CHAPTER X
IN WHICH A MAN KEEPS HIS WORD AND ZORAIDA DARES AND LAUGHS
Kendric called to Bruce. Together they carried the unconscious Barlowinto the house. Kendric, once satisfied that his old friend's heartstill beat, scarcely breathed until he lighted a lamp and found thewound. It was in the shoulder and not only did not appear dangerous,but failed to explain the man's condition of coma. There was a trickleof blood across the pale forehead; Kendric pushed back the hair andfound a cut there, ragged and filled with dirt. Plainly the impact ofthe heavy bullet had sufficed to unseat the sailor who, pitching out ofthe saddle and striking on his head, had been stunned by the fall.
Kendric bathed and bandaged both wounds while Bruce went for a bottleof brandy.
"He's coming around," said Kendric as Barlow's throat received thestinging liquor. "I don't want to be on hand when he opens his eyes,Bruce; for ten years I've called Twisty by the name of friend. He'sdown and out for a little and what we two have to say to each other canwait a spell."
Bruce, stolidfaced now and morose, nodded. Kendric went outside andstood watching the flames work their will with Bruce's barns, his heartheavy within him. One friend down, a bullet hole in his shoulder, shotas a raiding cattle thief; another friend looking to have lost hisboyish nature with the loss of his hope. And both rendered what theywere through the wickedness of a woman. Woman? As he brooded over thedevastation she had wrought he began to think of her as an evil spirit.He recalled with a shiver the feel of her burning eyes, hidden butpotent; he thought of the nights at sea when he had felt her presence.For the first time he allowed himself to wonder in all seriousness ifshe had powers above a mere woman's as she had a character set apart.
And, after all that happened, he must return to her! He, Jim Kendric,must leave Twisty Barlow, wounded, and Bruce West, ruined, and returnto Zoraida Castlemar who had set her brand upon both them. Histwenty-four-hour leave would expire at daybreak. He had meant to spendthe evening with Bruce and then to ride back during the night. Now,for the first time, he realized that the raiders had set him on foot.The twenty miles to the Montezuma ranch would have to be walked.
"And I'd better be on my way," he decided promptly. It did not enterhis head that he had an excuse to offer for making a tardy appearance.He had pledged his word, and, while it was humanly possible, he wouldkeep it. Even were it impossible it would have been Jim Kendric's wayto try. And now he was not sorry for an excuse for leaving early. Hecould do nothing for Bruce; what must be said between him and TwistyBarlow could come later.
It was then, while he was returning to the house that he saw a steadylight shining out in the fields. He stopped, at first fearing that afresh fire was breaking out.
"Not thieves but cursed marauders," he named the crowd to which Brucehad already lost so heavily. "They've fired the dry grass."
But while he watched it the light did not alter, neither flaring up nordying down, burning steadily like a lamp. When after two or threeminutes he observed this he left the house and walked out into thefield, keeping to the shadows when he could, watchful and suspicious.Thus presently he came to see what it was: a lantern tied from a lowlimb of a tree. Below the lantern he saw a dark object; it moved andhe heard the clink of a bridle chain. Again he went forward, puzzledand curious. He made out that the saddle was empty; he could see noone near. A man might be hiding behind the bole of the oak or mighteven be above in the branches. Inwardly Kendric prayed that he was.He was ready for a meeting with any loiterer of Zoraida's following.His pulses stirred as he thought that it might even be Rios or Escobar.
But though he circled the tree and peered long into the shadows amongthe branches, he still saw no one. At last he came close to thetethered horse. It was his own, the sorrel El Rey he had ridden herethis morning, saddled and bridled, spurs slung to the horn. Thelantern shed its rays upon the saddle and Kendric saw something else atthe horn; a bunch of little blue field flowers, held in place by a bitof white ribbon.
He snatched the flowers down angrily, trampled on them, ground themunder foot. They seemed to him a bit of Zoraida herself; they tauntedhim, they bore the message she sent. They were her summons to comeback to her. He jerked free the tie rope and swung up into the saddle,eager and anxious to go back to her the swiftest way in order that thetime might come the more swiftly when he could fulfil his word and befree to leave her. He'd get a rifle from Bruce; with that and hisrevolver he'd take his chance, let all of her infernal rabble bar theway.
From the rear of the house he called to Bruce.
"I've found my horse; they left him behind," he said as Bruce came out."I've got to go back, so back I go the quickest I know how. Takedecent care of Barlow; he was a real man once and may be again, if hecan shake that damned woman off. Lend me a rifle if you can spare it.I'll see you again as soon as the Lord lets me. So long."
"So long, Jim," returned Bruce drearily. He brought out a rifle,holding it out wordlessly. And Kendric rode away into the night.
In the mountains, though in another narrow pass, he was stopped as hehad been this morning. A lantern was flashed in his face and over hishorse. Then he was allowed to go on while from the darkness a voicecried after him:
"_Viva La Senorita_!"
From afar he saw lights burning down in the valley and recognized themas the lamps in the four wall towers. The gates were closed but at hiscall a man appeared from the shadows and opened to him. He rode in;dismounting, he let the rifle slip into a hiding place in theshrubbery; another man at the front corridor took his horse. At aboutmidnight he again entered the old adobe building. The main hall intowhich he stepped through the front door was still brightly lighted withits several lamps; through open doors he saw that nowhere in the housewere lights out. Yet it was very quiet; he heard neither voice norstep.
He knew where Zoraida was; no doubt Rios and Escobar were with her. Hehad kept his word and returned to his prison like a good dog; whatreason why he should not take advantage of what appeared an unusualopportunity and make his attempt at escape? Zoraida would not havecounted on his returning so early; he carried a revolver under his armpit and hidden in the garden was a rifle. To be sure there were risksto be run; but now, if ever, struck him as the time to run them.
If he could only find where Betty Gordon slept. He must give her aword of hope before he left her here among these devils; assuring herthat he would return for her and bring the law with him. Or, if shehad the nerve and the desire to attempt escape with him now, that washer right and he would go as far as a man could to bring her through tosafety. Noiselessly he crossed the room. He would pass through themusic room and down the hall toward the living quarters of the house.If luck were with him he would find her.
It was only when he was about to pass out of the music room door goingto the hallway that he heard voices for the first time. They came froma distance, dulled and deadened by the oak doors, but he knew them forthe voices of men, raised in anger. A louder word now and then broughthim recognition of Ruiz Rios's voice; a sharp answer might have beenfrom Escobar. He stopped and considered. If these men quarreled, howwould it affect him? Quarrel they would, soon or late, he knew. Forboth were truculent and in the looks he had seen pass between themthere was no friendship. Two rebellious spirits held in check by thewill of Zoraida Castelmar. But now Zoraida was away.
Then for the moment he forgot them and his conjectures. He had heard afaint sound and turning quickly saw for the first time that he was notalone in the music room. In a dim corner beyond the piano was acushioned seat and on it, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes widewith the sleeplessness and anxiety of the night, crouched Betty Gordon.He took a quick step toward her. She drew back, pressed tight againstthe wall, her look one of terror. Terror of him!
But he came on until he stood over her, looking down into her raisedface. He felt no end of pity for her, she looked so small and helplessand hopeless. Big gray eyes pleaded with him and
he read andunderstood that she asked only that he go and leave her. An impulsewhich was utterly new to him surged over him now, the impulse to gatherher up into his arms as one would a child and comfort her. Not thatshe was just a child. She had done her shining brown hair high up onher head; she fought wildly for an air of serene dignity; he judged herat the last of her teens. But she was none the less flower-like, allthat a true woman should be according to the beliefs of certain men ofthe type of Jim Kendric, a true descendant of her sweet, old-fashionedgrandmothers. Her little high-heeled slippers, her dainty blue dress,the flower which even in her distress she had tucked away in her hair,were quite as he would have had them.
"Betty Gordon," he said softly so that his words would not carry toother ears, "I want to help you if you will let me. Will you?"
Her clasped hands tightened; he saw the lips tremble before she couldcommand her utterance.
"I--I don't know what to do," she faltered. Her eyes clung to hisfrankly, filled with shining eagerness to read the heart under theouter man. For the first time Jim was conscious of his several days'growth of beard; he supposed that it was rather more than an evenchance that his face was grimy and perhaps still carried evidences ofthe fight at Bruce West's ranch. To assure her of his honorableintentions toward her he could have wished for a bath and a shave.
"You're in the hands of a rather bad crowd," he said when he saw thatshe had no further words but was waiting for him. "I thought that atleast it would be a relief to know that you had one friend on the job.And an American at that," he concluded heartily.
"How am I to know who is a friend?" She shivered and pressed tightagainst the wall. "That terrible man named Escobar spoke to me offriendship, and he is the one who gave orders to bring me here! Andthe other man, Rios, he spoke words that did not go with the look inhis eyes. And you--you----"
"Well? What about me?"
"You are one of them. I find you staying in their house. You are thelover of Senorita Castelmar and she is terrible! Oh, I don't know whatto do."
"Who told you that?" he demanded sharply. "That I was Zoraida's lover?"
"One of the maids, Rosita. She told me that Zoraida is mad about you.And that you are a great adventurer and have killed many men and are aprofessional gambler."
"Rosita lied. I am just a prisoner here, like you."
Sheer disbelief shone in Betty's eyes.
"You rode away, alone, this morning," she said. "I saw you through mywindow. You come in alone tonight. You are not a prisoner."
"I was allowed to leave the house only when I promised to come back.Can't you tell when a man is speaking the truth? Good Lord, why shouldI want to lie to you?"
Betty hesitated a long time, her hands nervous, her eyes unfaltering onhis. She looked at once drawn and repelled, fascinated like a littlebird fluttering under the baleful eyes of a snake.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked finally.
"I, for one," he retorted, "refuse to squat here like a fool becauseI'm told. I'm going to make a break for it. You can take the chancewith me or you may remain here and know that I'll do what can be doneoutside."
Betty shook her head, sighing.
"I don't know what to do," she said miserably.
Jim pondered and frowned. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
"It's up to you, Betty Gordon," he said. "You're old enough to thinkfor yourself. I can't decide for you. But if you were mine, my sisterfor instance, I'd grab you up and make a bolt for it. A clean bulletis a damned sight more to my liking than the dirty paws of such as Riosand Escobar and their following. They've got a guard around the housewhich they seem to think sufficient" Again he shrugged. "I've got mynotion we can slip through and make the mountains at the rear."
"If I only knew I could trust you," moaned Betty.
A glint of anger shone in Jim's eyes.
"Suit yourself," he told her curtly. "I can promise you it will be alot easier for me in a scrimmage and a get-away without a woman to lookout for."
Immediately he was ashamed of having been brusque with her. For shewas only a little slip of a girl after all and obviously one who hadnever been thrown out into the current of life where it ran strongest.More than ever she made him think of the girl of olden times, the girlhard to find in our modern world. All of her life she had had othersto turn to, men whom she loved to lean upon. Her father, her brotherswould have done everything for her; she would have done her purelyfeminine part in making home homey. That was what she was born for,the lot of the sweet tender girl who is quite content to let othergirls wear mannish clothing and do mannish work. Kendric knewinstinctively that Betty Gordon could have made the daintiest thingimaginable in dresses, that she would tirelessly and cheerfully nurse asick man, that she would fight every inch of the way for his life, thatshe would stand by a father driven to the wall, broken financially,that she would put hope into him and bear up bravely and with a tendersmile under adversity--but that she would call to a man to kill aspider for her. God had not fashioned her to direct a militarycampaign. And thinking thus of her, he thought also of Zoraida. BettyGordon, just as she was, was infinitely more to his liking.
"I can only give you my word of honor, my dear," he said gently, andagain he felt as though he were addressing a poor little kid of a girlin short dresses, "that I wouldn't harm a hair of your head for allMexico."
Betty, though this was her first rude experience with outlaws, was notwithout both discernment and intuition. Perhaps the maid Rosita hadlied to her, carried away by a natural relish in telling all that sheknew and more. A look of brightening hope surged up in Betty's grayeyes; her pretty lips were parting when a rude interruption made herforget to say the words which were just forming.
Fitfully voices had come to them from the _patio_ where Ruiz Rios andthe rebel captain were arguing, but Jim and Betty with their ownproblem occupying their minds had paid scant attention. Now a suddenexclamation arrested both words and thought, a sharp cry of bitteranger and more than anger; there was rage and menace in the intonation.And then came the shot, a revolver no doubt but sounding louder as itechoed through the rooms. Betty started up in terror, both handsgrasping Kendric's arm. His own hand had gone its swift way to the gunslung under his coat.
They waited a moment, both tense. Then Jim patted her handreassuringly, removed it from his sleeve and said quietly:
"Wait a second. I'll see which one it was."
But before he could cross the room the door was thrown open and RuizRios stood looking in on them queerly.
"Senor Escobar has shot himself," he said. "Through the heart."
Betty fell back from him, step by step, her eyes staring, her facewhite. Then she looked pleadingly to Kendric. When he went to herside, she whispered:
"Take me away! Let's try to go now. Now!"
Ruiz Rios's eyes glittered, his mouth hardened. He closed the doorbehind him, watching them keenly.
"It is in my mind to do you a kindness, Senor Kendric," he said,speaking evenly and emotionlessly.
"You are a murderous cur," rapped out Kendric. "I'd do a clean job ifI shot you dead in your tracks."
Rios smiled.
"Let us speak business, _amigo_," he said. "Moralizing is nice whenthere is plenty of time and nothing else to be done. You are kept hereagainst your will. It might not fit in ill with my plans to see yougo."
"I will have a look at Escobar first," said Kendric. Rios steppedaside and again threw open the door. But he did not stir from thespot, awaiting Kendric's return. Nor did Kendric tarry long. Escobarwas dead already, shot through the heart, as Rios had said. A revolverlay on the ground, close to his right hand.
"You ought to hang for that," said Kendric as he came back into theroom. "But from the way you're going you won't last long enough forthe law to get you. Now, what have you to say to me?"
"A part I have said," returned Ruiz Rios. "I can guess much that myfair cousin has said to you. I
know her desires and--I know my own!"His eyes flashed. "More, you appear interested in the charming MissBetty Gordon. If you would like to go yourself, if you would like totake her with you, I think I can arrange matters. At a price, ofcourse."
"Naturally. And the price?"
"Escobar asked twenty-five thousand dollars. Surely she is worth thatand more? Ah! Well, what you came to Lower California to find may beworth as much, may be worth nothing. The risk is mine. Tell me wherethe place is and I will arrange that you and Miss Betty have horses andan open trail."
"Rios," began Jim, speaking slowly.
But it was Betty who answered.
"No!" she cried. "No and no and no! You are a terrible man, SenorRios, and some day God will bring you to a terrible end. Be sure Iwould be happy to see the last of you and your cousin and your kind.But the thing you ask is impossible. Why should Jim Kendric, to whom Iam only a bothersome stranger, pay you a sum like that--for me? Youare crazy!"
Jim himself was perplexed. He had no desire to put Ruiz Rios in theway of appropriating that which had brought both himself and Barlowhere. More than that, the secret was not solely his to give away, werehe so minded. Barlow had a claim to half and he knew there would benothing left for Barlow once Rios scented it. Of these matters hethought and also of Betty. Her quick vehemence had surprised him.Until now he would have thought her eager to consent to anything toinsure her immediate departure.
"Fine words, senorita," said Rios, his lips twitching so that the whiteteeth showed. "But you had best think. Many things might happen to agirl, a pretty girl like you, which are not pleasant for her toexperience. You had better throw your arms about your countryman'sneck and beg him to pay the price for you."
Betty shook her head violently, so violently that the white flower fellfrom her hair. Rios was going on angrily, when there came into theyard a clatter of hoofs.
"It is Zoraida," he said sharply. "Now be quick; is it yes or no!"
"No!" cried Betty.
"Little fool!" muttered Rios. Under his glare she drew back. "Beforeagain such help is offered you you will wish you were dead!"
Outside they heard Zoraida's laughter, low and rich with its music.Then her voice as gay as though there were in all the world no suchshadows as those cast by destruction and death. And then she entered,slender and graceful in her elaborate riding suit, her white plumenodding, her eyes dancing, her red mouth triumphant. Behind her cameBruce West.
Kendric stared at him in amazement. For Bruce came of his own freewill and his own eyes were shining. There was no sign of his recentdistress upon his face. Rather it looked more joyous, more boyish andglad than Kendric had seen it for years. The boy hardly noted anyonein the room but Zoraida. His eyes were for her alone and they were onfire with adoration.