The Pride of Palomar

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Once again a tragic scene had been enacted under the shade of thecatalpa tree before the Farrel hacienda. The shock of a terrible,unexpected trend of events heralded by the arrival of Pablo Artelan andhis victim had, seemingly, paralyzed John Parker mentally andphysically. He felt again a curious cold, weak, empty feeling in hisbreast. It was the concomitant of defeat; he had felt it twice beforewhen he had been overwhelmed and mangled by the wolves of Wall Street.

  He was almost nauseated. Not at sight of the dusty, bloody, shapelessbundle that lay at the end of Pablo's riata, but with the realizationthat, indirectly, he had been responsible for all of this.

  Pablo's shrill, agonized denunciation had fallen upon deaf ears, oncethe old majordomo had conveyed to Parker the information of Don Mike'sdeath.

  "The rope--take it off!" he protested to the unconscious Pablo. "It'scutting him in two. He looks like a link of sausage! Ugh! A Jap!Horrible! I'm smeared--I can't explain--nobody in this country willbelieve me--Pablo will kill me--"

  He sat down on the bench under the catalpa tree, covered his face withhis hands and closed his eyes. When he ventured again to look up, heobserved that Pablo, in falling from his horse, had caught one hugeMexican spur on the cantle of his saddle and was suspended by the heel,grotesquely, like a dead fowl. The black mare, a trained roping horse,stood patiently, her feet braced a little, still keeping a strain onthe riata.

  Parker roused himself. With his pocket knife he cut the spur strap,eased the majordomo to the ground, carried him to the bench andstretched him out thereon. Then, grasping the mare by the bridle, heled her around the adobe wall; he shuddered inwardly as he heard thesteady, slithering sound behind her.

  "Got to get that Thing out of the way," he mumbled. The great barndoor was open; from within he could hear his chauffeur whistling. Sohe urged the mare to a trot and got past the barn without having beenobserved. An ancient straw stack stood in the rear of the barn and inthe shadow of this he halted, removed the riata from the pommel,dragged the body close to the stack, and with a pitchfork he hastilycovered it with old, weather-beaten straw. All of this he accomplishedwithout any purpose more definite than a great desire to hide from hiswife and from his daughter this offense which Pablo had thrust upon him.

  He led the black mare into the barn and tied her. Then he returned toPablo.

  The old Indian was sitting up. At sight of Parker he commenced tocurse bitterly, in Spanish and English, this invader who had broughtwoe upon the house of Farrel. But John Parker was a white man.

  "Shut up, you saddle-colored old idol," he roared, and shook Pablountil the latter's teeth rattled together. "If the mischief is done itcan't be helped--and it was none of my making. Pull yourself togetherand tell me where this killing occurred. We've got to get Don Miguel'sbody."

  For answer Pablo snarled and tried to stab him, so Parker, recalling afragment of the athletic lore of his youth, got a wristlock on the oldman and took the dirk away from him. "Now then," he commanded, as hebumped Pablo's head against the adobe wall, "you behave yourself andhelp me find Don Miguel and bring him in."

  Pablo's fury suddenly left him; again he was the servant, respectful,deferential to his master's guest. "Forgive me, _senor_," he muttered,"I have been crazy in the head."

  "Not so crazy that you didn't do a good job on that Jap murderer. Comenow, old chap. Buck up! We can't go after him in my automobile. Haveyou some sort of wagon?"

  "_Si, senor_."

  "Then come inside a moment. We both need a drink. We're shaking likea pair of dotards."

  He picked up Pablo's dirk and give it back to the old man. Pabloacknowledged this courtesy with a bow and followed to Parker's room,where the latter poured two glasses of whisky. Silently they drank.

  "Gracias, _senor_. I go hitch up one team," Pablo promised, anddisappeared at once.

  For about ten minutes Parker remained in his room, thinking. His wifeand Kay had started, afoot, to visit the Mission shortly after Don Mikeand Pablo had left the ranch that morning, and for this Parker was dulygrateful to Providence. He shuddered to think what the effect uponthem would have been had they been present when Pablo made hisspectacular entrance; he rejoiced at an opportunity to get himself inhand against the return of Kay and her mother to the ranch house.

  "That wretched Okada!" he groaned. "He concluded that the simplest andeasiest way to an immediate consummation of our interrupted deal wouldbe the removal of young Farrel. So he hired one of his countrymen todo the job, believing or at least hoping, that suspicion wouldnaturally be aroused against that Basque, Loustalot, who is known tohave an old feud with the Farrels. Kate is right. I've trained withwhite men all my life; the moment I started to train with pigmentedmongrels and Orientals I had to do with a new psychology, withmongrelized moral codes--ah, God, that splendid, manly fellow killed bythe insatiable lust of an alien race for this land of his they covet!God forgive me! And poor Kay--"

  He was near to tears now; fearful that he might be caught in a momentof weakness, he fled to the barn and helped Pablo hitch a team of drafthorses to an old spring wagon. Pablo's customary taciturnity andprimitive stoicism had again descended upon him like a protectinggarment; his madness had passed and he moved around the team brisklyand efficiently. Parker climbed to the seat beside him as Pablogathered up the reins and started out of the farmyard at a fast trot.

  Ten minutes later they paused at the mouth of the draw down whichFarrel had been riding when fired upon. Pablo turned the team, tiedthem to an oak tree and started up the draw at a swift dog trot, withParker at his heels.

  Jammed rather tightly in a narrow little dry water-course that ranthrough the center of the draw they found the body of Don Mike. He waslying face downward; Parker saw that flies already rosetted a woundthick with blood clots on top of his head.

  "Poor, poor boy," Parker cried agonizedly.

  Pablo straddled the little watercourse, got a grip around his master'sbody and lifted it out to Parker, who received it and laid the limpform out on the grass. While he stood looking down at Don Mike'swhite, relaxed face, Pablo knelt, made the sign of the cross andcommenced to pray for the peaceful repose of his roaster's soul. Itwas a long prayer; Parker, waiting patiently for him to finish, did notknow that Pablo recited the litany for the dying.

  "Come, Pablo, my good fellow, you've prayed enough," he suggestedpresently. "Help me carry Don Miguel down to the wagon--_Pablo, he'salive_!"

  "Hah!" Pablo's exclamation was a sort of surprised bleat. "_Madre deCristo_! Look to me, Don Miguel. Ah, little dam' fool, you makebelieve to die, no?" he charged hysterically.

  Don Mike's black eyes opened slightly and his slack lower jaw tightenedin a ghastly little grimace. The transported Pablo seized him andshook him furiously, meanwhile deluging Don Mike with a stream ofaffectionate profanity that fell from his lips like a benediction.

  "Listen," Don Mike murmured presently. "Pablo's new litany."

  "Rascal! Little, wicked heretic! Blood of the devil! Speak, DonMiguel."

  "Shut up! Took your--time--getting me--out--confoundedditch--damned--lazy--beggar--"

  Pablo leaped to his feet, his dusky face radiant.

  "You hear!" he yelled. "Senor Parker, you hear those boy give to mehell like old times, no?"

  "You ran--you _colorado maduro_ good-for-nothing--left me stuckin--ditch--let bushwhacker--get away--fix you for this, Pablo."

  Pablo's eyes popped in ecstasy. He grinned like a gargoyle. "You hearthose boy, _senor_?" he reiterated happily. "I tell you those boy helike ol' Pablo. The night he come back he rub my head; yesterday hepoke the rib of me with the thumb--now pretty soon he say sometheeng, Ibet you."

  "Shut up, I tell you." Don Mike's voice, though very faint, waspetulant. "You're a total idiot. Find my horse--get rifle--trail thatman--who shot me--get him--damn your prayers--get him--"

  "Ah, Don Miguel," Pablo assured him in Spanish, in tones that werepr
ideful beyond measure, "that unfortunate fellow has been shakinghands with the devil for the last forty-five minutes."

  Don Mike opened his eyes widely. He was rapidly regaining his fullconsciousness. "Your work, Pablo?"

  "Mine--with the help of God, as your illustrious grandfather, the firstDon Miguel, would have said. But you are pleased to doubt me so Ishall show you the carcass of the animal. I roped him and dragged himfor two miles behind the black mare."

  Don Mike smiled and closed his eyes. "I will go home," he saidpresently, and Pablo and Parker lifted him between them and carried himdown to the waiting wagon. Half an hour later he was stretched on hisbed at the hacienda, while Carolina washed his head with a solution ofwarm water and lysol. John Parker, rejoiced beyond measure, stoodbeside him and watched this operation with an alert and sympathetic eye.

  "That doesn't look like a bullet wound," he declared, after anexamination of the rent in Don Mike's scalp. "Resembles the wound madeby what reporters always refer to as 'some blunt instrument.' Thescalp is split but the flesh around the wound is swollen as from ablow. You have a nice lump on your head, Farrel."

  "Aches terribly," Don Mike murmured. "I had dismounted to tighten mycinch; going down hill the saddle had slid up on my horse's withers. Iwas tucking in the latigo. When I woke up I was lying on my face,wedged tightly in that little dry ditch; I was ill and dazed and tooweak to pull myself out; I was lying with my head down hill and Isuppose I lost consciousness again, after awhile. Pablo!"

  "_Si, senor_."

  "You caught the man who shot me. What did you do with him?"

  "Oh, those fellow plenty good and dead, Don Miguel."

  "He dragged the body home at the end of his rope," Parker explained."He thought you had been done for and he must have gone war mad. Icovered the body of the Jap with straw from that stack out by the barn."

  "Jap, eh?" Don Mike smiled. Then, after a long silence. "I suppose,Mr. Parker, you understand now--"

  "Yes, yes, Farrel. Please do not rub it in."

  "Okada wants the San Gregorio rather badly, doesn't he? Couldn't wait.The enactment of that anti-alien land bill that will come up in thelegislature next year--do Mrs. Parker and your daughter know about thisattempt to assassinate me?"

  "No."

  "They must not know. Plant that Jap somewhere and do it quickly.Confound you, Pablo, you should have known better than to drag yourkill home, like an old she-cat bringing in a gopher. As for myhead--well, I was thrown from my horse and struck on a sharp rock. Theladies would be frightened and worried if they thought somebody wasgunning for me. When Bill Conway shows up with your spark plugs I'd beobliged, Mr. Parker, if you'd run me in to El Toro. I'll have to havemy head tailored a trifle, I think."

  With a weak wave of his hand he dismissed everybody, so Parker andPablo adjourned to the stables to talk over the events of the morning.Standing patiently at the corral gate they found the gray horse,waiting to be unsaddled--a favor which Pablo proceeded at once toextend.

  "_Mira_!" he called suddenly and directed Parser's attention to thepommel of Don Mike's fancy saddle, The rawhide covering on the shank ofthe pommel had been torn and scored and the steel beneath lay exposed."You see?" Pablo queried. "You understan', _senor_?"

  "No, I must confess I do not, Pablo."

  "Don Miguel is standing beside thees horse. He makes tighter thesaddle; he is tying those latigo and he have the head bent leetle hitwhile he pull those latigo through the ring. Bang! Those Jap shoot atDon Miguel. He miss, but the bullet she hit thees pommel, she go flatagainst the steel, she bounce off and hit Don Miguel on top the head.The force for keel heem is use' up when the bullet hit thees pommel,but still those bullet got plenty force for knock Don Miguel seelly,no?"

  "Spent ball, eh? I think you're right, Pablo."

  Pablo relapsed into one of his infrequent Gringo solecisms. "You betyou my life you know eet," he said.

  John Parker took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. "Pablo," hesaid with genuine feeling, "you're a splendid fellow. I know you don'tlike me, but perhaps that is because you do not know me very well. DonMiguel knows I had nothing to do with this attempt to kill him, and ifDon Miguel bears me no ill-will, I'm sure you should not. I wish youwould accept this hundred dollar bill, Pablo?"

  Pablo eyed the bill askance. "What for?" he demanded.

  "For the way you handled that murdering Jap. Pablo, that was a bullyjob of work. Please accept this bill. If I didn't like you I wouldnot offer it to you."

  "Well, I guess Carolina mebbeso she can use eet. But first I ask DonMiguel if eet is all right for me take eet." He departed for the houseto return presently with an anticipatory smile on his duskycountenance. "Don Miguel say to me, _senor_: 'Pablo, any people she'sstay my house he's do what she please.' _Gracias_, Senor Parker." Andhe pouched the bill. "_Mille gracias, senor_."

  "Pray, do not mention it, Pablo."

  "All right," Pablo agreed. "Eef you don't like eet, well, I don' tellsomebody!"