A hard gallop of eight miles carried Francesca to the forks where the
path to and from Santa Gertrudis joined the main valley trail, and she
had traveled no more than a hundred yards beyond before she was roused
from renewed musings by the thud of hoofs. Turning in her saddle, she
saw Sebastien coming along the valley trail at a gallop. Passing the
_mozo_, whose beast had lagged, the hacendado pulled his beast down to
a trot, and as Tomas, answering a question, nodded backward toward the
hills, vexation swept the girl's face.
It cleared, however, as quickly, and while waiting for Sebastien she
measured him with a narrow glance. The straight, lithe figure, easy
carriage, dark, quiet face could stand inspection, and she paid
unconscious tribute. "If I hadn't gone to Europe I suppose--" A decided
shake of the head completed while dismissing the thought. In the next
breath she murmured, "Now for a fight." Yet her expression, saluting
him, displayed no apprehension.
"Yes, I was at Santa Gertrudis." She quietly answered his question. "Two
of our people shot one of the gringos as he was leaving our place, and
the good _mama_ would have it that it was our duty to cure him."
"Ah! the good mother?" He raised his brows. "And she chose you for her
doctor?"
"As you see."
"Yes, I see. 'No, Francesca, thou canst not go. It would not be right
for a young girl--well, if you must--' I hear it as though I had been
there, and wonder that the senora, who was brought up in the letter of
our conventions, should send her daughter to a gringo camp with only a
_mozo_ for escort. But Don Luis? Is he also mad?"
"No, only wise." She answered with irritating simplicity. "Take care
that you do not put heavier strains on a slight kinship. Third, fifth,
tenth, just what is the degree of our cousinship?"
"God knows!" He shrugged. "The slighter the better. 'Twill serve till
replaced by a closer."
"Which will be never."
"Only the gods say 'never.'" He quoted the proverb. "But returning to
your _amigos_, the gringos--"
"My _amigos_?"
"You have received and repaid their visits. But listen! It is not that
I would set bounds for your freedom, but if you had stood, as I have,
on a street corner in Ciudad, Mexico, and had heard the gringo tourists
pass comments on our women--_Dios_! I choke at the thought! If you but
realized their coxcombry, conceit, the contempt in which they hold us--"
She had flushed slightly, but with a toss of her head she broke in: "It
is not necessary. I have heard young Mexican men comment on both our own
and American women. If the gringos can teach them any lessons--"
"Apes!" he burst angrily in. "Fools! The degenerate apes who put on the
vices of civilization with its collars!"
"Perhaps. But, even so, it makes for the same point--there are gringos
and gringos just as we have Mexicans _and_ Mexicans."
"And these, of course, are the other sort?"
"Exactly!" She robbed his sarcasm by her quiet. "If one judges, as one
must, by their behavior. I am pleased to find you, for once, of my
opinion."
"Of your opinion?" He regarded her with sudden sternness. "That is, to
be friends with these men who have forced themselves in on your lands?
I had never expected to hear it fall from the lips of a Garcia. Now
listen! What if your people did wound this man? Is he the first? Will he
be the last?" His face darkening under a rush of blood, he continued: "I
had thought this pair would soon ruin themselves as did the other fools
before them. But since they are working on a surer plan--"
"What do you mean?" She searched his face.
"So anxious?" he laughed bitterly. "What is it to you?"
"Only that I would not have them murdered."
"And would they be the first? Is there a foot of Mexican soil which has
not been soaked with good Mexican blood that you should be so careful
for a gringo?" Slanting through an opening in the trees overhead the sun
shone on his face, transforming it into a red mask of hate. "As yet no
one of them has secured himself in the Barranca de Guerrero! So long as
a Rocha is left to do the duty that belongs to the Garcias no one of
them ever will."
But now he had touched another string, and, straightening in her saddle,
she gave him look for look. "When the Garcias need the Rochas to settle
their quarrels it will be time for you to interfere. I should not advise
you to speak thus to my uncle."
Nevertheless she flinched a little at his answer. "That is my
intention--this very night."
With that they rode on, in silence for a while, then speaking of other
things. But when he left her in the upper courtyard an hour later she
stood at her door, listening apprehensively to the jingle of his spurs
along the gallery. When he took a chair beside Don Luis, who sat there
smoking, she listened for a while. Then, flushing suddenly, she hastily
went in.
If she had remained there was nothing to hear, for during many minutes
the conversation ran altogether on the herds as they came winding in
from distant pastures to the corrals in the square. Night had reduced
everything to a dark blur before Sebastien commented on a yellow twinkle
high up on the Barranca wall.
"That will be the gringos' light at Santa Gertrudis." After a long
pause, "It is now a month past since they came, and--they are still
here."
Don Luis flicked the ash from his cigar. "What hurry?"
"But this new business? The smelter you spoke of the other day."
"_Si_, the smelter?"
Sebastien gave his own interpretation to the other's slow tone. "Then
there is something forward?"
"What need? The gringo at the station tells me they have no money. A
single mistake and they are done." After a sententious pause he added,
"It is the part of youth to make mistakes."
The dusk did not conceal the other's impatience. "But why this tender
care? Are they so different from the others? A word from thee and--"
"Yes, yes, a nod and it would have been done long ago. There speaks
young blood--the hot blood that lost us Texas and Alta California. These
lads are of good family, Sebastien, and there can be no disappearance
without inquiry. Their death would be but one more thorn in the side of
the rabid beast that requires small urging to devour us. No, let them
make their own end."
"And Francesca? Is she to have the run of their camp?"
Don Luis's deep laugh rumbled through the courtyard. "At last from a
long cast we come to the quarry. Francesca? She is a wild filly, the
despair of every staid tabby in the countryside. Long ago I discovered
that the one way to manage her was to let her have her head. Nor will it
be the part of wisdom for thee to interfere."
"Neither would I try--yet. Commands are for husbands; lovers must wait.
That which I propose she will never know. It is--" Answering the other's
interrogative look, he leaned over, whispering in rapid Spanish.
Don Luis emitted an amused chuckle. "Sebastien, thou art truly a devil.
Had thy father possessed but the half of thy wit, some things had gone
different in the last war. Yes, feet that are still spoiling good sod
would now be rotten bones." After a pause he went on: "It seems a scurvy
trick, yet it depends on the men themselves. But--if they rise not at
the bait?"
"If?" Sebastien repeated it with bitter scorn. "Was there ever a gringo
that would not bite at such? They are kind as goats. I ask only that you
go there with Francesca at the close of the week."
"And thou?"
"I shall go there to-morrow."