THE SECRET OF SOLEDAD CHAPEL
It took considerable persuasion to prevail upon Dona Jocasta that a
return to Soledad would be of any advantage to anybody. To her it was
a place fearful and accursed.
"But, senora, a padre who sought to be of service to you is still
there, a prisoner. In the warring of those wild men who will speak for
him? The men of Soledad would have killed him but for their
superstitions, and Rotil is notorious for his dislike of priests."
"I know," she murmured sadly. "There are some good ones, but he will
never believe. In his scales the bad ones weigh them down."
"But this one at Soledad?"
"Ah, yes, senor, he spoke for me,--Padre Andreas."
"And a prisoner because of you?"
"That is true. You do well to remind me of that. My own sorrows sink
me in selfishness, and it is a good friend who shows me my duty. Yes,
we will go. God only knows what is in the heart of Ramon Rotil that he
wishes it, but that which he says is law today wherever his men ride,
and I want no more sorrow in the world because of me. We will go."
Valencia had gone placidly about preparations for the journey from
the moment Kit had expressed the will of the Deliverer. To hesitate
when he spoke seemed a foolish thing, for in the end he always did the
thing he willed, and to form part of the escort for Dona Jocasta
filled her with pride. She approved promptly the suggestion that
certain bed and table furnishings go to Soledad for use of the senora,
and later be carried north to Mrs. Whitely, whose property they were.
As capitan of the outfit, Kit bade her lay out all such additions to
their state and comfort, and he would personally make all packs and
decide what animals, chests, or provisions could be taken.
This was easier managed than he dared hope. Clodomiro rode after mules
and returned with Benito and Mariano at his heels, both joyously
content to leave the planting of fields and offer their young lives to
the army of the Deliverer. Isidro was busy with the duties of the
ranch stock, and there was only Tula to see bags of nuggets
distributed where they would be least noticed among the linen, Indian
rugs, baskets and such family possessions easiest carried to their
owner.
He marked the packs to be opened, and Tula, watching, did not need to
be told.
The emotions of the night and the uncertainty of what lay ahead left
Rhodes and Dona Jocasta rather silent as they took the trail to the
gruesome old hacienda called by Dona Jocasta so fearful and accursed.
Many miles went by with only an occasional word of warning between
them where the way was bad, or a word of command for the animals
following.
"In the night I rode without fear where I dare not look in the
sunlight," said Jocasta drawing back from a narrow ledge where stones
slipped under the hoofs of the horses to fall a hundred feet below in
a dry canon.
"Yes, senora, the night was kind to all of us," returned Kit politely.
"Even the accidents worked for good except for the pain to you."
"That is but little, and my shoulder of no use to anyone. General
Rotil is very different,--a wound to a soldier means loss of time. It
is well that shot found him among friends for it is said that when a
wolf has wounds the pack unites to tear him to pieces, and there are
many,--many pesos offered to the traitor who will trap Rotil by any
lucky accident."
"Yet he took no special care at Mesa Blanca."
"Who knows? He brought with him only men of the district as guard. Be
sure they knew every hidden trail, and every family. Ramon Rotil is a
coyote for the knowing of traps."
She spoke as all Altar spoke, with a certain pride in the ability of
the man she had known as a burro driver of the sierras. For three
years he had been an outlaw with a price on his head, and as a rebel
general the price had doubled many times.
"With so many poor, how comes it that no informer has been found? The
reward would be riches untold to a poor _paisano_."
"It might be to his widow," said Dona Jocasta, "but no sons of his,
and no brothers would be left alive."
"True. I reckon the friends of Rotil would see to that! Faithful
hearts are the ones he picks for comrades. I heard an old-timer say
the Deliverer has that gift."
She looked at him quickly, and away again, and went silent. He
wondered if it was true that there had been love between these two,
and she had been unfaithful. Love and Dona Jocasta were fruitful
themes for the imagination of any man.
Valencia was having the great adventure of her life in her journey to
Soledad, and she chattered to Tula as a maiden going to a marriage.
Three people illustrious in her small world were at once to be
centered on the stage of war before her eyes. She told Tula it was a
thing to make songs of,--the two men and the most beautiful woman!
When they emerged from the canon into the wide spreading plain, with
the sierras looming high and blue beyond, the eyes of Kit and Tula
met, and then turned toward their own little camp in the lap of the
mother range. All was flat blue against the sky there, and no
indications of canon or gulch or pocket discernible. Even as they drew
nearer to the hacienda, and Kit surreptitiously used the precious
field glasses, thus far concealed from all new friends of the desert,
he found difficulty in locating their hill of the treasure, and
realized that their fears of discovery in the little canon had been
groundless. In the far-away time when the giant aliso had flourished
there by the canon stream, its height might have served to mark the
special ravine where it grew, but the lightning sent by pagan gods had
annihilated that landmark forever, and there was no other.
The glint of tears shone in the eyes of Tula, and she rode with
downcast eyes, crooning a vagrant Indian air in which there were bird
calls, and a whimpering long-drawn tremulo of a baby coyote caught in
a trap, a weird ungodly improvisation to hear even with the shining
sun warming the world.
Kit concluded she was sending her brand of harmony to Miguel and the
ghosts on guard over the hidden trail.--And he rather wished she would
stop it!
Even the chatter of Valencia grew silent under the spell of the girl's
gruesome intonings,--ill music for her entrance to a new portal of
adventure.
"It sounds of death," murmured Dona Jocasta, and made the sign of the
cross. "The saints send that the soul to go next has made peace with
God! See, senor, we are truly crossing a place of death as she sings.
That beautiful valley of the green border is the _sumidero_,--the
quicksands from hidden springs somewhere above," and she pointed to
the blue sierras. "I think that is the grave Jose meant for me at
Soledad."
"Nice cheerful end of the trail--not!" gloomed Kit strictly to
himself. "That little imp is whining of trouble like some be-deviled
prophetess."
Afterwards he remembered that thought, and wished he could forget!
Blue shadows stretched eastward across the wide zacatan meadows, and
the hacienda on the far mesa, with its white and cream adobe walls,
shone opal-like in the lavender haze of the setting sun.
Kit Rhodes had timed the trip well and according to instruction of the
general, but was a bit surprised to find that his little cavalcade was
merely part of a more elaborate plan arranged for sunset at Soledad.
A double line of horsemen rode out from the hacienda to meet them, a
rather formidable reception committee as they filed in soldier-like
formation over the three miles of yellow and green of the spring
growths, and halted where the glint of water shone in a dam filled
from wells above.
Their officer saluted and rode forward, his hat in his hand as he
bowed before Dona Jocasta.
"General Rotil presents to you his compliments, Senora Perez, and
sends his guard as a mark of respect when you are pleased to ride once
more across your own lands."
"My thanks are without words, senor. I appreciate the honor shown to
me. My generalissimo will answer for me."
She indicated Kit with a wan smile, and her moment of hesitation over,
his title reminded him that no name but El Pajarito had been given him
by his Indian friends. That, and the office of manager of Mesa Blanca,
was all that served as his introduction to her, and to Rotil. With the
old newspaper in his pocket indicating that Kit Rhodes was the only
name connected with the murder at Granados, he concluded it was just
as well.
The guard drew to either side, and the officer and Kit, with Dona
Jocasta between them, rode between the two lines, followed by Tula and
Valencia. Then the guard fell in back of them, leaving Clodomiro with
the pack animals and the Indian boys to follow after in the dust.
Dona Jocasta was pale, and her eyes sought Kit's in troubled question,
but she held her head very erect, and the shrouding lace veil hid all
but her eyes from the strangers.
"Senor Pajarito," she murmured doubtfully. "The sun is still shining,
and there are no chains on my wrists,--otherwise this guard gives much
likeness to my first arrival at the hacienda of Soledad!"
"I have a strong belief that no harm is meant to you by the general
commanding," he answered, "else I would have sought another trail, and
these men look friendly."
"God send they be so!"
"They have all the earmarks,--and look!"
They were near enough the hacienda to see men emerge from the portal,
and one who limped and leaned on a cane, moved ahead of the others and
stood waiting.
"It is an honor that I may bid you welcome to your own estate, Dona
Jocasta," he said grimly. "We have only fare of soldiers to offer you
at first, but a few days and good couriers can remedy that."
"I beg that you accept my thanks, _Commandante_," she murmured lowly.
"The trail was not of my choosing, and it is an ill time for women to
come journeying."
"The time is a good time," he said bluntly, "for there is a limit to
my hours here. And in one of them I may do service for you."
His men stood at either side watching. There were wild tales told of
Ramon Rotil and women who crossed or followed his trail, but here was
the most beautiful of all women riding to his door and he gave her no
smile,--merely motioned to the Americano that he assist her from the
saddle.
"The supper is ready, and your woman and the priest will see that care
is given for your comfort," he continued. "Afterwards, in the
_sala_----"
She bent her head, and with Kit beside her passed on to the inner
portal. There a dark priest met her and reached out his hand.
"No welcome is due me, Padre Andreas," she said brokenly. "I turned
coward and tried to save myself."
"Daughter," he returned with a wry smile at Kit, and a touch of cynic
humor, "you had right in going. The lieutenant would have had no
pleasure in adding me to his elopement, and, as we hear,--your stolen
trail carried you to good friends."
Kit left them there and gave his attention to space for the packs and
outfit, but learned that the general had allotted to him the small
corral used in happier days for the saddle horses of the family. There
was a gate to it and a lock to the gate. Chappo had been given charge,
and when all was safely bestowed, he gave the key to the American.
The brief twilight crept over the world, and candles were lit when Kit
returned to the corridor. Rotil was seated, giving orders to men who
rode in and dismounted, and others who came out from supper, mounted
and rode away. It was the guard from a wide-flung arc bringing report
of sentinels stationed at every pass and water hole.
Padre Andreas was there presenting some appeal, and to judge by his
manner he was not hopeful of success. Yet spoke as a duty of his
office and said so.
"What is your office to me?" asked Rotil coldly. "Do your duty and
confess him when the time comes if that is his wish. It is more than
he would have given to her or the foreman who stored the ammunition.
Him he had killed as the German had Miguel Herrara killed on the
border,--and Herrara had been faithful to that gun running for months.
When man or woman is faithful to Jose Perez long enough to learn
secrets, he rewards them with death. A dose of his own brew will be
fit medicine."
"But the woman,--she is safe. She is----"
"Yes, very safe!" agreed Rotil, sneering. "Shall I tell you, pious
Father, how safe she is? The cholo who took food to Perez and that
German dog has brought me a message. See, it is on paper, and is clear
for any to read. You--no not you, but Don Pajarito here shall read it.
He is a neutral, and not a padre scheming to save the soul of a man
who never had a soul!"
Kit held it to the light, read it, and returned it to Rotil.
"I agree with you, General. He offers her to you in exchange for his
own freedom."
"Yes, and to pay for that writing I had him chained where he could see
her enter the plaza as a queen, if we had queens in Mexico! You had an
unseen audience for your arrival. The guard reports that the German
friend of Perez seems to love you, Don Pajarito, very much indeed."
"Sure he does. Here is the mark of one of his little love pats with a
monkey wrench," and Kit parted his hair to show the scar of the
Granados assault. "I got that for interfering when he was trying to
kill his employer's herds with ground glass in their feed."
"So? no wonder if he goes in a rage to see you riding as a lady's
caballero while he feels the weight of chains in a prison. This world
is but a little place!"
"That is true," said Padre Andreas, "regarding Kit, for the story of
the horses was told to me by Dona Jocasta here in Soledad!"
"How could that be?" demanded Rotil. "Is it not true you met the lady
first at Mesa Blanca?"
"As you say," said Kit, alert at the note of suspicion, "if the lady
knows aught of Granados, it is a mystery to me, and is of interest."
"Not so much a mystery," said the priest. "Conrad boasted much when
glasses were emptied with Perez on the Hermosillo rancho, and Dona
Jocasta heard. He told the number of cavalry horses killed by his men,
also the owner of that ranch of Granados who had to be silenced for
the cause."
"Thanks for those kind words, Padre," said Kit. "If Dona Jocasta has a
clear memory of that boasting, she may save a life for me."
"So?" said Rotil speculatively. "We seem finding new trails at
Soledad. Whose life?"
"The partner of a chum of mine," stated Kit lightly, as he did some
quick thinking concerning the complications likely to arise if he was
regarded as a possible murderer hiding from the law. "My own hunch is
that Conrad himself did it."
"Have you any idea of a trap for him?"
"N-no, General, unless he was led to believe that I was under guard
here. He might express his sentiments more freely if he thought I
would never get back across the border alive."
"Good enough! This offer from Perez is to go into the keeping of Dona
Jocasta. You've the duty of taking it to her. We have not yet found
that ammunition."
"Well, it did cross the border, and somebody got it."
"He says it was moved to Hermosillo before Juan Gonsalvo, the
overseer, died."
"Was shot, you mean, after it was cached."
"Maybe so, but he offers to trade part of it for his liberty, and
deliver the goods north of Querobabi."
"Yes, General,--into the bodies of your men if you trust him."
Rotil chuckled. "You are not so young as you look, Don Pajarito, and
need no warning. It is the room next the _sala_ where I will have
Perez and Conrad brought. The senora can easily overhear what is said.
It may be she will have the mind to help when she sees that offer he
made."
"It would seem so, yet--women are strange! They go like the padre, to
prayers when a life is at stake."
"Some women, and some priests, boy," said the dark priest. "It may be
that you do not know Dona Jocasta well."
This remark appeared to amuse Rotil, for he smiled grimly and with a
gesture indicated that they were to join Dona Jocasta.
She was rested and refreshed by a good supper. Valencia and Elena, the
cook, had waited upon her and the latter waxed eloquent over the
stupendous changes at Soledad from the time of Dona Jocasta's supper
the previous day. Many of the angry men had been ready to start after
Marto who had cheated them, when a courier rode in with the word that
Don Jose and Senor Conrad were close behind. Then the surprise of all
when Don Jose was captured, and it was seen that Elena had been
cooking these many days, not for simple vaqueros, but for some
soldiers of the revolution by which peace and plenty was to come to
all the land! It was a beautiful dream, and the Deliverer was to make
it come true!
Tula sat in the shadow against the wall, like some slender Indian
carving, mute and expressionless while the eyes of the woman rolled as
the two old friends exchanged their wonder tales of the night and day!
Elena made definite engagement to be with the "Judas" trailers on the
dark Friday, and both breathed blessings on Rotil who had promised
them the right man for the hanging.
It was this cheerful topic Kit entered upon with the written note from
Perez to the general. He had no liking for his task, as his eyes
rested on Dona Jocasta, beautiful, resigned and detached from the
scene about her. He remembered what Rotil had said scoffingly of
saints lifted from shrines--a man never forgot that shrine was empty!
"Mine is a thankless task, senora, but the general decided you are the
best keeper of this," and he gave to her the scribbled page torn from
a note book.
She took it and held it unread, looking at him with dark tragic eyes.
"I have fear of written words, senor, and would rather hear them
spoken. So many changes have come that I dread new changes. No matter
where my cage is moved, it is still a cage to me," she said
wistfully.
"I've a hunch, Dona Jocasta, that the bars of that cage are going to
be broken for you," ventured Kit, taking the seat she indicated, "and
this note may be one of the weapons to do it. Evidently Senor Perez
has had some mistaken information concerning the stealing of you from
here;--he thought it was by the general's order. So mistaken was he
that he thought you were the object of Rotil's raid on Soledad, and
for his own freedom he has offered to give you, and half his stock of
ammunition, to General Ramon Rotil, and agree to a truce between their
factions."
"Ah! he offers to make gift of me to the man he hates," she said after
a long silence. "And the guns and ammunition,--he also surrenders
them?"
"He offers--but it is written here! Since the guns, however, have been
taken south, he cannot give them; he can only promise them, until such
time----"
"Ho!" she said scornfully. "Is that the tale he tells? It is true
there are guns in the south, but guns are also elsewhere! He forgets,
does Jose Perez,--or else he plays for time. This offer," and she
referred to the note, "it is not written since we arrived--no. It was
written earlier, when he thought I was held by that renegade far in
the desert."
"I reckon that is true, senora, for after receiving it, Rotil had him
chained in a room fronting the plaza that he might see you enter
Soledad with honors."
"Ramon Rotil did that?" she mused, looking at the note thoughtfully,
"and he gives to me the evidence against Jose? Senor, in the Perez
lands we hear only evil things and very different things about Rotil.
They would say this paper was for sale, but not for a gift. And--he
gives it to me!"
Kit also remembered different things and evil things told of Rotil,
but they were not for discussion with a lady. He had wondered a bit
that it was not the padre who was given the message to transmit, yet
suddenly he realized that even the padre might have tried to make it a
question of barter, for the padre wanted help for his priestly office
in the saving of Perez' soul, and incidentally of his life.
"Yes, senora, it seems a free-will offering, and he said to tell you
it would be in the room adjoining this that Perez would be questioned
as to the war material. Rotil's men have searched, and his officers
have questioned, but Perez evidently thinks Rotil will not execute
him, as a ransom will pay much better."
"That is true, death pays no one--no one!"
Her voice was weighted with sadness, and Kit wondered what the cloud
was under which she lived. The padre evidently knew, but none of
Rotil's men. It could not be the mere irregularity of her life with
Perez, for to the peon mind she was the great lady of a great
hacienda, and wife of the padrone. No,--he realized that the sin of
Dona Jocasta had been a different thing, and that the shadow of it
enveloped her as a dark cloak of silence.
"It is true, senora, that death pays no one, except that the death of
one man may save other lives more valuable. That often happens,"
remarked Kit, with the idea of distracting her from her own woe,
whatever it was. "It might have seemed a crime if one of his nurses
had chucked a double dose of laudanum into Bill Hohenzollern's baby
feed, but that nurse would have saved the lives of hundreds of
thousands of innocents, so you never can tell whether a murderer is a
devil, or a man doing work of the angels."
"Bill?" Evidently the name was a new one to Dona Jocasta.
"That's the name of the Prussian pirate of the Huns across the water.
Your friend Conrad belongs to them."
"My friend! My _friend_, senor!" and Dona Jocasta was on her feet,
white and furious, her eyes flaming hatred. Kit Rhodes was appalled at
the spirit he had carelessly wakened. He remembered the statement of
the priest that he evidently did not know the lady well, and realized
in a flash that he certainly did not, also that he would feel more
comfortable elsewhere.
"Senora, I beg a thousand pardons for my foolishness," he implored.
"My--my faulty Spanish caused me to speak the wrong word. Will you not
forgive me such a stupid blunder? Everyone knows the German brute
could not be a friend of yours, and that you could have only hatred of
his kind."
She regarded him steadily with the ever ready suspicion against an
Americano showing in her eyes, but his regret was so evident, and his
devotion to her interests so sincere, that the tension relaxed, and
she sank back in her chair, her hand trembling as she covered her eyes
for a moment.
"It is I who am wrong, senor. You cannot know how the name of that man
is a poison, and why absolution is refused me because I will not
forgive,--and will not say I forgive! I will not lie, and because of
the hate of him my feet will tread the fires of hell. The padre is
telling me that, so what use to pray? Of what use, I ask you?"
Kit could see no special use if she had accepted the threat of the
priest that hell was her portion anyway.
"Oh, I would not take that gabble of a priest seriously if I were
you," he suggested. "No one can beat me in detesting the German and
what he stands for, but I have no plans of going to hell for it--not
on your life! To hate Conrad, or to kill him would be like killing a
rattlesnake, or stamping a tarantula into the sand. He has been let
live to sting too many, and Padre Andreas tells me you heard him boast
of an American killing at Granados!"
"That is true, senor, and it was so clever too! It was pleasure for
him to tell of that because of clever tricks in it. They climbed poles
to the wires and called the man to a town, then they waited on that
road and shot him before he reached the town. The alcalde of that
place decided the man had killed himself, and Conrad laughed with Jose
Perez on account of that, because they were so clever!"
"They?" queried Kit trying to prevent his eagerness from showing in
his voice. "Who helped him? Not Perez?"
"No, senor, in that sin Jose had no part. It was a very important man
who did not appear important;--quite the other way, and like a man of
piety. His name, I am remembering it well, for it is Diego,--but said
in the American way, which is James."
"Diego, said in the American way?" repeated Kit thoughtfully. "Is he
then an American?"
"Not at all, senor! He is Aleman _commandante_ for the border. His
word is an order for life or death, and Jose Perez is of his circle.
The guns buried by Perez are bought with the German money; it is for
war of Sonora against Arizona when that day comes."
"Shucks! that day isn't coming unless the Huns put more of a force
down here than is yet in sight," declared Kit, "but that 'Diego'
bothers me. I know many James',--several at Granados, but not the sort
you tell of, senora. Will you speak of that murder again, and let it
be put on paper for me? I have friends at Granados who may be troubled
about it, and your help would be as--as the word of an angel at the
right hour."
"A sad angel, senor," she said with a sigh, "but why should I not help
you to your wish since you have guarded me well? It is a little thing
you ask."
The Indian women at the far end of the _sala_ had lowered their
voices, but their gossip in murmurs and expressive gestures flowed on,
and only Tula gave heed to the talk at the table of wars and guns, and
secrets of murder, and that was no new thing in Sonora.
One door of the _sala_ opened from the patio, and another into a room
used as a chapel after the old adobe walls of the mission church had
melted utterly back into the earth. Rotil had selected it merely
because its only window was very high, an architectural variation
caused by a wing of the mission rooms still standing when Soledad
hacienda was built. A new wall had been built against the older and
lower one which still remained, with old sleeping cells of the
neophytes used as tool sheds, and an unsightly litter of propped or
tumbling walls back of the ranch house.
The door from the _sala_ was slightly ajar, and the voice of Fidelio
was heard there. He asked someone for another candle, and another
chair. And there was the movement of feet, and rearrangement of
furniture.
Rotil entered the _sala_ from the patio, and stood just inside,
looking about him.
With a brief word and gesture he indicated that Elena and Valencia
vacate. At Tula he glanced, but did not bid her follow. He noted the
folded paper in the hand of Dona Jocasta, but did not address her; it
was to Kit he spoke.
"The door will be left open. I learn that Conrad distrusts Perez
because he paid German money, and shipped the guns across the border,
but Perez never uncovered one for him. They are badly scared and ready
to cut each other's throats if they had knives. Dona Jocasta may
overhear what she pleases, and furnish the knives as well if she so
decides."
But Dona Jocasta with a shudder put up her hand in protest.
"No knife, no knife!" she murmured, and Rotil shrugged his shoulders
and looked at Kit.
"That little crane in the corner would walk barefoot over embers of
hell to get a knife and get at Conrad," he said. "You have taste in
your favorites, senor."
He seemed to get a certain amusement in the contemplation of Kit and
Tula; he had seen no other American with quite that sort of addition
to his outfit. Kit was content to let him think his worst, as to tell
the truth would no doubt lose them a friend. It tickled the general's
fancy to think the thin moody Indian girl, immature and childlike, was
an American's idea of a sweetheart!
Voices and the clank of chains were heard in the patio, and then in
the next room.
"Why bring us here when your questions were given answer as well in
another place?" demanded a man's voice, and at that Dona Jocasta
looked at Rotil.
"Yes, why do you?" she whispered.
He stared at her, frowning and puzzled.
"Did I not tell you? I did it that you might hear him repeat his
offer. What else?"
"I--see," she said, bending her head, but as Rotil went to the door,
Kit noted that the eyes of Dona Jocasta followed him curiously. He
concluded that the unseen man of the voice was Jose Perez.
Then the voice of Conrad was heard cursing at a chain too heavy. Rotil
laughed, and walked into the chapel.
"I can tell you something, you German Judas!" he said coldly. "You
will live to see the day when these chains, and this safe old chapel,
will be as a paradise you once lived in. You will beg to crawl on your
knees to be again comfortably inside this door."
"Is that some Mexican joke?" asked Conrad, and Rotil laughed again.
"Sure it is, and it will be on you! They tell me you collect girls in
Sonora for a price. Well, they have grown fond of you,--the Indian
women of Sonora! They say you must end your days here with them. I
have not heard of a ransom price they would listen to,--though you
might think of what you have to offer."
"Offer?" growled Conrad. "How is there anything to offer in Sonora
when Perez here has sent the guns south?"
"True, the matter of ransom seems to rest with Senor Perez who is
saving of words."
"I put the words on paper, and sent it by your man," said Perez. "What
else is there to say?"
"Oh, that?" returned Rotil. "My boys play tricks, and make jokes with
me like happy children. Yes, Chappo did bring words on paper,--foolish
words he might have written himself. I take no account of such things.
You are asked for the guns, and I get foolish words on paper of a
woman you would trade to me, and guns you would send me."
"Well?"
"Who gives you right to trade the woman, senor?"
"Who has a better right? She belongs to me."
"Very good! And her name?"
"You know the name."
"Perhaps, but I like my bargains with witness, and they must witness
the name."
"Jocasta--" There was a slight hesitation, and Rotil interrupted.
"She has been known as Senora Jocasta Perez, is it not so?"
"Well--yes," came the slow reply, "but that was foolishness of the
peons on my estates. They called her that."
"Very good! One woman called Jocasta Perez is offered to me in trade
with the guns. Jose Perez, have you not seen that the Dona Jocasta
Perez is even now mistress of Soledad, and that my men and I are as
her servants?"
Jocasta on the other side of the door strangled a half sob as she
heard him, and crept nearer the door.
"Oh, you are a good one at a bargain, Ramon Rotil! You try to pretend
the woman cannot count in this trade, but women always count,--women
like Jocasta!"
"So? Then we will certainly take count of the woman--one woman! Now to
guns and ammunition. How many, and where?"
"At Hermosillo, and it will take a week."
"I have no week to waste, and I do not mean the guns at Hermosillo.
You have five minutes, Jose Perez. Also those playful boys are
building a nice warm fire for the branding irons. And you will both
get a smell of your own burning hides if I wait longer for an
answer."
"Holy God!" shouted Conrad. "Why burn me for his work? From me the
guns have been hid as well as from you;--all I got was promises! They
are my guns,--my money paid, but he is not straight! Here at Soledad
he was to show me this time, but I think now it was a trick to murder
me as he murdered Juan Gonsalvo, the foreman who stored them away for
him."
"Animal!" growled Perez. "You have lost your head to talk of murders
to me! Two murders at Granados are waiting for you, and it is not far
to ship you back to the border! Walk with care, senor!"
"You are each wasting time with your truth telling," stated Rotil.
"This is no time to count your dead men. It is the count of the guns I
want. And a sight of the ammunition."
"Give me a guide to Hermosillo, and the price of guns can be got for
you."
"It is not the _price_ of guns I asked you for, it is guns,--the guns
Conrad and Herrara got over the border for you. Your time is going
fast, Jose Perez."
"They are not to be had this side of Hermosillo, send me south if you
want them. But it is well to remember that if an accident happens to
me you never could get them,--never! I alone know their hiding
place."
"For that reason have I waited for your visit to Soledad,--you and
your carts and your pack mules," stated Rotil. "Do not forget that
Marto Cavayso and other men of mine have been for weeks with your
ranchmen. Your pack train comes here empty, and means one thing
only--they came for the American guns! Your minutes are going, senor,
and the branding irons are getting heat from the fire. One more
minute!"
"Write the figures of the ransom, and grant me a messenger to
Hermosillo. You have the whip hand, you can make your price."
"But me? What of _my_ ransom?" demanded Conrad. "My money, and my time
paid for those guns--I have not seen one of them this side of the
border! If no guns are paid for me, money must be paid."
"No price is asked for you. I told you the women have named no
ransom."
"Women? That is foolishness. It is not women for whom you hold me! He
has turned traitor, has Perez! He wants me sent back across the border
without that price of the guns for his mushroom government! He has
told his own tales of Herrara, and of Singleton, and they are
lies--all lies!"
"But what of the tale of Diego, said in the American way?" asked Kit
stepping inside the room.
"Diego! Diego!" repeated Conrad and made a leap at Perez. "You have
sold me out to the Americans, you scum! James warned me you were scum
of the gutters, and now----"
The guard caught him, and he stood there shaking with fury in the dim
light. Perez drew away with a curse.
"To hell with you and James and your crew on the border," he growled.
"I care nothing as to how soon the damned gringos swing you both. When
you Germans want to use us we are your 'dear brothers.' When we
out-trick you, we are only scum, eh? You can tell your _commandante_
James that I won the game from him, and all the guns!"
"My thanks to you, General Rotil, that I have been allowed to hear
this," said Kit, "also that I have witness. I'd do as much for you if
the chance comes. Two men were killed on the border by Conrad under
order of this James. Herrara was murdered in prison for fear he would
turn informer about the guns. Singleton was murdered to prevent him
investigating the German poisoning of cavalry horses. The German swine
meant to control Granados rancho a few months longer for their own
purposes."
"_Meant_ to?" sneered Conrad. "You raw cub!--you are playing with
dynamite and due for a fall. So is your fool country! Though Perez
here has lost his nerve and turned traitor to our deal, that is only a
little puff of wind against the bulwarks of the Fatherland! We will
hold Granados; we will hold the border; and with Mexico (not this
crook of the west, but _real_ Mexico) we will win and hold every
border state and every Pacific coast state! You,--poor fool!--will
never reach Granados alive to tell this. You are but one American in
the Indian wilderness, and you are sure to go under, but you go
knowing that though James and I die, and though a thousand more of us
die, there will be ten thousand secret German workers in America to
carry on our plan until all the world will be under the power of the
Prussian eagle! You,--who think you know so much, can add _that_ to
finish your education in Sonora, and carry it to hell with you!"
His voice, coldly contemptuous at first, had risen to a wrathful
shriek as he faced the American and hurled at him the exultance of the
Teuton dream.
"I certainly am in great luck to be your one American confessor,"
grinned Kit, "but I'll postpone that trip as long as possible. I
reckon General Rotil will let the padre help me make note of this
education you are handing out to me. A lot of Americans need it! Have
I your permission, General?"
"Go as far as you like," snapped Rotil. "They have used up their time
limit in scolding like old women. Perez, I wait for the guns."
"Send me to Hermosillo and I will recover enough for a ransom," said
Perez.
Rotil regarded him a moment through half-closed, sinister eyes.
"That was your last chance, and you threw it away. Chappo, strip him;
Fidelio, fetch the branding irons."
Perez shrank back, staring at Rotil as if fascinated. He was striving
to measure the lengths to which the "Hawk of the Sierras" would go,
and a sudden gleam of hope came into his eyes as Padre Andreas held
up a crucifix before Chappo, waving him aside.
"No, Rotil,--torture is a thing for animals, not men! Hell waits for
the sinner who----"
"Hell won't wait for you one holy minute!" snapped Rotil. "Get back
with the women where you belong; there is men's work to do here."
He caught the priest by the arm in an iron grip and whirled him
towards the _sala_. The man would have fallen but for Kit who caught
him, but could not save the crash of his head against the door. Blood
streamed from a cut in his forehead, and thus he staggered into the
room where Dona Jocasta stood, horror-stricken and poised for flight.
But the sight of the blood-stained priest, and the sound of a strange,
half animal cry from the other room, turned her feet that way.
"No, Ramon! No-_no_!" she cried and sped through the door to fling
herself between him and his victims.
Her arms were stretched wide and she halted, almost touching him, with
her back to the chained man towards whom she had not glanced, but she
could not help seeing the charcoal brazier with the red-hot branding
irons held by Fidelio. The gasping cry had come from Conrad by whom
the brazier was set.
Ramon Rotil stared at her, frowning as if he would fling her from his
path as he had the priest.
"No, Ramon!" she said again, still with that supplicating look and
gesture, "send them out of here,--both these men. I would smother and
die in a room with that German beast. You will not be sorry, Ramon
Rotil, I promise you that,--I promise you by the God I dare not
face!"
[Illustration: "No, Ramon! No!" she cried, and flung herself between him
and his victims.]
"Ho!" snarled Perez. "Is the priest also her lover that she----"
"Send the German out, and let Jose Perez stay to see that I keep my
promise," she said letting her arms fall at her side, but facing Rotil
with an addition of hauteur in her poise and glance. "The price he
will pay for the words he has spoken here will be a heavy price,--one
he has risked life to hold! Send that pale snake and your men outside,
Ramon."
Perez was leaning forward, his face strained and white, watching her.
He could not see her face, but the glimpse of hope came again into his
eyes--a woman might succeed with Rotil where a priest would fail!
Rotil, still frowning at her, waved his hand to Chappo and Fidelio.
"Take him away," he said, "and wait beyond."
The shuffling movement and clank of chains was heard, but she did not
turn her head. Instead she moved past Rotil, lifted a candle, and went
towards the shrine at the end of the room.
A table was there with a scarf across it, and back of the table three
steps leading up to a little platform on which were ranged two or
three mediocre statues of saints, once brilliant with blue and scarlet
and tinsel, but tarnished and dim from the years.
In the center was a painting, also dark and dim in which only a halo
was still discernible in the light of the candle, but the features of
the saint pictured there were shadowed and elusive.
For a moment she knelt on the lower step and bent her head because of
those remnants of a faith which was all she knew of earthly hope,--and
then she started to mount the steps.
"The curse of God shrivel you!" muttered Perez in cold fury--"come
down from there!"
Without heed to the threat, she moved the little statues to right or
left, and then lifted her hand, resting it on the wooden frame of the
painting.
"Call the Americano," she said without turning. "You will need a man,
but not a man of Altar. Another day may come when you, Ramon, may have
need of this house for hiding!"
Rotil strode to the door and motioned Kit to enter, then he closed
both doors and gave no heed to Perez, crouched there like a chained
coyote in a trap.
"Come down!" he said again. "You are in league with hell to know of
that. I never gave it to you! Come down! I meant to tell after he had
finished with Conrad--I mean to tell!"
"He waited too long, and spoke too much," she said to Rotil. "Keep
watch on him, and let the Americano give help here."
Kit mounted the step beside her, and at her gesture took hold of the
frame on one side. She found a wedge of wood at the other side and
drew it out. The loosened frame was lifted out by Kit and carried down
the three steps; it was a panel a little over two feet in width and
four in height.
"Set it aside, and watch Jose Perez while General Rotil looks within,"
she said evenly.
Rotil glanced at Perez scowling black hate at her, and then turned to
Jocasta who held out the candle.
"It is for you to see,--you and no other," she said. "You have saved a
woman he would have traded as a slave, and I give you more than a
slave's ransom."
He took the candle and his eyes suddenly flamed with exultation as her
meaning came to him.
"_Jocasta!_" he muttered as if scarce believing, and then he mounted
the step, halted an instant in the panel of shadow, and, holding the
candle over his head, he leaned forward and descended on the other
side of the wall.
"You damned she-wolf of the hills!" growled Perez with the concentrated
hate of utter failure in his voice. "I fed you, and my money covered
your nakedness, and now you put a knife in my neck and go back to
cattle of the range for a mate! You,--without shame or soul!"
"That is true," she said coldly. "You killed a soul in the _casita_ of
the oleanders, Jose Perez, and it was a dead woman you and the German
chained to be buried in the desert. But even the dead come back to
help friends who are faithful, Jose,--and I am as the dead who walk."
She did not look at him as she spoke, but sank on her knees before the
dark canvas where only the faint golden halo gave evidence of some
incarnated holiness portrayed there. Her voice was low and even, and
the sadness of it thrilled Kit. He thought of music of sweet chords,
and a broken string vibrating, for the hopelessness in her voice held
a certain fateful finality, and her delicate dark loveliness----
Rotil emerged from the doorway of the shrine and stood there, a
curious substitute for the holy picture, looking down on her with a
wonderful light in his face.
"Your ransom wins for you all you wish of me,--except the life of one
man," he said, and with a gesture indicated that Kit help her to her
feet. He did so, and saw that she was very white and trembling.
Rotil looked at Perez over her head, and Perez scowled back, with all
the venom of black hate.
"You win!--but a curse walks where she walks. Ask her? Ask Marto of
the men she put under witchcraft! Ask Conrad who had good luck till
she hated him! If you have a love, or a child, or anything dear, let
her not look hate on them, for her knife follows that look! Ask her of
the knife she set in the heart of a child for jealousy of Conrad! Ai,
general though you are, your whole army is not strong enough to guard
you from the ill luck you will take with the gift _she_ gives! She is
a woman under a curse. Ha! Look at her as I say it, for you hear the
truth. Ask the padre!"
Kit realized that Perez was launching against her the direst weight of
evil the Mexican or Indian mind has to face. Though saints and heaven
and hell might be denied by certain daring souls, the potency of
witchcraft was seldom doubted. Men or women accused of it were shunned
as pariahs, and there had been known persons who weakened and dwindled
into death after accusation had been put against them.
He thought of it as she cowered under each separate count of the curse
launched against her. She bent like a slender reed under the strokes
of a flail, lower and lower against his arm, but when the deadly voice
flung the final taunt at her, she straightened slowly and looked at
Rotil.
"Yes, ask the padre--or ask me!" she said in that velvet soft voice of
utter despair. "That I sent an innocent soul to death is too true. To
my great sorrow I did it;--I would do it again! For that my life is
indeed a curse to me,--but his every other word a lie!"
Then she took a step forward, faltered, and fell back into the
outstretched arm of Kit.
"Take Senora Perez to the women, and come back," said Rotil. Kit noted
that even though he moved close, and bent over the white unconscious
face, he did not touch her.
"Senora Perez!" repeated Perez contemptuously. "You are generous with
other men's names for your women! Her name is the Indian mother's
name."
"Half Indian," corrected Rotil, "and her naming I will decide another
time."
Kit returned, and without words proceeded to help replace the holy
picture in its niche. In the struggle with the padre, a chunk of adobe
had been knocked from the wall near the door, and he picked it up,
crumbling it to a soft powder and sprinkled it lightly over the steps
where foot prints were traceable in the dust.
Rotil who had gone to the door to recall the guard, halted and watched
him closely.
"Good!" he said. "You also give me a thought concerning this animal;
he will bark if he has listeners, and even the German should not
hear--one never knows! I need a cage for a few hours. You have been a
friend, and know secret things. Will you lock him in your own room and
hold the key to yourself?"
"Surest thing you know," answered Kit though with the uncomfortable
certainty that the knowledge of too many secret things in Mexico was
not conducive to long life for the knower. "I may also assure you that
Marto is keen on giving you honest service that his one fault may be
atoned for."
"He will get service," stated Rotil. "You saved me a good man there,
amigo."
He flung open the door of the corridor and whistled for the guard.
"Remove this man and take your orders from Capitan----" He halted, and
his eyes narrowed quizzically.
"It seems we never were introduced, amigo, and we know only your joy
name of the singer, but there must be another."
"Oh, yes, there's another, all right," returned Kit, knowing that
Conrad would enlighten Rotil if he did not. "I'm the hombre suspected
of that Granados murder committed by Conrad,--and the name is
Rhodes."
"So? Then the scolding of these two comrades gives to you your freedom
from suspicion, eh? That is good, but--" He looked at Kit, frowning.
"See here, I comprehend badly. You told me it was the friend of your
_compadre_ who was the suspected one!"
"Sure! I've a dandy partner across the border. He's the old man you
saw at Yaqui Spring, and I reckon I'm a fairly good friend of his.
He'd say so!"
Rotil's face relaxed in a grin.
"That is clever, a trick and no harm in it, but--have a care to
yourself! It is easy to be too clever, and on a trail of war no one
has time to learn if tricks are of harm or not. Take the warning of a
friend, Capitan Rhodes!"
"You have the right of it, General. I have much to learn," agreed Kit.
"But no man goes abroad to shout the crimes he is accused of at
home,--and the story of this one is very new to me. This morning I
learned I was thought guilty, and tonight I learn who is the criminal,
and how the job was done. This is quick work, and I owe the luck of it
to you."
"May the good luck hold!" said Rotil. "And see that the men leave you
alone as the guard of Perez. I want no listeners there."