Rancho Del Muerto and Other Stories of Adventure from «Outing» by Various Authors. Various
Читать онлайн книгу.
slow and cautious walk, his ears alert for every sound, the lieutenant became aware of the fact that Roderick, his pet horse, was pricking up his own ears and showing vast interest in some mysterious and unseen presence which they were steadily approaching. Before he had got within two hundred yards of the dim light of the house he caught sight of a lantern or two flitting about the corral. Then Roderick quickened his nimble walk and began edging off to the right front, where presently, against the low western sky, Adriance could distinguish some object like a big covered wagon, and plainly heard the pawing and snorting of a horse. Roderick evidently wanted to answer, but the lieutenant reined him abruptly to the left, and veered away southward.
Just now it was not the society of his fellow men he sought. A woman’s voice, one woman’s at least, would have called him eagerly forward from the darkness into the light of her waiting eyes. As it was, he made wide circuit, and not until well to the south did he again approach the silent walls of the corral. And now the wind, blowing toward him, brought with it the sound of voices, and Adriance was suddenly warned that someone was here, close at hand. Dismounting, the lieutenant slowly led his horse toward the dark barrier before him, but not until he had softly traversed the length of the southern wall did he become aware of other voices, low toned and eager. Around the corner, on the western side, the dark forms of a horseman and someone afoot were dimly defined, then a brief conversation became audible:
“You have no time to lose, Leon. Go softly until you are a mile away, then ride like hell.
“I understand, but the money?”
“That shall be yours to-morrow – now skip.”
The jingle of a Mexican spur, the soft thud of mustang hoofs upon the yielding soil were heard a moment, and the horseman rode slowly away southwestward, the broad stiff brim of his sombrero revealed against the starry sky; then all was silence. The American, whoever he was, still stood there. Adriance felt sure he had heard the voice before. As for the horseman – Leon – that was the name he heard her speak the night he surprised her in the little summer house. Who was Leon?
Presently the American turned and strolled slowly back toward the rancho. Slipping Roderick’s rein over the post at the angle, the lieutenant followed. Keeping close to the wall, the stranger led the way, all unconscious of pursuit or observation, yet when he reached the next corner, whence could be seen the night lights of the rancho and the far-away gleam of the camp fire, out toward the Gila, he stopped and peered cautiously around.
Mindful of the evil fame that hung about the premises, Adriance halted too and waited. The next moment his heart beat hard. A woman’s voice – soft, silvery and young – had accosted the stranger. It was Isabel’s.
“You have sent my brother away again, when he had but just returned. Why is this, senor? Whither has he gone?”
“Never mind about Leon, Belita,” said the American, soothingly, “he’s all right. He has simply ridden over to let Captain Rawlins know of our mishap.”
“It is not true, senor! I heard him speak to my father. It is to Sancho and to Manuel he rides, and for no good. To what new crime do you lead him? Why are they all gone? Why are we alone here this night? Why – ”
“Don’t be a fool, girl,” said the man curtly, as he took her by the wrist. “Come, Leon’s gone. Come back to the house.”
“He has not gone. He promised me he would not go from me without a word to-night. The moment I saw you I knew that trouble would come, and I warned him when he returned. You have made him wicked – you Americanos. You are all – ’
“Oh, yes, all, even Teniente Adriance, Isabel. I heard all about you and your affair with him. Have a care!”
“No. He is good. It is not in him to make a gambler and a rover of my brother.”
“He would make worse of your brother’s sister, you fool,” the man muttered, with brutal emphasis. “Come now, no nonsense with that fellow; he’s as good as married already, I tell you; he is to be married in two months.”
“Oh, it is not true!” was the fiery answer. “You lie!” And then, with feminine inconsequence, “Who is she? Who does he marry?”
“The Senorita Abert – a lovely girl, too, and rich – in San Francisco.”
“Yes, it is a lie, Staines, and you know it!” came in cool and measured tones, and Mr. Adriance suddenly stepped from the corner of the wall.
Staines dropped the captive’s hand and recoiled a pace or two with a stifled exclamation, half amaze, half dismay; then with sudden effort strove to recover himself. “Well,” he exclaimed, with a nervous laugh; “talk of angels and you hear the rustle, etc. Indeed, lieutenant, I beg your pardon, though; I was merely joking with our little Mexican friend.”
“That will do, Mr. Staines; I know a joke when I hear one. Wait here a moment, if you please, for I want a word with you. Pardon me for startling you, senorita. Will you take my arm?”
The girl was trembling violently. With bowed head and fluttering heart she leaned upon the trooper’s arm and was slowly led away toward the rancho, never seeming to note that the little brown hand that had been so firmly taken and drawn within by his was still tightly clasped by that cavalry gauntlet. The moment they were out of the earshot of Staines the lieutenant bent down.
“It was to see you I came here, Isabel; I had hoped to find you at the summer house. Come to me there in ten minutes, will you? I must see you before I go. First, though, I have to investigate that fellow Staines.”
“Oh, I cannot! I dare not! I slipped away from my room because of Leon. They will lead him into trouble again. Indeed, I must go back. I must go, Senor Felipe.”
“You remember my name, then, little one!” he laughed, delightedly. “I have been to Tucson since I saw you that blessed night, and I heard all about you.”
“Hush, senor! It is my mother who calls. List! Let me go, sefior!” for his arm had suddenly stolen about her waist. “Promise you will come – promise!”
“I dare not! O Felipe, no!” she cried, for he had with quick impulse folded her tightly in his strong embrace and his lips were seeking hers. Struggling to avoid them she had hidden her face upon his breast.
“Promise – quick!” he whispered.
“Ah, if I can – yes. Now let me go.” His firm hand turned her glowing face to his; his eager lips pressed one lingering kiss just at the corner of her pretty mouth. She hurled herself from him then and bounded into the darkness. An instant more and he heard the latch of the rear door click; a stream of light shot out toward the corral and she was gone. Then slowly he returned to the corner of the wall, fully expecting that Staines had left. To his surprise, there was the clerk composedly awaiting him.
“Where have you sent Leon Ruiz?” was the stern question.
“I do not recognize your right to speak to me in that tone, Mr. Adriance. If you have nothing else to ask me – good night!”
“By God, sir! I heard your whispered talk with him and I know there is mischief afoot,” said the lieutenant, as he strode after the retreating form. “This thing has got to be explained, and in the major’s presence.”
Staines halted, and lifting his hat with Castilian grace of manner bowed profoundly to the angry officer. “Permit me, sir, to conduct you to him.”
An hour later, baffled, puzzled, balked in his precious hopes, Mr. Adriance returned to the bivouac of his little command. Major Sherrick had promptly and fully confirmed the statement of his clerk. It was he who told Mr. Staines to employ a ranchman to ride by night to Captain Rawlins, and the mysterious caution that surrounded the proceedings was explained by the fact that Pedro had refused his permission and that Leon had to be bribed to disobey the paternal order. Adriance was dissatisfied and suspicious, but what was there left for him to say?
Then he had hastened to the summer house, and waited a whole hour, but there came no Isabel. It was nearly 10 o’clock when he turned his horse over to the care of the guard in a little clump of cottonwoods near the Gila.
“We