THE VERDICT
"Benton!" warned Ninian Sharp, aghast at the audacity of a man who
would trifle with the apparent death-hour of any man.
"Oh! that's all right. Come around and in with me. I never yet heard a
voice as lusty as that from a dying man, and I've been acquainted with
Senor Bernal some little spell. He's scared nigh to death--it's just
possible--but he ain't sick nor wounded to death, or I'm mistook. Come
in!"
Jessica met him at the door, and impulsively threw her arms about them
at her relief in their presence. She had not been afraid of anything
which could harm herself, but she had believed the man's own statement
that he was dying, and his suffering had been evidently intense at
times. She had been saddened and awe-stricken, and she now shared
Ninian's indignation at the carpenter's apparently heartless promise.
How was it possible for him to bestow life where death had set its
seal?
Nothing abashed by the reproachful looks cast upon him, John walked
straight to the bed and demanded, in the most ordinary tone:
"Where you hurt, neighbor?"
Antonio caught at the straw the ranchman seemed to extend, and feebly
pointed to the wound in his back.
What followed astonished Ninian far more than it did Jessica, who knew
the carpenter's ways. As tenderly, perhaps, because of his greater
strength, the old man lifted the injured one and critically examined
his wound; his face growing graver as he did so, yet not losing its
expression of confidence and decision. When the examination was over,
he replaced Antonio on the hard pillow, which had been Pedro's one
luxury, and quietly replied to the poor fellow's unspoken question,
burning in his great dark eyes:
"It's a bad job, my son. A mighty bad job, and a sneaky one. I've seen
such before in my time, and they didn't mean death. To some folks,
though, they meant what was worse."
Nobody would now have recognized the voice which uttered this dictum,
it had become so infinitely compassionate and gentle.
Antonio caught one meaning only: "I will not die? I need not die? It
is you who will save me, yes? O'santos Dios!"
He had half risen from the bed, but now sank back, exhausted by the
shock of emotion as well as by the physical effort; and Jessica sprang
forward, terrified by the sudden pallor of his swarthy face. But John
put her quietly aside and himself placed a flask to Antonio's lips,
saying:
"You've done your part well, my noble little captain, and you've done
me proud. It's my place now."
The senor soon rallied, and again fixed his eyes imploringly on
Benton's face, as he sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
"Yes, top-lofty, I promise to help you. But first you must help
yourself. You must pledge your word, the word of a dying man, that he
dare not break. You will restore everything that you have taken from
the mistress of Sobrante--or anybody else--so far as it will hereafter
be in your power; you shall compel your Brother Ferd to guide a party
of prospectors to that secret spot in the canyon where that piece of
copper came from; and you shall do all that it is possible to do for
the good, and not the evil, of your neighbors. That all clear?"
"But, yes, yes!" whispered Antonio, frantically. "Haste! Oh, haste!"
"I'm a-hasting, but I ain't a-hurrin'. Which is a good thing for you,
'cause so I can think this thing over. That ball in your back will
have to come out. I've taken some from folks myself, once or twice,
but this one is in a ticklish place. A doctor is what we want, and the
nearest one is ten miles away on Kimball's ranch. He'd rather potter
with his roses than other folks' bullets, and I'll have a tough piece
of work to drag him up here, especially to see--you."
With an impressive emphasis on the word "you" John paused, and waited
some rejoinder. None came, and though Jessica again exclaimed against
the carpenter's contemptuous tone, Antonio neither resented it, nor
felt it undeserved. Then Benton continued:
"Sharp, here, is a writin' fellow, and knows what's what every time.
In the jerk of a lamb's tail he'll draw up a paper which'll explain
what you promise, and you've got strength enough to sign your name to
it. The minute you do that I'm off for Kimball, and I'll fetch him up
here fast as horses can travel--if I have to carry him on my back!"
"Quick! The paper! I sign--I live!"
"Quick" it was, and though Ninian was no lawyer, he was always well
provided with pads and fountain pens. Also, he was clever enough to
use the longest and most impressive words wherever possible, and thus
convinced the senor that the document sounded legally important.
Indeed, the injured manager could scarcely wait to affix his
signature, so eager was he that John should be off on his errand of
salvation.
An hour later the padre came, and Jessica led Ninian away, that the
pair might have the cottage to themselves. Then, when this visitation
was over, the good man lingered, that he might hear for himself the
doctor's opinion when he should arrive. He, too, had listened to
another confession from the truly repentant Antonio; but there was
still a sacred office to perform if this awaited opinion should be for
death, not life. But he had ridden far, and was tired, having come
directly from his own church service at the distant mission, and
Jessica's hospitality could not endure to see the look of weariness on
the old man's kindly face.
"Beg pardon, Fra Sebastian, but would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Ah! my daughter, would I like the impossible? But, yes, I am
famished, indeed, for the good dinner of Marta, my housekeeper," he
answered, with a shrug of his plump shoulders.
"Well, father, I cannot give you a dinner, but I can make you a pot of
fresh coffee; and in Pedro's little storeroom are cans of meat, and
beans and biscuit. Oh! I tell you! I'll bring the plates out
here--there are two whole ones--and dear Mr. Sharp and you shall have
a picnic."
Already, with the light-heartedness of childhood, she had almost
forgotten the sorrowful errand upon which she had come to the mesa.
Besides, to her, a thing that was possible was, also, probable, and
John would never have raised false hopes in Antonio's breast. She was
sure of that, and already the senor's recovery a matter of but a
little while. Moreover, to serve others was her dearest happiness, and
though Fra Sebastian's faith was different from her parents', she had
been trained to know all good people as the children of God. And he
was especially such, for his benefactions and self-sacrifices were
widespread, and he had been an honored guest at her father's table.
"Oh! I am so happy to do anything for so holy a man, and I am so
glad--so glad we came!" she whispered to Ninian, tripping away to
relight the little stove and fill her kettle afresh.
"But I must be allowed to help, too, my captain," he returned, eagerly
entering into the altered spirit of things; and so merry were they
over their preparations, so gay and bright the reverend guest became,
that Antonio was helped over his own tedious time of waiting, and
scarce knew how the time passed before John's return.
This was sooner than could have been anticipated. The physician was
already halfway on the road, intending a neighborly call at Sobrante,
when the carpenter met and literally collared him.
"Come you must, Dr. Kimball. I shan't take 'no' for an answer," was
the decisive retort to the rose-grower's prompt refusal.
"I shall do nothing of the sort. I'm not a practicing physician now,
and I never was a surgeon. As for that scalawag, Bernal, if he's got
himself shot, he's met exactly what he deserved. Giddap!" he cried, to
his horse, and was dashing past, just as John's long arm reached out
and clutched the ranchman's coat.
"It isn't so much for him as for our Lady Jess. You're not in such a
tearin' hurry, neighbor, and if you are--well, just let your hurry
wait."
Whereupon, in a few brief, telling sentences, Dr. Kimball was put in
possession of the facts Antonio had revealed, and had wheeled his
horse about, with a whimsical snarl:
"Well, forge ahead. For anybody named Trent I'd break my own
resolutions a dozen times a day."
It is probable that the kind-hearted man would have gone anyway, even
if he had ridden some miles still farther on an opposite road. The
knowledge that somebody was suffering and needing him was an appeal to
his professional instinct he would scarcely have resisted, but he had
to make a protest first.
All merriment ceased when he entered the cabin on the mesa, and
Jessica instinctively sought the reporter's hand, needing his sympathy
during the anxious few minutes that ensued upon the doctor's arrival.
Fra Sebastian and John had followed the surgeon indoors, but Ferd, who
had brought the priest to the upland, still remained within the
deserted fold, whither he had retreated as soon as his errand was
accomplished. To him death of any sort, even that of an animal brought
a horrible fear, and nothing would induce him to leave his shelter;
till, when the conference was over, Jessica ran to him, exclaiming:
"Cheer up, Ferd! Oh, Ferd! He's going to live, though, maybe--maybe he
will never walk again. Come and see him, Ferd. He wants you. He needs
you."
The dwarf came reluctantly, still adoring his brother and still
shrinking from him and the sight of his agony. The examination had
been painful, of course; and the condition upon which life might still
remain a bitter one. However, it was--life! And to Antonio, at that
present moment, that was all he craved.
"We must make a litter or stretcher and take him to the valley. He
will need the closest care and watching. He couldn't stay up here, and
have a single chance of recovery. Let's see, there are five men of us,
counting the dwarf. We'll have to walk with the stretcher, and he
shall lead the horses, all but Buster, whom Jessica can ride. One at a
time he'll 'spell' us, and the one released will take his place at the
beasts," was the doctor's decision.
So it was done. A blanket was speedily fastened about two poles drawn
from the corral, and over these Pedro's hard mattress was laid; and
thus, placed as comfortably upon it as might be, Antonio was once more
conveyed to his old home at Sobrante.
And there, that Sunday night, was wild rejoicing and much speculation
concerning the outcome of his confession.
"Sharp's the man to put the thing in trim. He's the very chap! He
knows all about minerals, and he says that this copper we've struck is
the very purest article he ever saw! Hurray! Hurray! Three cheers and
a tiger for the Sobrante Copper Mine!" shouted the hilarious Marty.
Meanwhile, there had been short but heated discussion among her loyal
henchmen as to whether Mrs. Trent should be forced to receive and care
for, under her immediate roof, a man who had done her so much injury;
and the decision had been unanimous: "No!"
Even John, who had helped to bring him thither, joined his voice to
this assertion; and to the next question propounded, as to who would
attend him and where, had as loudly answered: "I don't know."
Temporarily, the senor was resting in the household sitting-room, but
it was evident should not long remain there.
"Where then? Hate him as we may, we can't let him die on our hands,"
said Samson, looking as black as he could.
"Don't you fret yourselves, 'boys,'" said a cheerful voice near the
group. "Mr. Ma'sh and me, or me and Mr. Ma'sh--for I had to put it to
him pretty plain, 'fore he'd seed it right--me and him will take that
misguided creatur' into our hands, and----"
"May the Lord have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Marty, fervently.
"Me and Ephraim will 'tend him, turn and turn about," continued Mrs.
Benton, ignorant of Marty's irreverent remark. "He's to be put into
Mr. Ma'sh's room at the quarters, and I'll take this first night's
job. I shall begin it with a dose of picra, and the first page of the
Westminster catechism; and if that don't put him in good shape for the
doctor and Ephraim, in the morning, my name ain't Sally Benton, nor
never was. The doctor, he's rode home for his instruments and such,
and hopes to get the bullet out in the course of time. But it's my
opinion, and his, too, I reckon, 'cause he didn't deny it when I put
the question plain, it's our opinion that Antonio Bernal will never
walk another step in his life. But he'll live. He'll live everlastin'.
Them old Californy folks always do. He'll simply be paralyzed from his
waist down."
Despite their antipathy to him, a thrill of pity ran through every one
who heard her; and to most of those stalwart men it seemed that this
was a punishment they could not have endured. Death would have been
far preferable to them.
So it befell that the late manager's fate was in the hands of his
enemies, so to speak; and while Mrs. Benton and "Forty-niner" would
faithfully perform their duty toward him, they elected to do it along
lines of their own.