RAMON ROTIL DECIDES
Whatever the labors of Marto Cavayso for the night they appeared to
have been happy ones, for ere the dawn he came to Kit's door in great
good humor.
"Amigo," he said jovially, "you played me a trick and took the woman,
but what the devil is that to hold a grudge for? My general has made
it all right, and we need help. You are to come."
"Glad to," agreed Kit, "but what of this guard duty?"
"Lock the door--there is but one key. Also the other men are not
sleeping inside the portal. It is by order of General Rotil."
Perez awoke to glare at his false major-domo, but uttered no words. He
had not even attempted conversation with Kit since the evening before
when he stated that no Americano could fool him, and added his
conviction that the said Americano was a secret service man of the
states after the guns, and that Rotil was a fool!
Kit found Rotil resting in the chapel, looking fagged and spent.
"Marto is hell for work, and I had to stay by," he grumbled with a
grin. "Almost I sent for you. No other man knows, and behold!"
Stacked on either side were packing cases of rifles and ammunition,
dozens and dozens of them. The dusty canvas was back in its place and
no sign to indicate where the cases had come from.
"It is a great treasure chest, that," stated Rotil, "and we have here
as much as the mules can carry, for the wagons can't go with us. But I
want every case of this outside the portal before dawn comes, and it
comes quick! It means work and there are only three of us, and this
limp of mine's a trouble."
"Well," said Kit, stripping off his coat, "if the two of you got them
up a ladder inside, and down the steps to this point I reckon three of
us can get them across that little level on record time. Say, your
crew will think it magic when guns and ammunition are let fall for you
by angels outside of the gate."
"The thought will do no harm," said Rotil. "Also I am not sure but
that you speak true, and the magic was much needed when it came."
They worked fast, and ere the first hint of dawn the cases were
stacked in imposing array on the plaza. And no sign by which they
could be traced. Rotil looked at them, and chuckled at the wonder the
men would feel.
"It is time they were called, for it is a long trail, go you, Capitan,
and waken them, tell them to get ready the pack mules and get a
move."
"All right, but if they ask questions?"
"Look wise and say nothing! When they see the cases they will think
you either the devil or San Antonio to find what was lost in the
desert. It is a favor I am doing you, senor."
"Sure you are! If the Indians ever get the idea that I can win guns
from out the air by hokus-pokus, I will be a big medicine chief, and
wax fat under honors in Sonora. Head me to them!"
Rotil had seen to it that though sentinels stood guard at Soledad,
none were near enough the plaza to interfere with work of the night,
and Kit found their main camp down by the _acquia_ a quarter of a mile
away. He gave orders as directed for the pack animals and cook wagon
over which a son of the Orient presided. That stolid genius was
already slicing deer meat for broiling, and making coffee, of which he
donated a bowl to Kit, also a cart wheel of a _tortilla_ dipped in
gravy. Both were joyously accepted, and after seeing that the men were
aroused from the blankets, he returned to the hacienda full of
conjecture as to the developments to be anticipated from the night's
work. That reserve stock of ammunition might mean salvation to the
revolutionists.
Rain had fallen somewhere to the east in the night time, and as the
stars faded there were lines of palest silver and palest gold in the
grays of dawn on the mountains. As he walked leisurely up the slight
natural terrace to the plaza, he halted a moment and laughed aloud
boyishly at a discovery of his, for he had solved the century-old
riddle of the view of El Alisal seen from the "portal" of Soledad. The
portal was not anyone of the visible doors or gateways of the old
mission, it was the hidden portal of the picture,--once leading to a
little balcony under which the neophytes had gathered for the morning
blessing and daily commands of their superiors!
That explained its height from the floor. The door had at some later
period been sealed, and a room built against it from the side towards
the mountain. In the building of the ranch house that old strong
walled section of the mission had been incorporated as the private
chapel of some pious ranchero. It was also very, very simple after one
knew of that high portal masked by the picture, and after one traced
the line of vision from the outside and realized all that was hidden
by the old harness room and the fragmentary old walls about it. He
chuckled to think of how he would astonish Cap Pike with the story
when he got back. He also recalled that Conrad had unburdened his
heart to him with completeness because he was so confident an American
never _could_ get back!
He was speculating on that ever-present problem when he noted that
light shone yellow in the dawn from the plaza windows, and on entering
the patio it took but a glance to see that some new thing was afoot.
Padre Andreas, with his head upholstered in strips of the table linen,
was pacing the patio reciting in a murmuring undertone, some prayer
from a small open volume, though there was not yet light enough to
read. Valencia was bustling into the room of Dona Jocasta with an olla
of warm water, while Tula bore a copper tray with fruit and coffee.
"This is of a quickness, but who dare say it is not an act for the
blessing of God?" the padre said replying in an absent-minded manner
to the greeting of Kit.
"True, Padre, who can say?" agreed the latter politely, without the
slightest idea of what was meant.
But Marto, who fairly radiated happiness since his reinstatement,
approached with the word that General Rotil would have him at
breakfast, for which time was short.
"It is my regret that you do not ride with me, senor," said Rotil as
he motioned him to a seat. "But there is work to be done at Soledad
for which I shall give you the word. I am hearing that you would help
recover some of the poor ones driven south from Palomitas, if they be
left alive!"
"I am pledged to that, General," stated Kit simply.
"Who has your pledge?"
"A dead man who cannot free me from it."
"By God!" remarked Rotil in a surprised tone. "By God, Don Pajarito,
that is good! And it may be when that pledge is kept, you may be free
to join my children in the fight? I make you a capitan at once,
senor."
"Perhaps, after----"
"Sure,--after," agreed Rotil chuckling. "For I tell you there is work
of importance here, and when I am gone the thinking will be up to you!
What message did you give the muleteers?"
"To bring the animals to the plaza, and pack for the trail all the
provisions found there."
"Provisions is good! They will burn with curiosity. There could be fun
in that if we had time to laugh and watch them, but there is no time.
Marto!"
Marto, on guard at the door, came forward.
"Has the Senor Don Jose Perez received my message for conference?"
"Yes, my General. Except that he wished your messenger in hell, he
will be happy to join you according to order."
"Good!" grinned Rotil, "it is well to conduct these matters with grace
and ceremony where a lady is concerned. Take him to the _sala_; it is
illuminated in his honor. Come, senor, I want for witness an Americano
who is free from Sonora influence."
"Am I?" queried Kit dubiously. "I'm not so sure! I seem all tangled up
with Sonora influences of all shades and varieties."
Rotil's jocularity disappeared as he entered the sala where quill pen
and ink and some blank sheets from an old account book gave a
business-like look to the table where four candles made a radiance.
Perez was there, plainly nervous by reason of the mocking civility of
Marto. His eyes followed Rotil,--questioning, fearful!
The latter passed him without notice and seated himself at the table.
"Call the padre," he said to Marto. But that was scarce needed as the
padre was hovering near the door waiting for the word. He seated
himself by the table at a motion from Rotil.
The latter turned for the first time to Perez, and bestowed on him a
long, curious look.
"They tell me, senor, that you were about to take as bride a lovely
lady?"
Perez frowned in perplexity. Evidently this was the last subject he
had expected to hear touched upon.
"Perhaps so," he said at last, "but if this is a question of ransom we
will not trouble the lady. I will arrange your figures for that."
"This is not a matter of figures, Senor Perez. It is a marriage we are
interested in, and it is all well arranged for you. The padre here
will draw up the contract of marriage in the old form; it is better
than the manner of today. You will give him your name, the names of
your parents, the name of your parish and abode."
"I will see you damned first!"
"And, Padre," continued Rotil, giving no heed to that heartfelt
remark, "use less than one-third of the page, for there must be space
for the record of the bride, and below that the contract between the
happy two with all witnesses added."
"If you think--" began Perez furiously.
"I do not think; I know, senor! Later you also will know," Rotil
promised with grim certainty. "This marriage is of interest to me, and
has been too long delayed. It is now for you to say if you will be a
bridegroom in chains, or if it please you to have the irons off."
"This cannot be! I tell you a marriage is not legal if----"
"Oh, senor! Your experience is less than I thought," interrupted
Rotil, "and you are much mistaken,--much! We are all witnesses here.
Senor Rhodes will be pleased to unfasten those heavy chains to oblige
the lady. The chains might not be a pleasant memory to her. Women have
curious prejudices about such things! But it must be understood that
you stand quiet for the ceremony. If not, this gun of mine will manage
it that you stay quiet forever."
Perez stood up, baffled and beaten, but threatening.
"Take them off, you!" he snarled, "though it is a hell of a
ransom,--and that woman will pay. Let no one forget that her pay will
be heavy!"
"That paying is for afterwards!" decided Rotil airily, "but here and
now we men would see a wedding before we leave Soledad. Capitan
Rhodes, will you bring in Dona Jocasta?"
Kit, in some wonder, went on the errand, and found the women eager to
deck her with blossoms and give some joyous note to the wedding of the
dawn, but she sat cold and white with the flowers of the desert
springtime about her, and forbade them.
"He terrifies me much in sending that word to wake me with this
morning," she protested. "I tell you I will kill myself before I live
one more day of life with Jose Perez! I told him all my heart in the
_sala_ last night, and it means not anything to Ramon Rotil;--he would
tie me in slavery to that man I hate!"
"Senora, I do not know what the general means, but I know it is not
that. His work is for your service, even though appearance is
otherwise."
"You think that?"
"I almost know it."
"Then I go," she decided. "I think I would have to go anyway, but the
heart would be more heavy, _Santa Maria_!--but this place of Soledad
is strange in its ways."
It was the first time he had seen her frightened, but her mouth
trembled, and her eyes sought the floor.
He reached out and took her hand; it was terribly cold.
"Courage, and trust Rotil," he said reassuringly. "When you sift out
the whole situation that is about all left to any of us here in the
desert."
He led her along the corridor, the women following. Men with pack
animals were gathering in wonder around the cases in the plaza, and
through the portal they saw the impromptu bridal procession, and fell
silent. The Americano appeared to have a hand in every game,--and that
was a matter of wonder.
As they entered, Padre Andreas was reading aloud the brief history of
Jocasta Benicia Sandoval, eldest daughter of Teresa Sandoval and
Ignatius Sanchez of Santa Ysobel in the Sierras. Padre Andreas had
balked at writing the paternity of children of Teresa Sandoval, but a
revolver in Rotil's hand was the final persuader.
"This is to be all an honest record for which there are witnesses in
plenty," he stated. "Teresa Sandoval had only one lover,--even though
Padre Ignatius Sanchez did call her daughters nieces of his! But the
marriage record of Senora Jocasta Sandoval shall have only truth."
Jocasta wrote her name to the statement as directed, and noted that
Jose had already signed.
She did not look at him, but moved nearer to Rotil and kept her eyes
on the table. He noted her shrinking and turned to the priest.
"Senor," he said, "these two people will write their names together on
the contract, but this is a marriage without kisses or clasping of
hands. It is a civil contract bound by word of mouth, and written
promise, under witness of the church. Read the service."
There was a slight hesitation on the part of Perez when asked if he
would take Jocasta Sandoval as wife, but the gun of Rotil hastened his
decision, and his voice was defiantly loud. Jocasta followed quietly,
and then in a benediction which was emptiest mockery, Jose Perez and
Jocasta Sandoval were pronounced man and wife.
"May I now go?" she murmured, but the contract was signed by all
present before Rotil nodded to Kit.
"You will have the honor of conducting the Dona Jocasta Perez to
breakfast," he said. "The rest of us have other business here. Senora,
will you do us the favor to outline to this gentleman the special
tasks you would like attention given at once. There are some Indian
slaves in the south for whom the Palomitas people ask help. You are
now in a position to be of service there, and it would be a good act
with which to establish a new rule at Soledad."
"Thanks, General Rotil," she answered, rather bewildered by the
swiftness with which he turned over to her the duties devolving upon
her newly acquired position. "I am not wise in law, but what I can I
will do."
"And that will be nothing!" volunteered Perez. "A woman of my name
will not make herself common in the markets or law courts,--to have
her Indian ancestry cast in my teeth!"
"As to that," said Rotil humorously, "there is not so much! The father
of Teresa Sandoval was the priestly son of a marquise of Spain! only
one drop of Indian to three of the church in the veins of Senora
Perez, so you perceive she has done honor to your house. You will
leave your name in good hands when God calls you to judgment."
Kit noted the sudden tension of Perez at the last sentence, and a look
of furtive, fearful questioning in his eyes as he looked at Rotil, who
was folding the marriage contract carefully, wrapping it in a sheet
of paper for lack of an envelope.
But, as squire of dames, Kit was too much occupied to give further
heed to business in the _sala_. Dona Jocasta expressed silently a
desire to get away from there as soon as might be; she looked white
and worn, and cast at Rotil a frightened imploring glance as she clung
to Kit's arm. He thought he would have to carry her before they
crossed the patio.
"When Ramon laughs like that--" she began and then went silent,
shuddering. Kit, remembering the look in the eyes of Perez, did not
care to ask questions.
The older women went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast and
gossip over the amazing morning, but Tula remained near Dona
Jocasta,--seeing all and her ears ever open.
Padre Andreas followed, under orders from Rotil, who told him to do
any writing required of him by the Senora Perez, and arrange for safe
couriers south when she had messages ready. His knowledge of villages
and rancheros was more dependable than that of the vaqueros; he would
know the names of safe men.
Dona Jocasta sighed, and looked from one to the other appealingly.
"It is much, very much to plan for before the sun is showing," she
murmured. "Is there not some little time to think and consider?"
"Even now the men of Ramon Rotil are packing the beasts for the
trail," said the priest, "and he wants all your plans and desires
stated before he goes east."
"_My_ desires!" and her smile held bitterness as she turned to Kit.
"You, senor, have never seen the extent of the Perez holdings in
Sonora. They are so vast that one simple woman like me would be lost
in any plans of change there. Jose Perez meant what he said;--no woman
can take control while he lives."
"Still, there are some things a woman could do best," ventured Kit,
"the things of mercy;" and he mentioned the Palomitas slaves----
"That is true. Also I am in debt for much friendship, and this child
of Palomitas must have the thing she asks. Tell me the best way."
"Learn from Perez which ranch of General Estaban Terain shelters the
political prisoners taken from the district of Altar," suggested Kit.
"Either Perez or Conrad can tell."
Dona Jocasta looked at the priest.
"Jose Perez will hate you for this marriage, and we must seek safety
for you in some other place," she said kindly, "but you are the one
most able to learn this thing. Will it please you to try?"
Padre Andreas went out without a word. In his heart he resented the
manner of the marriage ceremony, and scarce hoped Perez would be
acquiescent or disposed to further converse, and he personally had no
inclination to ask help of the General Rotil.
He was surprised as he crossed the patio to see Perez, still free from
chains, walking through the portal to the plaza with Marto Cavayso
beside him. He was led past the ammunition cases, and the men in their
jubilant work of packing the mules. Far out up the valley to the north
a cloud of dust caught the red glow of sunrise, and the priest knew
the vaqueros with the Soledad cattle were already on the trail for the
main body of revolutionists in the field.
Saddle horses were held a little apart in the plaza, and Padre Andreas
hastened his steps lest they mount and be gone, but Marto spoke to him
sharply.
"Walk in front to do your talking," he suggested. "This gentleman is
not inviting company for his _pasear_."
Jose Perez turned a startled, piercing look on the priest.
"Did Rotil send you?" he demanded.
"No, senor, I came back to ask a simple thing concerning the Altar
people who went south for Yucatan. Can you give me the name of the
ranch where they are held?"
"I can,--but I give nothing for nothing!" he said bitterly. "Already I
am caught in a trap by that marriage, and I will see that the
archbishop hears of your share in it. Nothing for nothing!"
"Yet there may be some service I can give, or send south, for you,"
said the priest.
Perez regarded him doubtfully.
"Yes--you might get a message to General Terain that I am a prisoner,
on my own estate--if Rotil does not have you killed on the road!"
"I could try," agreed the priest. "I--I might secure permission."
"Permission?"
"It is true, senor. I could not attempt it without the word of General
Rotil," announced Padre Andreas. "Of what use to risk the life of a
courier for no purpose? But I make a bargain: if you will tell which
ranch the Altar Indians were driven to I will undertake to get word
for you to a friend. Of course I can get the information from the
German if you say no."
"Damn the German!" swore Perez.
"Good Father," said Marto, "you halt us on the way to join the
advance, and we have no mind to take all the dust of the mule train.
Make your talk of fewer words."
"Shall I go to the German?" repeated the priest.
"No,--let him rot alone! The plantation is Linda Vista, and Conrad
lied to General Terain to get them housed there. He thought they were
rebels who raided ranches in Altar,--political prisoners. Take General
Terain word that I am a prisoner of the revolutionists, and----"
"Senor, the sun is too high for idle talk," said Marto briefly, "and
your saddle waits."
The priest held the stirrup for Jose Perez, who took the courtesy as a
matter of course, turning in the saddle and casting a bitter look at
the sun-flooded walls of Soledad.
"To marry a mistress and set her up as the love of another lover--_two_
other lovers!--is not the game of a man," he growled moodily. "If it was
to do over, I----"
"Take other thoughts with you," said Padre Andreas sadly, "and my son,
go with God!"
He lifted his hand in blessing, and stood thus after they had turned
away. Perez uttered neither thanks nor farewell.
The men, busy with the final packing, stared after him with much
curiosity, and accosted the priest as he paced thoughtfully back to
the portal.
"Padre, is this ammunition a gift of Don Jose, or is it magic from the
old monks who hid the red gold of El Alisal and come back here to
guard it and haunt Soledad?" inquired one of the boldest.
"There are no hauntings, and that red gold has led enough men astray
in the desert. It is best forgotten."
"But strange things do come about," insisted another man. "Marto
Cavayso swore he had witchcraft put on him by the green, jewel eyes of
Dona Jocasta, and you see that since she follows our general he has
the good luck, and this ammunition comes to him from God knows
where!"
"It may be the Americano knows," hazarded the first speaker. "He took
her from Marto, and rides ever beside her. Who proves which is the
enchanter?"
"It is ill work to put the name of 'enchantment' against any mortal,"
chided the priest.
"That may be," conceded the soldier, "but we have had speech of this
thing, and look you!--Dona Jocasta rode in chains until the Americano
crossed her trail, and Don Ramon, and all of us, searched in vain for
the American guns, until the Americano rode to Soledad! Enchantment or
not, he has luck for his friends!"
"As you please!" conceded the priest with more indifference than he
felt. The Americano certainly did not belong to Soledad, and the
wonder was that Ramon Rotil gave him charge of so beauteous a lady.
Padre Andreas could easily perceive how the followers of Rotil thought
it enchantment, or any other thing of the devil.
Instinctively he disapproved of Rhodes' position in the group; his
care-free, happy smile ill fitted the situation at Soledad. Before the
stealing away of Dona Jocasta she had been as a dead woman who walked;
her sense of overwhelming sin was gratifying in that it gave every
hope of leading to repentance, but on her return the manner of her
behavior was different. She rode like a queen, and even the marriage
was accepted as a justice! Padre Andreas secretly credited the heretic
Americano with the change, and Mexican girls put no such dependence on
a man outside of her own family,--unless that man was a lover!
He saw his own influence set aside by the stranger and the rebel
leader, and with Dona Jocasta as a firebrand he feared dread and awful
things now that Rotil had given her power.
He found her with bright eyes and a faint flush in her cheeks over the
letter Kit was writing to the south. It was her first act as the wife
of Jose Perez, and it was being written to the girl whom Perez had
hoped to marry!
Kit got considerable joy in framing her request as follows:
To
Senorita Dolores Terain,
Linda Vista Rancho, Sonora,
HONORED SENORITA:
As a woman who desires to secure justice and mercy for some poor
peons of our district of Altar, I venture to address you, to whom
womanly compassion must belong as does beauty and graciousness.
This is a work for the charity of women, rather than debates in
law courts by men.
I send with this the names of those poor people who were herded
south for slavery by Adolf Conrad, a German who calls himself
American. To your father, the illustrious General Terain, this man
Conrad represented these poor people as rebels and raiders of this
region. It is not true. They were simple peaceful workers on
little ranches.
They were given shelter at your rancho of Linda Vista to work for
their food until they could be deported, but I send with this a
payment of gold with which to repay any care they have been, or
any debts incurred. If it is not enough, I pledge myself to the
amount you will regard as justice.
Dear Senorita, my husband, Don Jose, warns me that women cannot
manage such affairs, but we can at least try. Parents wait here
for sons and daughters, and little children wait for their
parents. Will you aid in the Christian task of bringing them
together quickly?
At your service with all respect,
JOCASTA BENICIA PEREZ,
Soledad Rancho, Sonora.
"But you write here of gold sent by messenger, senor!--I have no gold,
only words can I send," protested Dona Jocasta helplessly.
"Ah, but the words are more precious than all," Kit assured her. "It
is the right word we have waited for, and you alone could give it,
senora. These people have held the gold ransom while waiting that
word, and this child can bring it when the time is right."
Dona Jocasta regarded Tula doubtfully; she certainly gave no
appearance of holding wealth to redeem a pueblo.
"You,--the little one to whom even the Deliverer listens?" she said
kindly. "But the wealth of a little Indian ranch would not seem riches
to this illustrious lady, the Dona Dolores Terain."
"Yet will I bring riches to her or to you, Excellencia, if only my
mother and my sister are coming again to Palomitas," said Tula
earnestly.
"But whence comes wealth to you in a land where there is no longer
wealth for anyone?"
Kit listened with little liking for the conversation after the padre
entered. It was a direct question, and to be answered with directness,
and he watched Tula anxiously lest she say the wrong thing. But she
told the straight truth in a way to admit of no question.
"Long ago my father got gold for sacred prayer reasons; he hid it
until he was old; when he died he made gift of it to me that my mother
and sister buy freedom. That is all, Excellencia, but the gold is good
gold."
She slipped her hand under her skirt and unfastened the leather
strings of the burro-skin belt,--it fell heavily on the tile floor.
She untied the end of it and poured a handful on the table.
"You see, senora, there is riches enough to go with your words, but
never enough to pay for them."
"_Santa Maria!_" cried the amazed priest. "That is _red_ gold! In what
place was it found?"
Tula laid her hand over the nuggets and faced him.
"That secret was the secret of Miguel who is dead."
"But--some old Indian must know----"
Tula shook her head with absolute finality.
"No old Indian in all the world knows that!" she said. "This was a
secret of the youth of Miguel, and only when old and dying did he
give it for his people. This I,--Tula, child of Miguel tell you."
Padre Andreas looked from the girl to Kit and back again, knowing that
the death of Miguel was a recent thing since it had occurred after the
stealing of the women.
"Where did your father die?" he asked.
"In the hills of the desert."
"And--who had absolving and burial of him?"
"Absolving I do not know, but this man, his friend, had the making of
the grave," she said, indicating Kit, and the eyes of the priest
rested again on Kit with a most curious searching regard. Evidently
even this little Indian stray of the desert arrived at good fortune
under the friendship of the American stranger,--and it was another
added to the list of enchantings!
"Ah," he murmured meaningly, "then this strange senor also has the
knowing of this Indian gold? Is it truly gold of the earth, or
witches' gold of red clay?" and he went nearer, reaching his hand to
touch it.
"Why all this question when the child offers it for a good Christian
use?" demanded Dona Jocasta. "See, here is a piece of it heavy enough
to weigh down many lumps of clay, and north or south it will prove
welcome ransom. It is a miracle sent by the saints at this time."
"Would the saints send the red gold of El Alisal to a heretic instead
of a son of the church?" he asked. "And this is that gold for which
the padres of Soledad paid with their lives long ago. There was never
such red gold found in Sonora as that, and the church had its own
claim on it;--it is mission gold!"
"No, not now," said Tula, addressing Dona Jocasta,--"truly not now!
They claimed it long ago, but the holding of it was a thing not for
them. Fire came out of the clouds to kill them there, and no one saw
them alive anymore, and no other priest ever found the gold. This much
is found by Miguel, for a dead man's promise!"
"The girl speaks straight, senora," ventured Kit. "I have already told
General Rotil of the promise, but no good will come of much talk over
the quality of gold for that ransom. To carry that message south and
bring back the women is a task for council, but outside these walls,
no tongue must speak of the gold, else there would be no safety for
this maid."
"Yet a priest may ask how an Americano comes far from his home to
guard gold and a maid in Sonora?" retorted Padre Andreas. "Strange
affairs move these days in Altar--guns, ammunition, and the gold of
dead men! In all these things you have a say, senor, yet you are but
young in years, and----"
"Padre," interrupted Dona Jocasta with a note of command, "he was old
enough to save this child from starvation in the desert, and he was
old enough to save me when even you could no longer save me, so why
object because he has guarded wealth, and means to use it in a way of
mercy? Heretic he may be, but he has the trust of Ramon Rotil, and of
me. Also it is forbidden to mention this belt or what it covers. I
have given my word, and this is no time to halt the task we have set.
It would better serve those lost people if you help us find a
messenger who is safe."
It was the first time the new Senora Perez assumed a tone of
authority at Soledad, and Kit Rhodes thanked his lucky stars that she
was arrayed with him instead of against him, for her eyes glowed green
lightning on the priest whose curiosity had gotten him into trouble.
Kit could not really blame him, for there was neither priest nor peon
of the land who had not had visions of conquest if only the red gold
of the Alisal should be conveniently stumbled upon!
And Tula listened to the words of Dona Jocasta as she would have
listened to a god.
"I go," she said eagerly. "The trail it is strange to me, but I will
find that way. I think I find in the dark that trail on which the
mother of me was going!"
Dona Jocasta patted the hand of the girl, but looked at Kit. "That
trail is not for a maid," she said meaningly. "I came over it, and
know."
"I think it is for me," he answered. "The promise was mine. I know
none of the people, but the names are written. It is eighty miles."
"Three days."
"More, double that," he said thoughtfully, and the eyes of Tula met
his in disapproval. It was the merest hint of a frown, but it served.
She could do the errand better than she could guard the rest of the
gold. If her little belt was lost it was little, but if his store
should be found it would be enough to start a new revolution in
Sonora;--the men of Rotil and the suspicious padre would unite on the
treasure trail. It was the padre who gave him most uneasiness, because
the padre was guessing correctly! The dream of a mighty church of the
desert to commemorate all the ruined missions of the wilderness, was
a great dream for the priest of a little pueblo, and the eyes of the
Padre Andreas were alight with keen,--too keen, anticipation.
"I go," stated Tula again. "No other one is knowing my people."
"That is a true word," decided Padre Andreas, "a major-domo of evil
mind at Linda Vista could take the gold and send north whatever unruly
vagabonds he had wished to be free from. Let the maid go, and I can
arrange to see her there safe."
This kind offer did not receive the approval deserved. Kit wished no
man on the trail with Tula who knew of the gold, and Tula herself was
not eager to journey into unknown regions with a man of religion, who
had already learned from Valencia of the elaborate ceremony planned
for a "Judas day!" Little though Tula knew of churchly observances,
she had an instinctive fear that she would be detained in the south
too long to officiate in this special ceremony on which she had set
her heart.
"Not with a priest will I go," she announced. "He would shut me in a
school, and in that place I would die. Clodomiro can go, or Isidro,
who is so good and knowing all our people."
"That is a good thought," agreed Dona Jocasta, who had no desire that
Padre Andreas meet the family of Terain and recount details of the
Perez marriage,--not at least until she had worn her official title a
little longer and tested the authority it gave her. "That is a good
thought, for I have no wish that my house be left without a priest.
Senor Rhodes, which man is best?"
But before Kit could answer Ramon Rotil stood in the door, and his
eyes went to the papers on the table. Tula had recovered her belt, and
fastened it under the _manta_ she wore.
"So! you are working in council, eh?" he asked. "And have arrived at
plans? First your own safety, senora?"
"No, senor,--first the bringing back of the people driven off by the
slavers. The letter is written; this child is to take it because the
people are her people, but a safe man is wanted, and these two I
cannot let go. You know Jose Perez, and his wife must not be without a
man of religion as guard, yet he alone would not save me from others,
hence the American senor----"
"Sure, that is a safe thought," and he took the seat offered by Kit.
But he shook his head after listening to their suggestions.
"No. Isidro is too old, and Clodomiro with his flying ribbands of a
would-be lover, is too young for that trail. You want--you want----"
He paused as his mind evidently went searching among his men for one
dependable. Then he smiled at Kit.
"You saved me the right man, senor! Who would be better than the
foreman of Soledad? Would it not be expected that Senora Perez would
send the most important of the ranchmen? Very well then. Marto is
safe, he will go."
"But Marto--" began Padre Andreas, when Rotil faced about, staring him
into silence.
"Marto will return here to Soledad today," he said, and the face of
the priest went pale. It was as if he had said that the task of Marto
on the east trail would be ended.
"Yes, Marto Cavayso has been at Hermosillo," assented Dona Jocasta.
"He will know all the ways to arrive quickly."
"That will be attended to. Will you, senor, see to it that horse and
provision are made ready for the trail? And you, senora? Soledad in
the wilderness is no good place for a lady. When this matter of the
slaves is arranged, will it please you to ride south, or north? Troops
of the south will be coming this way;--it will be a land of soldiers
and foraging."
"How shall I answer that?" murmured Dona Jocasta miserably. "In the
south Jose Perez may make life a not possible thing for me,--and in
the north I would be a stranger."
"Jose Perez will not make trouble; yet trouble might be made,--at
first," said Rotil avoiding her eyes, and turning again to Kit.
"Senor, by the time Marto gets back from the south, the pack mules
will be here again. Until they are gone from Soledad I trust you in
charge of Senora Perez. She must have a manager, and there is none so
near as you."
"At her service," said Kit promptly, "but this place----"
"Ai, that is it," agreed Rotil. "North is the safer place for women
alone, and you--did you not say that on Granados there were friends?"
"Why, yes, General," replied Kit. "My friend, Captain Pike, is
somewhere near, and the owner of Granados is a lady, and among us
we'll do our best. But it's a hard trip, and I've only one gun."
"You will take your choice of guns, horses, or men," decided Rotil.
"That is your work. Also you will take with you the evidence of Senora
Perez on that matter of the murder. The padre can also come in on
that,--so it will be service all around."
Chappo came to the door to report that all was ready for the trail,
and Rotil stood up, and handed to Dona Jocasta the marriage contract.
"Consider the best way of protecting this until you reach an alcalde
and have a copy made and witnessed," he said warningly. "It protects
your future. The fortunes of war may take all the rest of us, but the
wife of Perez needs the record of our names; see to it!"
She looked up at him as if to speak, but no words came. He gazed
curiously at her bent head, and the slender hands over the papers. In
his life of turmoil and bloodshed he had halted to secure for her the
right to a principality. In setting his face to the east, and the
battle line, he knew the chance was faint that he would ever see her
again, and his smile had in it a touch of self-derision at the
thought,--for after all he was nothing to her!
"So--that is all," he said, turning away. "You come with me a little
ways, senor, and to you, senora, _adios_!"
"Go with God, Ramon Rotil," she murmured, "and if ever a friend is of
need to you, remember the woman to whom you gave justice and a name!"
"_Adios_," he repeated, and his spurs tinkled as he strode through the
patio to the portal where the saddle horses were waiting. The pack
mules were already below the mesa, and reached in a long line over the
range towards the canon of the eastern trail.
"You have your work cut out," he said to Kit. "For one thing, Marto
Cavayso will carry out orders, but you must not have him enter a room
where Dona Jocasta may be. It would be to offend her and frighten him.
He swears to the saints that he was bewitched. That is as may be, but
it is an easy way out! When the pack mules come back, and Marto is
here, it is for you two to do again the thing we did last night. I may
need Soledad on another day, and would keep all its secrets. After you
have loaded the last of the guns it is best for you to go quickly.
Here is a permit in case you cross any land held by our men;--it is
for you, your family, and all your baggage without molestation. Senora
Perez has the same. This means you can take over the border any of the
furnishings of Soledad required by the lady for a home elsewhere. The
wagons sent north by Perez will serve well for that, and they are
hers."
"But if he should send men of his own to interfere----"
"He won't," stated Rotil. "You are capitan, and Soledad is under
military rule. There is only one soul here over which your word is not
law. I have given the German Judas to your girl, and the women can
have their way with him. He is as a dead man; call her."
There was no need, for Tula had followed at a discreet distance, and
from beside a pillar gazed regretfully after her hero, the Deliverer,
whom she felt every man should follow.
"_Oija, muchacha!_" he said as Kit beckoned her forward, "go to
Fidelio. He is over there filling the cantins at the well. Tell him to
give you the key to the quarters of El Aleman, and hearken you!--I
wash my hands of him from this day. If you keep him, well, but if he
escapes, the loss is to you. I go, and not again will Ramon Rotil trap
a Judas for your hellishness."
Tula sped to Fidelio, secured the key and was back to hold the stirrup
of Rotil as he was helped to the saddle.
"If God had made me a man instead of a maid, I would ride the world as
your soldier, my General," she said, holding the key to her breast as
an amulet.
"Send your lovers instead," he said, and laughed, "for you will have
them when you get more beef on your bones. _Adios_, soldier girl!"
She peered up at him under her mane of black hair.
"Myself,--I think that is true," she stated gravely, "also my lovers,
when they come, must follow you! When I see my own people safe in
Palomitas it may be that I, Tula, will also follow you,--and the help
of the child of Miguel may not be a little help, my General."
Kit Rhodes alone knew what she meant. Her intense admiration for the
rebel leader of the wilderness had brought the glimmer of a dream to
her;--the need of gold was great as the need of guns, and for the
deliverer of the tribes what gift too great?
But the others of the guard laughed at the crazy saying of the brown
wisp of a girl. They had seen women of beauty give him smiles, and
more than one girl follow his trail for his lightest word, but to none
of them did it occur that this one called by him the young crane, or
the possessor of many devils, could bring more power to his hand than
a regiment of the women who were comrades of a light hour.
But her solemnity amused Rotil, and he swept off his hat with
exaggerated courtesy.
"I await the day, Tulita. Sure, bring your lovers,--and later your
sons to the fight! While you wait for them tell Marto Cavayso he is to
have a care of you as if you were the only child of Ramon Rotil! I too
will have a word with him of that. See to it, Capitan of the roads,
and _adios!_"
He grinned at the play upon the name of Rhodes, and whirled his horse,
joining his men, who sat their mounts and watched at a little
distance.
Within the portal was gathered all those left of the household of
Soledad to whom the coming and the going of the revolutionary leader
was the great event of their lives, and all took note of the title of
"Capitan" and the fact that the Americano and the Indian girl had his
last spoken words.
They had gone scarce a mile when Fidelio spurred his horse back and
with Mexican dash drew him back on his haunches as Kit emerged from
the corridor.
"General Rotil's compliments," he said with a grin, "and Marto will
report to you any event requiring written record,--and silence!"
"Say that again and say it slow," suggested Kit.
"That is the word as he said it, Capitan, 'requiring the writing of
records, and--silence!'"
"I get you," said Kit, and with a flourish and a clatter, Fidelio was
soon lost in the dust.
Kit was by no means certain that he did "get" him. He felt that he had
quite enough trouble without addition of records and secrecy for acts
of the Deliverer.