CHAPTER XX
THE COMING OF EL DOCTOR
The sandstorm that overwhelmed Stooder and his guide on the Road ofthe Dead Men brought the mighty voice of the desert to the Garden ofSolitude in requiem for the soul of Don Padraic O'Donoju. Savage elegyof a life lived in communion with the spirit of the wild.
There was no priest to order the funeral rites of the Church. Though aday's journey in Quelele's car to Caborca and back would have fetcheda minister of religion, Benicia was determined word of her father'sdeath should not reach the man who provoked it sooner than the coursesof rumour allowed. The Caborca priest posting out to the Casa O'Donojuwould set tongues wagging instantly and the seal of silence imposed bymiles of unpeopled space between the casa and the nearest communitywould be broken. "The service of the heart will be just as acceptableto my father's spirit," was Benicia's simple justification to herselfof breach of custom.
So in the heat haze preceding the storm six Indians bore the body oftheir master through fields of alfalfa behind the white house down to agrove of shimmering alamo trees which fringed a reservoir of the oasis'precious water. Here beneath the white and silver-green tent of thetrees was sanctified ground. Here lay the dust of lords and ladies of adesert principality who, for their spans of years, had been inheritorsof the desert's cruelties and benefices.
Grant fell in with the file of dark-skinned mourners that followedbehind the body of Don Padraic, with him Bagley. They did this unbiddenof Benicia. Neither had seen her since the dramatic climax of theordeal of the kettle the day before; no word had come from her. Yeteach had felt the need to succour the bereaved girl in her greatloneliness, forgetting unhappy events of the dawn in the patio.
For Grant there had been a brief struggle with pride and outragedsensibilities--blessedly brief because a broader tolerance and finermanhood had rallied to overthrow the narrower view of selfishness.In the light of the terrific blow that had been dealt the girl heloved--all the more crushing because of its suddenness--the savagereaction of a high spirit seemed to him not so to be wondered at. NorBenicia's silence since. In these dark hours there was no place in herheart for aught but unassuaged grief.
Arrived at the alamo grove, all the Indians of the village andhousehold massed themselves a little way apart from freshly turned sod,their glistening black heads dappled by the silhouettes of the leaves,their eyes restless and awestruck. Benicia, garbed in dull black whichmade the whiteness of her face and uncovered glory of her hair themore striking, stood at the head of the rude housing fashioned by thePapagoes for her beloved clay; her calm was absolute as that of theiron peaks beyond the oasis green. In her hand was a wreath the Indianwomen had woven--scarlet flowers of the cactus with feathery acaciaintertwined.
In a steady voice the girl read a Latin prayer while the Indians knelt.Then with a lingering touch she laid the scarlet and olive-green wreathupon the pall and watched the glowing spot of colour slowly sink fromsight.
Suddenly the recessional: the sand storm with its clamour of incoherentdesert tongues crying hidden tragedies, its blinding sheets of sand.When the first blast struck the group turning away from the graveGrant stepped quickly to Benicia's side, drew her arm protectinglythrough his and bent his body to shield her from the myriad chisels ofthe driven sand. He fought for footing for them both.
At his touch Benicia turned dry eyes to his. Swiftly she read the lovethere--love triumphing over the hurt she had so lately given him. Onthe instant tears filmed the hard brightness of the orbs Grant lookeddown upon. Her lips moved in some halting speech of contrition, but thesavage blast snatched away the sound of her words. In the softeningof those eyes and the weight of her body clinging nervelessly to himthe man was told the whole story of a girl's amends for hasty andunconsidered action. All her iron will which had carried her head highthrough hours of grief suddenly had sped from her, leaving her gropingand dependent.
An exalted sense of guardianship came to Grant--swept over him like acool breeze to a fever patient. Almost it was a feeling of holy trustbestowed. At last--at last the woman he loved had battled againstbitter fate beyond the limit of her endurance and was turning to him tofend for her. Unheeding the twinges his wound gave him, he bent to theblast with his precious burden. Oh, if only he could be given libertyto sweep her into his arms, to call her name in the piety of supremelove, snatch her away from the incubus of dread which had settled uponher so relentlessly.
He would not wait for such opportunity--so the thought came lancing athim in a lightning flash of resolution; he would create it! No longerstand idly by with footless compassion while the girl of his heartremained in chains of a fixed idea too strong for her to break. Hehimself would free her of those shackles even if he had to fight herfiery will to do it!
While the storm furiously grappled with the palms outside, Bim andGrant sat in the dark music room of the great-house. With hushed voicesthe two friends conned over the situation facing them and the girl nowleft alone in the immensity of Altar. Not a simple exigency. On the onehand promptings of delicacy and the dictates of custom ruled againsttheir remaining longer in the Casa O'Donoju. Opposed to this was thealternative of leaving Benicia to become a prey to the schemes ofColonel Urgo--a girl fighting single-handed the craft of an implacableenemy. Without a protector other than the Indians of the oasis--andthey had the minds of children--the girl could not combat thisunscrupulous wooer for long. What then?
Bim finally summed the situation: "It comes down to this, oldside-pardner; either you've got to persuade her to come back to Arizonawith us mighty pronto or to marry you, putting it bald-headed like."
Grant's mind leaped to grapple with the flash of an idea--the one thathad come to him when he and the girl breasted the sandstorm. Resolutioncrystallized on the instant. He silently quizzed his friend with anappraising eye.
"And if I can't persuade her?" he queried softly.
"Then you simply trundle yourself away from here and up across theLine, knowing that, sure as shootin', this wolf Urgo'll be down onher just as soon as he makes up his mind to move." The big fellow inthe firelight stressed inevitability in his dictum. Grant gave him acryptic smile.
"Suppose I take her anyway if she will not be persuaded?" Bim jerkedback his head and surveyed his friend with startlement which speedilysoftened to a wide grin. Out went his hand to clap Grant's knee.
"Now you're tootin'!"
Once he had put his resolution into words, the idea back-fired toscorch Grant with sudden comprehension of what would be involved insuch a cavalierly course of action. Actually to steal Benicia O'Donoju!Take her by force from the home which now was hers to rule. Play thevery part which he feared Colonel Urgo would pursue if left alone. Hescarcely heard Bim rumbling his enthusiasms.
"That's the pure quill!" the desert man was saying. "That's the GrantHickman who brought me in on his back from a section of Heinie's firstline trench with H.E.'s droppin' round like gumdrops from a baby's torncandy bag." He checked himself to launch the question, "Have you got aline on the girl yet? I mean, do you think she fancies you enough to beglad--after you've run away with her?"
"I think so," was Grant's simple answer.
"Fine business! The sooner the quicker, young fellah. You an' heran' me in the li'l old desert skimmer. 'Cause I gotta get back toArizora. The old Doc'll think I've thrown him down an', besides, my ownbusiness--"
"You mean you'll go ahead with Stooder on his scheme for finding theLost Mission?" Grant cut in impetuously. The big love he bore Bagleyjealously demanded an answer. The other reached over to lay a hand onGrant's shoulder.
"No. That's all off, old son. I couldn't go prying around after losttreasure that belongs to the girl's family--more particular not afterwhat you've told me I couldn't. I promise you I'll head off the Doc ifI have to get him thrown in the _carcel_ for boot-legging."
The storm wore itself to a final sibilant whisper among the torturedpalms and the two continued to sit in the room of shadows with thecomplexities of the daring p
lan of kidnapping still bulking large.'Cepcion tip-toed in to announce to Bim in an awed whisper, "El DoctorCoyote Belly from Babinioqui has come through the storm. Shall Idisturb the mistress?"
Bim translated to Grant with a questioning tilt of the eyebrows. Grantstarted at the name of the medicine man who had been his rescuer andto whom he owed his life. What could have brought this old Indian awayacross the expanse of Altar to drop out of the storm upon the house ofmourning?
"Tell her we will see him first," Grant directed, moved as he was bysome half-sensed instinct of protection for Benicia; evil tidings--ifsuch the Indian bore--must be kept from her. The two rose and followedthe waddling Indian woman through the halls to the servants' quartersin the rear. Under a pepper tree in the fading dusk they found thesquat figure of Coyote Belly. The Indian doffed his hat at the approachof the white men and stood smiling; there was in his pose something ofquiet dignity which bent little before the centuries-old conventionof the white man's superiority. His beady eyes, well larded in creasyfolds, possessed intelligence beyond the ordinary.
Grant impulsively took El Doctor's hand in a strong grip carrying thethanks he could not speak. El Doctor's eyes mirrored recognition and hebobbed his head with a broadening smile.
"Tell him, Bim, I could not thank him for all he did for me. He is thechap that found me on the Hermosillo road, you know, and pulled methrough." Bim put the words in Spanish and El Doctor bobbed his headagain. Then the Indian began haltingly in the same tongue. Bim's eyesnarrowed to a quizzical pucker as he progressed. Grant could read aspreading wonder in his friend's features.
"The old bird says he came here because he knew Don Padraic had beenkilled," Bim repeated. "Says he knew it the night of the murder becausea star fell in the west and he saw the picture of the old Don with aknife in his heart--saw it in the water of his medicine _olla_. So he'sbeen on the trail ever since because he's got to tell Senorita Beniciasomething."
"But," Grant began incredulously. Bim caught him up with, "Sure, I knowit sounds phoney. But I know, too, the old boy's telling the truth.These desert people have a way of seeing across space--reading signsand such--which leaves us white folks gasping-- How's that?" He turnedan ear to El Doctor, who had begun to speak again.
"Standing-White-in-the-Sun was my father and my brother," the medicineman gravely intoned. "He gave me _pinole_ when I was starving. He cameto my house at the festival of the _sahuaro_ wine and drank with me asa brother. His child, Lightning Hair, is as my own child."
Depth of feeling was sweeping El Doctor like a storm. His grey headtrembled and drops of moisture stood in his eyes. Bim gently checkedhim with, "The senorita is oppressed with grief. If we could take yourmessage to her--" But El Doctor shook his head.
"She will see me. She will hear what El Doctor Coyote Belly has comethrough the storm to tell."
"Yes, she will hear," came an unexpected voice from the direction ofthe doorway, and Benicia walked up to the Indian. El Doctor made astep forward to meet her; with a gesture of reverence he took the handstretched out to him and placed it first on his brow then over hisheart. His old eyes shone. The two white men turned and walked beyondearshot. From a distance Grant saw the girl lead the medicine man toa rustic seat beneath the pepper tree; snatches of barbarous Papagospeech came to his ears.
The glory of sunset, more glorious because of the dust held insuspension in the air, came and passed and still Benicia and themedicine man talked beneath the pepper tree. The evening meal was amournful affair, with only Grant and Bim at the candle-lit table.Grant, unable to contain his restlessness, quit the house alonewhen supper was finished; he walked down the avenue of palms in thedirection of the red fires marking the Indian village. The night wasluminous with that sheen which covers the desert heavens like a bloom.Thin rind of a moon hung low in the west, a cold glow of nacre.
He had crossed the bridge and was about to turn off into an adjacentfield when he heard a footstep in the shadowed aisle below palm topsahead of him. A figure scarce discernible in its black garb came uponhim.
"Benicia!"
She stopped, startled. "Ah, it is you," was her murmured greeting asGrant stepped to her side.
"Alone and in the dark," he chided, but the girl tossed off his fearswith a gesture of the hands. "I have been with El Doctor down to thevillage to find a place for him to lodge." Grant imprisoned her armand gently persuaded her steps back down the aisle of darkness towardthe village. For a minute they walked in silence. Each knew therewere things to be spoken, yet each was reluctant to break the silentcommunion their nearness wrought.
"And El Doctor gave you the message he came to bring?" finally fromGrant. Her head nodded assent.
"Not bad news, I hope," he hazarded. A tightening of fingers on his armas she answered, "The best--and the worst." Grant drew a long breath.
"And may I share with you--the worst?" he managed to murmur. Now oncemore that dragging weight on his arm as when he guided Benicia throughthe storm--mute signal of surrender from one spent in the fight.
"El Doctor says--oh, my friend, you must not stay here in the Gardenlonger. The rurales are gathering at Babinioqui, El Doctor tellsme--with Urgo. That means but one thing: Urgo is bringing them here,and you--"
"But you!" Grant interrupted almost fiercely. "What of you? Must I runaway and leave you unprotected from that man?" The girl drew away fromhim as if in very defiance of some mastering impulse which would pushher into his arms.
"I--my people will fight for me if need be. Urgo comes for you thistime, and I cannot be sure these children"--a vague sweep of her handtoward the winking village fires--"that these children would fightfor you, whom they scarcely know." There was that brave yet pitifulresolution in her tone when she spoke of the hazard of Urgo's probablesally upon her own person which crashed through all a lover's carefullybuilt barriers of restraint. Unmindful of the events of recent hours,of the girl's fresh bereavement, Grant crushed her to him hotly.
"Oh, 'Nicia--'Nicia, can't you understand! I must go--yes, to-morrow!Not because Urgo is coming to get me but because your being here aloneforces me away from you. Yet I cannot think of leaving you to fightthat man single-handed. 'Nicia--precious!--you will come--you must comewith me up over the Line where--"
"Oh, please--please stop!" Hands were feebly pressing him away. Glintof starlight revealed tears a-tremble on her lashes. "Grant--greatheart--I understand. I cry for you. See! My eyes tell you what is in myheart. But I cannot give myself to you when that--that terrible thingof misfortune and death goes with me. I--the mark I bear brought deathto my dear father!"
He looked down into her eyes, appalled at this last speech. Before hecould hush her she faltered on:
"But El Doctor brought me also good news--wonderful news! It is thatI can lift this evil from me if--if"--she seemed to falter before apossibility scarce credible--"if the finding of the gold and jewels ElRojo stained with his sacrilege and their restoration to a sanctuary ofthe Church will be acceptable in God's sight."
The hint of purpose in Benicia's voice revealed the edge of the truth."Do you mean El Doctor knows where the Lost Mission lies and that youintend to find it?" Grant pressed her. The girl gave answer:
"He knows where the gold and pearls of the Lost Mission are. He knows,too, the story of El Rojo and how I bear the weight of his guilt.Because he loved my father he says he loves me too much to have me goon and on under an evil spell. Father's death opens his lips and--"
"You are going with El Doctor to find those things?" breathlessly fromGrant. She nodded. "Then I will go with you. At once! To-morrow!"
Decision came on the wings of inspiration. Better this flight intothe desert on treasure quest, with its promise of exorcism of all thedevils that plagued the girl--better this venture than that other hehad determined: to play the strong hand willy-nilly.