ALMOST----
Señora Valentino rode slowly along the way leading from Santa Clara to
Pueblo San José. Willow trees lined the edge of the road, lifting
their featherly foliage in greeting to the morning sun. Yellow light
filtered through and marked the interlacing plumes with myriad fairy
figures in golden tints. The branches nodded and undulated in
low-toned rhythm. Tempered breezes from the bay, sweet with the breath
of virgin meadow, hung light-winged over this shaded alameda. Peons,
men and women, worked in the vegetable gardens by the wayside, singing
as they labored. Betimes they used the guttural words of their
aborigine tongue, the age-old longing of savage man flowing in heavy
note and shrill refrain. Again, some neophyte rested for the moment on
hoe or mattock and intoned a hymn. Then knoll and hollow resounded as
the children of the wilderness sang the words of their new-found faith.
The long white line marking the fort at San José had come plainly into
view when the señora halted.
"My message requested the Captain to meet me here at this hour," she
said to no one in particular. Her mounted Indian guard was a score of
paces behind. Just then Captain Farquharson, coming at swift gallop,
turned the bend just ahead.
"Good morning!" she called to him.
"Good morning!" he called back. "Well, the great question," as he drew
up at her side. "Your word reached me after midnight. Our signal-fire
was lighted within two hours, on the high mountains east of San José.
This morning at daylight the signal-smoke told me that Admiral
Fairbanks's anchors are under weigh for Monterey harbor. Now, your
note told me nothing of the particulars of your interview with Billings
last night. You managed to gain his attention, I'm sure."
"I did. But our English admiral? Tell me, is he of two minds, as he
was the other day; or have they crystallized into one?"
"He has agreed to keep his fleet hidden until our signal-fire or smoke
informs him it is the hour to enter Monterey harbor and take
possession."
"Ah! that is his mind now."
"Señora, I await with great interest some news of your interview last
night with the American. He must have said something of deep import
that you sent word to signal at once our admiral's fleet. Fairbanks
reaches Monterey easily to-morrow. What I signal him to do there, and
how soon, will be greatly determined by what you learned last night
from this Billings."
"Well, Captain, since nothing is to be done until to-morrow, you have
time to answer me a question or two." The lady laughed, then went on:
"How did you manage to get our gringo naval heroes lost at the right
time yesterday?"
"Simple, very simple, indeed. They lost themselves. One hero's saddle
seat was uncertain. He gripped his horse with his calves, to make
himself more secure, forgetting the sharp spurs on his heels. The
indignant broncho jumped over the nearest bank, his rider just
naturally following. I declare, the gallant officer actually spun head
over heels twice before he landed in the water. The peon with the two
gentlemen was held by our men under pretended suspicion of being a
runaway, when he went in search of another horse. This left our heroes
without a guide; and Valeriano, the Miramonte major-domo, did his part
when the stars began to shine. Now, señora, of course Commodore
Billings----"
She interrupted him. "If the gringo hero's horse had not obligingly
jumped over that bank, how would you have got the Commodore to Señor
Miramonte's hacienda house at the right time?"
"Depend on it, I would have found a way. Bringing them to the
Miramonte's place as suspicious characters would have been the last
resort. You would have identified the Commodore, in that case, and
would have made all possible amends for unwarranted detention."
"Of course." The two joined their laughter.
"Mendoza's peons were scouring the woods last night for the officers.
Our fellows furnished them plenty of information. It didn't lead them
to Miramonte's house, you may be sure." Again the forest echoed the
sound of their laughter.
"Well," from the señora, "our two worthies set out comfortably enough
this morning, after early breakfast with us. Alberto, the Miramonte's
peon, guides them to Señor Mendoza. Alberto," lifting her eyebrows,
"understands English. When a lad, a religious-minded gringo
tallow-trader captain took him to Boston, and had him educated, hoping
he would become a missionary here of the tallow-trader's faith.
Instead he reverted to the ordinary peon, and an ardent Americano
hater, into the bargain."
"Fortunately for us. It was simply invaluable that he was present the
other day at that Billings-O'Donnell talk at Half Moon bay, and thus
found out about the appointment to meet at Mendoza's last night. But,"
laughing a little, yet serious, "I'm anxious as to what happened last
night at Miramonte's."
"Just one more question, Captain. In what frame of mind was Padre
Osuna when you last saw him?"
"You have swung him to our side, señora, for the second time. But he
forced from Fairbanks and me papers giving these natives extraordinary
rights when the country is ours."
"The padre is where now, do you judge?"
"Somewhere near San Luis Obispo. He travels like the whirlwind.
Yesterday he swept the crowd off its feet when he spoke from the church
steps at Monterey. They cheered and stormed for English rule. His
discourse over, he set off for the south with the impetuosity of a
crusader."
"Very well, my Captain, we have done our part. It remains for
Fairbanks to do his."
"Now, señora, why was it you sent the hurried messenger last night?
What did Billings say that you thought such haste necessary?"
"Practically nothing."
"I beg pardon, señora. You must have misunderstood me. I----"
"I understood you perfectly."
"Well, then, señora, think of your reply."
"My reply was that Commodore Billings said practically nothing from
which I thought haste necessary. It was from what he palpably
refrained from saying that I made my inference."
Farquharson drew his bridle-rein. His horse curveted over the turf,
under pressure of the curb-bit. He drew the animal back to the woman's
side. "Señora Valentino, what does Billings intend to do?"
"To seize Monterey for the United States if----"
"If what?"
"If he can find reasonable excuse, in the attitude of the hacenderos
here, for such a move."
"But can he?"
"He can, if Colonel Mendoza is minded to supply it."
"But, señora, at the Mendoza baile the entire countryside cried out for
an English protectorate."
"Yes, but we made the minds of these men for them. The structure may
not be the most lasting."
"But, perdition! they----"
"Admiral Fairbanks must seize Monterey as soon as he reaches there,"
she went on.
"He must! By heaven he must! I'll ruin him before all England if he
flinches."
"Remember, Captain, Commodore Billings will fight."
"My word, señora! Fight us! Why, bless my soul! our fleet outnumbers
him at least three to one. Fairbanks could sink him in an hour."
The woman leaned in her saddle toward the officer. "I shall be in
Monterey all day to-morrow. So must you, Captain."
They shook hands over the manes of their horses and parted company, the
Captain riding swiftly across the fields, the lady walking her mount
toward San José.
The adobe walls of the fort were a dozen feet or so in height, with
eaves projecting outward, the better to prevent scaling by a possible
enemy. Within these walls was a row of buildings in which were the
officers of the alcalde, the subprefect, the jefe-politico and other
civil officers of the pueblo. Here also were the quarters of Morando's
men. The Captain himself had a reception room in one corner of an
edifice facing the street. A motley gathering was in this room, also
clustered around the door as the Señora Valentino drew rein. Her
mounted escort had drawn up on either side of her in orderly lines,
each peon so tightening his bridle that the horses walked in perfect
step.
Captain Morando, the comandante, pushed his way through the crowd to
the lady's side. "Thrice glad am I to see you, amiga mia. Will you
not alight and rest awhile?"
"Thank you, Captain."
He released her foot from the stirrup and assisted her to the ground.
"My poor place shines like the morning in answer to your presence,
señora."
She smiled on him and looked about over the waiting crowd. "Why so
many sad faces here, Captain?"
"These friends mourn relatives who fell in the recent contest with
Yoscolo. To-day the Department, through me, considers the demands for
pensions."
"Then I interrupt."
"Indeed not, my friend. This reception room meets never a guest more
welcome than Señora Valentino."
"But these sad ones? You must not neglect them for my sake."
"I shall not forget you, nor neglect them. Besides, my work with the
pensioners has about concluded."
The peonas had nearly all dried their tears, had gathered their
restless pocos niños together and were preparing to depart, with many
blessings murmured on the "very good and very handsome comandante."
The señora seated near the Captain was greatly interested in the scene.
"Their praises for you, señor, are fervent, if not loud," she remarked.
Soon the man and woman were alone in the reception room. She regarded
him gravely. He started from a revery and caught her look. He
flushed. She laughed a little.
"Well, Captain, I have done as you requested."
"What?"
"I have seen the Señorita Mendoza and have told her for you that----"
She paused.
He waited for her to continue.
"I must say I do not quite understand the girl, charming, indeed, as
she is."
"How so, señora?"
"O, friend of my heart, I would spare you pain."
"Tell me everything, señora."
"O, Don Alfredo, everything? My heart fails me. How can I wound you?"
"Do not fear for me, gentle one. Let me know the truth. Please go on."
"Well--if I must. I made occasion to do your bidding by visiting the
Mendoza house, ostensibly to express to the host of the great baile at
Mission San José my appreciation of that event. The señor was away,
but his daughter received me. This was just the opportunity I would
have wished for. Nothing could have been better for our purpose, Don
Alfredo."
He bowed in recognition of the fact.
"We passed bits of conversation from one to the other on chance topics.
The young lady was delightful. As we sat in the cool drawing room
sipping tea and nibbling dulces I thought continually of you, my
friend. Small wonder, truly, that you wished to wed this beautiful and
talented young woman. Small wonder, again, that the swains of the
valley lay their hearts before her, as she beckons."
The soldier's face grew gloomy.
"When our time had in a measure sped I introduced the subject on which
you wished me to speak with her."
"How did she receive it?"
"I am puzzled to know how to explain. It is but a step, often, from
joy to sorrow; at times, discourtesy seems waiting on the threshold of
courtesy. Well, enough to say that our pleasant relations underwent a
change most unaccountable. The Doña Carmelita grew cold and drew
within herself. Try as I might I could not bring back the former
cordiality. In the course of the conversation I said: 'Señorita,
Captain Morando loves you and you only.' She replied: 'Señora
Valentino, I cannot listen to you; even though you are a guest in this
house I cannot.'
"We parleyed further. She was obdurate. She tried to cut me short
with the words: 'I request that this conversation cease and that you do
not again mention to me the name of Captain Morando.'
"Yet still did I refuse to accept her dismissal of the subject. You
see, my one-time knight, I was determined to fulfill your wishes, no
matter what came."
She lowered her eyes with a tender little sigh, but went on hastily.
"I continued to speak of you and of your love for her. She almost
flung at me: 'Captain Morando is nothing to me, nor can he ever be. I
would not wish it otherwise.'
"Then I concluded: 'At least accept his word that he meant no harm by
his attentions to you.' To this she gave no response.
"We were now at the hacienda gate. She summoned the peon who had my
horse in charge. As I mounted she said: 'Remember, if you call again,
I shall give word to my maid to tell you I am not at home.'"
The young man came to her side and took her hand in both his. "Forgive
me, señora. Forgive me, my dear friend, the stupid selfishness in
asking you to do such an errand. When I think of your goodness to me
and of my placid acceptance of it I curse myself for a brute."
"You are harsh with yourself, Alfredo," putting her disengaged hand on
his.
"No, señora, a thousand times, no. How can I ever atone for my
thoughtlessness!"
The lustrous brown eyes were looking gently at him. He gazed into
their beautiful depths. She leaned a trifle nearer.
He continued: "I have been a cur! You have suffered your life long.
You generously gave me the confidences of your heart. I saw how empty
your years have been of the things that, after all, really count in
this world; yet I, selfish fool! could only whine about my own loss."
"Don't, don't, Alfredo. You must not say such words."
"Dear amiga, you are too forgetful of yourself, always thinking of the
good you may do others. You have a claim on me, a strong claim, which
I shall always remember; for, no matter how unwitting on my part,
unhappiness came to you years ago, and that unhappiness still persists.
Added to this, I have been the direct cause of your losing your friend,
the Doña Carmelita. I wish I could make compensation."
The woman's eyes drooped. Her hands fell to her side.
"The past is gone--gone the way of all past things," she said, very
slowly.
"But the hurt continues," he returned.
"You certainly cannot blame yourself for that."
He dropped on his knees beside her. "My dear señora, my true friend,
ask what you will of me, and if I can accomplish it, it shall be yours.
I would do anything to be of service to you."
She raised her eyes and put her hand on his shoulder. "Alfredo, how
could you retrieve a broken life? Why, I envy the love of the peonas
for their husbands who fell by your side at La Cuesta de los Gatos.
Though bereft their love lives on. Their heart is not empty, as is
mine--as is mine. Ah, me!"
"Doña Silvia, the way of love should not be difficult to one of your
gentle spirit. Surely, you will find it, with all the joys bordering
thereon."
Her eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. She moved a little away.
"Forgive me," he said anxiously, noting the movement. "I have entered
forbidden ground."
"No, no, dear Alfredo. For you it is not forbidden ground. There is
not a recess within my heart where you might not enter."
"You are more than kind, my good friend."
"Friend! Captain," showing some impatience, "friend! Good friend!"
She tried to hide the sarcasm in her tone by an unusually alluring
smile. "I am but one of your many, many good friends. Is it not so?"
her voice sounding hard in spite of herself. "O, well, I must be
content with whatever the gods see fit to bestow."
"Señora, you are not merely one of many. You are my most loyal, my
warmest, my ever-remaining, ever-to-be-cherished,
never-to-be-forgotten----" He paused, overcome by his own vehemence.
"You would scale barbed walls to carry away the señorita of the window
pane," leaning wearily on her arm.
"Yes, dear Silvia, I would scale those walls," he went on,
passionately. "I would scale them and bear you away," taking both her
hands. Her warm breath was against his cheek. "I would--I would----"
His voice choked.
"--Even sing love songs outside the window, to the accompaniment of the
guitar. O, Alfredo!"
In space of time hardly more than an instant he saw the Señorita
Carmelita's eyes flash behind the barred window; heard her gay banter
at the house party; felt her soft hand in his as he had spoken love to
her at the baile.
Very gently he moved away from the señora. Slowly he arose to his
feet. The woman quickly realized the effect of her ill-chosen words.
She arose also and stood leaning on the back of her chair. For a
moment they looked at each other. She was the first to speak, a queer
little smile stealing over her face.
"Well, Captain Morando, I have made report to you," the smile
vanishing. "I must now--journey homeward."
He escorted the señora to her horse. Assisting her to mount he kissed
her hand in parting salute.
She rode leisurely out of the pueblo, pleasantly exchanging greetings
with acquaintances along the way. Once on the plains, however, she
lashed her horse until the beast plunged and kicked in fury. She
quelled him with bit and word, then rode at break-neck speed until he
was winded.
The peon guard followed in wonderment.