With Hoops of Steel

by Florence Finch Kelly

  CHAPTER XI

  After the round-up was finished Emerson Mead and his two friendsstarted, with two _vaqueros_, to drive a band of cattle to Las Plumasfor shipment. When they reached Juan Garcia's ranch Mead rememberedthat he wished to see the old Mexican, and the two cow-boys were senton with the cattle while he and Tuttle and Ellhorn tied their horsesin the shade of the cottonwoods at the foot of the hill. They foundAmada Garcia leaning on her folded arms across the window-sill andmaking a picture in the frame of the gray adobe walls that was verygood to see.

  It is not often that the senorita of the southwest can lay claim toany more of beauty than glows in midnight hair and eyes. But AmadaGarcia was one of the favored few. Her short, plump figure was roundedinto dainty curves and her oval face, with its smooth, brown skin, itsdimples, its regular features, its little, rosebud, pouting mouth, andits soft, black, heavy-lidded eyes, was alluring with sensuous beauty.A red handkerchief tied into a saucy cap was perched on her shining,black hair, and her black dress, carelessly open a little at the neck,showed a full, soft, brown throat.

  She received the three men with that dignified courtesy that is neverforgotten in the humblest Mexican adobe hut, but she tempered itsgravity with many coquettish glances of her great black eyes. Theytalked in Spanish, the only language Amada knew, which the men spokeas readily as they did their own. No, her father was not at home, shesaid. He had gone to Muletown and would not be back until night. Butwas it the wish of the senores to be seated and rest themselves fromtheir travel and refresh themselves with a drink of cool water? Meadpresented Tuttle, who had never seen the girl before, and Amada said,with many flashes of languorous light from under her heavy lids, ah,she had heard of the senor, a most brave _caballero_, a man whom allwomen must admire, so brave and skillful. Her carriage and the poiseof her body as she stood, or sat down, or walked about the room, wouldhave befitted a queen's approach to her throne, so unconsciously regaland graceful were they. For ever since she was old enough Amada hadcarried every day to the house, up the hill from the spring, in an_olla_ poised on her head, all the water for their domesticnecessities. And in consequence she walked with a grace and carriedher head with an air that not one American woman in a hundred thousandcould equal.

  She brought them water from an _olla_ which stood in the _portal_,where it would be free to the breeze and shaded from the sun, and asshe handed it to one after another she smiled and dimpled, her whiteteeth gleamed, her black eyes shone alluringly in sudden flashes fromunder their long-fringed covers, and her sweet, soft voice prattledairy, beguiling flatteries and dear little complimentary nothings. Asshe talked, she tossed her head and swayed her body and made graceful,eloquent little gestures with her hands and arms. There wasunconscious coquetry in every movement and a mischievous "you darenot" in every glance of her eyes and in every dimpling smile. She waslike a plump, saucy, sweet-throated bobolink, perched on a swayingbough and singing a joyous and daring "catch me if you can."

  She walked across the room to put the cup on the table and Ellhornsprang to her side and threw his arm about her. She drew back alittle, tossed her head, and looked at him with eyes gleaming "if youdare, if you dare," from under their soft lids. She faced the door asshe did so and as he bent his head to take the kiss she dared, asudden, gray horror fell over her laughing face and changed it in asecond to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, drawn thing, pitiful in itshelpless, ashen fear. The sudden change stopped him with his lipsclose to hers, and with his hand on his gun he wheeled toward the doorto see what had frightened her. The other two, looking and laughing,saw the sudden horror transform her face and they also sprang towardthe open entrance, revolvers in hand. But there was nothing there. The_portal_ was empty of any living thing. And all across the gray-greenplain the only sign of life was the drove of cattle far down thewinding road. They turned to the girl in surprise and asked her whatwas the matter. She had recovered her smiling, coquettish self, anddeclared that Senor Ellhorn had frightened her. She scolded himprettily, in the soft, sweet, Mexican tones that are a caress inthemselves, and, with a demure expression, to which only the blackeyes would not lend themselves, she told him it was not right for aman to take advantage of a girl when she was all alone. If he wishedto kiss her when her mother was present, ah, that was different. Yes,she would forgive him this one time if he truly were very sorry, buthe must never, never frighten her so again. And her eyes flashed asmile at him that flouted every word she said.

  As the three men rode away Tuttle asked:

  "Emerson, did she really mean what she said about Nick's frighteningher?"

  Mead looked at him with an indulgent smile: "Tom Tuttle, you're thebiggest maverick I ever saw. I reckon havin' a man want to kiss herain't such an unusual thing that it's goin' to frighten Amada Garciainto a conniption fit."

  "What in thunder was the matter with her then?" said Ellhorn, a bitnettled over the outcome of his gallantry. "It couldn't have beenbecause she didn't want me to kiss her."

  Mead broke into a loud, hearty roar, Tuttle grinned broadly, andEllhorn regarded the two of them with an angry look. Mead leaned overand slapped his shoulder.

  "Nick, you're a devil of a fellow with the women, and I know it aswell as you do. I guess Amada's not very different from the rest of'em, if she did stop your performance. She looked as if she saw aghost, and maybe she thought she did. These Mexicans are asuperstitious lot. Maybe she's kissed one too many some time andhappened to think of it just when it spoiled your fun."

  "She's a stunner, anyway!" said Ellhorn enthusiastically, his goodhumor restored. "I say, Emerson, is she straight?"

  "I guess so. Yes, I sure reckon she must be, or Juan Garcia would havemade trouble. Old Juan and his wife are fine old people, and any manwho wronged Amada would have to answer for it to her father. He'd haveto either kill the old man or be killed himself in mighty short order.Oh, yes, Amada's a good girl, but she's an awful little flirt."

  As soon as the cattle were secured in the pens at the railroadstation, ready to be transferred to the cars, Emerson Mead put spursto his horse and rode off alone to the northward without a word to hisfriends. Nick and Tom, perched on the high fence of a cattle-pen,watched him gallop away with amazement. His action was unusual andsurprising, for when the three were together where one went the otherswent also, or, at least, knew all about it. The two left behinddiscussed what it might mean. Nick watched him until, half a dozenblocks away, he turned off toward the mountains from which they hadjust come. Then a light broke upon Ellhorn and he slapped his kneewith his palm and broke into a laugh.

  "Tom Tuttle, I reckon I'm onto his curves! He's goin' to strike themountain road back of town a ways and come in alone, past FrenchyDelarue's place, as if he'd just come to town!"

  "Frenchy Delarue! Does he mean to have it out with Frenchy for the wayhe talked at that mass-meetin'? Say, Nick, we ought to be handy, forhe'll sure need us. Come on, let's ride out that way." And Tuttlebegan to climb down from his high perch. Ellhorn stopped him withanother roar of laughter.

  "Tommy, sometimes I think you sure ain't got any more sense than atwo-year-old! Emerson don't care anything about Frenchy Delarue, orwhat he said at a dozen mass-meetings. He don't hold things against aman that way." Ellhorn ended with another laugh and sat therechuckling while Tom looked at him resentfully.

  "I don't see what you want to make a fool of a fellow for," he saidsulkily. "If you-all don't want to tell me what it's all about, sayso, and I won't ask any more questions."

  Ellhorn slapped him on the shoulder. "That's all right, Tommy. It wassuch a good joke I couldn't help it. Don't you remember that stunningpretty girl we saw on the street with the kid the day Emerson cameinto town, that I told you was Frenchy Delarue's daughter?"

  "What? Emerson! You don't mean--say, Nick! I don't--Emerson?" AndTuttle stopped, from sheer inability to express his mingled feelings,and stared at his companion, his face the picture of mystifiedamazement.

  Ellhorn nodded. "I don't know anything about it, but
two or threetimes I've seen things about Emerson that made me think he must begettin' into that sort of trouble somewhere, and if he is I sure thinkit can't be anybody but Miss Delarue."

  Tuttle was silent a few moments, thinking the matter over. Then heshook his head doubtfully.

  "If it was you or me, Nick, I could understand it. But Emerson! Nick,I can't believe it until I know it's so!"

  "I wouldn't have thought so either, but you never can tell," Nickreplied oracularly. "Now, I'd kiss Amada Garcia, or any other prettygirl, every time I got a chance. You wouldn't do it unless you couldsneak around behind the house where nobody could see, and you wouldn'tsay a word about it afterward. But Emerson, well, maybe Emerson wouldtoo, but I don't reckon he would even think about kissin' her unlessshe asked him to, and I'm dead sure he'd never think about itafterward. But that's just the sort of a man who gets knocked plumbout when a woman does hit him. It wouldn't make any difference to youor me, or not very long anyway, because we'd go right along and lovesome other girl just as much the next time. Likely you've been in loveas many times as I have, and I don't know how many that is, but Idon't believe Emerson ever thought more'n twice about any woman beforethis. But I sure reckon he's knocked out now, and bad enough to lasthim a long time. He's just the sort that don't want any woman if hecan't get the one he does want. But you and me, Tommy,--Lord-a-mighty!We'll have a sweetheart every time we can get one!"

  Tuttle blushed a still deeper crimson under his red tan at this frankaccount of his possible love affairs, and after a few moments ofsilence he nodded thoughtfully:

  "I guess you-all have hit it off about right, Nick, But I neverthought Emerson would be the first one of us three to go and getmarried! I thought likely none of us ever would!"

  "He ain't married yet, and I don't know as she'd have him."

  "Why not? Of course she would!" said Tom, resentful at the idea thatany girl could refuse his idolized friend. He whittled the board fencedespondently a few moments, and then added with a brighter look: "Buthe's on the wrong side of politics to suit her father, and I reckonFrenchy wouldn't have it."

  The whistle of the northbound train came up the track and theyclimbed down from the fence and went to the depot. The telegraphoperator called Tom and handed him a dispatch.

  "It's from Marshal Black," said Tuttle to Ellhorn, "and he wants me togo up to Santa Fe as quick as I can get there. I reckon I'd betterjump right onto this train. Emerson don't need me any more now. Tellhim about it, and if he wants me for anything, or you-all think I'dbetter come, wire, and I'll flirt gravel in a minute. Good-bye, oldman."

  Emerson Mead made a detour through the northern end of the town andcame into the mountain road at the lower edge of the uplands. Hegalloped down the street, checking his horse to a slow trot as heneared Pierre Delarue's house. With sidelong glances he keenlyexamined the veranda and the open doors and windows, but he could seeno flutter of drapery, nor the flaxen curls of the child. With aprotesting disappointment in his heart he held the horse back to awalk while he stooped over and examined the cinch. He had almostpassed the place when little Paul came around the house, trailing asubdued looking puppy at the end of a string, saw him, and ran to thegate shrieking his name. Mead turned back, a warm flood of delightsurging into his breast.

  "Hello, little Bye-Bye! Do you want to ride with me? Run back to thehouse and ask your sister if you can go."

  The child ran back to the porch and from within the house Mead heardMarguerite give permission. "Won't she come out?" he thought,anxiously.

  "You must come and lift me up," said Paul, and Mead determined to buyhim the finest toy in the town.

  "Climb on the fence and let Mr. Mead put you on."

  "She won't come. She does not want to see me," thought Mead.

  "No, I want you to come," persisted Paul, who was in a naughty mood.

  "No, dearie, Mr. Mead can stoop over and help you on just as well as Ican."

  "She is determined not to see me," thought Mead. "She never did sobefore."

  Paul began to cry. "I can't, Daisy. Truly, I can't get on if you don'tcome. And then I can't have any ride."

  Marguerite came out with a little, white, high-crowned sunbonnetpulled over her head. She had been arranging her hair and had put onthe bonnet to conceal its disarray, when she found that the childcould not be persuaded to let her remain indoors. Mead thought herface more adorable than ever as it looked out from its dainty frame.Paul kicked his heels into the horse's shoulders, but a firm hand heldthe bridle and the animal did not move. Marguerite turned a smilingface upon Mead and met in his eyes the same look she always saw there.She glanced down again, blushing, and felt the silence embarrassing,but all the things she would ordinarily have said suddenly seemedtrivial and out of place, so she turned to the child with a gentle,"Be a good boy, Paul." Mead looked at her in silence, smiling gravely.Many things were whirling about in his mind to say, but he hesitatedbefore each one, doubting if that were the best. Paul kickedvigorously and shouted, "Come on! Come on! Aren't you ready to go, Mr.Mead?" Emerson's grave smile relaxed into a foolish grin, he liftedhis hat to Marguerite, and he and the boy cantered off.

  Marguerite hurried back to her room and as she stood before hermirror, trembling, she resumed her hair dressing to the accompanimentof thoughts that ran contrariwise:

  "I would think the man was dumb if I didn't know better. Why doesn'the ever say anything? He is certainly the rudest creature I ever saw!He stares at me until I am so confused that I can not even becourteous. He isn't nearly so nice as Mr. Wellesly--I don't care, heisn't! I like Mr. Wellesly, and he seems to like me, but--he does notlook at me out of his eyes as Mr. Mead does. I wonder--if he--looks atany one else that way?"

  After Mead had returned the child he rode at once to his room, andwhile he bathed and shaved and dressed himself in the garments ofcivilization he gave himself up to gloomy thoughts about Marguerite.

  "Of course, she thinks I am a criminal of the worst sort,--a thief anda murderer,--and maybe she does not like to have me stop at her gate.She was nervous about it to-day, and she wouldn't come out until thekid made her. It is plain enough that she doesn't want to see me anymore, and I suppose I ought not to stop there again. Still, the boy isalways so pleased to ride with me that it would be a shame to takethat pleasure away from him. But she doesn't like it--how sweet shelooked in that sunbonnet!--and she's too kind-hearted to ask me notto. Well, she would rather I would not--yes, it is plain that she doesnot want me to do it--so--well--all right--I'll not stop there again."

  His revolver lay on the table, hidden by some of the clothing he hadjust taken off. Under the stress of his thoughts it escaped both eyeand mind. As he put on vest and coat he struggled to his finalresolution. Then he quickly jammed his hat on his head, thinking, "Isuppose I can't see her any more at all," and hurried into the street.Presently he heard a loud whoop from the direction of the jail."That's Nick's yell, sure," he thought, "and it sounds as if he wasdrunk. Now what's to pay, I wonder!"

  He hurried in the direction from which the sound had come, and wasjust in time to see Ellhorn, yelling and waving his hat, led by JimHalliday into the jail, while a half-dozen excited Chinese, who hadbeen following close behind, stood chattering at the door.

  When the train which carried Thomson Tuttle northward left thestation, Nick Ellhorn watched it disappear in the hot, white,quivering distance, and then wandered forlornly up town. He went firstto Emerson Mead's room, but Mead had not yet returned. He went toJudge Harlin's office, and found that he was out of town. He nexttried the Palmleaf saloon, where he solaced and cooled himself withsome glasses of beer. Several men were already there, and others camein, whom he knew, and all wanted to hear about Emerson Mead's round-upand to congratulate him on its success. He drank mint juleps with two,straight whisky with two others, a cocktail with another, and endedwith more beer. He walked up the street to the hotel, and as he talkedwith the landlord he could feel the liquors he had so recklessly mixedbeginning to bite into
his blood and raise little commotions in remotecorners of his brain. A pleasant-faced young Mexican came into theoffice, and the landlord asked him how his patient was. The young manreplied in broken English that the man was a little better but verysad, and that he wished to find some one to stay with him a fewminutes while he went out on an errand.

  Nick Ellhorn's heart was warmed and expansive and he promptlyvolunteered to sit with the invalid and entertain him for an hour,and with effusive thanks the Mexican nurse conducted the tall Texan tothe sick-room. White, gaunt and weak, the invalid lay in his bed andlooked with eyes of envy and admiration at the tall, firm, well-knitframe, the big muscles and the tanned face of his companion. By thattime Nick began to be conscious of a high, swift tide in his veins,and through his dancing brain came the conviction that he must hold asteady hand on himself and be very serious. He sat up stiff andstraight in his chair by the bedside, and his demeanor was grave andsolemn. When the sick man spoke of his health and strength, Nickreplied with admonishing seriousness:

  "I'd be just such a lookin' thing as you are if I stayed indoors likeyou do. You can't expect to be worth a whoop in hell if you stay inthe house and in bed all the time. I'll steal you away from here sothat coyote of a Mexican can't get hold of you again, and I'll takeyou out to Emerson Mead's ranch and put you on a horse and make youride after the cattle, and sure and you'll be a well man before youknow it."

  The invalid appeared apprehensive, and, feeling himself weakened bythe fear lest something untoward might happen, he asked Ellhorn togive him a drink of brandy from a flask which stood on the mantel.Nick poured the measured dose into a glass, smelt of it, and lookedfrowningly at the sick man.

  "Do you-all mean to say that you drink this stuff, as sick as you are?You can have it if you insist, but I tell you you'll be dead bysundown if you drink it! Sure and you ought to be ashamed of yourself,lyin' in bed and soakin' with brandy, right on the ragged edge of thetomb! That Mexican coyote ought to be shot as full of holes as apepper box for keepin' this stuff in the room, and I'll do it when hecomes back! I've taken a notion to you-all, and I'm goin' to carry youoff on my horse to Emerson's ranch and make a well man of you. But youmust sure let brandy and whisky alone, I'll tell you that right now!And I'll put this out of your sight, so it won't be a temptation toyou. I'll drink it myself, just to save your life!"

  He poured the glass full and drank it off without a breath. Then hebegan to lecture the thoroughly frightened invalid on the evil resultsof too much indulgence in strong drink. "Look at me!" he solemnlyexclaimed. "I used to drink just as bad as you do, and where did itbring me! Yes, sir! I've had feathers enough in my time to make me agood bed, but I scattered and wasted 'em all with whisky and brandy,just as you're doin' now, and here I am a-layin' on the hard ground!But I've quit! No, sirree! I don't drink another drop, unless it's tosave a friend, same as I'm drinkin' this."

  When the Mexican nurse returned he found his patient fainting fromfright, and a very drunken man solemnly marching up and down the room,flourishing an empty flask and uttering incoherent remarks about theevils of strong drink and the certainty of death.

  "I've saved him!" Nick proudly exclaimed to the Mexican. "I've savedhis life! He'd 'a' been drunk as I am, and dead, too, if I hadn't drunkall the brandy myself! I didn't let him touch a drop!"

  The nurse pitched him out of the room and locked the door behind him,and he, after a dazed stare, stalked off indignantly to the frontentrance. A Chinaman was passing by, with placid face, folded arms andlong queue flopping in the wind. Ellhorn grabbed the queue with adrunken shout. The man yelled from sudden fright, and started off onthe run with Ellhorn hanging on to the braid, shouting, his spursclicking and his revolver flapping at his side. Nick's yells and theChinaman's frightened screams filled the street with noise and broughtpeople running to see what was happening. Ellhorn whipped out hisknife and cut off the queue at the Chinaman's neck, and the man,feeling the sudden release from the grip of the "white devil" behindhim, ran with flying leaps down the street and at the end of the blockbanged against Jim Halliday, himself running to learn the cause of theuproar. The Chinaman knew Halliday's office, and with wild gesturesand screaming chatter demanded that he should go back and arrest theman who had despoiled him of his dearest possession. Halliday,guessing that his enemy was too drunk to offer much resistance,hastened at once to the task, and in five minutes Nick Ellhorn waslocked in the jail.

  Emerson Mead at once went to work to get his friend out on bail. Hesaw the sheriff, John Daniels, go into the White Horse saloon andhurried after him. As they stood facing each other, leaning againstthe bar and talking earnestly, Mead saw Daniels flash a look ofintelligence and nod his head slightly to some one who had enteredfrom a back room toward which Emerson's back was turned. Instinctivelyhe reached for his gun, and Jim Halliday grabbed his right wrist withboth hands while John Daniels seized his left. With the first touch oftheir fingers, the remembrance flashed through his brain that he hadleft his revolver on the table in his room. He would have thought itas impossible to forget that as to forget his trousers, but the thingwas done, and here was the result. He shrugged his shoulders and saidquietly:

  "You've caught me unarmed, boys. I'm at your service--this time."

  They looked at him in doubting surprise. To catch Emerson Mead unarmedseemed a most unlikely fairy tale. The two men held his arms andDaniels called a third to search him. Mead flushed and bit his lip.

  "I'm not used to having my word doubted," he said, "but I can't blameyou for doubting it this time. I can hardly believe it myself. Jim,you've struck just the one chance in a thousand years."

  Halliday laughed. "Well, I've been lucky twice to-day, and I reckon Ihaven't worn out the run yet."

  Mead smiled indulgently down from his superior height, and said: "Workit while it runs, Jim; work it while it runs. You can have yourinnings now, but mine won't be long coming."

  "Well, you won't have any chance to get yourself hauled over the backwall this time, I'll tell you that right now."

  They hurried their prisoner off to jail, and in a few minutes he alsowas locked behind thick adobe walls.