Heart of the Sunset

  XIV

  JOSE SANCHEZ SWEARS AN OATH

  On this same evening a scene of no little significance was taking placeat Las Palmas. Ed Austin was entertaining callers, and these were noneother than Tad Lewis and Adolfo Urbina.

  The progress of events during the last few days had shaped thisconference, for, as Dave had forecast during his conversation withJudge Ellsworth, the local prosecuting attorney saw in the Guzmancattle case an opportunity to distinguish himself, and was takingaction accordingly. He had gathered considerable evidence againstUrbina, and was exerting himself to the utmost for an indictment. Hehad openly declared that the testimony of Ricardo Guzman and his otherwitnesses would convict the suspect, and the fact that his politicswere opposed to Ed Austin's complicated matters still further. It wasthe unwelcome news of all this which had brought Tad Lewis and hisMexican helper to Las Palmas under cover of darkness. Having gone overthe circumstances in detail, Lewis concluded:

  "We're depending on you, Ed. You got to stand pat."

  But Austin was lukewarm. He had experienced a change of heart, and thecause appeared when he read aloud a letter that day received from JudgeEllsworth, in which the judge told of his meeting with Dave Law, andthe Ranger's reasons for doubting Ed's word.

  "I've got to take water," "Young Ed" told his visitors, "or I'll getmyself into trouble." Then querulously he demanded of Adolfo: "Why inhell did you come here, anyhow? Why didn't you keep to the chaparral?"

  Adolfo shrugged. "I thought you were my friend."

  "Sure!" Tad agreed. "Urbina's been a friend to you, now you got tostick to him. We got to hang together, all of us. My evidence wouldn'tcarry no weight; but there ain't a jury in South Texas that wouldquestion yours. Adolfo done the right thing."

  "I don't see it," Ed declared, petulantly. "What's the use of gettingme into trouble? There's the river; they can't follow you across."

  But Urbina shook his head.

  "You know he can't cross," Tad explained. "His people would shoot himif he ever went to Mexico."

  "Well, he'll be caught if he stays here. You daren't send that damnedRanger on another blind trail. If Adolfo can't go south he'll have togo north."

  "Not on your life," affirmed Lewis. "If he runs it'll prove his guiltand look bad for me. I'm the one they're after, and I don't stand anytoo good, as you know. You got to go through with this, Ed."

  "I won't do it," Austin asserted, stubbornly. "I won't be dragged intothe thing. You've no business rustling stock, anyhow. You don't haveto."

  Urbina exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke and inquired, "You won'thelp me, eh?"

  "No, I won't."

  "Very well! If I go to prison you shall go, too. I shall tell all Iknow and we shall be companions, you and I."

  Austin's temper rose at the threat. "Bah!" he cried, contemptuously."There's nothing against me except running arms, and the embargo is offnow. It's a joke, anyhow. Nobody was ever convicted, even when theembargo was in effect. Why, the government winks at anybody who helpsthe Rebels."

  "Oh, that is nothing!" Urbina agreed; "but you would not wish to becalled a cattle thief, eh?"

  "What d'you mean?"

  "You knew that the stealing went on."

  "Huh! I should say I did. Haven't I lost a lot of horses?"

  Lewis interposed, impatiently: "Say! Suppose Adolfo tells what he knowsabout them horses? Suppose he tells how you framed it to have your ownstock run across, on shares, so's you could get more money to gohifalutin' around San Antone without your wife knowing it? I reckon youwouldn't care to have that get out."

  "You can't prove it," growled "Young Ed."

  "Oh! I reckon it can be proved all right," confidently asserted Lewis.

  "Nobody'd believe such a thing."

  "Folks are ready to believe 'most anything about you. Your wife wouldbelieve it. Ain't Las Palmas in her name, and don't she give you somuch a month to spend? If them ain't facts, you lied to me."

  "Yes!" Urbina supplemented. "I can swear to all that. And I can swearalso that you knew about those calves the other day."

  "What!" Ed started.

  "Why not? We were together; your own people saw us. Well, then, if youwould steal your wife's horses, why would you not steal your neighbor'scattle? The relatives of poor Pino Garza--God rest his soul!--will bearme out. I have arranged for that. Suppose I tell the jury that therewere three of us in that pasture of yours, instead of two? What then? Iwould be lonely in prison without a good compadre to bear me company."Urbina grinned in evil triumph.

  "This is the damnedest outrage I ever heard of," gasped "Young Ed.""It's a fairy story--"

  "Prove it," chuckled Lewis. "The prosecuting attorney'd eat it up, Ed.It sounds kind of crazy, but you can't ask Adolfo to take to the brushand live like a javelin just for your sake, when you could square himwith a word."

  There was a moment or two of silence, during which the visitors watchedthe face of the man whose weakness they both knew. At last Ed Austinventured to say, apologetically:

  "I'm willing to do almost anything to help Adolfo, but--they'll make aliar of me if I take the stand. Isn't there some other way out?"

  "I don't know of any," said Lewis.

  "Money'll square anything," Ed urged, hopefully, whereupon Urbina wavedhis cigarette and nodded.

  "This Ricardo Guzman is the cause of it all. He is a bad man."

  "No doubt of that," Lewis agreed. "He's got more enemies than I have.If he was out of the way there wouldn't be nothin' to this case, andthe country'd be a heap better off, too."

  "What about that other witness?" Ed queried.

  "If Ricardo were gone--if something should happen to him"--Urbina'swicked face darkened--"there would be no other witness. I would see tothat."

  The color receded from Ed Austin's purple cheeks, and he rose abruptly."This is getting too strong for me," he cried. "I won't listen to thissort of talk. I won't be implicated in any such doings."

  "Nobody's goin' to implicate you," Tad told him. "Adolfo wants to keepyou out of trouble. There's plenty of people on both sides of the riverthat don't like Guzman any better'n we do. Me an' Adolfo was talkin' itover on the way up."

  "Well, you can talk it over some more, but I'm going for a drink," Eddeclared, and left the room, nervously mopping his face. He knew onlytoo well the character of his two visitors; he had learned much aboutTad Lewis during the past few months, and, as for the Mexican, hethought the fellow capable of any crime. At this moment Ed bitterlyregretted his acquaintance with these neighbors, for both men knew moreabout his affairs than he cared to have made public. He was angry andresentful at Tad for taking sides against him, and more than a littlefearful of Adolfo's enmity if he refused assistance. The owner of LasPalmas still retained a shred of self-respect, a remnant of pride inhis name; he did not consider himself a bad man. He was determined nowto escape from this situation without loss of credit, no matter whatthe price--if escape were possible--and he vowed earnestly to himselfthat hereafter he would take ample pains never to become similarlyinvolved.

  Austin remained out of the room for some time; when he returned hisvisitors appeared to have reached some determination.

  "I reckon we can fix things if you'll help," Lewis announced.

  "And that's just what I won't do," Ed impatiently declared. "Do youthink I'm going to be tangled up in a--murder? I've got nothing againstDon Ricardo."

  "Who said anything about murder? Things ain't like they was when yourfather owned Las Palmas; he done his share of killin', but nowadaysthere's too dam' much law layin' around loose. All you've got to do isgive me about a thousand dollars."

  "What for?" Ed asked, suspiciously.

  "So's we can handle ourselves. It's up to you to do something, ain'tit?"

  Austin demurred. "I haven't that much that I can lay hands on," hesaid, sullenly. "I'm broke. And, anyhow, I don't see what good it'lldo."

  "You better dig it up, somehow, just for your own sake."

  The two men eyed
each other for a moment; then Austin mumbled somethingabout his willingness to try, and left the room for a second time. Themoney which Alaire kept on hand for current expenses was locked in hersafe, but he knew the combination.

  It was with an air of resignation, with a childish, half-heartedprotest, that he counted out the desired amount into Lewis's hand,salving his conscience with the statement: "I'm doing this to helpAdolfo out of his trouble, understand? I hope it'll enable you tosquare things."

  "Maybe it will and maybe it won't," sneered Lewis. "Anyhow, I ain'tscared of tryin'. I got the guts to make a battle, even if you haven't."

  Ed Austin was greatly relieved when his unwelcome callers rode away; ashe composed himself for sleep, an hour later, he refrained fromanalyzing too deeply the motives behind this forced loan, and refusedto speculate too long upon the purpose to which it might be put. Thewhole occurrence was unfortunate. Ed Austin sincerely hoped he hadheard the last of it.

  Jose Sanchez made use of the delay at Pueblo to institute furtherinquiries regarding his missing cousin, but nowhere could he find theslightest trace. Panfilo had set out to ride to this point and thenceto La Feria, but the last seen of him had been at the water-hole, oneday's ride from the home ranch. At that point the earth had opened andswallowed him. If he were alive why had he not written to hissweetheart, Rosa?

  Jose swore an oath that he would learn the truth if it required hiswhole lifetime, and, if it should turn out that his sainted relativehad indeed met with foul play--well! Jose told his friends they couldjudge, by looking at him, the sort of man he was. He proudly displayedLongorio's revolver, and called it his cousin's little avenger. Theweapon had slain many; it had a duty still to perform, so he said.

  Jose intended to confide his purpose to Mrs. Austin, but when it cametime to start for Las Palmas there was a fourth passenger in theautomobile, and he was obliged to hold his tongue for the moment.

  A motor trip along the lower Rio Grande would prove a novel and notaltogether agreeable experience to the average automobilist, for thereare few improved roads and the rest offer many difficulties, not theleast of which are frequent fords, some deep, some shallow. So it wasthat Alaire considered it necessary to make an early start.

  In spite of the unhealthy fancies that Dave Law had taken to bed withhim, he arose this morning in fine spirits and with a determination toput in a happy day. Alaire, too, was in good humor and expressed herrelief at escaping from everything Mexican.

  "I haven't seen a newspaper for ages, and I don't know what is going onat Jonesville or anywhere else," she confided.

  Dave told her of the latest developments in the Mexican situation, theslow but certain increase of tension between the two governments, andthen of home happenings. When she asked him about his own doings, heinformed her of the affair which had brought him to Pueblo.

  Of course all three of his companions were breathlessly interested inthe story of Pino Garza's death; Dolores and Jose did not allow a wordto escape them.

  "So they cut our fence and ran the calves into our pasture to brand!"Alaire said. "It's time somebody like you came to Jonesville, Mr. Law."

  "Caramba! It required bravery to ride alone into that rincon," Josedeclared. "I knew Pino Garza well, and he could shoot like the devil."

  "You said your horse saved your life," Mrs. Austin went on. "How do youmean?" When Dave had explained, she cried, quickly, "You weren'triding--Bessie Belle?"

  "Yes. She's buried where she dropped."

  "Oh-h!" Alaire's exclamation was eloquent of pity, and Law smiledcrookedly.

  "I've been right lonesome since she went away. 'Most every day I findmyself stealing sugar for her, the way I used to do. See!" He fumbledin the pocket of his coat and produced some broken lumps. "Probably youdon't understand how a man gets to love his horse. Now we used to talkto each other, just like two people. Of course, I did most of thetalking, but she understood. Why, ma'am, I've awakened in the night tofind her standing over me and my cheek wet where she'd kissed it. She'dleave the nicest grass just to come and visit with me."

  Alaire turned a quick glance upon the speaker to find his face set andhis eyes miserable. Impulsively she laid her hand upon his arm, saying:

  "I know how you must feel. Do you know what has always been my dearestwish? To be able to talk with animals; and to have them trust me. Justthink what fun it would be to talk with the wild things and makefriends of them. Oh, when I was a little girl I used to dream about it!"

  Law nodded his vigorous appreciation of such a desire. "Dogs and horsessabe more than we give them credit for. I've learned a few bird words,too. You remember those quail at the water-hole?"

  "Oh yes."

  Dave smiled absent-mindedly. "There's a wonderful book about birds--oneof the keenest satires ever written, I reckon. It's about anear-sighted old Frenchman who was cast away on a penguin island. Hesaw the big birds walking around and thought they were human beings."

  "How did you happen to read Anatole France?" Alaire asked, with a sharpstare of surprise.

  The Ranger stirred, but he did not meet her eyes. "Well," said he, "Iread 'most anything I can get. A feller meets up with strange booksjust like he meets up with strange people."

  "Not books like--that." There was a brief silence. "Mr. Law, every nowand then you say something that makes me think you're a--rank impostor."

  "Pshaw!" said he. "I know cowboys that read twice as good as I do."

  "You went to school in the East, didn't you?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Where?" The man hesitated, at which she insisted, "Where?"

  Dave reluctantly turned upon her a pair of eyes in the depths of whichthere lurked the faintest twinkle. "Cornell," said he.

  Alaire gasped. After a while she remarked, stiffly, "You have apeculiar sense of humor."

  "Now don't be offended," he begged of her. "I'm a good deal like achameleon; I unconsciously change my color to suit my surroundings.When we first met I saw that you took me for one thing, and since thenI've tried not to show you your mistake."

  "Why did you let me send you those silly books? Now that you have begunto tell the truth, keep it up. How many of them had you read?"

  "We-ll, I hadn't read any of them--lately."

  "How disagreeable of you to put it that way!" The car leaped forward asif spurred by Alaire's mortification. "I wondered how you knew aboutthe French Revolution. 'That Bastilly was some calaboose, wasn't it'?"She quoted his own words scornfully. "I dare say you've had a finelaugh at my expense?"

  "No!" gravely denied the man.

  They had come to an arroyo containing a considerable stream of muddywater, and Law was forced to get out to plug the carburetor and stopthe oil-intakes to the crankcase. This done, Alaire ran the machinethrough on the self-starter. When Jose's "Carambas!" and Dolores'sshrieks had subsided, and they were again under way, Mrs. Austin, itseemed, had regained her good humor.

  "You will receive no more of my favorite authors," she told Dave,spitefully. "I'll keep them to read myself."

  "You like knights and--chivalry and such things, don't you?"

  "Chivalry, yes. In the days when I believed in it I used to cry overthose romances."

  "Don't you still believe in chivalry?"

  Alaire turned her eyes upon the questioner, and there were no girlishillusions in them. "Do you?" she queried, with a faint curl of her lip.

  "Why--yes."

  She shook her head. "Men have changed. Nowadays they are all selfishand sordid. But--I shouldn't generalize, for I'm a notorious man-hater,you know."

  "It seems to me that women are just as selfish as men--perhaps moreso--in all but little things."

  "Our definitions of 'little things' may differ. What do you call a bigthing?"

  "Love! That's the biggest thing in the world," Law responded, promptly.

  "It seems to be so considered. So you think women are selfish in love?"He nodded, whereupon she eyed him speculatively. "Let us see. You are aman--how far would you go
for the woman you loved?"

  "The limit!"

  Mrs. Austin frowned at this light-seeming answer. "I suppose you meanthat you would make any sacrifice?"

  "Yes; that's it."

  "Would you give up the woman herself, if you considered it your duty?"

  "No. There couldn't be any duty higher than love--to my way ofthinking. But you shouldn't take me as a specimen. I'm not a goodrepresentative of my sex."

  "I think you are a very good one," Alaire said, quietly, and Daverealized that no flattery was intended. Although he was willing to talkfurther on this subject, Mrs. Austin gave him no opportunity of airinghis views. Love, it appeared, was a thing she did not care to discusswith him on their footing of semi-intimacy.

  Despite the rough roads, they made fair time, and the miles of cactusand scrawny brush rolled swiftly past. Occasionally a lazy jack-rabbitambled out of his road-side covert and watched them from a safedistance; now and then a spotted road-runner raced along the dusty rutsahead of them. The morning sun swung higher, and by midday the metal ofthe automobile had become as hot as a frying-pan. They stopped atvarious goat-ranches to inquire about Adolfo Urbina, and at noon haltedbeside a watercourse for lunch.

  Dave was refilling the radiator when he overheard Jose in conversationwith Mrs. Austin.

  "Nowhere a trace!" the horse-breaker was saying. "No one has seen him.Poor Rosa Morales will die of a broken heart."

  Alaire explained to her guest: "Jose is worried about his cousinPanfilo. It seems he has disappeared."

  "So! You are Panfilo's cousin?" Dave eyed the Mexican with new interest.

  "Si!"

  "You remember the man?" Alaire went on. "He was with that fellow youarrested at the water-hole."

  "Oh yes. I remember him." With steady fingers Dave shook some tobaccointo a cigarette-paper. He felt Alaire's eyes upon him, and they wereeloquent of inquiry, but he did not meet them.

  Jose frowned. "No one at La Feria has seen him, and in Pueblo there wasnot a word. It is strange."

  "Panfilo was in bad company when I saw him." Law finished rolling hiscigarette and lit it, still conscious of Alaire's questioning gaze. "Hemay have had trouble."

  "He was a good man," the horse-breaker asserted. "If he is dead--" TheMexican's frown deepened to a scowl.

  "What then?"

  Jose significantly patted the gift revolver at his hip. "This littlefellow will have something to say."

  Dave looked him over idly, from head to heel, then murmured: "You woulddo well to go slow, compadre. Panfilo made his own quarrels."

  "We were like brothers, and I do not know of any quarrels. But I shallfind out. It begins to look bad for somebody. After he left that charcothere is--nothing. Where did he go? Whom did he encounter? Rosa willask me those questions. I am not given to boasting, senor, but I am adevilish bad man in my way."