Desert Gold

Z >> Zane Grey >> Desert Gold

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

"Yaqui, what do you want?" asked Belding, and repeated his
question in Spanish.

"Senor Dick," replied the Indian.

Gale jumped up, stifling an exclamation, and he went outdoors
with Yaqui. He felt his arm gripped, and allowed himself to be
led away without asking a question. Yaqui's presence was always
one of gloom, and now his stern action boded catastrophe. Once
clear of trees he pointed to the level desert across the river,
where a row of campfires shone bright out of the darkness.

"Raiders!" ejaculated Gale.

Then he cautioned Yaqui to keep sharp lookout, and, hurriedly
returning to the house, he called the men out and told them there
were rebels or raiders camping just across the line.

Ladd did not say a word. Belding, with an oath, slammed down
his cigar.

"I knew it was too good to last....Dick, you and Jim stay here while
Laddy and I look around."

Dick returned to the sitting-room. The women were nervous and not
to be deceived. So Dick merely said Yaqui had sighted some lights
off in the desert, and they probably were campfires. Belding did
not soon return, and when he did he was alone, and, saying he
wanted to consult with the men, he sent Mrs. Belding and the girls
to their rooms. His gloomy anxiety had returned.

"Laddy's gone over to scout around and try to find out who the
outfit belongs to and how many are in it," said Belding.

"I reckon if they're raiders with bad intentions we wouldn't see
no fires," remarked Jim, calmly.

"It 'd be useless, I suppose, to send for the cavalry," said Gale.
"Whatever's coming off would be over before the soldiers could
be notified, let alone reach here."

"Hell, fellows! I don't look for an attack on Forlorn River,"
burst out Belding. "I can't believe that possible. These
rebel-raiders have a little sense. They wouldn't spoil their
game by pulling U. S. soldiers across the line from Yuma to
El Paso. But, as Jim says, if they wanted to steal a few horses
or cattle they wouldn't build fires. I'm afraid it's--"

Belding hesitated and looked with grim concern at the cavalryman.

"What?" queried Thorne.

"I'm afraid it's Rojas."

Thorne turned pale but did not lose his nerve.

"I thought of that at once. If true, it'll be terrible for Mercedes
and me. But Rojas will never get his hands on my wife. If I can't
kill him, I'll kill her!...Belding, this is tough on you--this risk
we put upon your family. I regret--"

"Cut that kind of talk," replied Belding, bluntly. "Well, if it is
Rojas he's acting damn strange for a raider. That's what worries
me. We can't do anything but wait. With Laddy and Yaqui out there
we won't be surprised. Let's take the best possible view of the
situation until we know more. That'll not likely be before
to-morrow."

The women of the house might have gotten some sleep that night,
but it was certain the men did not get any. Morning broke cold
and gray, the 19th of February. Breakfast was prepared earlier
than usual, and an air of suppressed waiting excitement pervaded
the place. Otherwise the ordinary details of the morning's work
continued as on any other day. Ladd came in hungry and cold,
and said the Mexicans were not breaking camp. He reported a
good-sized force of rebels, and was taciturn as to his idea of
forthcoming events.

About an hour after sunrise Yaqui ran in with the information
that part of the rebels were crossing the river.

"That can't mean a fight yet," declared Belding. "But get in the
house, boys, and make ready anyway. I'll meet them."

"Drive them off the place same as if you had a company of soldiers
backin' you," said Ladd. "Don't give them an inch. We're in bad,
and the bigger bluff we put up the more likely our chance."

"Belding, you're an officer of the United States. Mexicans are
much impressed by show of authority. I've seen that often in camp,"
said Thorne.

"Oh, I know the white-livered Greasers better than any of you, don't
mistake me," replied Belding. He was pale with rage, but kept
command over himself.

The rangers, with Yaqui and Thorne, stationed themselves at the
several windows of the sitting-room. Rifles and smaller arms and
boxes of shells littered the tables and window seats. No small
force of besiegers could overcome a resistance such as Belding
and his men were capable of making.

"Here they come, boys," called Gale, from his window.

"Rebel-raiders I should say, Laddy."

"Shore. An' a fine outfit of buzzards!"

"Reckon there's about a dozen in the bunch," observed the calm
Lash. "Some hosses they're ridin'. Where 'n the hell do they get
such hosses, anyhow?"

"Shore, Jim, they work hard an' buy 'em with real silver pesos,"
replied Ladd, sarcastically.

"Do any of you see Rojas?" whispered Thorne.

"Nix. No dandy bandit in that outfit."

"It's too far to see," said Gale.

The horsemen halted at the corrals. They were orderly and showed
no evidence of hostility. They were, however, fully armed. Belding
stalked out to meet them. Apparently a leader wanted to parley
with him, but Belding would hear nothing. He shook his head, waved
his arms, stamped to and fro, and his loud, angry voice could be
heard clear back at the house. Whereupon the detachment of rebels
retired to the bank of the river, beyond the white post that marked
the boundary line, and there they once more drew rein. Belding remained
by the corrals watching them, evidently still in threatening mood.
Presently a single rider left the troop and trotted his horse back
down the road. When he reached the corrals he was seen to halt
and pass something to Belding. Then he galloped away to join
his comrades.

Belding looked at whatever it was he held in his hand, shook his
burley head, and started swiftly for the house. He came striding
into the room holding a piece of soiled paper.

"Can't read it and don't know as I want to," he said, savagely.

"Beldin', shore we'd better read it," replied Ladd. "What we want
is a line on them Greasers. Whether they're Campo's men or
Salazar's, or just a wanderin' bunch of rebels--or Rojas's bandits.
Sabe, senor?"

Not one of the men was able to translate the garbled scrawl.

"Shore Mercedes can read it," said Ladd.

Thorne opened a door and called her. She came into the room
followed by Nell and Mrs. Belding. Evidently all three divined a
critical situation.

"My dear, we want you to read what's written on this paper,"
said Thorne, as he led her to the table. "It was sent in by rebels,
and--and we fear contains bad news for us."

Mercedes gave the writing one swift glance, then fainted in Thorne's
arms. He carried her to a couch, and with Nell and Mrs. Belding
began to work over her.

Belding looked at his rangers. It was characteristic of the man
that, now when catastrophe appeared inevitable, all the gloom
and care and angry agitation passed from him.

"Laddy, it's Rojas all right. How many men has he out there?"

"Mebbe twenty. Not more."

"We can lick twice that many Greasers."

"Shore."

Jim Lash removed his pipe long enough to speak.

"I reckon. But it ain't sense to start a fight when mebbe we can
avoid it."

"What's your idea?"

"Let's stave the Greaser off till dark. Then Laddy an' me an'
Thorne will take Mercedes an' hit the trail for Yuma."

"Camino del Diablo! That awful trail with a woman! Jim, do you
forget how many hundreds of men have perished on the Devil's
Road?"

"I reckon I ain't forgettin' nothin'," replied Jim. "The waterholes
are full now. There's grass, an' we can do the job in six days."

"It's three hundred miles to Yuma."

"Beldin', Jim's idea hits me pretty reasonable," interposed Ladd.
"Lord knows that's about the only chance we've got except fightin'."

"But suppose we do stave Rojas off, and you get safely away with
Mercedes. Isn't Rojas going to find it out quick? Then what'll he
try to do to us who're left here?"

"I reckon he'd find out by daylight," replied Jim. "But, Tom, he
ain't agoin' to start a scrap then. He'd want time an' hosses an'
men to chase us out on the trail. You see, I'm figgerin' on the
crazy Greaser wantin' the girl. I reckon he'll try to clean up
here to get her. But he's too smart to fight you for nothin'.
Rojas may be nutty about women, but he's afraid of the U. S.
Take my word for it he'd discover the trail in the mornin' an'
light out on it. I reckon with ten hours' start we could travel
comfortable."

Belding paced up and down the room. Jim and Ladd whispered
together. Gale walked to the window and looked out at the distant
group of bandits, and then turned his gaze to rest upon Mercedes.
She was conscious now, and her eyes seemed all the larger and
blacker for the whiteness of her face. Thorne held her hands,
and the other women were trying to still her tremblings.

No one but Gale saw the Yaqui in the background looking down
upon the Spanish girl. All of Yaqui's looks were strange; but this
singularly so. Gale marked it, and felt he would never forget.
Mercedes's beauty had never before struck him as being so exquisite,
so alluring as now when she lay stricken. Gale wondered if the
Indian was affected by her loveliness, her helplessness, or her
terror. Yaqui had seen Mercedes only a few times, and upon each
of these he had appeared to be fascinated. Could the strange
Indian, because his hate for Mexicans was so great, be gloating
over her misery? Something about Yaqui--a noble austerity of
countenance--made Gale feel his suspicion unjust.

Presently Belding called his rangers to him, and then Thorne.

"Listen to this," he said, earnestly. "I'll go out and have a talk
with Rojas. I'll try to reason with him; tell him to think a long
time before he sheds blood on Uncle Sam's soil. That he's now
after an American's wife! I'll not commit myself, nor will I refuse
outright to consider his demands, nor will I show the least fear
of him. I'll play for time. If my bluff goes through...well and
good....After dark the four of you, Laddy, Jim, Dick, and Thorne,
will take Mercedes and my best white horses, and, with Yaqui as
guide, circle round through Altar Valley to the trail, and head
for Yuma....Wait now, Laddy. Let me finish. I want you to take
the white horses for two reasons--to save them and to save you.
Savvy? If Rojas should follow on my horses he'd be likely to
catch you. Also, you can pack a great deal more than on the
bronchs. Also, the big horses can travel faster and farther on
little grass and water. I want you to take the Indian, because
in a case of this kind he'll be a godsend. If you get headed or
lost or have to circle off the trail, think what it 'd mean to have
Yaqui with you. He knows Sonora as no Greaser knows it. He could
hide you, find water and grass, when you would absolutely
believe it impossible. The Indian is loyal. He has his debt to
pay, and he'll pay it, don't mistake me. When you're gone I'll
hide Nell so Rojas won't see her if he searches the place. Then
I think I could sit down and wait without any particular worry."

The rangers approved of Belding's plan, and Thorne choked in his
effort to express his gratitude.

"All right, we'll chance it," concluded Belding. "I'll go out now
and call Rojas and his outfit over...Say, it might be as well for
me to know just what he said in that paper."

Thorne went to the side of his wife.

"Mercedes, we've planned to outwit Rojas. Will you tell us just
what he wrote?"

The girl sat up, her eyes dilating, and with her hands clasping
Thorne's. She said:

"Rojas swore--by his saints and his virgin--that if I wasn't
given--to him--in twenty-four hours--he would set fire to the
village--kill the men--carry off the women--hang the children
on cactus thorns!"

A moment's silence followed her last halting whisper.

"By his saints an' his virgin!" echoed Ladd. He laughed--a cold,
cutting, deadly laugh--significant and terrible.

Then the Yaqui uttered a singular cry. Gale had heard this once
before, and now he remembered it was at the Papago Well.

"Look at the Indian," whispered Belding, hoarsely. "Damn if I
don't believe he understood every word Mercedes said. And,
gentlemen, don't mistake me, if he ever gets near Senor Rojas
there'll be some gory Aztec knife work."

Yaqui had moved close to Mercedes, and stood beside her as she
leaned against her husband. She seemed impelled to meet the
Indian's gaze, and evidently it was so powerful or hypnotic that
it wrought irresistibly upon her. But she must have seen or
divined what was beyond the others, for she offered him her
trembling hand. Yaqui took it and laid it against his body
in a strange motion, and bowed his head. Then he stepped back
into the shadow of the room.

Belding went outdoors while the rangers took up their former
position at the west window. Each had his own somber thoughts,
Gale imagined, and knew his own were dark enough. A slow fire
crept along his veins. He saw Belding halt at the corrals and wave
his hand. Then the rebels mounted and came briskly up the road,
this time to rein in abreast.

Wherever Rojas had kept himself upon the former advance was not
clear; but he certainly was prominently in sight now. He made a
gaudy, almost a dashing figure. Gale did not recognize the white
sombrero, the crimson scarf, the velvet jacket, nor any feature of
the dandy's costume; but their general effect, the whole ensemble,
recalled vividly to mind his first sight of the bandit. Rojas
dismounted and seemed to be listening. He betrayed none of the
excitement Gale had seen in him that night at the Del Sol.
Evidently this composure struck Ladd and Lash as unusual in a
Mexican supposed to be laboring under stress of feeling. Belding
made gestures, vehemently bobbed his big head, appeared to talk
with his body as much as with his tongue. Then Rojas was seen to
reply, and after that it was clear that the talk became painful and
difficult. It ended finally in what appeared to be mutual
understanding. Rojas mounted and rode away with his men, while
Belding came tramping back to the house.

As he entered the door his eyes were shining, his big hands were
clenched, and he was breathing audibly.

"You can rope me if I'm not locoed!" he burst out. "I went out
to conciliate a red-handed little murderer, and damn me if I didn't
meet a--a--well, I've not suitable name handy. I started my bluff
and got along pretty well, but I forgot to mention that Mercedes
was Thorne's wife. And what do you think? Rojas swore he loved Mercedes--
swore he'd marry her right here in Forlorn River--swore he would give up
robbing and killing people, and take her away from Mexico. He has
gold--jewels. He swore if he didn't get her nothing mattered. He'd
die anyway without her....And here's the strange thing. I believe
him! He was cold as ice, and all hell inside. Never saw a Greaser
like him. Well, I pretended to be greatly impressed. We got to
talking friendly, I suppose, though I didn't understand half he
said, and I imagine he gathered less what I said. Anyway, without
my asking he said for me to think it over for a day and then we'd
talk again."

"Shore we're born lucky!" ejaculated Ladd.

"I reckon Rojas'll be smart enough to string his outfit across the
few trails leadin' out of Forlorn River," remarked Jim.

"That needn't worry us. All we want is dark to come," replied
Belding. "Yaqui will slip through. If we thank any lucky stars
let it be for the Indian....Now, boys, put on your thinking caps.
You'll take eight horses, the pick of my bunch. You must pack
all that's needed for a possible long trip. Mind, Yaqui may lead
you down into some wild Sonora valley and give Rojas the slip.
You may get to Yuma in six days, and maybe in six weeks. Yet
you've got to pack light--a small pack in saddles--larger ones
on the two free horses. You may have a big fight. Laddy, take
the .405. Dick will pack his Remington. All of you go gunned
heavy. But the main thing is a pack that 'll be light enough for
swift travel, yet one that 'll keep you from starving on the
desert."

The rest of that day passed swiftly. Dick had scarcely a word with
Nell, and all the time, as he chose and deliberated and worked
over his little pack, there was a dull pain in his heart.

The sun set, twilight fell, then night closed down fortunately
a night slightly overcast. Gale saw the white horses pass
his door like silent ghosts. Even Blanco Diablo made no sound,
and that fact was indeed a tribute to the Yaqui. Gale went out
to put his saddle on Blanco Sol. The horse rubbed a soft nose
against his shoulder. Then Gale returned to the sitting-room.
There was nothing more to do but wait and say good-by. Mercedes
came clad in leather chaps and coat, a slim stripling of a cowboy,
her dark eyes flashing. Her beauty could not be hidden, and now
hope and courage had fired her blood.

Gale drew Nell off into the shadow of the room. She was trembling,
and as she leaned toward him she was very different from the coy
girl who had so long held him aloof. He took her into his arms.

"Dearest, I'm going--sonn....And maybe I'll never--"

"Dick, do--don't say it," sobbed Nell, with her head on his breast.

"I might never come back," he went on, steadily. "I love you--I've
loved you ever since the first moment I saw you. Do you care for
me--a little?"

"Dear Dick--de-dear Dick, my heart is breaking," faltered Nell, as
she clung to him.

"It might be breaking for Mercedes--for Laddy and Jim. I want to
hear something for myself. Something to have on long marches--round
lonely campfires. Something to keep my spirit alive. Oh, Nell, you
can't imagine that silence out there--that terrible world of sand
and stone!...Do you love me?"

"Yes, yes. Oh, I love you so! I never knew it till now. I love
you so. Dick, I'll be safe and I'll wait--and hope and pray for
your return."

"If I come back--no--when I come back, will you marry me?"

"I--I--oh yes!" she whispered, and returned his kiss.

Belding was in the room speaking softly.

"Nell, darling, I must go," said Dick.

"I'm a selfish little coward," cried Nell. "It's so splendid of you
all. I ought to glory in it, but I can't. ...Fight if you must,
Dick. Fight for that lovely persecuted girl. I'll love you--the
more....Oh! Good-by! Good-by!"

With a wrench that shook him Gale let her go. He heard
Belding's soft voice.

"Yaqui says the early hour's best. Trust him, Laddy. Remember
what I say--Yaqui's a godsend."

Then they were all outside in the pale gloom under the trees.
Yaqui mounted Blanco Diablo; Mercedes was lifted upon White
Woman; Thorne climbed astride Queen; Jim Lash was already
upon his horse, which was as white as the others but bore no
name; Ladd mounted the stallion Blanco Torres, and gathered
up the long halters of the two pack horses; Gale came last with
Blanco Sol.

As he toed the stirrup, hand on mane and pommel, Gale took one
more look in at the door. Nell stood in the gleam of light, her
hair shining, face like ashes, her eyes dark, her lips parted, her
arms outstretched. That sweet and tragic picture etched its
cruel outlines into Gale's heart. He waved his hand and then
fiercely leaped into the saddle.

Blanco Sol stepped out.

Before Gale stretched a line of moving horses, white against dark
shadows. He could not see the head of that column; he scarcely
heard a soft hoofbeat. A single star shone out of a rift in thin
clouds. There was no wind. The air was cold. The dark space
of desert seemed to yawn. To the left across the river flickered a
few campfires. The chill night, silent and mystical, seemed to
close in upon Gale; and he faced the wide, quivering, black level
with keen eyes and grim intent, and an awakening of that wild
rapture which came like a spell to him in the open desert.

XI

Across Cactus and Lava

Blanco Sol showed no inclination to bend his head to the alfalfa
which swished softly about his legs. Gale felt the horse's
sensitive, almost human alertness. Sol knew as well as his master
the nature of that flight.

At the far corner of the field Yaqui halted, and slowly the line of
white horses merged into a compact mass. There was a trail here
leading down to the river. the campfires were so close that the
bright blazes could be seen in movement, and dark forms crossed
in front of them. Yaqui slipped out of his saddle. He ran his hand
over Diablo's nose and spoke low, and repeated this action for
each of the other horses. Gale had long ceased to question the
strange Indian's behavior. There was no explaining or understanding
many of his manoeuvers. But the results of them were always
thought-provoking. Gale had never seen horse stand so silently as
in this instance; no stamp--no champ of bit--no toss of head--no
shake of saddle or pack--no heave or snort! It seemed they had
become imbued with the spirit of the Indian.

Yaqui moved away into the shadows as noiselessly as if he were one
of them. The darkness swallowed him. He had taken a parallel with
the trail. Gale wondered if Yaqui meant to try to lead his string
of horses by the rebel sentinels. Ladd had his head bent low, his
ear toward the trail. Jim's long neck had the arch of a listening
deer. Gale listened, too, and as the slow, silent moments went
by his faculty of hearing grew more acute from strain. He heard
Blanco Sol breathe; he heard the pound of his own heart;
he heard the silken rustle of the alfalfa; he heard a faint,
far-off sound of voice, like a lost echo. Then his ear seemed
to register a movement of air, a disturbance so soft
as to be nameless. Then followed long, silent moments.

Yaqui appeared as he had vanished. He might have been part of
the shadows. But he was there. He started off down the trail
leading Diablo. Again the white line stretched slowly out. Gale
fell in behind. A bench of ground, covered with sparse greasewood,
sloped gently down to the deep, wide arroyo of Forlorn River.
Blanco Sol shied a few feet out of the trail. Peering low with keen
eyes, Gale made out three objects--a white sombrero, a blanket,
and a Mexican lying face down. The Yaqui had stolen upon this
sentinel like a silent wind of death. Just then a desert coyote
wailed, and the wild cry fitted the darkness and the Yaqui's deed.

Once under the dark lee of the river bank Yaqui caused another
halt, and he disappeared as before. It seemed to Gale that the
Indian started to cross the pale level sandbed of the river, where
stones stood out gray, and the darker line of opposite shore was
visible. But he vanished, and it was impossible to tell whether
he went one way or another. Moments passed. The horses held
heads up, looked toward the glimmering campfires and listened.
Gale thrilled with the meaning of it all--the night--the silence
--the flight--and the wonderful Indian stealing with the slow
inevitableness of doom upon another sentinel. An hour passed
and Gale seemed to have become deadened to all sense of hearing.
There were no more sounds in the world. The desert was as silent
as it was black. Yet again came that strange change in the tensity
of Gale's ear-strain, a check, a break, a vibration--and this time
the sound did not go nameless. It might have been moan of wind
or wail of far-distant wolf, but Gale imagined it was the strangling
death-cry of another guard, or that strange, involuntary utterance
of the Yaqui. Blanco Sol trembled in all his great frame, and then
Gale was certain the sound was not imagination.

That certainty, once for all, fixed in Gale's mind the mood of
his flight. The Yaqui dominated the horses and the rangers.
Thorne and Mercedes were as persons under a spell. The Indian's
strange silence, the feeling of mystery and power he seemed to
create, all that was incomprehensible about him were emphasized in
the light of his slow, sure, and ruthless action. If he dominated
the others, surely he did more for Gale--colored his
thoughts--presage the wild and terrible future of that flight. If
Rojas embodied all the hatred and passion of the peon--scourged
slave for a thousand years--then Yaqui embodied all the darkness,
the cruelty, the white, sun-heated blood, the ferocity, the tragedy
of the desert.

Suddenly the Indian stalked out of the gloom. He mounted Diablo
and headed across the river. Once more the line of moving white
shadows stretched out. The soft sand gave forth no sound at all.
The glimmering campfires sank behind the western bank. Yaqui
led the way into the willows, and there was faint swishing of
leaves; then into the mesquite, and there was faint rustling of
branches. The glimmering lights appeared again, and grotesque
forms of saguaros loomed darkly. Gale peered sharply along the
trail, and, presently, on the pale sand under a cactus, there lay
a blanketed form, prone, outstretched, a carbine clutched in one
hand, a cigarette, still burning, in the other.

The cavalcade of white horses passed within five hundred yards of
campfires, around which dark forms moved in plain sight. Soft pads
in sand, faint metallic tickings of steel on thorns, low, regular
breathing of horses--these were all the sounds the fugitives made,
and they could not have been heard at one-fifth the distance.
The lights disappeared from time to time, grew dimmer, more
flickering, and at last they vanished altogether. Belding's fleet
and tireless steeds were out in front; the desert opened ahead wide,
dark, vast. Rojas and his rebels were behind, eating, drinking, careless.
The somber shadow lifted from Gale's heart. He held now an unquenchable
faith in the Yaqui. Belding would be listening back there along the river.
He would know of the escape. He would tell Nell, and then hide her safely.
As Gale accepted a strange and fatalistic foreshadowing of toil, blood,
and agony in this desert journey, so he believed in Mercedes's ultimate
freedom and happiness, and his own return to the girl who had grown
dearer than life.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24