CHAPTER XX
TOM RENEGES
As the days passed while waiting for the return of the caravan toMissouri, Patience rode abroad with either her uncle or her father,sometimes in the Dearborn, but more often in the saddle. She exploredthe ruins of the old church at Pecos, where the Texan prisoners hadspent a miserable night; the squalid hamlets of San Miguel, which shehad passed through on her way to Santa Fe, and Anton Chico had beenvisited; the miserable little sheep ranchos had been investigated andother rides had taken her to other outlying districts; but the one sheloved best was the trail up over the mountain behind Santa Fe. Thealmost hidden pack mules and their towering loads of faggots, _hoja_,hay and other commodities were sights she never tired of, although thescars on some of the meek beasts once in awhile brought tears to hereyes. The muleteers, beneficiaries of her generosity, smiled when theysaw her and touched their forelocks in friendly salutation.
On the mountain there was one spot of which she was especially fond. Itwas a little gully-like depression more than halfway up that seemed tobe much greener than the rest of the mountain side, and always moist.The trees were taller and more heavily leafed And threw a shade which,with the coolness of the moist little nook, was most pleasant. It laynot far from the rutted, rough and busy trail over the mountain, whichturned and passed below it, the _atejos_ and occasional picturesque_caballeros_ on their caparisoned horses, passing in review before herand close enough to be distinctly seen, yet far enough away to hidedisillusioning details. The mud houses of the town at the foot of thelong slope, with their flat roofs, looked much better at this distanceand awakened trains of thought which nearness would have forbidden. Itwas also an ideal place to eat a lunch and she and Uncle Joe or herfather made it their turning point.
Her daily rides had given her confidence, and the stares which first hadfollowed her soon changed to glances of idle curiosity. Of Armijo sheneither had seen nor heard anything more and scarcely gave him athought, and the Mexican officers she met saluted politely or ignoredher altogether. Her uncle still harped about Santa Fe being no place forher, but, having the assurance that she would return to St. Louis withthe caravan, was too wise to press the matter. His efforts were morestrongly bent to get his brother to sell out and he had sounded Woodsonto see if that trader would take over the merchandise. Adam Cooperseemed to consider closing out his business and returning to Missouri,but he would not sacrifice it, and there the matter hung, swaying firstto one side and then to the other. By this time Santa Fe had palled onthe American merchant and he had laid by sufficient capital to start inbusiness in St. Louis or one of the frontier towns, and his brother wasconfident that if the stock could be disposed of for a reasonable sumthat Adam would join the returning caravan.
It was in the storehouse of Webb and Birdsall one night, about a weekbefore the wagons were being put in shape for the return trip that thematter was settled. Disturbing rumors were floating up from the southabout a possible closing of the ports of entry of the Department of NewMexico, due to the dangers to Mexican traders on the long trail becauseof the presence of Texan raiding parties. The Texans had embittered thefeelings of the Mexicans against the Americans, whom they knew to beuniversally in favor of the Lone Star Republic, and the Texan raids ofthis summer were taken as a forecast of greater and more determinedraids for the following year.
When Adam and Joe Cooper joined the little group in the warehouse onthis night, they met two Missourians who had just returned fromChihuahua with a train of eleven wagons. These traders, finding businessso good in the far southern market, and having made arrangements withsome Englishmen there, who were high in favor with the Federalauthorities, were anxious to make another trip if they could load theirwagons at a price that would make the journey worth while. They werecertain that the next year would find the Mexican ports closed againstthe overland traffic, eager to clean up what they could before winterset in and to sell their outfits and return by water. They furtherdeclared that a tenseness was developing between the Federal governmentand the United States, carefully hidden at the present, which wouldmake war between the two countries a matter of a short time. Texas wasfull of people who were urging annexation to the United States, andtheir numbers were rapidly growing; and when the Lone Star republicbecame a state in the American federation, war would inevitably follow.Some in the circle dissented wholly or in part, but all admitted thatdaily Mexico was growing more hostile to Americans.
"Wall, we ain't forcin' our opinions on nobody," said one of theChihuahua traders. "We believe 'em ourselves, an' we want ter makeanother trip south. Adam, we've heard ye ain't settled in yer mind aboutstayin' through another winter hyar. We'll give ye a chanct ter clearout; what ye got in goods, an' what ye want fer'em lock, stock an'bar'l?"
"What they cost us here in Santa Fe," said Uncle Joe quickly, determinedto force the issue. "We just brought in more'n two wagon loads, an' whatwe had on hand will go a long way toward helpin' you fill your wagons.Come around tomorrow, look th' goods over, an' if they suit you, we'lladd twelve cents a pound for th' freight charge across th' prairies an'close 'em out to you. Ain't that right, Adam?" he demanded so sharplyand truculently that his brother almost surrendered at once. Seeing thatthey had an ally in Uncle Joe the traders pushed the matter and after along, haggling discussion, they offered an additional five per cent ofthe purchase price for a quick decision.
Uncle Joe accepted it on the spot and nudged his brother, who grudginglyaccepted the terms if the traders would buy the two great wagons andtheir teams. This they promised to do if they could find enough extragoods to fill them, and they soon left the warehouse for fear of showingtheir elation. They knew where they could sell the wagons at a profitwith a little manipulation on the part of their English friend.
Elated by the outcome of his protracted arguments, Uncle Joe hurriedaround to Armstrong's store and told the news to Tom and his threefriends.
"We can get them goods off our hands in two days," he exulted; "an' th'caravan will be ready to leave inside a week. Don't say a word tonobody, boys. We'll try to sneak Adam and Patience out of town so Armijowon't miss 'em till they're on th' trail. Them Chihuahua traders won'tdisturb th' goods before we start for home because they got to get a lotmore to fill their wagons, an' th' merchandise is safer in th' storethan it will be under canvas. I wish th' next week was past!"
To wish the transaction kept a secret and to keep it a secret were twodifferent things. The Chihuahua traders found more merchants who feltthat they would be much safer in Missouri than in Santa Fe, and thesouth-bound wagon train was stocked three days before time for theMissouri caravan to leave. There were certain customs regulationsrelating to goods going through to El Paso and beyond, certain involvedand exacting forms to be obtained and filled out, much red tape to becut with golden shears and many palms to be crossed with specie. UncleJoe and his brother found that the matter of transferring their goods tothe traders took longer than they expected and were busy in the storefor several days, leaving Patience to make the most of the short timeremaining of her stay in the capital of the Department of New Mexico.
At last came the day when the eastbound caravan was all but ready tostart, certain last minute needs arising that kept it in the campoutside the city until the following morning. Busily engaged in itsorganizing and in numerous personal matters, they told her to stay inthe city. Uncle Joe and his brother could not accompany Patience onanother ride up the mountain and they understood that she would notattempt one; but she changed her mind and left the town in the care andguidance of a Mexican employee of her father, in whom full trust wasreposed. She rode out an hour earlier than was her wont, and when aDelaware Indian called at the house to beg alms from the generoussenorita he found the building open and empty. Knowing that the lastnight was to be spent in the encampment and thinking that she had gonethere, as he understood was the plan, he gave little thought to this andwandered back to the _Plaza Publica_ to look for his companions. Theywere not in sight and he went over
to the barracks to seek them there.
Don Jesu swaggered along the side of the building, caught sight of thedisreputable Delaware and contemptuously waved him away. "Out of mysight, you drunken beggar and son of a beggar! If I catch you here oncemore I'll hang you by your thumbs! _Vamoose!_"
The Delaware stiffened a little and seemed reluctant to obey thecommand. "I seek my friends," he replied in a guttural polyglot. "I dono harm."
Don Jesu's face flamed and he drew his sword and brought the flat of theblade smartly across the Indian's shoulder. "But once more I tell you to_vamoose_! _Pronto!_" He drew back swiftly and threw the weapon intoposition for a thrust, for he had seen a look flare up in the Indian'seyes that warned him.
The Delaware cringed, muttered something and slunk back along the walland as he reached the corner of the building he bumped solidly intoRobideau, who at that moment turned it. The foot of the second officercould not travel far enough to deliver the full weight of the kick, butthe impact was enough to send the Indian sprawling. As he clawed tohands and knees, Robideau stood over him, sword in hand, threats andcurses pouring from him in a burning stream. The Indian paused a moment,got control over his rage, ran off a short distance on hands and kneesand, leaping to his feet, dashed around the corner of the building tothe hilarious and exultant jeers of the sycophantic soldiers. He barelyescaped bumping into a huge, screeching and ungainly _carreta_ beingdriven by a soldier and escorted by a squad of his fellows under thepersonal command of Salezar. The lash of a whip fell across hisshoulders and cut through blanket and shirt. The second blow was shortand before another could be aimed at him, the Delaware had darted into apassage-way between two buildings.
The officer laughed loudly, nodded at the scowling driver and again feltof the canvas cover of the cart: "The city is full of vermin," hechuckled. "There's not much difference between Texans and Americans, andthese sotted Indians. Tomorrow we will be well rid of many of the gringodogs and we will attend to these strange Indians when this presentbusiness has been taken care of. But there is one gringo who will remainwith us!" He laughed until he shook. "_Captain_ Salezar today;_Colonel_, tomorrow; _quien sabe_?"
He looked at two of his soldiers, squat, powerful half-breeds, andlaughed again. "Jose is a strong man. Manuel is a strong man. Perhapstomorrow we will give each one of them two Indians and see which canflog the longest and the hardest; but," he warned, his face growing hardand cruel, "the man who bungles his work today will have no earstomorrow!"
The Delaware, his right hand thrust into his shirt under the dirtyblanket, crouched in the doorway and was making the fight of his lifeagainst the murderous rage surging through him. The words of the officerreached him well enough, but in his fury were unintelligible. Wild, madplans for revenge were crowding through his mind, mixed and jumbleduntil they were nothing more than a mental kaleidoscope, and constantlythrown back by the frantic struggles of reason. He had nursed thethought of revenge, mile after mile, day after day, across the prairiesand the desert; but for the last half month he had fought it back forthe safety his freedom might give to the woman he loved.
The grotesque, ungainly cart rumbled and bumped, clacked and screecheddown the street, farther and farther away and still he crouched in thedoorway. The sounds died out, but still he remained in the shelteringniche. Finally his hand emerged from under the blanket and fell to hisside, and a wretched Indian slouched down the street toward the _PlazaPublica_. In command of himself once more he shuffled over to the guardhouse in the _palacio_ and leaned against the wall, the welt on his backburning him to the soul, as Armijo's herald stepped from the main door,blew his trumpet and announced the coming of the governor. Pedestriansstopped short and bowed as the swarthy tyrant stalked out to his horse,mounted and rode away, his small body-guard clattering after him. TheDelaware, to hide the expression on his face, bowed lower and longerthan anyone and then slyly produced a plug of smuggled Kentucky tobaccoand slipped it to the sergeant of the guard.
"They'll catch you yet, you thief of the North," warned the sergeant,shaking a finger at the stolid Indian. "And when they do you'll hang bythe thumbs, or lose your ears." He grinned and shoved the plug into hispocket, not seeming to be frightened by becoming an accessory after thefact. "Our governor is in high spirits today, and our captain's face islike the mid-day sun. He is a devil with the women, is Armijo and hissenora doesn't care a snap. Lucky man, the governor." He laughed andthen looked curiously at his silent companion. "Where do you come from,and where do you go?"
The Delaware waved lazily toward the North. "Senor Bent. I returnsoon."
"Look to it that you do, or the _calabozo_ will swallow you up in onemouthful. I hear much about the _palacio_." He shook his finger and hishead, both earnestly.
The Delaware drew back slightly and glanced around. Drawing his blanketabout him he turned and slouched away, leaving the plaza by the firststreet, and made his slinking and apologetic way to Armstrong's, thereto wait until dark. His three friends were there already and wererubbing their pistols and rifles, elated that the morrow would find themon the trail again. The two Arapahoes planned to accompany the caravanas far as the Crossing of the Arkansas and there turn back toward Bent'sFort, following the northern branch of the trail along the north bank ofthe river.
"Better jine us, Tom," urged Jim Ogden. "You an' Hank an' us will stayat th' fort till frost comes, an' then outfit thar an' spend th' winterup in Middle Park."
"Or we kin work up 'long Green River an' winter in Hank's old place,"suggested Zeb Houghton, rubbing his hands. "Thar'll be good company inBrown's Hole; an' mebby a scrimmage with th' thievin' Crows if we go upthat way. Yer nose will be outer jint in th' Missouri settlements. Iknow a couple o' beaver streams that ain't been teched yit." He glancedshrewdly at the young man. "It's good otter an' mink country, too. We'llbuild a good home camp an' put up some lean-tos at th' fur end o' th'furtherest trap lines. Th' slopes o' th' little divides air thick withtimber fer our marten traps, an' th' tops air bare. Fox sets up tharwill git plenty o' pelts. I passed through it two year ago an' can'thardly wait ter git back ag'in. It's big enough fer th' hull four o'us."
"Thar's no money in beaver at a dollar a plew," commented Hank, watchinghis partner out of the corner of his eye. "Time war when it war worthsomethin', I tell ye; but them days air past--an' th' beaver, too, purtynigh. I remember one spring when I got five dollars a pound fer beaverfrom ol' Whiskey Larkin. Met him on th' headwaters o' th' Platte. Hepaid me that then an' thar, an' then had ter pack it all th' way terIndependence. But it's different with th' other skins, an' us four shorecould have a fine winter together."
"It's allus excitin' ter me ter wait till th' pelts prime, settin' in agood camp with th' traps strung out, smokin' good terbaker an' eatin'good grub," said Ogden, reminiscently. "Then th' frosts set in, snowfalls an' th' cold comes ter stay; an' we web it along th' lines settin'traps fer th' winter's work. By gosh! What ye say, Tom?"
Tom was studying the floor, vainly trying to find a way to please hisfriends and to follow the commands of an urging he could not resist. Forhim the mating call had come, and his whole nature responded to it witha power which would not be denied. On one hand called the old life, theold friends to whom he owed so much; a winter season with them in a goodfur country, with perfect companionship and the work he loved so dearly;on the other the low, sweet voice of love, calling him to the One Womanand to trails untrod. The past was dead, living only in memory; thefuture stirred with life and was rich in promise. He sighed, slowlyshook his head and looked up with moist eyes, glancing from one eagerface to another.
"I'm goin' back ter Missoury," he said in a low voice. "Thar's aquestion I got ter ask, back thar, when th' danger's all behind an' itkin be asked fair. If th' answer is 'no' I promise ter jine ye at Bent'sor foller after. Leave word fer me if ye go afore I git thar. Buttrappin' is on its last legs, an' th' money's slippin' out o' it, likefur from a pelt in th' spring; 'though I won't care a dang about that ifI has ter turn my back on th' s
ettlements." His eyes narrowed and hisface grew hard. "Jest now I'm worryin' about somethin' else. Here I amin Santer Fe, passin' Armijo an' Salezar every day, an' have ter turn myback on one of th' big reasons fer comin' hyar. Thar's a new welt acrostmy back that burns through th' flesh inter my soul like a livin' fire.Thar's an oath I swore on th' memory of a close friend who war beatenan' starved an' murdered; an' now I'm a lyin' dog, an' my spirit'sturned ter water!" He leaped up and paced back and forth across thelittle room like a caged panther.
Hank cleared his throat, his painted face terrible to look upon. "Hell!"he growled, squirming on his box. "Them as know ye, Tom Boyd, know yeain't neither dog ner liar! Takes a good man ter stand what ye have, dayarter day, feelin' like you do, an' keep from chokin' th' life outerhim. We've all took his insults, swallered 'em whole without no salt; yewouldn't say _all_ o' us war dogs an' liars, would ye? Tell ye what;we've been purty clost, you an' me--suppose I slip back from th'Canadian an' git his ears fer ye? 'Twon't be no trouble, an' I won't begone long. Reckon ye'd feel airy better then?"
Zeb moved forward on his cask. "That's you, Hank Marshall!" he exclaimedeagerly. "I'm with ye! He spit in my face two days ago, an' I want hisha'r. Good fer you, ol' beaver!"
For the next hour the argument waxed hot, one against three, andArmstrong had to come in and caution them twice. It was Jim Ogden whofinally changed sides and settled the matter in Tom's favor.
"Hyar! We're nigh fightin' over a dog that ain't worth a cuss!" heexclaimed. "Mebby Tom will be comin' back ter Bent's afore winter setsin. Then we kin go ter Green River by th' way o' this town, stoppin'hyar a day ter git Salezar's ears. Won't do Tom no good if us boys gitth' skunk. If ye don't close yer traps, cussed if I won't go out an' githim now, an' then hell shore will pop afore th' caravan gits away. Ain'tye got no sense, ye bloodthirsty Injuns?"