and where a huge bed took up most of the space. She wore so
happy a face that Neal could but smile in return, and in spite of the
rain and the piercingly cold wind they made a joyous journey the rest
of the way.
“Neal,” whispered the girl, as he lifted her down before her own door,
“you are my own true knight. I don’t know another who would have let
me have my way without a word, who would have trusted me as you have
done.” And at the look she gave him as she passed into the house he
felt that her hour of waking was at hand.
Christine was ready with a roaring fire, hot coffee and dry clothes
for her sister. “Bad, naughty child,” she exclaimed, “why did you stay
so long, and why did you go off no better protected? You might have
perished with cold if you had been alone. Come in and get warm and then
I will show you what Neal has brought me.”
“I am not so very cold,” declared Alison. “We had a good fire at the
cabin and I was well wrapped up when we started, and then we came
around the longer way so we did not face the wind.”
“The longest way round is the shortest way home,” sang Christine,
who seemed in a merry mood. “Isn’t it good to see Neal again? John
is so glad he is back. For all one can say, no one else is quite so
companionable to John. He says that though Neal is always ready for a
frolic and is no prig, he never forgets that he is a gentleman and he
never disgraces himself by using bad language and by carousing in the
dreadful way some of his comrades-in-arms did. Yet he always had their
respect and confidence.”
“I know all that,” replied Alison, her eyes shining.
“Come up and I will show you my present,” said Christine, “such a rare
piece as it is. I’ll wager mine is the best. Has Neal told what he has
brought you?”
Alison was obliged to confess that he had not, but declared that she
knew it was finer than her sister’s.
The two men were out putting up the horses while the girls were
up-stairs. The girls could see them as they tramped back through the
slashing rain. Alison watched their approach from the little window
of her room. “When you were my age did you know you were in love with
Steve?” she asked her sister suddenly.
“I always knew it,” said Christine quietly. “I can’t remember the time
when I didn’t. Here, Allie, put on this dry skirt; you will take cold
if you wear that wet one any longer.”
“What time did Neal get here?” asked Alison, mechanically taking the
skirt.
“Quite early. He stayed to dinner and then nothing would do but he must
go in search of you. Where did he overtake you?”
“Not very far this side of Louisa’s. Just as we reached that long
stretch across the prairie the norther came up and we turned off into
the woods.”
“It’s lucky you did. See, here is the beautiful thing he brought.” She
spread out a piece of gorgeous embroidery for Alison to admire.
“It would make a magnificent apron,” she said.
“Too magnificent. Where would I wear such a thing? To spend the
afternoon with Hannah Maria? No, I shall keep it for the front of a
gown to wear to your wedding.” And Alison blushed.
“Let us go down now,” she said hastily. “The boys have come in.”
They found not only John and Neal before the blazing fire, but two
travelers driven in by the storm to seek shelter, and the four were
discussing Texas customs and the political situation.
“I was asked yesterday when I gave my name to a man,” said one of the
travelers, “what my name was in the States. Rather a sharp comment upon
the character of the immigration to Texas, I thought.”
“It is too bad that so good a country should receive so large an
overflow of shady individuals from the States,” returned John. “We do
have a great many refugees from the law, but there are some decent men
among us, who do not feel it necessary to take a different name in
order to hide an unenviable identity. As I think of it, very few, if
any, of our immediate neighbors rest under the shadow of any crime,
though there have been a few desperadoes in our midst. Pike Smith, you
know him, Neal,” he turned to his friend, “he is said to have worn
another name before he came to Texas. Old Cy Sparks was pretty crooked,
but he was born Cy Sparks and was buried under the same name. I think
most of us, sir, in this vicinity can produce our family Bibles.”
“I am glad to receive so good a report,” said the traveler addressed.
“When a respectable man is attracted to a locality and is thinking of
settling there he would rather that his neighbors were not all escaped
criminals.”
“We cannot boast of many intellectual spirits about here,” said John,
“but further west we have some German emigrants of the better class,
who are building up a most promising settlement and who have some
scholarly men among them. They had a very hard experience at first, and
had more difficulties to overcome than is usually the lot of pioneers,
but now their village of New Braunfels is quite a model. Then there
is Castro’s settlement, and others which have brought a good class of
people, so, sir, you see we are not all cut-throats and horse thieves.”
“I should have denied any such report, sir, after my own experiences,”
returned the gentleman politely, “for I have met with no finer
hospitality than has been shown me here and, though I have encountered
some roughness, I have been offered nothing but kindly intentions. What
do you think, sir, of the situation in Mexico? Will it be Anaya or
Almonte who will be the next president? The rapidity with which they
change their presidents is only equaled by that with which our own army
wins its victories over them.”
“We certainly have been giving it to them good and hot,” said Neal. “I
never saw harder fighting than at Mexico.”
“You were with the army, sir?” spoke up the second traveler. “I should
like to hear some of your experiences.”
“I have but just returned,” Neal told him.
“Mr. Jordan was with McCullough and afterwards with Jack Hays,” John
remarked. “I think, gentlemen, he can entertain you with some very good
adventures.”
And so the talk went on. Alison, sitting by her brother’s side,
listened eagerly to Neal’s tales of scouting parties, of raids, of
hair-breadth escapes, and in her interest in the Texas Ranger forgot
that there ever existed in her imagination such a person as Sir
Artegall, so did the present drive out the past. Outside the norther
still raged. It shook the windows and sent gusts of wind through every
crack and cranny, but inside, before the cheerful fire, the company did
not mind the gale, and the strangers, glad enough of such comfort and
of such excellent companionship, were rather pleased that they were
compelled to defer their journey till better weather.
It was the third day before the storm passed over and then it grew
suddenly mild and summerlike. The guests remained until the sun came
out and then with many courteous speeches went upon their way. During
the time of their stay Alison had not had much opportunity of seeing
Neal alone, nor had any news of the outside world reached her. She
wondered if Carlos had escaped. The weather surely was in his favor,
and she believed there was now no longer any danger in his direction.
She determined, however, to tell Neal nothing till he should be ready
to depart upon his quest.
Upon the afternoon of the day that the norther ended, Bud Haley made
his appearance. As might be supposed, he was not going to omit taking
advantage of the first opportunity of seeing Neal. His good-natured
face smiled upon the family assembled in the gallery. “Been a-wonderin’
how you-alls was a-gittin’ along,” he said. “I wanted to start out two
or three times, but Hannah Mari’ wouldn’t hear to my doin’ nothing but
hug the fire. Well, Neal, back safe, ain’t ye? Had right smart luck, I
think, not losin’ no limb. Hallo, Allie, we didn’t git our man arter
all. It come on so blamed cold, an’ we give it up after we beat around
for an hour or more. It looked like we’d ought to got him.”
“What man?” asked John quickly.
“One o’ Pike’s gang. Thought we spotted him sure. He was footin’ it
along the road ahead of us. Soon as Iry seen him he give a yell and let
out his rope, but the feller jumped a leetle beyond the limit and got
into the bushes. We struck right in after him, but somehow he got off.”
“Which man was it?” asked John.
“That greaser, Carlos. It did look for one while like he’d made
straight for Pike’s cabin, but we was out on our calculations. The
tracks we saw turned out to be Neal’s. The greaser must have got
picked up by the wind, it looks to me like, for there was two or three
sets of tracks by the door, and what we thought his’n we followed
straight from the road.”
Alison was bending forward eagerly listening. She breathed a sigh of
relief. Carlos had escaped.
“You are sure he wasn’t there,” said John.
“There wasn’t nobody there but Allie when we come by. I reckon she’d
hollered if she’d seen him. He got off somehow, but we’ll have him yet.
How’s things, Neal?”
“Things” being matters in general which would interest the three men
they betook themselves to the outside, where the sun was shining warm
and where they squatted down comfortably for a good talk till Bud was
ready to take his leave, having loaded himself with all the news he
could obtain from the family collectively and individually.
Alison stood on the step watching him depart. John was keeping pace
with the horse till he should be ready to pass through the gate.
Christine was moving about the inner room. Neal leaned against the side
of the house. “Little lady,” he said presently, “got anything to tell
me? I reckon I’ll be starting off in the morning.”
“So soon?” the words came with unrestrained tones of regret.
“Yes, don’t you think I’d better be hitchin’ along? The sooner I get
started the sooner I’ll get back, and the more likely I’ll be to find
Steve.”
“That is true, I suppose. Do you know you haven’t given me my present
yet?” she added reproachfully.
“I’ll show it to you.”
Alison stepped down to his side. He took her hand and laid it in his
firm brown palm. Then he looked down into her eyes and smiled. She
did not withdraw her hand, but glanced away, afraid to meet his gaze.
“It’s a young little hand,” he said, “all pink and white and dimply. It
oughtn’t to work too hard.”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” said Alison, laughing. “I do no more than I should,
though now there is more to look after; the negroes to see to and my
own sewing to do. I don’t want my hands to be idle ones, for Satan
finds some mischief still; you know the rest.”
Neal did not answer, but lifted the hand and touched his lips to the
rosy palm. Then still holding it in his firm clasp he said, “Come,
let’s take a walk. Where’s that little place you used to call your
castle in the chaparral? Is it all overgrown?”
“No, for I have had Pedro keep it cleared. Lolita and I are very fond
of going there. I think the sun will have dried it up enough for us to
go if you want to see it. Wilt come to my castle, Sir Knight? I have
matters of grave import to discuss with you.”
Neal chuckled, but became grave before they reached the place. “This is
the moat,” said Alison, when they reached the tree, “and this limb is
the drawbridge. Now I’m over.” She dropped down lightly and they stood
side by side in the circle. “Now,” said Alison, “look up into the tree,
or the sky somewhere, till I tell you something.”
“Why not look at you?”
“Because.”
“After such an excellent reason I will look anywhere but at you. All
right. Fire ahead, Alison.”
And Alison told him of her meeting with Carlos, of the information he
had given her, of her promise to his mother, concluding with: “And that
was why I had to see Brigida that day.”
“I see.” Neal was silent for a moment.
“Do you think I did wrong?” asked Alison, anxiously.
“No, not from your standpoint. I reckon anyhow you did right. The
fellow is ignorant, and from what I have gathered, was only a tool in
Pike Smith’s hands. He’ll have to leave the country, though, if he
wants to save his neck.”
“I warned Brigida of that. Do you know where that Night Creek is?”
“Just about.”
“Is it far?”
“Right smart of a ways. You’ve got me some lines to go on.”
“You haven’t told anybody about your going, have you?”
“No. I told John I was going off on some business, but I did not say
where. I am glad you can start me on the right track.” He did not say
that even this was vague enough information, and that the journey
presented more dangers than she knew.
“Now where is my present?” said the girl, holding out her hand.
Neal fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a small packet which he
gave her. Alison opened it eagerly. “Oh, how beautiful,” she exclaimed
as she disclosed a hoop of yellow gold set with a single fine emerald.
“I never had a ring before,” she said slipping it on her finger and
viewing it admiringly. Then she took it off and looked up at him. “I
don’t believe I will wear it--just yet,” she said hesitatingly.
“But when I come back?”
“Yes, I think so. Thank you very, very much, Neal. It is a very
beautiful present, much too good for me.”
“I thought you were a princess or a lady somebody or other.”
“Yes, so I like to imagine, but I’d rather not wear the ring if you
don’t mind.”
“Wear it when you please, little lady.”
“I ought to give you my colors to wear. Here, let me have your hat.”
She took the broad-brimmed sombrero and twisted in with its gilt cord
a blue ribbon she wore. “There,” she said, “you are fairly decked.
You haven’t a shield, and I haven’t a sleeve embroidered with pearls,
but those are my colors. I wish I could give you something better to
remember me by when you have brought me such a beautiful thing as
this.” She gazed down at the ring which she held in her hand.
“Do you think I am likely to forget you?”
“Oh, no. I am too conceited for that.”
“There is one thing I should like. You know, it is possible--anything
is possible--I might not come back.”
“Don’t, don’t say that!” Alison looked at him in alarm. “Is it going to
be very, very dangerous?”
“Not more so than any other undertaking. Not as much so as going to war
or as heaps of Injun fights.”
“Oh, then, I don’t feel so badly as if it were something worse. And
what is it I can give you?”
He took both her hands, the ring clasped between them. “You can give me
one kiss to remember,” he said very gravely, very tenderly.
She dropped her eyes to the strong muscular hands enfolding hers. Over
her came a partial realization of what he was about to do for her sake,
of what he might have to endure before she should see him again. She
lifted her face as a child might and he kissed her gently. Then he
released her hands and stood looking at her. The red blood rushed to
her cheeks. She seemed so young, so innocent, that he felt a reverence
for her as truly as did any knight for his lady.
At this moment Christine’s voice was heard calling:
“Alison, Alison, where are you?”
“Oh, I must go,” murmured the girl. And still clasping her ring she
caught the limb of the tree, found her foothold and reached the road,
leaving Neal to follow.
She held out the ring in her palm when she came up to her sister
standing on the step. “See, see, my present,” she said exultantly.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
Christine took the ring and examined it carefully. Then she looked at
the girl searchingly, but Alison’s eager face showed no consciousness.
“It is beautiful,” said Christine. “Are you going to wear it?”
A soft color swept over Alison’s face. “No, not yet,” she said. And,
passing her sister, she went into the house. Christine looked after her
and sighed gently.
The next morning Neal took his departure, his last smile and hand clasp
for Alison. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said.
“And you will write?” she asked.
“If I can. If I have anything to tell.” And he rode away.
“My knight goes forth,” whispered Alison to herself. She watched him
between the waving sweep of prairie till he was lost to view. Then she
turned to her sister and said wistfully, “Oh, Christine, I shall miss
him so, I shall miss him so.”
“Why, my dear, my dear,” Christine looked with tender concern at the
eyes full of tears, “does it matter so much to you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” replied Alison rushing up to her room.
All day long she thought of him who had ridden towards the west. In the
evening she got out her copy of the “Faerie Queen” and pored over it
till her mind was full of the terrors of the forest, of hidden foes,
of wounded knights, of desperate combats, and she dreamed of them and,
waking in the middle of the night, started up imagining she saw Neal in
the hands of fierce Indians. “The Apaches! The Apaches!” she cried out,
and sank down on her pillow sobbing convulsively.
Her cry awoke her sister who turned to soothe her, patting her as she
would a child. “Why, Alison, dear child, you must have had a horrid
dream,” she said. “Go to sleep. There are no Indians.”
But Alison did not go to sleep. In the fastnesses of the mountains she
knew there were Indians. She had sent her knight into their midst.
What folly! what folly! Why had she not considered the danger? She
clasped the ribbon by which she had swung her ring around her neck and
feeling for the circlet she softly kissed it. “Oh, Neal, Neal,” she
whispered, “if I could call you back, I would. I didn’t know. I didn’t
know.” She lay very still listening to Christine’s quiet breathing,
and it came over her that now for the first time, she comprehended the
meaning and the misery of hope deferred. “I was thinking of you, and
not of him, Christine,” she murmured, “and you have not given up hope
in all this long while, then why should I so soon? They will come back
together.” And seeking her sister’s hand she held it till she slept.
But the next morning she took the ring from its ribbon and wore it
proudly on her hand. Christine looked at it questioningly.
“When Neal comes back I want him to see it there,” said Alison, but she
would discuss the subject no further.
“I believe Alison is very fond of Neal,” Christine said to her brother
later in the day.
“I’m glad of it,” returned John. “She’s all the world to him. He told
me so two years ago, but I reminded him that she was but a child; that
she had not waked up yet.”
“She has waked up now,” said Christine.