CHAPTER XXI
THE SILENT DUEL
As July sped on Homer Conrad's visits to Golden grew more and morefrequent. When Curtis returned from his northern journey, still ignorantof Delafield's identity, Homer was greatly relieved, and tried once moreto dissuade his brother. "Anyway, Curt," he urged, "don't do anythingmore about it now. Let it rest a while, and think about it more coollyand carefully; you'll see how foolish it is if you do that." As Curtisdid not mention the subject again, he concluded that his advice had beentaken and that there was no reason for immediate anxiety. His mind atrest on that score, he devoted himself more than ever to Lucy Bancroft.He talked of her so much to his brother that Curtis soon saw howcomplete was his absorption. "I guess they're hitting it off togetherall right," he concluded.
Curtis Conrad tried to accustom himself to the idea of Lucy as hisbrother's wife. It cost him many a painful twinge, and once therebellious thought came into his mind, "If it hadn't been for theDelafield affair I might--" But a little shock, as if he had fallen awayfrom some ideal or been guilty of an irreverence, stopped the notion.Now and then, too, he had misgivings as to what Lucy would think of himif she knew. He shrank from the feeling that her condemnation would beas unsparing as his brother's, with more of horror and disgust. For thefirst time he began to think about what might lie beyond that longed-formeeting with Delafield. One day, musing upon Homer and Lucy, he had asudden vision of himself as a commiserated kinsman, and smiled grimly ashe reflected, "It might be a good thing for them if I got my quietus inthe scrimmage."
These signs of a change slowly going on within him sometimes came as aflash of feeling, while again the thoughts induced held him for hours.The emotion that had so powerfully rushed over him when he firstrealized his love for Lucy had jarred his grip upon his purpose; andafterward intimate daily association with his brother and knowledge ofthe young man's severe disapproval united to move him now and then fromhis old point of view and to give him brief visitations of morewholesome feeling. If his love for Lucy, so suddenly realized, had metwith no check, it alone might have been enough in time to turn him fromhis plans. A man of his temperament cannot be fired by two enthusiasmsat the same time. He must give himself wholly to his absorbing desire.Since at the core Conrad's nature was sound and sweet, it is likelythat after a little his love would have overmastered his desire forrevenge. But Lucy's flirtation with his brother, induced by pique anddisappointment at his constant association with Mrs. Ned Castleton, andHomer's prompt infatuation had led him to believe that the two youngerpeople were in love with each other. Consequently he did his best torestrain his own feelings, and so limited their check upon the oldersentiment. Francisquita little knew, or would ever guess, what graveconsequences were flowing from her innocent effort to keep hersister-in-law within bounds. But for that the outcome of the Delafieldaffair would have been "another story."
Conrad returned from Santa Fe much disappointed by the failure of theclews that had promised so much. He debated whether it would be worthwhile to try to compel Gonzalez to disclose the name of his employershould the Mexican attack him again. He was doubtful of the success ofsuch a plan, for he believed Jose as likely to give up his life as hissecret. Nevertheless, he decided it would be worth trying. For severalweeks after his return it chanced that whenever he went from home it waswith Peters or some of the men, while there was always somebody aboutthe corral and the house. He knew Gonzalez was watching him constantly,awaiting the moment when they should be alone. Toward the end of July hemade up his mind to provide the opportunity and bring matters to afocus.
On the day he reached this decision his brother returned from Goldenlooking dejected. "They've quarrelled," was Curtis's inward comment. Hesaid nothing, nor did Homer mention Lucy's name, contrary to his customof talking much about her after a day in her society. He was alsoless talkative than usual upon other subjects. During the evening,while Curtis read, Homer sat by the open door and smoked in gloomysilence, listening to the pouring rain and the rolling and echoingthunder. He was wondering, half in lover's anger and half in lover'sdownheartedness, why Lucy had been so unreasonable that day, and whyshe had acted as if she did not care whether he came or stayed away.Well, he would not trouble her with his company again very soon. Heand Pendleton had been talking about a camping and hunting trip in theMogollon Mountains, and he would see if they couldn't get up the partyand go at once.
The next morning a sky of pure, deep, brilliant blue shone over afreshening, greening plain. Homer rose from the breakfast table andwalked out into the corral, throwing back his shoulders and breathingdeeply of the dry, cool, exhilarating air. It seemed a different worldfrom that of yesterday. There was no hurry about the camping trip, afterall. "I think I'll ride over to Golden," he said to his brother, "andsee if that storm last night did much damage. It looked black in themountains when I was coming home in the afternoon, and a bad flood mayhave come down the ravine."
Curtis smiled quizzically. A certain eager masterfulness in the youngman's air brought to his mind conviction of the real purport of hisbrother's errand, and he felt no doubt of its result. "A good idea," heassented. "It was a bad storm and may have done a lot of harm. But I'llhave to use Brown Betty myself to-day. You can have your pick of theothers."
He stood by and called out, "Good luck, old fellow!" as Homer mountedhis horse, and laughed and swung his sombrero as the other turned away ablushing face. Curtis gazed after him, a swift vision filling his mindof the look that countenance would wear when he returned to tell himproudly that he had won Lucy's promise to be his wife. "And by that timeI'm going to know who Delafield is," he thought, his lips compressed, ashe turned quickly into the corral.
"Jose," he called, "I want you to go to Adobe Springs this morning andsee if any of the cattle are mired in the overflow from the storm lastnight. Then deepen the outlet so the water will all be carried away.You'd better start at once. I'll come after you in about half an hourand show you about digging out the outlet."
As Gonzalez mounted his horse at the corral gate he looked back and sawConrad standing beside his mare, making her hunt through his pockets forsugar. "A brave man is Don Curtis," his thoughts ran. "He is so braveit does not seem right that he must die. But--" and he shrugged hisshoulders with the air of one who says, "What would you?"
When Jose was well out of sight Conrad started after him, at first at aslower pace than usual. His mind was not upon the expected encounter,with its doubtful issue, nor upon the information, so long and ardentlydesired, that he hoped to extort from the Mexican. A month previous hewould have been intent on that one thing, his thoughts absorbed in it,and his heart on fire with anticipation. Now he dwelt upon the idea ofmarriage between Lucy and Homer. "The lad's a better man than I," he wasthinking. "There's more in him, and ten years from now I shan't be ableto stack up alongside of him and make any showing at all--even if I'mnot in prison or hanged by the neck until dead long before."
He bared his brow, curiously white above the rest of his sunburned face,to the south wind. His lips tightened and his eyes glowed as he lookedout over the gray road stretching before him, while his inward visionflashed down the grim and lonely path that led into the future. It wasthe way he had chosen, the one he had travelled with eager feet forfifteen years, and he must follow it to the end. A few miles farther onthat gray track, perhaps just beyond that next hill, the longed-forknowledge was awaiting him. He would force it from Gonzalez, andthen--Delafield! The thought fired his heart once more and his eyesblazed with the old indignation as his mind went back to the grief andloss of his early years, to that lonely night of hate and anger when hisdeadly purpose was born. He touched Brown Betty with his spur,quickening her pace to a smart gallop as he searched the road and plainwith ardent eyes. His heart was bounding forward with anticipation, thesavor of longed-for vengeance once more strong in his throat. In frontof him lay a wide, shallow valley, with steep, storm-torn rims and browsshaggy with mesquite.
"I reckon, Betty B.," he said
aloud, "it's about time to be looking forJose, and this draw seems a likely sort of place for him."
He drew his revolver, glanced at its chambers, held it across the pommelin his right hand, and made sure of the handful of cartridges he had putin his pocket on leaving home. Brown Betty cantered across the bottom ofthe valley and, as she climbed the steep bank on the other side, liftedher head and neighed. From somewhere in the distance came an answeringwhinny. "It's one of our horses," thought Conrad.
At the hilltop he carefully searched the plain; a little way down theroad, beside a clump of bushes, he saw a riderless horse. He chuckled."Jose's sure hiding out around there somewhere," was his instantconviction. His head was high, his eyes flashing, and his face set inhard lines as he started the mare forward at a brisk trot. His gazetravelled toward the other horse, studying every bunch of mesquite andquestioning every clump of amole and yucca that grew between.
His eye caught the motion of branches in a tall, spreading thicket ofmesquite a hundred yards away, not far from the road. They swayedagainst the wind for a moment, trembled back and forth, and then bentbefore the breeze like their fellows. The growth was dense, but behindit he could distinguish the outlines of a darker mass, and an instantlater he saw a tiny flash of light reflected from some small, brightobject. "That must be the sun on his gun-sight," said Curtis, "and Ireckon it's time to prepare for war."
Dismounting, he threw the mare's bridle over her neck. "No; she'llfollow me," he thought, "and she doesn't need to mix up in the Delafieldaffair."
His eye still on the suspicious clump of bushes, Conrad fastened themare to an outreaching mesquite limb at the roadside. "This is a betterplace for you, Brown Betty, nice old girl," he said, reaching back topat her neck as she nickered after him.
His pistol in his hand and his vision holding the dark object behind thefeathery green plumes of the mesquite, he went on briskly until he hadcovered half the distance between them. Then he saw the object movecautiously a little to one side, where the leaves were not so thick.Plainly visible now were the straw sombrero, the dusky face below it,the outline of the body, and the revolver held steadily between thebranches.
Half a dozen strides more, and he fixed his eyes upon those of Gonzalez,dark and brilliant, gleaming through the scant, fern-like foliage liketwo coals of brown fire. Conrad's six-shooter pointed straight betweenthem as he walked slowly toward the bush. He knew that Jose's waslevelled at his breast. Revolver cocked and finger at trigger he cameon, his eyes holding those of the Mexican. Jose's pistol hand hedisregarded, trusting to his perception of the change, the instant'sflash of decision, that would light Gonzalez's face when he pulled thetrigger. He knew that, should he stumble or miss his footing and so giveadvantage, or should any hesitation show in face or eye, that secondwould the Mexican's bullet fly for his heart.
It was Curtis's intention not to hurt Jose unless the need becameimperative. Therefore he did not fire, but came silently on, andGonzalez stood, silent and still, behind the sheltering bush, each withpistol cocked and held at steady aim, the gaze of each holdinginsistently that of the other. It was a silent duel of eyes, of willsbehind the eyes, of purposes behind the wills, and of temperament behindthe purposes.
"Will he never shoot?" Conrad asked himself once and again as heapproached.
"A brave man! A brave man!" was Jose's thought as he watched that steadyadvance, secure in his own advantage.
Curtis came on with resolute step--fifteen yards, a dozen yards, tenyards. Barely a score of feet separated the muzzles of the tworevolvers, and still the blue eyes and the brown stared into each otherwith dauntless challenge.
"Why doesn't he shoot?" thought Jose. "A brave, bold man! It is a pityto kill him."
"A moment more, and I'll have him!" exulted Conrad. Fifteen feet, twelvefeet, ten feet--still the space between them lessened, and still thesilence was unbroken and their guns at unchanging aim.
Another step, and Curtis saw Jose's eyes waver; another, and heard himdraw a little, gasping breath. He saw irresolution flash across theMexican's face, saw his finger leave the trigger, his right arm tremble,and drop to his side.
Conrad felt cold sweat break out over his body and there was a loudbuzzing in his ears. Yet neither in face nor eyes was there a sign thathe had seen any change. With his gaze still fixed on the other'sdowncast lids, he moved sidewise around the bush, and stood besideGonzalez.
"Give me your gun, butt first," he commanded in a low, tense voice. Joseraised his eyes to meet the muzzle of the gun looking blankly betweenhis brows.
"You can take it if you like, Don Curtis," he said unsteadily. "I amnot going to shoot you. Here it is."
"Now," said Curtis, pointing both guns at Jose's head, "tell me the nameof the man who hired you to kill me."
The Mexican started in surprise. He shrugged his shoulders, looked atthe guns again, shuffled his feet uneasily. "Don Curtis, how can I?" heexclaimed in a reproachful tone. "You should not ask that question. Itis not fair."
"Neither was it fair for you to try to stick me in the back before I wasonto your game. So we're even now, as you told me once before. You'vegot to tell! I don't want to kill you, Jose; but, by God! I will, if youdon't give up that man's name. I'll give you one minute to think itover; and if you don't speak out then, I'll blow your head off."
Gonzalez sent one searching glance into Conrad's set face, and droppedsullen eyes to the ground. He knew there was only one thing to do if hewished to live. For half the minute he stared downward, then lookedblankly up at Curtis. "Fifteen seconds more," said the stern voice. Hisface worked, his lips opened and closed again. Then he seemed to gatherhimself together for the unwilling effort, and the words fairly rushedfrom his mouth:
"It is your friend, Senor Bancroft."
"What!" exclaimed Curtis, in a voice that had sunk back into his throat.
Gonzalez repeated his words. Conrad leaned forward, white with anger,and thrust the two revolvers close to the other's face. "Jose," he saidslowly, in hard, sharp tones, "a little while ago a man told me that. Ishook him as if he'd been a dog and told him that he lied. I ask youonce more, the last time, who is it?"
Gonzalez threw back his head, crossed his arms, and looked hisantagonist angrily in the eye. "I am not a liar, Don Curtis," he saidproudly. "I may kill sometimes, if my _patron_ wishes. But I do notlie." He placed the muzzle of one of the pistols against his heart. "Ihave told you the truth, Senor Conrad," he went on. "I swear to you, bythe Mother of God, that I could not say different if you pulled thattrigger now."
Conrad trembled and his white face went suddenly crimson. "It is hard tobelieve," he said; but he lowered the pistols. "I know you are not aliar, Jose, and you seem to be speaking the truth. You understand, don'tyou," he added in a tone almost apologetic, "that it is hard for me tobelieve what you say?"
"It is the truth, senor."
Curtis put his own pistol away, and looked thoughtfully at the other."Jose," he said, "I shall have to think about this thing. In themeantime I'm going to keep your gun."
"As you like, Don Curtis," replied Gonzalez, indifferently. "I shall donothing more. To-morrow I shall ask for my time."
Conrad eyed him keenly. "Well, then, here's your gun. Go on to AdobeSprings and do the work, as I told you. To-morrow morning, if you wantit, you can have your time."
Jose took the gun, turned the cylinder, and one by one dropped thebullets to the ground.
"It is ended, Don Curtis," he said. Mounting his horse, he galloped downthe road.