The defect in the ditch proved to be one of minor character, which
Bryant corrected after a few observations and half an hour's work with
a shovel. While he was thus engaged, Imogene Martin, wearing a
wide-brimmed straw hat, strolled out to watch his operations. She was
in a friendly and talkative mood, and asked questions concerning
ditches and irrigation and surveying, and about Dave, and speculated
on the ruins of the pueblo whither Ruth and Charlie Menocal had gone,
and said she was glad Bryant had bought the ranch just north of their
claims and would be their neighbour. Only, she added, she was sorry to
learn that he was having trouble with the people about; Mr. Menocal
had stated such to be a fact, though what he had further hinted of
Bryant's endeavour to gain property to which he had no title and of
the engineer's being a trouble-maker, she did not for one instant
believe.
"I'll be a trouble-maker for Charlie and his dad if they continue
their present policy," Lee vouchsafed, tossing aside a shovelful of
earth.
Imogene Martin carefully flattened a hill of bean plants for a seat,
sat down, and locked her hands over her knees.
"I think you're to be trusted, so I'll tell you a secret," she
remarked, smiling. "Charlie Menocal doesn't make a 'hit' with me,
either. When you referred to the ford, I could scarcely keep my face
straight; and my feeling ill this afternoon, though partly true, was
also partly manufactured, because I didn't want to go to those old
ruins with him. I don't care for men like him especially. I share the
feeling of my uncle in Kennard--"
"You have an uncle there? I thought you were from the East."
"I am; from Ohio. But I've an uncle and aunt living in Kennard, which
is the reason Ruth and I came to this section for homesteads. Ruth was
crazy to take up a claim, having read how easily one is acquired,
while my health was not very good and the doctor at home thought it
would be improved by being in the open in a high altitude. Uncle said
I'd better stay with him and aunt, but I knew how terribly
disappointed Ruth would be if I did, because she couldn't homestead
alone. So uncle declared that if homesteaders we had to be, then we
must locate near him where he could have me under his eye, so to
speak. I myself am not taking this claim business very seriously. And
now uncle, who once had some controversy with the elder Menocal,
wouldn't be very well pleased if he knew the son was making calls on
us."
"So others besides myself have trouble with the Menocals," Bryant
stated.
"Apparently. I don't know what this particular difficulty was about,
but uncle is president of a bank in Kennard and so it may have been
some financial matter. Or it may have been over politics; both of them
mix in that. Anyway, he doesn't think highly of the elder Menocal,
and has no use at all for the younger; so I know he would be vexed at
Ruth and me for receiving this Charlie."
"You didn't know him that day he and I clashed at the ford," Lee
suggested.
"Oh, no. Our meeting came about one afternoon about a week afterward.
He overtook us on the road a mile or so away from here and politely
offered to bring us home in his car; we were walking and couldn't very
well refuse his courtesy, and then he asked to call and Ruth at once
gave him permission, and that's the way it came about. But I thought
it wise to draw the line at going off miles and miles with him to see
ruins. Of course, Ruth hasn't any uncle to consider, but uncle or no
uncle I should have drawn the line just the same."
"A colour line, eh?" Lee asked, with a lift of his brows.
"Yes, that's it, though I hesitated to put it in just those words,"
she agreed, with a nod, while both her lips and her blue eyes smiled
at him in amusement. "Really, Mexicans are of different blood and
race, you know, and I feel the--gulf. That probably sounds foolish and
ridiculous, still I can't help the feeling. When I look at a man like
Charlie Menocal, I see the Mexican strain uppermost even if his mother
was white; and I think what strange, savage, unguessed traits may lurk
in his blood from a long time back; and I shiver. One dare not say
they have ceased. There may be forces at work in his soul that are
inherited from the very tribesmen who dwelt in that pueblo ages ago,
whose ruins he and Ruth have gone to see. Who knows? And I'm never
able to rid myself of the feeling that such forces exist in him and
his kind."
The engineer thrust his shovel into the earth and seated himself
beside the girl.
"Nor I," said he. "And I suppose that feeling will remain between
persons of different races as long as the races themselves last. Those
who ignore or deny it are simply blind. Why, look, there's antipathy
between even white men of different nationalities! So what else is to
be expected when the question is one of race and colour? Nor will one
or two generations change what is infused in blood and sinew."
"Now, that's what uncle says," Imogene Martin declared, "and asserts
that's the reason why Mexicans born and raised here are in sympathy
with those across the border in any trouble Mexico has with our
country." Her face all at once became amused. "He says craniums were
shaped long before governments."
Bryant laughed on hearing that concise summing up of the case. And
then they continued to talk of this and other subjects, while Dave
Morris drew near and silently drank in the conversation, most of which
passed above his head. As for the engineer, he found in his companion
a peculiar charm that he never would have suspected from their first
meeting at the ford; a pleasure begotten of a quick intelligence and a
keen, trained mind.
"I've delayed you in your work," she exclaimed, at length.
"Except to throw out a few shovelfuls of dirt, and that will take but
a moment. I was done. I didn't sit down until it was practically put
in shape. I hope we shall have another talk soon; this one has been a
great treat for me. Let me help you up."
When he had cleaned the last clods from the ditch, he set off with
tripod and shovel on shoulder to walk with her to the cabins, while
Dave followed with Dick. At the houses Bryant cast an appraising look
at the scanty heap of chopped wood and wound up his visit by seizing
the axe and attacking the store of dry poles hauled from the cañon by
the man who had built the cabins.
"There, that will keep you going for awhile," he stated, when he had
produced a large pile of sticks. "I don't believe you're strong enough
to handle an axe, Miss Martin; and it would grieve me deeply to learn
you had removed a toe in the attempt. Really, this homesteading game
isn't for women and girls."
"Oh, we've made out fairly well."
"Your spirit is admirable, but I can't say as much for your judgment
in the matter," he returned, good-naturedly. "Still, we all go hunting
trouble in our own individual fashion; if not in one way, why, then in
another."
It was after five o'clock when Lee Bryant and Dave, once more leading
the loaded horse, took their departure and followed Sarita Creek down
to the mesa trail. When they had struck into the latter and travelled
it for half a mile, they saw a long distance ahead someone walking
toward them, also leading a horse. In a land where men saddle a mount
to ride a few hundred yards, the singular coincidence excited their
curiosity. They wondered why the fellow walked, as doubtless he was
wondering the same thing of them. But as they drew nearer they
perceived the pedestrian to be not a man but a woman; and when they
met Bryant recognized in her the girl who had sat by Charlie Menocal
in his automobile at the ford. Her gray corded riding habit was
dusty; she appeared both hot and tired; and her countenance showed a
deep dejection. The horse she led was limping.
Bryant raised his hat and addressed her.
"Your horse has gone lame, I see. Can I be of any service to you?"
"I'm afraid not; he acts as if he had strained a tendon," she replied.
"So I'm leading him home. Our ranch is on Diamond Creek."
"But you had a fall! There's blood on your glove."
"No, it's not from that," she said, with a shake of her head.
Bryant again remarked the exquisite molding of her face as he had
noted it at their first meeting, and her wide brow and clear brown
eyes and the fineness of her skin, and her warm, sensitive lips, at
this instant moving in the barest tremble imaginable. She was gazing
at him with a curious, troubled look.
"Bring Dick here," Lee bade Dave.
He swiftly untied the ropes and removed tripod, rod, and saddle. Then
he unfastened the hitch of the saddle of the horse the girl led.
"Why, what are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"Giving you a fresh horse. You can ride mine home and send him back to
me to-morrow; I live just ahead on Perro Creek at the Stevenson
place."
"I wondered if you weren't the new owner, for I had learned that the
ranch had been sold by Mr. Stevenson. Father bought his sheep. You are
Mr. Bryant, aren't you? This is most kind to lend me your horse."
"You'll find Dick gentle; and you can lead your own mount. Walking
appears to have exhausted you."
Again she shook her head, with an odd expression growing upon her
face--anxiety, distress, just what Lee could not exactly decide. But
as she made no explanation, he gave her a hand and swung her upon
Dick, after which he handed her the reins and advanced the hope that
she should arrive home without further misadventure.
She made no move to depart, however, but sat regarding the engineer.
"I was at your house," she stated, finally.
"To see me?"
"To find you, or someone, who could help me. When my horse went lame
near the ford, I found that he had picked up a stone which I couldn't
remove. So I led him to your house, seeking assistance. When I reached
there----"
She stopped in her recital, compressing her lips and gazing off across
the sagebrush.
"Well?" the engineer encouraged.
"When I reached there, I heard a dog whining."
Bryant stiffened.
"I left my dog Mike behind," said he.
"The sound was really more like a moaning," she went on. "At first I
could see nothing, but when I looked everywhere I found that it came
from one of the three cottonwood trees. Somebody had hurt him, and the
poor creature was suffering terribly. I--I can hardly tell what had
been done to him!" And she shuddered.
"Mike! They've killed my dog Mike!"
"They nailed him to a cottonwood tree. A nail through each leg. A
nail through his throat. Nails through his body. They had crucified
him. And, oh, his pitiful eyes!"
Lee Bryant stood perfectly still and quiet. Dave was frozen and
horrified. Both gazed fixedly across the mesa to where the cottonwoods
could be seen.
"Is Mike alive yet?" Bryant asked presently, in an unsteady voice.
"No; not now. I found a piece of iron and hammered the nails free.
Then I lifted him down and carried him to the creek and washed his
wounds. But he died. I see his eyes yet, looking up at me." For a
little she was overcome. Then she resumed, "When he was dead, I
carried him up to your door, for I knew you must have loved him."
Bryant glanced up at her.
"Mike would know you were a friend," he said.
She nodded and reined Dick about. Leading the other horse, she rode
away through the sunshine that burnished the mesa.