Chapter IV
_The Silver Crucifix_
When in Sonora, Waring frequented the Plaza Hotel. He had arranged withthe management that his room should always be ready for him, day ornight. The location was advantageous. Nearly all the Americans visitingSonora and many resident Americans stopped at the Plaza. Waringfrequently picked up valuable bits of news as he lounged in the lobby.Quietly garbed when in town, he passed for a well-to-do rancher ormining man. His manner invited no confidences. He was left much tohimself. Men who knew him deemed him unaccountable in that he neverdrank with them and seldom spoke unless spoken to. The employees of thehotel had grown accustomed to his comings and goings, though they seldomknew where he went or definitely when he would return. His mildness ofmanner was a source of comment among those who knew him for what he was.And his very mildness of manner was one of his greatest assets ingaining information. Essentially a man of action, silent as to his plansand surmises, yet he could talk well when occasion demanded.
It was rumored that he was in the employ of the American Government;that he had been disappointed in a love affair; that he had a wife andson living somewhere in the States; that for very good reasons he couldnot return to the States; that he was a dangerous man, well paid by theMexican Government to handle political matters that would not bearpublic inspection. These rumors came to him from time to time, andbecause he paid no attention to them they were accepted as facts.
About an hour after he had left Donovan's office, Waring entered thePlaza Hotel, nodded to the clerk, and passed on down the hallway. Heknocked at a door, and was answered by the appearance of a stout,smooth-shaven man in shirt-sleeves. They chatted for a minute or two.Waring stepped into the room. Presently he reappeared, smiling.
After dinner he strolled out and down the street. At a corner he edgedthrough the crowd, and was striding on when some one touched his arm. Heturned to confront the Mexican youth, Ramon. Waring gestured to Ramon tofollow, and they passed on down the street until near the edge of thetown. In the shadow of an adobe, Waring stopped.
Ramon glanced up and down the street. "The police--they have asked mewhere is my Uncle Jose. I have told them that I do not know. The policethey asked me that."
"Well?"
"But it is not that why I come. They told me to go to my home. It waswhen I was in the prison that the policia talked in the telephone. Hespoke your name and the name of Senor Bill Donovan of the Ortez Mine. Iheard only your name and his, but I was afraid. You will not tell themthat I was with my Uncle Jose?"
"No. And thanks, Ramon. I think I know what they were talking about. Goback home, pronto. If you were to be seen with me--"
"The senor is gracious. He has given me my life. I have nothing togive--but this." And Ramon drew the little silver crucifix from hisshirt and pressed it in Waring's hand.
"Oh, here, muchacho--"
But Ramon was already hastening down a side street. Waring smiled andshook his head. For a moment he stood looking at the little crucifixshining on the palm of his hand. He slipped it into his pocket andstrode back up the street. For an hour or more he walked about,listening casually to this or that bit of conversation. Occasionally heheard Mexicans discussing the Ortez robbery. Donovan's name, Waring'sown name, Vaca's, and even Ramon's were mentioned. It seemed strange tohim that news should breed so fast. Few knew that he had returned.Possibly Donovan had spread the report that the bandits had made theirescape with the money. That would mean that Waring had been outwitted.And Donovan would like nothing better than to injure Waring'sreputation.
Finding himself opposite the hotel, Waring glanced about and strode in.As he entered the hallway leading to his room three men rose from theleather chairs near the lobby window and followed him. Waring's doorclosed. He undressed and went to bed. He had been asleep but a fewminutes when some one rapped on the door. He asked who it was. He wastold to open in the name of the city of Sonora. He rose and dressedquickly.
When he opened the door two Sonora policemen told him to put up hishands. Donovan stood back of them, chewing a cigar. One of the policementook Waring's gun. The other searched the room. Evidently he did notfind what he sought.
"When you get through," said Waring, eyeing Donovan grimly, "you mighttell me what you're after."
"I'm after that thousand," said Donovan.
"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so? Just call in Stanley, of the bank. Hisroom is opposite."
Donovan hesitated. "Stanley's got nothing to do with this."
"Hasn't he?" queried Waring. "Call him in and see."
One of the police knocked at Stanley's door.
The bank cashier appeared, rubbing his eyes. "Hello, Bill! Hello, Jim!What's the fuss?"
"Stanley, did I deposit a thousand dollars in gold to the credit of theOrtez Mine this afternoon?"
"You did."
"Just show Donovan here the receipt I asked you to keep for me."
"All right. I'll get it."
Donovan glanced at the receipt. "Pretty smooth," he muttered.
Waring smiled. His silence enraged Donovan, who motioned to the policeto leave the room.
Waring interrupted. "My gun?" he queried mildly.
One of the police handed the gun to Waring.
Their eyes met. "Why, hello, Pedro!" And Waring's voice expressedinnocent surprise. "When did you enroll as a policeman?"
Donovan was about to interrupt when the policeman spoke: "That is mybusiness."
"Which means Bill here has had you sworn in to-day. Knew you would liketo get a crack at me, eh? You ought to know better, Salazar."
"Come on!" called Donovan.
The Mexicans followed him down the hallway.
Waring thanked Stanley. "It was a frame-up to get me, Frank," heconcluded. "Pedro Salazar would like the chance, and as a policeman hecould work it. You know that old game--resisting arrest."
"Doesn't seem to worry you," said Stanley.
"No. I'm leaving town. I'm through with this game."
"Getting too hot?"
"No. I'm getting cold feet," said Waring, laughing. "And say, Stanley,I may need a little money to-morrow."
"Any time, Jim."
Waring nodded. Back in his room he sat for a while on the edge of thebed, gazing at the curtained window. Life had gone stale. He was sick ofhunting men and of being hunted. Pedro Salazar was now a member of theSonora police through Donovan's efforts. Eventually Salazar would findan excuse to shoot Waring. And the gunman had made up his mind to do nomore killing. For that reason he had spared Vaca and had befriendedRamon. He decided to leave Sonora.
Presently he rose and dressed in his desert clothes. As he went throughhis pockets he came upon the little silver crucifix and transferred it,with some loose change, to his riding-breeches. He turned out the light,locked the room from the outside, and strode out of the hotel.
At the livery-stable, he asked for his horse. The man in charge told himthat Dex had been taken by the police. That the Senor Bill Donovan andPedro Salazar had come and shown him a paper,--he could not read,--buthe knew the big seal. It was Pedro Salazar who had ridden the horse.
The streets were still lighted, although the crowd was thinning. Waringturned a corner and drifted through the shadows toward the edge of town.As he passed open doorways he was greeted in Mexican, and returned eachgreeting pleasantly. The adobe at the end of the side street he was onwas dark.
Waring paused. Pedro Salazar's house was the only unlighted house in thedistrict. The circumstance hinted of an ambushment. Waring crossed tothe deeper shadows and whistled. The call was peculiarly low andcajoling. He was answered by a muffled nickering. His horse Dex wasevidently corralled at the back of the adobe.
Pedro Salazar knew that Waring would come for the horse sooner or later,so he waited, crouching behind the adobe wall of the enclosure.
Waring knocked loudly on Salazar's door and called his name. Then heturned and ran to the corner, dodged round it, and crept along thebreast-high adobe wall. He whistle
d again. A rope snapped, and therecame the sound of quick trampling. A rush and the great, tawny shape ofDexter reared in the moonlight and swept over the wall. With head up,the horse snorted a challenge. Waring called softly. The horse wheeledtoward him. Waring caught the broken neck-rope and swung up. A flash cutthe darkness behind him. Instinctively he turned and threw two shots. Afigure crumpled to a dim blur in the corral.
Waring raced down the alley and out into the street. At thelivery-stable he asked for his saddle and bridle. The Mexican,chattering, brought them. Waring tugged the cinchas tight and mounted.Far down the street some one called.
Waring rode to the hotel, dismounted, and strode in casually, pausing atStanley's door. The cashier answered his knock.
"I'm off," said Waring. "And I'll need some money."
"All right, Jim. What's up? How much?"
"A couple of hundred. Charge it back to my account. Got it?"
"No. I'll get it at the desk."
"All right. Settle my bill for me to-morrow. Don't stop to dress.Rustle!"
A belated lounger glanced up in surprise as Waring, booted and spurred,entered the lobby with a man in pajamas. They talked with the clerk amoment, shook hands, and Waring strode to the doorway.
"Any word for the Ortez people?" queried Stanley as Waring mounted.
"I left a little notice for Donovan--at Pedro Salazar's house," saidWaring. "Donovan will understand." And Waring was gone.
The lounger accosted Stanley. "What's the row, Stanley?"
"I don't know. Jim Waring is in a hurry--first time since I've knownhim. Figure it out yourself."
Back in Pedro Salazar's corral a man lay huddled in a dim corner, hissightless eyes open to the soft radiance of the Sonora moon. A group ofMexicans stood about, jabbering. Among them was Ramon Ortego. Ramonlistened and said nothing. Pedro Salazar was dead. No one knew who hadkilled him. And only that day he had become one of the police! It wouldgo hard with the man who did this thing. There were many surmises.Pedro's brother had been killed by the gringo Waring down in the desert.As for Pedro, his name had been none too good. They shrugged theirshoulders and crossed themselves.
Ramon slipped from the group and climbed the adobe wall. As hestraightened up on the other side, he saw something gleaming in themoonlight. He stooped and picked up a little silver crucifix.
Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life Page 4
