"A DRESS--OR A RING, PERHAPS"
All that day Pete lay in the shade of the 'dobe feigning indifference
to Boca as she brought him water and food, until even she was deceived
by his listlessness, fearing that he had been seriously injured. Not
until evening did he show any sign of interest in her presence. With
the shadows it grew cooler. Old Flores sat in the doorway smoking.
His wife sat beside him, gazing at the far rim of the evening cañon.
Presently she rose and stepped round to where Pete and Boca were
talking. "You will go," said Boca's mother abruptly. "Boca shall find
a horse for you."
Pete, taken by surprise,--Boca's mother had spoken just when Pete had
asked Boca where her father kept the horses,--stammered an
acknowledgment of her presence; but the Mexican woman did not seem to
hear him. "To-night," she continued, "Boca will find a horse. It is
good that you go--but not that you go to Showdown."
"I sure want to thank you both. But, honest, I wouldn't know where
else to go but to Showdown. Besides, I got a hunch Malvey was headed
that way."
"That is as a man speaks," said the señora. "My man was like that
once--but now--"
"I'm broke--no dineros," said Pete.
"It is my horse that he shall have--" Boca began.
But her mother interrupted quietly. "The young señor will return--and
there are many ways to pay. We are poor. You will not forget us. You
will come again, alone in the night. And it is not Malvey that will
show you the way."
"Not if I see him first, señora."
"You jest--but even now you would kill Malvey if he were here."
"You sure are tellin' Malvey's fortune," laughed Pete. "Kin you tell
mine?"
"Again you jest--but I will speak. You will not kill Malvey, yet you
shall find your own horse. You will be hunted by men, but you will not
always be as you are now. Some day you will have wealth, and then it
is that you will remember this night. You will come again at night,
and alone--but Boca will not be here. You will grow weary of life from
much suffering, even as I. Then it is that you will think of these
days and many days to come--and these days shall be as wine in your old
age--" Boca's mother paused as though listening. "But like wine--"
and again she paused.
"Headache?" queried Pete. "Well, I know how that feels, without the
wine. That fortune sounds good to me--all except that about Boca.
Now, mebby you could tell me which way Malvey was headed?"
"He has ridden to Showdown."
"So that red-headed hoss-thief fanned it right back to his boss, eh?
He must 'a' thought I was fixed for good."
"It is his way. Men spake truly when they called him the bull. He is
big--but he is as a child."
"Well, there's goin' to be one mighty sick child for somebody to nurse,
right soon," stated Pete.
"I have said that it is bad that you ride to Showdown. But you will go
there--and he whom men call The Spider--he shall be your friend--even
with his life."
As quietly as she came the Mexican woman departed, leaving Boca and
Pete gazing at each other in the dusk. "She makes me afraid
sometimes," whispered Boca.
"Sounds like she could jest plumb see what she was talkin' about. Kind
of second-sight, I reckon. Wonder why she didn't put me wise to Malvey
when I lit in here with him? It would 'a' saved a heap of trouble."
"It is the dream," said Boca. "These things she has seen in a dream."
"I ain't got nothin' against your ole--your mother, Boca, but by the
way I'm feelin', she's sure due to have a bad one, right soon."
"You do not believe?" queried Boca quite seriously.
"Kind of--half. I don't aim to know everything."
"She said you would come back," and Boca smiled.
"_That_ dream'll sure come true. I ain't forgettin'. But I ain't
goin' to wait till you're gone."
Boca touched Pete's hand. "And you will bring me a present. A
dress--or a ring, perhaps?"
"You kin jest bank on that! I don't aim to travel where they make 'em
reg'lar, but you sure get that present--after I settle with Malvey."
"That is the way with men," pouted Boca. "They think only of the
quarrel."
"You got me wrong, señorita. I don't want to kill nobody. The big
idee is to keep from gittin' bumped off myself. Now you'd think a
whole lot of me if I was to ride off and forgit all about what Malvey
done?"
"I would go with you," said Boca softly.
"Honest? Well, you'd sure make a good pardner." Pete eyed the girl
with a new interest. Then he shook his head. "I--you'd sure make a
good pardner--but it would be mighty tough for you. I'd do most
anything--but that. You see, Chicita, I'm in bad. I'm like to get
mine most any time. And I ain't no ladies' man--nohow."
"But you will come back?" queried Boca anxiously.
"As sure as you're livin'! Only you want to kind o' eddicate your ole
man to handle bottles more easy-like. He ought to know what they're
made for."
"Your head--it is cool," said Boca, reaching up and touching Pete's
forehead.
"Oh, I'm feelin' fine, considerin'."
"Then I am happy," said Boca.
Pete never knew just how he happened to find Boca's hand in his own.
But he knew that she had a very pretty mouth, and fine eyes; eyes that
glowed softly in the dusk. Before he realized what had happened, Boca
was in his arms, and he was telling her again and again that "he sure
would come back."
She murmured her happiness as he kissed her awkwardly, and quickly, as
though bidding her a hasty farewell. But she would not let him go with
that. "Mi amor! Mi corazone!" she whispered, as she clasped her hands
behind his head and gently drew his mouth to hers.
Pete felt embarrassed, but his embarrassment melted in the soft warmth
of her affection and he returned her kisses with all the ardor of
youth. Suddenly she pushed him away and rose. Her mother had called
her.
"About twelve," whispered Pete. "Tell your ole man I'll bush out here.
It's a heap cooler."
She nodded and left him. Pete heard Flores speak to her gruffly.
"Somebody ought to put that ole side-of bacon in the well,"
soliloquized Pete. "I could stand for the ole lady, all right, and
Boca sure is a lily . . . but I was forgettin' I got to ride to
Showdown to-night."