Heart of the Sunset

  XV

  THE TRUTH ABOUT PANFILO

  Nothing more was said during the luncheon, but when Alaire had finishedeating and her two employees had begun their meal, she climbed the bankof the arroyo ostensibly to find a cool spot. Having succeeded, shecalled to Dave:

  "There is a nice breeze up here."

  The Ranger's face set; rising slowly, he climbed the bank after her.When they stood face to face in the shade of a gnarly oak-tree, Alaireasked him point-blank:

  "Where is Panfilo Sanchez?"

  Dave met her eyes squarely; his own were cold and hard. "He's where hedropped at my second shot," said he.

  He could hear his companion's sharp inhalation. He did not flinch atthe look she turned upon him.

  "Then--you killed him?"

  "Yes'm!"

  "God! He was practically unarmed! What do you call--such an act?"

  Dave's lips slowly whitened, his face became stony. He closed his eyes,then opened them upon hers. "He had it coming. He stole my horse. Hetook a chance."

  Mrs. Austin turned away. For a time they were silent and Dave felthimself pitilessly condemned.

  "Why didn't you tell me at the time?" she asked. "Why didn't you reportit?"

  "I'll report it when you give me permission."

  "I--? What--?" She wheeled to face him.

  "Think a moment. I can't tell half the truth. And if I tell everythingit will lead to--gossip."

  "Ah! I think I understand. Mr. Law, you can be insulting--"

  For the first time the man lost muscular control of his features; theytwitched, and under their tan his cheeks became a sickly yellow.

  "You've no right to say that," he told her, harshly. "You've plumboverstepped yourself, ma'am, and--I reckon you've formed quite a wrongopinion of me and of the facts. Let me tell you something about thatkilling and about myself, so you'll have it all straight before youbring in your verdict. You say Panfilo was unarmed, and you callit--murder. He had his six-shooter and he used it; he had the darknessand the swiftest horse, too. He intended to ambush me and release hiscompanion, but I forced his hand; so it ain't what _I'd_ call murder.Now about myself: Panfilo isn't the first man I've killed, and he maynot be the last, but I haven't lost any sleep over it, and I'd havekilled him just as quick if I hadn't been an officer. That's the kindof man I am, and you may as well know it. I--"

  "You are utterly ruthless."

  "Yes'm!"

  "You left him there without burial."

  Law shrugged impatiently. "What's the difference? He's there to stay;and he's just as dead under the stars as he'd be under the sand. I'drather lie facing the sky than the grass roots."

  "But--you must have known it would get out, sometime. This puts both ofus in a very bad light."

  "I know. But I stood on my cards. I'd have preferred to report it,but--I'd keep still again, under the same circumstances. You seem toconsider that an insult. If it is, I don't know how to compliment you,ma'am."

  Alaire pondered this statement briefly before saying, "You have astrange way of looking at the affair--a strange, careless, unnaturalway, it seems to me."

  "Perhaps that's the fault of my training. I'm not what you wouldconsider a nice person; the death of Panfilo Sanchez means nothingwhatever to me. If you can grasp that fact, you'll see that your ownreputation weighed heavier in my mind than the lives of a dozenMexicans--or whites, for that matter. People know me for what I am,and--that may have had something to do with my decision."

  "I go anywhere, everywhere. No one has ever had the effrontery toquestion my actions," Alaire told him, stiffly.

  "And I don't aim to give 'em a chance." Dave was stubborn.

  There was another interval of silence.

  "You heard what Jose said. What are you going to do?"

  Dave made a gesture of indifference. "It doesn't greatly matter. I'lltell him the truth, perhaps."

  Such an attitude was incomprehensible to Alaire and brought animpatient frown to her brow. "You don't seem to realize that he willtry to revenge himself."

  "You might warn him against any such foolishness. Jose has some sense."

  The woman looked up curiously. "Don't you know how to be afraid?Haven't you any fear?" she asked.

  Dave's gray eyes were steady as he answered: "Yes'm! I'm afraid thisthing is going to spoil our friendship. I've been desperately afraid,all along, that I might have hurt your reputation. Even now I'm afraid,on your account, to make public Panfilo Sanchez's death. Yes'm, I knowwhat it is to be afraid."

  "I presume the law would hold you blameless," she said, thoughtfully.

  "If there was any doubt about that it would be another matter entirely.A Ranger can get away with a heap more than killing a Mexican. No! It'sup to you to say what I shall do."

  "Let me think it over. Jose mustn't know to-day, that's certain."

  "I'm in your hands."

  They returned to the automobile in silence, but as they took theirseats Dave said:

  "You're tired, ma'am. Won't you let me drive?"

  "Can you?"

  When he smiled his answer, Alaire was only too glad to give up thewheel, for her nerves were indeed unsteady and she was grateful for anopportunity to think out the best course to pursue in this unexpecteddifficulty. Later, as she listened to Law's inconsequential talk withDolores and Jose, and watched the way he handled the car, she marveledat his composure. She wondered if this man could have a heart.

  It became evident to Dave, as the afternoon progressed, that they wouldbe very late in arriving at Las Palmas; for although he drove asrapidly as he dared over such roads, the miles were long and the goingheavy. They were delayed, too, by a mishap that held them back for anhour or two, and he began to fear that his hostess would feel in dutybound to insist upon his spending the night at her home. To accept,after his clash with Ed Austin, was of course impossible, and hedreaded another explanation at this particular crisis.

  That a crisis in their relations had arisen he felt sure. He had triedto make plain his attitude of mind toward the killing of PanfiloSanchez, and the wisdom of his course thereafter, but he doubted ifAlaire understood the one or agreed with the other. Probably sheconsidered him inhuman, or, what was worse, cowardly in attempting toavoid the consequences of his act. And yet he could not explain hisfull anxiety to protect her good name without confessing to a deeperinterest in her than he dared. And his interest was growing by leapsand bounds. This woman fascinated him; he was infatuated--bewitched byher personality. To be near her affected him mentally and physically ina way too extraordinary to analyze or to describe. It was as if theywere so sympathetically attuned that the mere sound of her voice sethis whole being into vibrant response, where all his life he had lainmute. She played havoc with his resolutions, too, awaking in him thewildest envy and desire. He no longer thought of her as unattainable;on the contrary, her husband's shortcomings seemed providential.Absurd, impossible ways of winning her suggested themselves. To risk afurther estrangement, therefore, was intolerable.

  But as if his thoughts were telepathic messages, she did the very thinghe feared.

  "We won't be in before midnight," she said, "but I'll send you toJonesville in the morning."

  "Thank you, ma'am--I'll have to go right through."

  "I'll get you there in time for business. We've gained a reputation forinhospitableness at Las Palmas that I want to overcome." In spite oftheir recent clash, in spite of the fact that this fellow'sruthlessness and indifference to human life shocked her, Alaire wasconscious of her obligation to him, and aware also of a growingfriendship between them which made the present situation all the moretrying. Law was likable, and he inspired her with a sense of securityto which she had long been a stranger. "Mr. Austin ought to know," sheadded, "about this--matter we were discussing, and I want him to meetyou."

  "He has!" Dave said, shortly; and at his tone Alaire looked up.

  "So!" She studied his grim face. "And you quarreled?"

  "I'd really prefer to g
o on, ma'am. I'll get to Jonesville somehow."

  "You refuse--to stay under his roof?"

  "That's about it."

  "I'm sorry." She did not ask for further explanation.

  Evening came, bringing a grateful coolness, and they drove through atunnel of light walled in by swiftly moving shadows.

  The windows of Las Palmas were black, the house silent, when theyarrived at their journey's end; Dolores was fretful, and her mistressached in every bone. When Jose had helped his countrywoman into thehouse Alaire said:

  "If you insist upon going through you must take the car. You can returnit to-morrow."

  "And--about Panfilo?" Dave queried.

  "Wait. Perhaps I'll decide what is best to do in the mean time. Goodnight."

  Law took her extended hand. Alaire was glad that he did not fondle itin that detestable Mexican fashion of which she had lately experiencedso much; glad that the grasp of his long, strong fingers was merelyfirm and friendly. When he stepped back into the car and drove offthrough the night she stood for some time looking after him.

  Blaze Jones had insisted that Dave live at his house, and the Rangerhad accepted the invitation; but as it was late when the latter arrivedat Jonesville, he went to the hotel for a few hours' rest. When hedrove his borrowed machine up to the Jones house, about breakfast-time,both Blaze and Paloma were delighted to see him.

  "Say, now! What you doing rolling around in a gasoline go-devil?" theelder man inquired, and Law was forced to explain.

  "Why, Mrs. Austin must have experienced a change of heart!" exclaimedPaloma. "She never gave anybody a lift before."

  Blaze agreed. "She's sure poisonous to strangers." Then he looked overthe car critically. "These automobiles are all right, but whenever Iwant to go somewhere and get back I take a team of hay-burners. Mulesdon't puncture. The first automobile Paloma had nearly scared me todeath. On the road to Brownsville there used to be a person who didn'tlike me--we'd had a considerable unpleasantness, in fact. One dayPaloma and I were lickety-splittin' along past his place when we had ablow-out. It was the first one I'd ever heard, and it fooled mecomplete--comin' right at that particular turn of the road. I surethought this party I spoke of had cut down on me, so I r'ared up andunlimbered. I shot out three window-lights in his house before Palomacould explain. If he'd been in sight I'd have beefed him then andthere, and saved six months' delay. No, gas-buggies are all right forpeople with strong nerves, but I'm tuned too high."

  "Father has never learned to drive a car without yelling 'Gee' and'Haw,'" laughed Paloma. "And he thinks he has title to the whole road,too. You know these Mexicans are slow about pulling their wagons to oneside. Well, father got mad one day, and when a team refused him theright of way he whipped out his revolver and fired."

  Blaze smiled broadly. "It worked great. And believe me, them Greaserstook to the ditch. I went through like a hot wind, but I shot upsixty-five ca'tridges between here and town."

  "Why didn't Mrs. Austin ask you to stay all night at Las Palmas?" thegirl inquired of Dave.

  "She did."

  "Wonderful!" Paloma's surprise was evidently sincere. "I suppose yourefused because of the way Ed treated you? Well, I'd have accepted justto spite him. Tell me, is she nice?"

  "She's lovely."

  This vehement declaration brought a sudden gleam of interest into thequestioner's eyes.

  "They say she has the most wonderful gowns and jewels, and dresses fordinner every night. Well"--Paloma tossed her head--"I'm going to havesome nice clothes, too. You wait!"

  "Now don't you start riggin' yourself up for meals," Blaze said,warningly. "First thing I know you'll have me in a full-dress suit,spillin' soup on my shirt." Then to his guest he complained, feelingly:"I don't know what's come over Paloma lately; this new dressmaker hasplumb stampeded her. Somebody'd ought to run that feline out of townbefore she ruins me."

  "She is a very nice woman," complacently declared the daughter; but herfather snorted loudly.

  "I wouldn't associate with such a critter."

  "My! But you're proud."

  "It ain't that," Blaze defended himself. "I know her husband, and he'sa bad hombre. He backed me up against a waterin'-trough and told myfortune yesterday. He said I'd be married twice and have many children.He told me I was fond of music and a skilled performer on the organ,but melancholy and subject to catarrh, Bright's disease, and ailmentsof the legs. He said I loved widows, and unless I was poisoned by adark lady I'd live to be eighty years old. Why, he run me over like apet squirrel lookin' for moles, and if I'd had a gun on me I'd havebusted him for some of the things he said. 'A dark lady!' That's hiswife. I give you warnin', Paloma, don't you ask her to stay for meals.People like them are dangerous."

  "You're too silly!" said Paloma. "Nobody believes in such things."

  "They don't, eh? Well, he's got all of Jonesville walkin' aroundladders, and spittin' through crossed fingers, and countin' the spotson their nails. He interprets their dreams and locates lost articles."

  "Maybe he can tell me where to find Adolfo Urbina?" Dave suggested.

  "Humph! If he can't, Tad Lewis can. Say, Dave, this case of yours hasstirred up a lot of feelin' against Tad. The prosecutin' attorney sayshe'll sure cinch him and Urbina, both. One of Lewis's men got on abender the other night and declared Adolfo would never come to trial."

  "What did he mean?"

  "It may have been mescal talk, but witnesses sometimes have a way ofdisappearin'. I wouldn't put anything past that gang."

  Not long after breakfast Don Ricardo Guzman appeared at the Jones houseand warmly greeted his two friends. To Dave he explained:

  "Last night I came to town, and this morning I heard you had returned,so I rode out at once. You were unsuccessful?"

  "Our man never went to Pueblo."

  "Exactly. I thought as much."

  "He's probably safe across the river."

  But Ricardo thought otherwise. "No. Urbina deserted from this veryColonel Blanco who commands the forces at Romero. He would scarcelyventure to return to Federal territory. However, I go to meet Blancoto-day, and perhaps I shall discover something."

  "What takes you over there?" Blaze inquired.

  "Wait until I tell you. Senor David, here, brings me good fortune atevery turn. He honors my poor thirsty rancho with a visit and brings aglorious rain; then he destroys my enemies like a thunderbolt. Nosooner is this done than I receive from the Federals an offer for fiftyof my best horses. Caramba! Such a price, too. They are in a greathurry, which looks as if they expected an attack from the Candeleristasat Matamoras. I hope so. God grant these traitors are defeated. Anyhow,the horses have gone, and to-day I go to get my money, in gold."

  "Who's going with you?" asked Law.

  Ricardo shrugged. "Nobody. There is no danger."

  Blaze shook his head. "They know you are a red-hot Rebel. I wouldn'ttrust them."

  "They know, also, that I am an American, like you gentlemen," proudlyasserted Guzman. "That makes a difference. I supported theLiberator--God rest his soul!--and I secretly assist those who fighthis assassins, but so does everybody else. I am receiving a fine pricefor those horses, so it is worth a little risk. Now, senor," headdressed himself to the Ranger, "I have brought you a little present.Day and night my boys and I have worked upon it, for we know the goodheart you have. It was finished yesterday. See!" Ricardo unwrapped abundle he had fetched, displaying a magnificent bridle of plaitedhorsehair. It was cunningly wrought, and lavishly decorated with silverfittings. "You recognize those hairs?" he queried. "They came from themane and tail of your bonita."

  "Bessie Belle!" Law accepted the handsome token, then held out his handto the Mexican. "That was mighty fine of you, Ricardo. I--You couldn'thave pleased me more."

  "You like it?" eagerly demanded the old man. "That is good. I am repaida thousandfold. Your sentiment is like a woman's. But see! I am famousfor this work, and I have taught my boys to use their fingers, too.That mare will always guide you now, whereve
r you go. And we handledher gently, for your sake."

  Dave nodded. "You're a good man, Ricardo. We're going to be friends."

  Guzman's delight was keen, his grizzled face beamed, and he showed hiswhite teeth in a smile. "Say no more. What is mine is yours--my house,my cattle, my right hand. I and my sons will serve you, and you mustcome often to see us. Now I must go." He shook hands heartily and rodeaway, waving his hat.

  "There's a good Greaser," Blaze said, with conviction, and Dave agreed,feelingly:

  "Yes! I'd about go to hell for him, after this." Then he took thebridle in for Paloma to admire.