CHAPTER XVI
VALENCIA MAKES A PROMISE
When Manuel descended from the El Tovar hack which had brought him fromthe station to that hotel the first person he saw standing upon theporch was Valencia Valdes. He could hardly believe his eyes, for ofcourse she could not be here. He had left her at Corbett's, had takenthe stage and the train, and now found her waiting for him. The thingwas manifestly impossible. Yet here she was.
Swiftly she came down the steps to meet him.
"Manuel, we are too late. Mr. Gordon has gone."
"Gone where?" he asked, his mind dazed as it moved from one puzzle toanother.
"We don't know. He was attacked night before last and carried away,whether dead or alive we have no proof."
"One thing at a time, Valencia. How did you get here?"
"I drove across the mountains--started when I got the news from Mr.Davis that his friend had disappeared."
"Do you mean that you drove all night--along mountain roads?" he asked,amazed.
"Of course. I had to get here." She dismissed this as a trifle with alittle gesture of her hand. "Manuel, we must find him. I believe he isalive. This is some of Pablo's work. Down in old-town some one must knowwhere he is. Bring him to me and I'll make him tell what he has donewith Mr. Gordon."
Pesquiera was healthily hungry. He would have liked to sit down to agood breakfast, but he saw that his cousin was laboring under a heavynervous tension. Cheerfully he gave up his breakfast for the present.
But when, three hours later, he returned from the old adobe Mexicanquarter Manuel had nothing to report but failure. Pablo had been seen byseveral people, but not within the past twenty-four hours. Nor hadanything been seen of Sebastian. The two men had disappeared from sightas completely as had Gordon.
Valencia, in the privacy of one of the hotel parlors, broke down andwept for the first time. Manuel tried to comfort her by taking the girlin his arms and petting her. She submitted to his embrace, burying herface in his shoulder.
"Oh, Manuel, I'm a--a murderess," she sobbed.
"You're a goose," he corrected. "Haven't you from the first tried tosave this man from his own rashness? You're not to blame in any way,Val."
"Yes ... Yes," she sobbed. "Pablo and Sebastian would never have daredtouch him if they hadn't known that I'd quarreled with him. It all comesback to that."
"That's pure nonsense. For that matter, I don't believe he's dead atall. We'll find him, as gay and insolent as ever, I promise you."
Hope was buoyant in the young man's heart. For the first time he heldhis sweetheart in his arms. She clung to him, as a woman ought to herlover, palpitant, warm, and helpless. Of course they would find thispestiferous American who had caused her so much worry. And thenhe--Manuel--would claim his reward.
"Do you think so ... really? You're not just saying so because ...?" Herolive cheek turned the least in the world toward him.
Manuel trod on air. He felt that he could have flown across the range onthe wings of his joy.
"I feel sure of it, _nina_." Daring much, his hand caressed gently thewaves of heavy black hair that brushed his cheek.
Almost in a murmur she answered him. "Manuel, find him and save him.Afterward ..."
"Afterward, _alma mia?_"
She nodded. "I'll ... do what you ask."
"You will marry me?" he cried, afraid to believe that his happiness hadcome at last.
"Yes."
"Valencia, you love me?"
She trod down any doubts she might feel. Was he not the one suitablemate for her of all the men she knew?
"How can I help it. You are good. You are generous. You serve me truly."Gently she disengaged herself and wiped her eyes with a lace kerchief."But we must first find the American."
"I'll find him. Dead or alive I'll bring him to you. Dear heart, you'vegiven me the strength that moves mountains."
A little smile fought for life upon her sad face. "You'll not havestrength unless you eat. Poor Manuel, I think you lost your breakfast. Iordered luncheon to be ready for us early. We'll eat now."
A remark of Manuel during luncheon gave his vis-a-vis an idea.
"Mr. Davis is most certainly thorough. I never saw a town so plasteredwith bills before," he remarked.
Valencia laid down her knife and fork as she looked at him. "Let's offera reward for Pablo and Sebastian--say, a hundred dollars. That wouldbring us news of them."
"You're right," he agreed. "I'll get bills out this afternoon. PerhapsI'd better say no incriminating questions will be asked of those givingus information."
Stirred to activity by the promise of such large rewards, not only thesheriff's office and the police, but also private parties scoured theneighboring country for traces of the missing man or his captors. Everyavailable horse in town was called into service for the man-hunt. Othersbecame sleuths on foot and searched cellars and empty houses for thebody of the man supposed to have been murdered. Never in its history hadso much suspicion among neighbors developed in the old-town. Many whocould not possibly be connected with the crime were watched jealouslylest they snap up one of the rewards by stumbling upon evidence that hadbeen overlooked.
False clews in abundance were brought to Davis and Pesquiera. Goodcitizens came in with theories that lacked entirely the backing of anyevidence. One of these was that a flying machine had descended in thedarkness and that Gordon had been carried away by a friend to avoid thepayment of debts he was alleged to owe. The author of this explanationwas a stout old lady of militant appearance who carried a cottonumbrella large enough to cover a family. She was extraordinarilypersistent and left in great indignation to see a lawyer because Daviswould not pay her the reward.
That day and the next passed with the mystery still unsolved. Valenciacontinued to stay at the hotel instead of opening the family town house,probably because she had brought no servants with her from the valleyand did not know how long she would remain in the city. She and Manuelcalled upon the Underwoods to hear Kate's story, but from it theygathered nothing new. Mrs. Underwood welcomed them with the gentlekindness that characterized her, but Kate was formal and distant.
"She doesn't like me," Valencia told her cousin as soon as they hadleft. "I wonder why. We were good enough friends as children."
Manuel said nothing. He stroked his little black mustache with theforeign manner he had inherited. If he had cared to do so perhaps hecould have explained Kate Underwood's stiffness. Partly it wasembarrassment and partly shyness. He knew that there had been atime--before Valencia's return from college--when Kate lacked verylittle of being in love with him. He had but to say the word to havebecome engaged--and he had not said it. For, while on a visit to theEast, he had called upon his beautiful cousin and she had won his loveat once. This had nipped in the bud any embryonic romance that mightotherwise have been possible with Kate.
A little old Mexican woman with a face like wrinkled leather was waitingto see them in front of the hotel.
"_Senor_ Pesquiera?" she asked, with a little bob of the body meant tobe a bow.
"Yes."
"And _Senorita_ Valdes?"
"That is my name," answered Valencia.
"Will the _senor_ and the _senorita_ take a walk? The night is fine."
"Where?" demanded Manuel curtly.
"Into old-town, _senor_."
"You have something to tell us."
"To show you, _senor_--for a hundred dollars."
"Sebastian--or is it Pablo?" cried Valencia, in a low voice.
"I say nothing, _senorita_" whined the old woman. "I show you; then youpay. Is it not so?"
"Get the money, Manuel," his cousin ordered quietly.
Manuel got it from the hotel safe. He took time also to get from hisroom a revolver. Gordon had fallen victim to an ambush and he did notintend to do so if he could help it. In his own mind he had no doubtthat some of their countrymen were selling either Pablo or Sebastian forthe reward, but it was better to be safe than to be sorry.
&nb
sp; The old crone led them by side streets into the narrow adobe-lined roadsof old-town. They passed through winding alleys and between buildingscrumbling with age. Always Manuel watched, his right hand in his coatpocket. At the entrance to a little court a man emerged from the shadowof a wall. He whispered with the old dame for a minute.
"Come. Make an end of this and show us what you have to show, _muypronto_," interrupted Manuel impatiently.
"In good time, _senor_," the man apologized.
"Just a word first, my friend. I have a revolver in my hand. If there istrickery in your mind, better give it up. I'm a dead shot, and I'll putthe first bullet through your heart. Now lead on."
The Mexican threw up his hands in protest to all the saints that hispurpose was good. He would assuredly keep faith, _senor_.
"See you do," replied the Spaniard curtly.
Their guide rapped three times on a door of a tumble-down shack.Cautiously it was opened a few inches. There was another whisperedconversation.
"The _senor_ and the _senorita_ can come in," said the first man,standing aside.
Manuel restrained the young woman by stretching his left arm in front ofher.
"Just a moment. Light a lamp, my friends. We do not go forward in thedark."
At this there was a further demur, but finally a match flickered and alamp was lit. Manuel moved slowly forward into the room, followed byValencia. In a corner of the room a man lay bound upon the floor, hisback toward them. One of the men rolled him over as if he had been asack of potatoes. The face into which they looked had been mauled andbattered, but Valencia had no trouble in recognizing it.
"Sebastian!" she cried.
He said nothing. A sullen, dogged look rested on his face. Manuel hadseen it before on the countenance of many men. He knew that the sheepgrazer could not be driven to talk.
Miss Valdes might have known it, too, but she was too impatient forfinesse. "What have you done with Mr. Gordon? Tell me--now--at once,"she commanded.
The man's eyes did not lift to meet hers. Nor did he answer a singleword.
"First, our hundred dollars, _Senorita_," one of the men reminded her.
"It will be paid when you deliver Sebastian to us in the street with hishands tied behind him," Manuel promised.
They protested, grumbling that they had risked enough already when theyhad captured him an hour earlier. But in the end they came toPesquiera's condition. The prisoner's hands were tied behind him and hisfeet released so that he could walk. Manuel slid one arm under the rightone of Sebastian. The fingers of his left hand rested on the handle of arevolver in his coat pocket.
Valencia, all impatience, could hardly restrain herself until they werealone with their prisoner. She walked on the other side of her cousin,but as soon as they reached the Plaza she stopped.
"Where is he, Sebastian? What have you done with him? I warn you it isbetter to tell all you know," she cried sternly.
He looked up at her doggedly, moistened his lips, and looked down againwithout a word.
"Speak!" she urged imperiously. "Where is Mr. Gordon? Tell me he isalive. And what of Pablo?"
Manuel spoke in a low voice. "My cousin, you are driving him to silence.Leave him to me. He must be led, not driven."
Valencia was beyond reason. She felt that every minute lost was oftremendous importance. If Gordon was alive they must get help to him atonce. All her life she had known Sebastian. When she had been a littletot he had taught her how to ride and how to fish. Since her return fromcollege she had renewed acquaintance with him. Had she not been good tohis children when they had small-pox? Had she not sold him his placecheaper than any other man could have bought it? Why, then, should heassume she was his enemy? Why should he distrust her? Why, above all,had he done this foolish and criminal thing?
Her anger blazed as she recalled all this and more. She would showSebastian that because she had been indulgent he could not tradedefiantly upon her kindness.
"No," she told Manuel. "No. I shall deal with him myself. He will speakor I shall turn him over to the sheriff."
"Let us at least go to the hotel, Valencia. We do not want to gather acrowd on the street."
"As you please."
They reached the hotel parlor and Valencia gave Sebastian one morechance.
The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, but did not answer.
"Very well," continued Miss Valdes stiffly, "it is not my fault that youwill have to go to the penitentiary and leave your children withoutsupport."
Manuel tried to stop her, but Valencia brushed past and left the room.She went straight to a telephone and was connected with the office ofthe sheriff. After asking that an officer be sent at once to arrest aman whom she was holding as prisoner, she hung up the receiver andreturned to the parlor.
In all she could not have been absent more than five minutes, but whenshe reached the parlor it was empty. Both Manuel and his prisoner hadgone.
A Daughter of the Dons: A Story of New Mexico Today Page 16
